Vergil leaned against the edge of the colossal building's balcony, arms crossed as he watched the chimneys in the distance belching thick smoke into the crimson sky of the Demon World. Pipelines crossed freshly paved avenues, and metal structures sprouted like mushrooms amidst the remnants of enchanted ruins. The sound of progress echoed like a metallic heart beating in the chest of the city.
"This looks like an industrial revolution. Like the one in France," he remarked, eyes following a demon working as a bricklayer at a nearby construction site.
Sepphirothy stood beside him, leaning on the black adamantine railing, puffing on some cigarette with one of those lung cancer warnings everyone ignores. She wore a black dress clinging tightly to her curves—undeniably sexy. Her gaze drifted over the horizon with the tired look of someone whose mind wandered far from here.
