The red mist of the magic circle dissipated with a soft arcane crackle, and Vergil stepped onto the cold dark marble floor. The air in Agares Manor was silent, but different from last time—it no longer smelled of soot and dried blood.
He walked slowly through the main hall. It was impossible not to notice: the place where there had once been a gigantic hole in the wall—a reminder of a brutal attack—was now perfectly restored. The marble had been rebuilt, the windows re-erected with their enchanted stained glass, and even the pillars once again bore the demonic carvings that gave the house its unique touch of perverse royalty.
Vergil ran his hand along the banister of the staircase, analyzing the finish. Not bad. It almost seemed as if nothing had happened.
But there was something that caught his attention: absolute silence.
He frowned, looking from side to side, and then raised his voice softly: "Is anyone home?"
