Vergil kept his spear raised, but his eyes held an almost amused gleam. "Hello, little spider."
The dry sound she made was half laugh, half chitinous snap, like claws scraping stone.
"Little spider?" she repeated, dragging out the "s" as if tasting the word and then spitting it out. "I am the perfect heir. I was molded to be everything my mother couldn't be. Speed, strength, intelligence… perfection."
"Uh-huh." Vergil tilted his head slightly, as if assessing a poorly painted painting. "Impressive. Have you ever tried writing that on a plaque to hang around your neck? Makes it easy for everyone to believe."
Eight eyes narrowed simultaneously. "You dare mock my essence? I was made to be the ultimate predator. My very presence should chill the blood of even the most fearless warrior."
Vergil shrugged. "Anyone who needs to constantly be told how supreme they are… usually isn't."
