Vergil's first lunge was a clean cut, straight for the eye. The blade left its sheath like a silent bolt of lightning—and slammed into an invisible wall. The impact rang like a broken bell, a metallic vibration that reverberated up his arm and rippled through the forest. Yamato's edge didn't meet flesh; it met elastic resistance, as if it had struck the surface of a lake made of brute force. The tiger didn't even blink. It simply tilted its head curiously and took a step forward.
"Barrier active… reactive to the vector of the cut." Vergil retreated half a step, his feet marking two diagonal lines in the ground to test the terrain. "Directional repulsion."
