The silence that followed seemed to hold the breath of the forest itself. The lake of blood had stopped bubbling, as if the entire world were waiting for her answer.
Qliphoth kept her golden eyes fixed on Vergil. There was no more pretense, no more metaphors. Only a naked truth, which seemed to hang heavy in the air like lead.
"I accept," she said finally, each syllable drawn out as if tearing something inside her.
Vergil arched an eyebrow. A slow smile curved his lips.
"Ah... finally," he murmured, satisfied. "So that's it."
Qliphoth straightened in her chair, her long red fingers intertwining like roots twisting beneath the earth.
"But... for something like that to happen..." she paused, and the sound echoed like distant thunder, "you will have to consume the fruit of the World Tree. The seed where it all begins."
Vergil showed no surprise. He simply leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and fixing her gaze.
