A hero came to save him.

He didn't finish the sentence. Because before he could blink, Vergil was already in front of him. Too fast. Too violent. 

The impact came without warning. 

The silence shattered in an instant. 

Their arms collided. 

St. Peter's Basilica trembled as the shockwave tore through the walls. Vergil was once again hurled outside the building, his silhouette cutting through the air like a meteor before crashing onto the ground. The sacred marble cracked beneath his feet, but he did not fall. 

His absurd regeneration, his demonic presence, made him an entity that could not simply be crushed. 

Above him, hovering like a predatory bird, was Alexander. His coat billowed in the wind, charged with electricity, and in his hands, sanctified bayonets glowed with a lethal radiance. His eyes were filled with divine fervor, a manic grin splitting his face. 

Vergil wiped a drop of blood from the corner of his lips and chuckled. "Interesting."