Liurnia of the Lakes – South Raya Lucaria Gate – Early morning

The magic seal that barred entry to Raya Lucaria whirred with a low droning hum. It didn't take a sorcerer to surmise the vast amounts of power needed to erect and maintain such a barrier. That it persisted after so much time was almost as impressive as the craftsmanship that went behind it. Vergil placed a steady hand on the barrier's blue, misty surface—which felt both solid and incorporeal at the same time. Demons would often employ similar barriers to entrap their prey, which often backfired when used against the sons of Sparda, as it would cut off their only means of escape. Breaking them was no easy matter, and purely impossible to do with brute force alone.

Vergil scanned the area around the gate, lush with overgrowth that had eaten through some of the stone bridges that led up to the academy. Vines twisted and turned, boring through stone structures that had to have been around for centuries. Hiding inside the vines was a drained husk, decorated with a noble's cloak with a matching headband. In its hand was a simple map pointing to a rock formation to the west of the academy. Seeing this, the blue devil made haste towards the destination.

Torrent practically glided on the shallow waters of the lake surrounding the academy. Scores of teardrop scarabs floated high above the jutting rock formation which was itself surrounded by a small field of blue, fluorescent flowers. At its centre was a sleeping dragon that seemed to be guarding a corpse. Like the dragon previously fought in Agheel Lake, this dragon resembled an overgrown wyvern with its composition. Two leathery wings sprouted from beneath its two front limbs which were connected to a pair of razor-sharp claws. Its tail was covered in spikes, but more intriguing was how its body was covered in glintstone growths. The glowing crystals were scattered around the dragon's body in irregular patches—almost as if it was digging into its flesh like an infected wound. Indeed, the glintstone appeared most concentrated on the dragon's head, to the point where its eyes were now barely visible if they even remained at all. Strong traces of magic pulsed and undulated under the surface of the crystalline growths, indicating the magical power that likely coursed through the winged beast even as it slept. Judging from its proximity to the academy and the faint traces of power that permeated around its lair, the dragon likely had no shortage of sorcerers to consume and gain power from—until their very energies fused with and corrupted its body.

With a wave of his staff, Vergil summoned a storm of swords to wake the mighty beast. Said dragon was none too happy about having its peaceful slumber interrupted and promptly swung its tail. The blue swordsman ducked away at the last moment, swatting the spiky tail away with his sword's pommel before striking back with a barrage of his own. The dragon howled in irritation as its glintstone-covered tail began to crack and splinter and promptly took off to the skies. The wind from its takeoff briefly shook the swordsman off-balance. He braced himself by quickly unsheathing his blade and stabbing it onto the ground, granting some much-needed traction before he skidded off on his back. The dragon pulled its head back and summoned forth bluish sparks which suddenly ignited into a full stream of magical flame. The blue fire burned through everything it touched, persisting even along the water's cold surface. Vergil reacted by summoning Torrent and outrunning the dragon's flame sweep, which bought him some precious seconds to think of his next maneuver. The dragon quickly dove towards the rider and his steed and opened its great jaws to reveal a mouthful of jagged teeth.

Vergil kicked Torrent to the side as he took the full force of the bite, cursing in his breath as the dragon's teeth dug into his flesh. Despite his supernatural gifts, Vergil's skin relented just as easily as it would against any other blade. He hissed as he tried to pry the dragon's mouth open while it tried in turn to crush its struggling prey. His blood had begun to stain the surrounding lake red as he accumulated whatever scraps of demonic energy he could muster from within. A searing pain burned away at his being, draining his face of colour, and dyeing his irises a ghastly red. Seconds later, an explosion of malevolent purple light shook him loose from the dragon's maw whilst vaporizing almost all remaining signs of life within its vicinity. The crystals surrounding the dragon's crown began to crack under the immense pressure of the spherical eruption that ripped through its mouth and shattered most of its teeth. With a distorted howl, the injured beast fell back into the water with a thundering crash while its prey soared from its mouth and back into the lake bed's shallow surface.

Knowing that its end was fast approaching, the winged beast gathered its remaining power into its bleeding mouth. Blue swirls of cosmic energy flowed from the dragon's translucent stone sores and into its mouth, culminating in a focused stream of magical light. The light coalesced into a colossal spear that ripped through the air in a straight beam aimed right at the swordsman. With a thundering boom, the glintstone comet shard collided with its stationary target, resulting in yet another explosion of magic, stone, and water that ricocheted away from the blast zone. When the steam and magical smoke finally cleared, a lone figure remained standing amongst the rubble. His eyes glowed a sickly yellow, every inch of his body covered from head to toe in greyish armour with long veins that pulsed between red, blue, and purple. Large horns protruded from the demonic metal that now encased his face, curving downward to match the perpetual frown of the mask that hid its wearer's fractured visage. The silent figure turned towards the dragon and held out his hand. From it sprung a toothy greatsword, its edges worn and jagged from use.

The dragon took notice of the being's foreign energies and fired another barrage of glintstone comet shards, which barely even staggered the armoured juggernaut. The figure merely tilted its head, and suddenly a ring of spectral swords surrounded the dragon, skewering it in place and splintering more of the crystalline growths that infected its body. Had it not already been gravely injured from the earlier explosion, the mighty beast would have screeched, but instead it defiantly fought off the inevitable by gathering the last of its strength into a stream of magical flame. Its target seemed to vanish into smoke, its reappearance signaled by a plume of blue flame that erupted from the sky as the figure descended with a swift dive kick into the creature's skull. The warrior's greaves were enwreathed in the same sinister flames that announced his presence, as his faded maroon cloak billowed from the assault. With a loud thundering boom, the resulting impact shattered any remaining hint of protection the beast's stony sores and thick draconic scales would have granted it. Meanwhile, the dragon could only weakly raise its tail as if to do yet another tail swipe. The strike landed squarely against the armoured figure, who blocked it with its colossal sword, now imbued with demonic flame. Disappearing once more, the figure resurfaced several feet above the scaly appendage and unleashed a downward slam of his fiery blade, severing his target in a flash. The tail wildly convulsed as it came loose and a jet of blood stained the surrounding water even further.

The armoured monster instantly vanished yet again in a spark of blue flame and reformed in front of his prey. Too weak to swipe a talon, or even lift its head from the ground, the once-proud creature stared into the glowing yellow eyes of the monster that bested it and accepted its fate. His voice echoed.

"Begone!"

The warrior's flaming greatsword tore through the dragon's flesh and snuffed out any remaining life remaining in the tired beast. Having bested his foe, the swordsman collapsed to his knees heaving heavily. Even through the water's rippling surface, he could see the scowling visage that haunted him all these years—the black angel had returned.

Just as quickly as the parasitic shell reappeared on his body, so too did it evaporate into a fine blue mist. For the first time since his resurgence in the Lands Between, Vergil felt completely powerless. He retched and expelled a jet of black miasma that seemed to grip at his very soul, further staining the lake bed into something unrecognizable. Vergil continued until all strength left his body and he was forced to finally stare at his own miserable image. A pair of glowing red eyes stained the water's surface where he stared, while the pale shade of death marred the cracked porcelain of his skin, where tiny pockets of demonic power constantly leaked out of the veins where the damage was most apparent. To top it off, he was enshrouded in a purple overcoat embroidered with an elaborate golden trim—a final present from the Prince of Darkness who gleefully enslaved him.

"No…"

He threw a weak punch against the water's surface, sending momentary ripples into the water's constant gaze. Vergil froze for a moment…which grew into seconds…and then into minutes. He needed a way, some way—any way—to escape from the living nightmare before him as he tore away at his purple garments, remembering the mockery and humiliation they represented. With rapidly fading clarity, he pictured a light in his mind's eye, which led him to a shack he had visited previously.

Liurnia of the Lakes – Boilprawn Shack – Late Afternoon

He stumbled into the clear water, trying to wash off the evidence of his predicament but failing to do so no matter how hard he scrubbed. Eventually, all the noise attracted the attention of a certain iron-masked individual, who equipped iron balls to use as makeshift gauntlets.

"What's your blinkin' problem! You don't mess with Big Boggart, mate."

Vergil was completely undeterred by the man's loud exclamation as he continued to wash his face off, to no avail.

"Oh…you again, is it? What in Radagon's golden taint 'appened to ya, mate? Ain't never seen shite like that on anyone…better not be bloody contagious…"

"C-clothes…I need…clothes."

"Serves ya right for showin' up here buck naked and all. Ya get mugged too while you're at it?" The warrior didn't respond, prompting the rogue merchant to head back into his shack.

"Now 'ang on a tick…"

The masked man dug through his drawers and found another set of prisoner's clothes—a precious set from a friend who'd met an untimely end. He sighed as he grasped the garments and laid them out near the distraught warrior, who weakly reached for the clothes and put them on. The shirt was tattered and grimy and the trousers in a similar shape, but the man desperately needed to regain some semblance of dignity even in his sorry state.

"You can barely call this clothing…"

He grumbled but felt relieved nonetheless. He approached the masked man who was preoccupied with cooking another pot of seasoned prawn.

"Why did you give me aid?"

"Never met someone with a taste for prawns I couldn't trust."

Vergil tilted his head, unable to comprehend the man's reasons, but recognized the gesture nonetheless. With his mind slightly clearer, Vergil summoned Torrent and rode off to the north.

"Wait, don't go near-oh bloody hell!"

Big Boggart could see the swordsman approaching a giant lobster that had been crawling near his turf for days now, hiding under the mud during the daytime. Its shell was grimy and covered in moss, making it blend into the surrounding marshes it inhabited. To the untrained eye, its hidden form looked no different from any stray boulder or rock one might run into in a swamp—and the swordsman was heading straight into it. Big Boggart ran but knew that he would never be able to catch up with a horse on foot. Still, he couldn't let his new friend get ambushed if he could help it. As expected, the lobster sprung into action the moment it sensed its prey get too close, only for the swordsman to leap from his horse and plunge his slender blade directly into its brain, killing it instantly. By the time the blackguard caught up, the beast had already been taken care of. He could hardly believe what he saw. The swordsman used the river to wash away the blood on his blade then returned it to its wooden scabbard, followed by blowing a whistle—all in one fluid motion. The warrior's spectral steed emerged from a blue mist, and they began to ride off again.

Seeing this, Big Boggart waved away.

"We'd make good mates, I reckon. I'll be seeing ya."

Vergil turned and gave an acknowledging nod, which to the blackguard was thanks enough from his stoic companion—this little gesture would give him food for at least a couple of weeks if he planned it out right. Hours later, Big Boggart had finally managed to dig into the meat of the giant lobster and cooked it with a generous amount of butter he'd churned for special occasions. He ate until his stomach nearly burst and lay on the ground spread out in satisfaction.

Liurnia of the Lakes – South Raya Lucaria Gate – Early Evening

Vergil returned to the location indicated by the map he found earlier and managed to acquire an academy glintstone key from the corpse slumped by it. Said corpse was draped in robes similar to what Sellen wore, with a red sash and a stone mask that encased the sorcerer's entire head. Turning to where he felled the glintstone dragon, Vergil salvaged some scales from the dragon's severed tail, noting that the glintstone they were infused with could be used to great effect to further enhance his sword. He also gathered the still-beating heart that remained after his foe had been vanquished. Having gathered all he could, he focused on the site of grace near the academy gate and stepped into the blue mist that transported him there nigh-instantly. With the key in hand, Vergil was able to enter through the barrier, which hummed in resonance with the artifact. Once again stepping out of a blue mist, Vergil found himself inside the academy—near a bridge on the complete opposite side of the gate he'd just entered. Being no stranger to dimensional magic, Vergil was none too surprised and was pleased to find a site of grace waiting for him. However, there looked to be a struggle between two figures locked in bloody combat.

Liurnia of the Lakes – Main Academy Gate – Early evening

"Augh!"

A loud screech was followed by the dull hiss of a blade cutting through armour. The older warrior, Yura, attempted to create space using his long and slender katana, but his younger opponent was able to continuously get the drop on him with precise dodges and quick jabs. Yura used his experience to knock his foe momentarily off-balance by charging into him with his oversized iron kasa. His opponent stumbled backward and held his iron claws aloft, using them to block the older warrior's counterattack. Yura thrust his sword forward and caught the younger warrior by the shoulder, barely missing a major artery. Had he been younger, that would have been a decisive blow, but the younger assassin was able to adapt surprisingly quickly. Shaking off his injury, the hooded warrior leaped into the air and slashed his claws forward with wide sweeps. Yura was able to dodge while deflecting the impact, setting more distance between him and his target. When he next struck, the clawed assassin ducked into a kneeling pose. Yura's sword managed to land a hit, only for the assassin's body to dissolve into a plume of black feathers. He reappeared a split second later above the older warrior, prepared to thrust downward, when he saw another figure step out of a cloud of blue mist a short distance away.

The Bloody Finger was momentarily distracted, giving Yura the opportunity to do a rising sweep that caught the assassin's leg. A geyser of blood erupted, but the warrior was undeterred. He disappeared in a fog of black feathers for a moment and reemerged a short distance away sipping from a crimson flask, which healed his grave injury and allowed him to continue fighting. Yura took a moment to do the same. Vergil observed the two injured warriors as they were both engaged in an ugly struggle for survival. One was younger and fought with more vigour, while another was older, thus slower, and more calculated to make up for it. Yura's moves were measured, his long blade contrasting the assassin's shorter claws. The air vibrated every time Yura swung his blade while it whistled in quick bursts whenever the assassin would move his arms. Vergil folded his arms and watched the two reengage. The older warrior kept trying to maintain his distance while the younger pushed into his space closer and closer so he could make meaningful strikes. Their dance should have been poetic in principle, but in reality, proved to be just another ugly scuffle. The younger warrior was starting to tire out despite his swift erratic movements. Unbeknownst to him, the older samurai was similarly feeling fatigued but refused to show it. Vergil could immediately tell from how Yura's grip and stance had slightly changed to conserve as much energy as possible. Yura kept his posture low and relaxed in anticipation of his opponent's next move.

It never came as the trio were suddenly assailed by a barrage of magic darts from up above. Yura immediately rolled and hid behind a pillar while Vergil deflected what he could with his enchanted scabbard. The two warriors recognized each other and congregated behind a collapsed stone pillar in the courtyard. Vergil unstrapped his staff and looked at Yura, who promptly understood his meaning.

Vergil exchanged volleys of glintstone shards against his foes, noting how different the magic felt from his own since he refrained from tapping into his demonic power for the time being. Jagged blue lights littered the sky as Vergil drew their attention while Yura snuck his way toward the twin sorcerers who defended the gate. One screamed when Yura plunged his blade into his torso while the other fell from a great height after Vergil landed several glintstone shards into the stone-headed scholar's body. Yura pulled his sword out of his opponent and shook the blood off with a flick of his arm.

Vergil casually walked into the freshly lowered lift, passing by the Bloody Finger, whose body was riddled with holes from the earlier crossfire. As Vergil observed the Bloody Finger's earlier movements, he thought about how he could harness and redirect his current levels of demonic energy to produce the same results—much as he had before. However, his experience against the glintstone dragon disgusted him and made him question just how far the corruption extended within. Had he been using his power this entire time, or did Mundus override his power by supplanting it with his own? Sparks of blue and purple energy crackled around Vergil's staff as he tried to make sense of what happened earlier at the lake. No wonder his power was incomplete—Mundus had effectively locked him out, transforming even his true form into that of the black angel. Until he could find and excise the rot that festered within him, he did not wish to push himself too far as doing so would only spell disaster. He clenched his left fist, once again feeling the phantom wound that always haunted him in moments such as this. By the time he caught up with Yura, the old man was leaning against a pillar trying to catch his breath. He bristled in attention, instinctively flexing his sword arm, but relaxed and withdrew once he realized who it was.

"Ah, oh, it's you. Thanks for your help there. That Bloody Finger was a thorn in my side. And now I'm finally rid of him."

He reached into his pocket and produced a valuable smithing stone.

"Please, take it."

Vergil reached forward and pocketed the resource. The old man slumped back against the stone pillar he was leaning on. His voice slightly shook.

"A thousand curses…I'm running out of time. The worm-like writhing that has long plagued the back of my eyes is spreading….to my brain…and heart."

The old man covered his eyes, as though he was trying to keep something from escaping. He groaned in pain before collapsing into exhaustion. Vergil walked away but heard a mumble from the old man's direction.

"I'm dying to see you Eleonora…Violet Bloody Finger…"

Vergil shut the gate behind him as he entered the inner courtyard of Raya Lucaria. As soon as he walked through, he was met with another barrage of glintstone projectiles from all sides. He could see their trajectory before they landed anywhere near him, but this meant very little if his still-weakened body wasn't able to keep up. Evidently, killing the scouts alerted the others of his presence. Now an entire field of sorcerers had their staves aimed and primed to fire again as Vergil clutched his scabbard and quickly planned out his next move.