Beach Time Vergil

Sun glittered off the ocean as Vergil reclined in the pool, shades on, collar high, and his coat still sharp enough to cut through time itself. With one hand lazily trailing the water’s surface, he looked more like a fashion god than a devil slayer. But peace never lasted—ripples stirred with demonic intent. Without standing, without even removing his sunglasses, Vergil snapped his fingers. A spectral slice tore the air, bisecting the intruder mid-emergence. Calmly, he leaned back again and muttered, “Even on my day off… elegance is mandatory.”