Chapter 560: Interesting Meeting
For a second, no one breathed.
Vergil’s request hung in the air like blasphemy, a blatant affront to the world’s best-trained armed forces.
Interpol and FBI agents, guns raised, stood motionless. Some had trembling fingers on the trigger, but none dared fire. It was as if his order carried more weight than any protocol, as if his voice were the law in that moment.
Natasha stared at him, pale, her mouth half-open. She didn’t know whether to scream, order fire, or simply laugh at the absurdity. Vergil, as always, had transformed the gravity of the moment into a vaudeville stage—and yet, no one doubted that he controlled every detail.
Kaguya laughed softly, a crystalline sound that echoed like wicked bells.
“See?” she whispered, clinging to his arm. “No one here is interested, let’s go.”
Alexa snorted, baring her fangs in a lewd smile.
“Yes, shall we just leave?” Her voice was pure venom. “I don’t want to stay here another second.”
Hela, still motionless before the pulsing lights of Vegas, tilted her head. Her smile didn’t fade, but something in her eyes changed.
For the first time in centuries, someone dared to treat her like just another harmless goddess.
Vergil didn’t fear her. He didn’t worship her. He just… played.
And the terrifying thing was, it worked.
“You’ve gone mad…” Natasha whispered, not realizing she’d spoken aloud.
Vergil turned his lazy gaze to her. The blue of his eyes shone like polished steel under fire.
“Ah, Headmistress…” he said with false compassion. “It’s that saying, right? Madness is like gravity; it only takes a little push.”
He held out his hand, as if he truly expected someone to bring him the keys to his Lamborghini, like a king awaiting the chalice at a banquet.
Absolute silence.
The agents glanced at each other nervously. No protocol covered this.
Then, as if the universe itself couldn’t bear the tension, one of the men in suits—a young agent, eyes wide, sweat beading on his brow—took a hesitant step forward. His hand was shaking, but he was holding a radio. His voice shattered like glass as he said,
“Wh… what’s the license plate, sir?”
The silence exploded in shock.
Alexa laughed loudly, throwing her head back, that feral laugh that was both enticing and threatening. Kaguya simply closed her eyes, satisfied, as if she’d just heard an oath of adoration.
Vergil smiled.
A slow, deep smile, full of triumph.
“Ah…” He took a deep breath, savoring the moment. “It’s a fucking Gold Aventador, do you think there’s one like it?”
He tilted his head, fixing his steely eyes on the young agent, and said theatrically, dripping with sarcasm and deadly charm:
“Go on, why are you standing still?”
No one dared laugh.
But deep down, everyone knew: the entire city, Las Vegas, the capital of sin, had just been rechristened under Vergil’s shadow.
Hela, watching silently, narrowed her gaze. Something in her expression hardened, as if finally recognizing that tonight wouldn’t just be a hunt… it would be a duel.
Vergil straightened his jacket with an unassuming gesture, as if he were merely waiting for a waiter to bring his favorite drink and not dozens of guns pointed at him. The gold Aventador was just a detail; The real spectacle was there, in the way everyone—FBI, Interpol, civilians hiding behind the barricades—had become mere extras on his stage.
His gaze rose, lazy yet sharp as a blade, until it found Hela again. She hadn’t moved. The night wind blew black locks against her face, but her emerald eyes remained fixed on him, hard, impassive.
Vergil chuckled softly. A husky, almost intimate sound that made Alexa growl in irritation and Kaguya raise an eyebrow in intrigue.
He tilted his head and spoke as if in private, though his deep voice echoed in the heavy silence:
“You’re quite pretty, huh?” The sentence came out with a dangerous honesty, cut through with the gentle sarcasm that was uniquely his. “But tell me… why are you still here?”
He took a step forward, and the asphalt glowed under the neon lights. The air seemed to grow heavier, as if even the Nevada desert were holding its breath.
“Go ahead,” he added, with a lazy smile that hid an implicit threat. “I’ll hold off those annoying guys for you. They’ve been following you for a while, haven’t they?”
The words cut through the air like venom. The murmur that rose among the agents was immediate. Eyes met, and Natasha stiffened, her eyes wide. Vergil had exposed something no one should know.
Hela didn’t respond immediately. She merely arched an eyebrow, as if his boldness were both an insult and… an acknowledgment. Her mouth curved into a barely perceptible smile, cold, but not without charm.
Natasha took a step forward, her voice trembling.
“Don’t listen to him! She’s dangerous, she—”
Vergil raised his hand, cutting her off instantly, like a conductor silencing an orchestra.
“Dangerous?” he repeated, looking first at Natasha and then back at Hela. “Of course she is. But who here isn’t? I mean…”
The silence was so thick it felt like even the neon lights were holding their breath.
His gaze swept around with blasphemous calm, ignoring the dozens of raised weapons, ignoring the sweat of the agents, ignoring the tension about to explode. Then, suddenly, he stopped.
A lazy smile curved his lips. Vergil raised his gloved hand and pointed to the Vegas sky, where the moon shone over skyscrapers and flashing signs.
“Look…” he said, his voice so light it almost seemed to mock the gravity of the moment. “There are some people flying up there.”
Everyone’s eyes instinctively lifted. Among the shadows, discreet women, too fast to be mere humans, moved through the air.
Vergil laughed, low and hoarse.
“They must be crazy to try to assassinate this woman,” he added, pointing openly at Hela.
The effect was immediate. A murmur ran through the ranks of agents, some cocked their weapons harder, and Natasha paled completely. He had ripped off the mask of their undercover operation aloud, as if it were just a casual comment.
Hela remained still. Only her green eyes sparked with something different—not surprise, but recognition. For the first time, perhaps, someone was reading the game before her.
It was at that moment that the sound broke the tension.
“Sir!” the trembling voice of the same young agent echoed, running toward the trio. “Your car… is already here!”
And there it was: a golden Aventador, gliding through the line of agents like a luxurious beast in the middle of a battlefield. The engine roared low, metallic, as if laughing at everyone’s seriousness.
Vergil turned his head, watching, and then turned his gaze to Hela. His blue eyes shone with an almost childlike intensity, yet filled with mischief.
“Well…” he said, straightening his jacket with the gesture of a bored king. “I guess that’s my signal.”
He took a few steps back, pulling Alexa and Kaguya with him, as if it were just another night in Vegas, nothing more.
Before getting into the car, however, he stopped. He turned back to Hela, fixing her with a dangerous smile.
“See you around, Hela,” he murmured, his voice deep and low, like a promise and a challenge at the same time. “But next time… shall we go out for drinks?” I’d love to spend time with an interesting woman like the Regent of the Underworld.
The Aventador roared like thunder, and within seconds the trio disappeared down the Strip, leaving behind stunned agents, Natasha in shock, and Hela motionless in the moonlight.
Hela turned to Natasha.
“Human,” she said seriously.
“Y-yes, m-your majesty,” Natasha stammered.
“That man. Who is he?”
“V-Vergil… he is… the Fifth Great Demon King.”
Hala looked at the Lamborghini’s tire tracks and sighed… “How interesting…”