The atmosphere contrasted almost absurdly with what had happened moments before. There were no vibrating columns, no divine seals reacting under pressure, no crushing weight of presences capable of distorting space itself simply by existing. There was a sofa. A spacious room, illuminated by a steady, neutral light, and the low sound of a television filling the silence with something completely irrelevant—images passing by without importance, distant voices that demanded no attention. And, in the center of it all, Vergil sat.
Relaxed.
