Unknown POV
Unknown to Vergil, his current battle is being observed by a being shrouded in shadow.
Standing at roughly 5'11", a dark-skinned man watches the earth-shaking clash between Vergil and the Daxamite. Cold brown eyes peer into the chaos. When Vergil is sent flying by a blast of heat vision, the man scoffs.
"Pathetic… So this is the Viltrumite destined to become unstoppable? The Viltrumite who ascended to godhood? And he's locked in an even fight with an insect?"
As a green portal opens behind him, the man's appearance becomes clearer. A large blade-shaped head. A goatee. A timeless presence.
He's gone by many names—and sometimes none at all. This man has witnessed countless universes rise and fall.
Stepping through the portal, he emerges fifteen years into the future.
He lands silently behind a rock. His eyes lock on two flying figures carrying a group of costumed individuals. One of them is unmistakably Vergil—only older.
No longer lean and wiry, this version of Vergil is broader, more muscular. His long black hair has been trimmed, and his green eyes are colder, sharper. He's traded his standard Viltrumite attire for traditional royal red armor.
Beside him is a young woman with strikingly similar features—same soft facial structure, same deep green eyes. His daughter.
The two drop their unconscious captives. The girl crosses her arms, black hair whipping in the wind as she glances up at her father.
"Is the truce over? Can we kill these guys now?"
"No," Vergil replies, his voice far deeper than the observer remembers. "Darkseid's forces are still too prominent. Earth's heroes still make useful allies."
The man blinks at the change in tone. He's used to hearing the immature, cocky teenager—not this battle-hardened leader.
Shaking his head, the observer opens another portal. But instead of returning to the original timeline, he finds himself in deep space.
—
Grasping his throat, the man silently struggles against the crushing vacuum. His portal is still on cooldown. He just has to endure.
In the distance, he sees yet another version of Vergil—this one ancient. Graying hair. Broad shoulders. Thousands of years older.
He watches as the older Vergil clashes with a monstrous figure made of living shadow. Each blow warps the very fabric of space around them.
Twin beams explode from Vergil's eyes, slicing the shadow being in half. But it doesn't die.
The man raises a hand and casts a portal to the left.
The observer, fading into unconsciousness, slips through just in time.
—
Falling to the ground with a gasp, the man shakily gets to his feet and looks around in awe.
He's now in the middle of a futuristic city. Countless purple bug-like aliens with antennas and big blue eyes chatter among themselves, ignoring him completely.
He's used to this. Ever since gaining his powers, he's been invisible to all—a phantom drifting through the multiverse.
But one thing has remained consistent. His powers are always connected to Vergil.
On cue, the city's peaceful atmosphere shatters.
A figure appears above the skyline, floating. Dressed in pure white, the Viltrumite insignia shining on his chest and shoulders.
Vergil. This version isn't much older than the one from the main timeline—but something is off.
The bugs scream in terror. The military attempts to intercept—but they're all slaughtered without hesitation.
As buildings crumble and bodies fall, the man opens another portal—stepping through just as Vergil's blur of destruction rushes through the city.
—
Throughout all his time traveling the multiverse, the man has never been caught in the middle of a crisis.
Until now.
He finds himself in a war-torn realm. Countless beings clash against a towering figure shrouded in pure darkness, two horns curling from his head. Godlike energy radiates from him—matched only by the malice pouring from every movement.
He laughs as he rips through heroes from every reality.
Then everything changes.
A blinding golden light appears on the horizon. The man turns, eyes wide.
From the light emerges Vergil—but unlike any before. His entire form radiates divinity. In his hand, a pulsing blue sword, forged from something older than time.
He speaks in a voice layered with thousands of echoes:
"Your torment of the Multiverse ends here."
The battle is brief—cataclysmic. Every clash between them sends ripple waves across creation. The dark god screams. Begs. Then dies.
Silence follows.
Vergil turns. Slowly. Toward the observer.
Time itself halts.
The man's blood runs cold.
For the first time since gaining his powers… someone sees him.
Vergil smiles. Cold. Knowing. His glowing white eyes blaze with amusement.
"We see you."
—
He's never fled a universe so fast.
Heart pounding, he crashes back into the timeline where it all began.
But it's too late.
The memories hit him all at once—billions of lives lived, billions of deaths.
He screams. Clutching his head as the agony overwhelms him.
In some universes, he was a Gelderian—slaughtered by Vergil.
In others, a bug whose planet was razed.
In one, a Lantern—killed in mid-transformation.
Over and over. Universe after universe.
All destroyed by the same name.
Vergil. Vergil. VERGIL.
Main Timeline — Vergil's POV
Grabbing a tree, I slam it into the Daxamite's face, sending him hurtling through the air.
I rush to capitalize on the opening—but something shifts deep inside me.
A chill races down my spine. A strange... pressure.
"What the fuck…?"
I shake it off. Whatever that was can wait.
I've got a fight to finish.