The room was cold and damp, with walls peeling from time and an acidic smell that seemed to emanate from the concrete itself.
It was there that the few "freed" prisoners received back the remains of their dignity — packed in pale boxes and accompanied by suspicious looks.
'That crazy woman… she said she made this prison, but she just reused some place… liar.' Vergil thought of his mother, who had said she had 'Created' this place.
Vergil entered the room with firm steps. The guard who had escorted him there kept his distance, as if simply approaching him would violate some silent survival agreement.
Behind the stone counter, a skeletal demon with six eyes and two pairs of nervous hands consulted the records. His fingers trembled slightly as he read, as if each line on the parchment recorded a different sin.
