--"I should keep going for now," Vergil muttered, brushing moss from his glove as he stood. "Only five Astralyth Crystals... not nearly enough."
His gaze lingered on the faint glow of the last crystal he'd harvested. Residual mana shimmered in the fragments—valuable, yes, but insufficient.
I need to upgrade my core as soon as possible. At this rate, I'm still lagging behind. If I could just find more…
With a sharp exhale, he activated one of his subtler boons.
"Mana Affinity."
Mana stirred within him like a second heartbeat. It thrummed through his veins, sharpening his senses, refining his balance, and smoothing the rhythm of his stride.
His boots barely disturbed the forest floor as he sprinted forward, weaving between trees and vaulting over roots and fallen stone. The fog had begun to thin in places, parting like silk where ambient mana gathered more densely.
That's when he felt it.
A low, steady hum beneath the ground. Faint, but familiar. The same kind of resonance he'd sensed before—when a nest of Goremires lay nearby.
He slowed, crouching behind a rotted log, and scanned the terrain ahead.
The trees parted into a shallow clearing. Mist curled low across the earth as sunlight filtered weakly through the canopy. At its center lay a jagged pit, surrounded by glowing mushrooms and the debris of half-rotted corpses. Vines pulsed faintly along the crater walls, and from within...
Movement.
A large, hunched figure shifted in the dim light. Its moss-covered back rose and fell like a mountain breathing. Fungal stalks jutted from its spine, and its arms ended in sharp, splintered claws. Two dim green eyes burned from beneath the canopy of its body.
Vergil's breath caught.
"A nest," he whispered. "And that… isn't a regular Goremire."
He focused.
"Analysis."
---
[Analysis Activated]
Target: Verdant Goremire King
Rank: E+
Level: 11
Tier: 0
Species: Mutated Plant-Beast Hybrid
Class: None
Stats:
• Strength: 38
• Constitution: 42
• Dexterity: 32
• Intuition: 9
• Magic Power: 26
• Mana Capacity: 28
---
Passive Skills:
• Verdant Core (E+): Passively regenerates HP at an accelerated rate when near flora. Absorbs ambient mana to enhance recovery.
• Mycelial Armor (F+): Natural armor composed of bark and mushroom plating. Reduces physical damage. Weak to fire and blunt force.
• Toxin Spores (F): Releases spores periodically that sap stamina and slow reflexes.
---
Active Skills:
• Root Snare (F): Entangles enemies in a small radius.
• Limb Burst (F+): Detonates excess fungal growth in a cone, dealing acid damage.
• Mire Slam (F): Slams the ground to create a shockwave.
• Fungal Eruption (E-): Unleashes toxic spores in all directions.
• King's Call (?): Unknown effect. May summon or awaken nearby lesser Goremires.
• Mycelial Surge (E-): Controls aggressive mycelium and spore release. Increases battlefield corruption and regenerative capacity.
---
Vergil's jaw tightened.
"Figures. A mutated king... and it's guarding a mana-dense nest. That explains the crystal saturation."
He eased backward into the underbrush, keeping low.
If I kill that thing, the circle boost alone is worth it... but one mistake and I'm mulch. I don't have any blunt weapons on hand—but fire should be enough.
His heart beat faster—not in fear, but anticipation. This was exactly the kind of trial he needed. The kind that separated survival from evolution.
He ducked behind the twisted bark of a dead tree as the thick mist curled around his boots, heavy and wet. Each breath tasted of spores and decay.
Rushing in would be suicide. The Verdant Goremire King was a sluggish beast, but impossibly durable. That regeneration alone meant a prolonged battle would turn against him.
If it uses King's Call... I'll be swarmed before I can blink.
He summoned his inventory with a thought, pulling out his [Steelwood Bow] and a quiver of steel-tipped arrows. The weapon pulsed faintly in his hands, resonating with the mana in his bloodstream. He hadn't mastered the bow, but he had enough proficiency to make this shot count.
He nocked an arrow. His hands were steady—mostly. His stance, though slightly off, was stronger than before.
---
[Bow-Sword Mastery (Passive)]
+3% Bow Proficiency
Total: 11%
---
Vergil narrowed his eyes and whispered:
"Ember Blaze."
Mana surged through his fingertips, flooding the arrowhead with heat. A controlled flame sparked into life—focused, quiet, hot. Smoke coiled gently from the arrow's tip, illuminating the tension in his arms.
---
[Ember Spark Proficiency +10%]
New Total: 27%
---
The flame brightened.
He released.
FWUMP—thnk!
Vergil dashed to the side, narrowly avoiding a piercing jab. The mist lit up as fire clashed with rot, and his blade struck low, cutting into the beast's leg with a sizzling HSSSSK as fungal tissue burned and blackened.
The Goremire shrieked—not in pain, but rage.
It spun, its massive limb coming down like a hammer.
Vergil ducked and rolled beneath the blow, slashing upward mid-motion. The strike wasn't deep, but the fire did its job—halting the regeneration in that spot, if only for a heartbeat.
He slid back, panting, sword glowing faintly orange.
It's working… just not well enough. If I can get Ember Blaze to flow evenly across the blade, my damage output will double. But I'll have to refine it.
Still, every cut mattered. Every second the fire delayed the healing brought him closer to victory.
The creature snarled, parts of its body already twitching with fresh regrowth.
Vergil raised his sword again, a crooked grin splitting his face.
"Come on, let's dance."
The Goremire King charged, its bloated mass undulating forward like a landslide of rot and muscle. Tendrils whipped out in wide arcs—razor-sharp, dripping spores and malice.
Vergil tensed.
Too fast—
He pivoted sharply, eyes narrowing.
"Power Strike!"
His blade surged—not to clash head-on, but to knock the tendril off course. The redirected limb hissed past his shoulder, burned tissue flaking and splattering the ground.
I'm not strong enough to meet it directly, Vergil thought, boots skidding across damp soil. But if I use Power Strike defensively, I can divert the momentum instead of blocking it.
The Goremire twisted, its torso splitting open to reveal rows of jagged, spore-ridden maws. It lunged.
Vergil dove beneath it and rolled.
"Power Strike!"
His sword slashed upward in a searing arc, carving into the underbelly. Black sludge burst forth as burning fungal flesh peeled away. The creature staggered back with a guttural howl.
"Still regenerating…" Vergil muttered, already moving. "That core must be buried deep."
A tendril struck from his blind side—silent, sudden.
Quick Parry!
He twisted, snapping his sword up. Sparks and flame exploded as steel met rot. The blow glanced off, grazing his shoulder but sparing him a direct impalement.
"Close," he hissed. His shoulder throbbed, but regeneration kicked in—healed the wound, at the cost of more stamina.
He began circling again, breathing hard, eyes locked on the abomination.
Its movements were slower now. Patches of burned tissue weren't healing as fast. Each Power Strike left deeper scars. Ember Blaze, even incomplete, was wearing it down.
Can't keep this pace forever. Stamina's dropping. I need an opening—somewhere near the core.
Flicking blood and ash from his blade, Vergil exhaled.
"Alright, King," he murmured, heart pounding. "Let's see how long you can keep patching yourself together."
The Goremire King let out a low, guttural shriek—its bloated fungal mass rippling as waves of sickly green mist rolled outward. The ground pulsed with rot, corrupted mana surging through its body.
From its back, dozens of tendrils burst forth, writhing unnaturally as they whipped through the air. Thick clouds of toxic spores erupted from its torso, blanketing the battlefield in a choking haze.
Vergil's eyes narrowed.
It's going all in.
He raised his free hand. "Ember Blaze."
Flames sparked to life, dancing along his fingers—unstable, flickering, but dangerously hot.
It's not just my blade that can burn you.
With a sharp breath, he thrust his flaming palm into one of the lunging tendrils.
SSSSHHKK!
The tendril spasmed violently as fire tore through it. Fungal flesh blackened, spore-veins popped like infected boils. The Goremire King flinched—just a twitch.
Enough.
Vergil ducked beneath another lash and surged forward, sliding across the wet, rotten earth. He drove his burning hand into the King's massive leg.
"Burn."
Flesh sizzled. The fire surged along the creature's body, igniting the thick spore layer encrusting its fungal carapace. The beast let out a screeching roar and staggered backward.
But then—the air grew heavy.
[Mycelial Surge: Aura of Decay activated.]
[Passive Regeneration increased. Poison Field active.]
Vergil coughed, the smoke and rot clinging to his lungs like tar.
"Dammit... fire's not enough to outpace that regeneration…"
Still, his gaze stayed locked.
He wasn't here to win with brute force.
He was here to learn. To test.
To wait—for one clean, decisive blow.
Although toxin resistance is helping, it can only do so much. At least my proficiency is rising.
But if I don't finish this soon… this poison might wear me down first.
He clenched his flaming fist tighter, heat surging across his knuckles.
"Then I'll just have to burn through everything you are."
---
The Goremire King roared—a wet, gurgling sound that echoed through its hollow frame. Its moss-coated chest swelled unnaturally as Mycelial Surge fully activated. Thick cords of glowing mycelium pulsed from its limbs, channeling strength into its body as the poison field thickened.
Vergil's breathing grew heavier—barely noticeable, but dangerous if ignored.
That's the skill.
The monster lunged.
Vergil moved. A half-step sidestep—clean, deliberate.
[Power Strike – Activated!]
His body twisted, sword igniting in a flare of fire as he carved upward into the extended limb. The blade sliced through fungal flesh, sending charred chunks flying.
The beast didn't flinch.
A second limb came crashing in from the side. Too fast.
[Quick Parry – Activated!]
Steel clanged as Vergil deflected the blow, knees buckling under the force—but he held.
Then, a sickly green eye blinked open on the King's shoulder. More spores hissed into the air.
It's adapting. Fast.
Without hesitation, Vergil's left hand flared to life. He clenched it—Ember Blaze—and drove it into the King's side. Rot hissed and blackened beneath his fist. Steam rose from the wound.
The monster staggered, its balance faltering as scorched muscle gave way. One leg buckled, ruined by the spreading flame. It roared, screeched—and prepared to retaliate.
But the spores around it had begun to thin. The cords in its limbs flickered, fading.
The surge is ending…
Vergil's grip tightened around his sword.
The tide was turning.
He exhaled sharply, steadying his stance.
"I need to end this before it activates something worse."
The Goremire King, now half-burning and reeling, slammed both fists into the earth with a guttural shriek.
[King's Call – Activated!]
A deep tremor echoed through the fungal nest. Pulsing light surged along the mycelium veins lacing the battlefield. Smaller Goremires lurched from hidden crevices, drawn by the summons—but they were too far to intervene in time.
The King's wounds began to seal. Its form swelled with grotesque mass, spores pouring from its back like smoke from a dying forge.
Vergil narrowed his eyes. "Oh no, you fucking don't."
He surged forward.
[Ember Blaze – Activated!]
Fire exploded along his sword—hotter, wilder, serpents of flame curling up the blade. He gritted his teeth and leapt, ignoring the backlash in his arms from the unstable mana flow.
The Goremire King raised its arm for a desperate strike—too slow.
[Power Strike – Activated!]
Vergil's blade cleaved through its neck, trailing fire. The head didn't fall—it burned, blackened, then exploded into ash as the flames devoured it from the inside out.
The bloated corpse staggered, gurgled... and collapsed with a wet, sickening thud.
Vergil landed hard, skidding across moss-slick roots. Without hesitation, he marched over to the fallen King. Steam hissed from the burned core as he plunged his hand into its chest.
His fingers closed around something pulsing, twitching.
RIIIP.
He tore out a Regenerative Core, still glowing with D-rank energy. Dark green veins wrapped around the stone like constricting vines.
The body twitched one final time, then fell still. Flames curled lazily across Vergil's shoulder like a warning halo.
"You had your little kingdom," he muttered, voice low.
"But playtime's over now. You're boring me."
He raised his hand—and from the cracks in his skin, the black mouths erupted. Gnashing. Writhing. Hungry.
"Authority of Predation."
They devoured the remains with grotesque fervor, leaving behind only a shimmer of mana.
Vergil's gaze sharpened as he spotted something in the husk—a pulsing orb of dark green and silver light.
Looks like the bastard fused its regeneration core with the Astralyth Stone. Smart... but not smart enough.
He plucked it from the ruin.
[User has gained 2 Constitution and 4 Strength.]
[User has absorbed 8 Skills from the Verdant Goremire King.]
[Skill: King's Call (E) is incompatible. Converted to 10 E-Rank Evolution Points.]
[Primal Awareness has been activated.]
Suddenly, the air shifted.
A low growl rumbled behind him. The ground cracked.
[Warning: King's Call has triggered a final command.]
[One Royal Guard (E-Rank Elite) has been summoned.]
Vergil turned, expression unreadable.
The Royal Guard stomped into view—taller than the king, its fungal armor thick and steaming. A noxious mist hissed in its wake.
"…Oh, come on," Vergil muttered. "You're late, you fucker."
The beast roared and charged.
Vergil raised his flaming hand. "Let me show you what your king taught me."
He snapped his fingers.
Ember Blaze surged again—a wildfire unleashed.
In one clean strike, he dashed forward and carved across the Guard's torso. Spores ignited instantly. The creature reeled, howling.
It tried to retaliate—too late.
Vergil pivoted, then thrust his blade straight through its chest, empowered by Power Strike and Thrust.
The fungal heart burst—fire and rot exploding outward.
The Guard collapsed, its armor cracking apart in a hiss.
Vergil leaned over it, a slight grin forming.
"Next time, answer the call faster," he muttered. "And get a regeneration skill. You're insulting your species."
He raised his hand again.
"Authority of Predation."
The black mouths devoured the Royal Guard in seconds.
[User has gained 1 Strength, 1 Constitution, and 5 Skills.]
[User has leveled up.]
New Skills Acquired:
Fungal Armor (F)
Spore Sense (F)
Rooted Recovery (F)
Toxic Burst (F)
Shield Slam (F)
Vergil flexed his hand, feeling new power crackle beneath the skin.
Put all points into Dexterity.
[3 points allocated to Dexterity.]
"Let's check the stats."
Current Status:
Strength – 36
Constitution – 37
Dexterity – 32
Intelligence – 10
Wisdom – 12
Magic Power – 20
Magic Capacity – 18
"Not bad. All physical stats in the 30s." He picked up the Royal Guard's Astralyth Stone, eyes glinting.
"Let's see which skills are worth keeping."
He turned from the clearing, boots squelching over scorched moss.
I'll check them on the way back.
----------
Meanwhile, at Elvira's cottage…
Sunlight bathed the small training room in a golden hue, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. The faint scent of dried herbs and old parchment lingered in the air, a quiet reminder of study and solitude.
Eleanor sat cross-legged in the center of the room, her palms open as gentle pulses of energy radiated from her chest. Around her, eight faintly glowing E-rank Astralyth crystals disintegrated one by one, their light dimming as their energy flowed steadily into her core.
As the final crystal crumbled to dust, a low hum resonated within her. Her mana circle pulsed—denser now, more refined, and on the brink of evolution. She drew a slow breath, her hands trembling slightly from the surge of power.
"…I'm close," she murmured, eyes still closed. "Just a little more, and I'll reach the second circle."
Across the room, Elvira observed with folded arms, her sharp gaze softened by a flicker of pride. "Your control has improved. Keep your breathing steady—don't force it. Forming the second circle is about harmony, not brute will."
Eleanor opened her eyes slowly. The air around her shimmered faintly, charged with her growing magic.
She rose, brushed a few strands of dark hair from her face, and exhaled. Her voice was calm, focused—yet something in her eyes gleamed with quiet fire.
"I'll run through my spells again. From the top."
Her tone shifted—firm and melodic—as she raised her hand.
"Volt Lance!"
Blue sparks danced along her fingertips before condensing into a crackling spear of lightning. It surged forward and struck the training dummy with a sharp crack, leaving behind a smoking scorch mark.
Elvira gave a slight nod. "Cleaner than yesterday. Less mana bleed."
Eleanor didn't pause. Her voice dropped slightly, more resonant.
"Entangling Snare!"
The floor beneath a second dummy trembled as glowing green tendrils erupted upward, coiling around its legs with practiced precision. The vines gripped tighter than before—coordinated, forceful.
Then, without hesitation:
"Volt Lance!"
A second bolt of lightning shot out, this one tighter, more focused. The spell hit dead center, embedding deeper into the wood than the first.
Eleanor slowly lowered her hands, her breath steady but purposeful. Her mana flowed with ease now, and her core pulsed with rhythm—like a second heartbeat in tune with her will.
"I can feel it," she said quietly. "My voice is clearer… my magic responds faster. I'm nearly there."
Elvira let the corners of her lips curve ever so slightly. "You're stabilizing faster than I expected. At this rate, you'll complete your second circle before the week is out."
Eleanor's gaze remained forward, her expression composed—yet her eyes sparkled with quiet determination.
I won't fall behind. Not anymore.
She was ready—almost.