Vergil walked along a narrow dirt path winding through the trees, his cloak torn at the edges, dried blood caked along his sleeves. Every step sent a dull ache through his legs—reminders of the Goremire King's final onslaught. The scent of scorched bark and lingering mana still clung to the air, like the aftermath of a storm unwilling to pass.
The quiet hum of the forest had returned. Too calm. Too peaceful after what he'd just endured.
He pulled up his system window and retrieved the core he'd taken from their fallen king.
The Astralyth Core pulsed faintly in his palm, its rhythm syncing with his mana flow. Warm to the touch. Alive, almost.
Vergil exhaled, breath curling into the cold air like smoke.
Ahead, the horizon shimmered faintly with the fading light of dusk. His eyes narrowed as Vaelmont's rooftops finally came into view. His stride remained steady, purposeful—but his expression was stone: cold, unreadable. In his hand, the core glowed gently, like a heart that refused to die.
"I need to get this refined… fast," he muttered, voice low and sharp as drawn steel.
The forest remained eerily still. No howls. No monsters. No sudden ambushes. Just the rustling of wind through dead leaves and the distant sound of birds fleeing the treetops.
No chaos. No interruptions.
Just peace—
[I'm back.]
Vergil flinched. His eye twitched. "Goddammit… why now?"
[Didn't you miss me?]
"You disappeared after every fight. Even when that demon was on my ass. Where the hell were you?"
[Giving you the full immersive experience. Besides, you're still breathing, aren't you? Don't be a bitch about it.]
"Tch."
[Oh, don't pout. You know what they say—'all's well that ends well.' Even if you did run like a little puss—]
"I didn't run," Vergil snapped. "I retreated. Tactically. To survive."
[Mhm. Tactical retreat. Stylish escape. Tomato, tomahto.]
He rolled his eyes and kept walking, the core's glow a steady pulse in his grip.
[Anyway, let's talk about something fun—your little bonding trip with Eleanor seems to be going well.]
"…Yeah," Vergil replied smoothly. "It is."
[Oho? And what's that supposed to mean?]
He didn't stop walking. His voice dropped, colder than before. "She's talented. Sharp. She listens. That's all I need."
[Mmm. Useful little pawn, huh?]
Vergil's tone sharpened like frost-edged steel. "That's exactly what she is. I use her skills. She uses me for revenge. It's mutual. When the goals don't align anymore, it ends."
[Sounds efficient. But… are you sure you won't catch feelings?]
He paused—not in his steps, but in his thoughts. He glanced down at the pulsing core in his hand, then kept walking.
"Feelings?" he said softly, hollowly. "Emotions are distractions. Vulnerabilities dressed in sentiment. I don't have the luxury to waste energy on things that won't help me rise."
[Yeesh. Ice cold.]
"We're using each other. I give her strength. She gives me options. That's it."
He clenched his jaw.
"When it's over, I'll make it clear. We part ways."
[Even if she wants something more?]
"She won't," Vergil replied, voice flat. "Because I won't let her."
A long silence followed.
[You know… most people build connections to feel alive. Not more alone.]
Vergil's reply came without hesitation.
"I don't need to feel alive," he said. "I need to win. And become the strongest."
[...Whatever you say.]
With that, the voice faded.
Vergil walked on, the eerie quiet of the forest folding in around him like a shroud. Only the crunch of dead leaves beneath his boots and the gentle thrum of the Astralyth Core in his hand accompanied him.
Ahead, the rooftops of Vaelmont rose fully into view—bathed in the deep orange of twilight. The city awaited.
By the time Vergil reached the inn, the sky had deepened into a rich indigo. Lamps flickered to life along the cobbled streets, casting long, trembling shadows between the stone buildings. He pushed open the door with a low creak, stepping into the quiet warmth of the common room.
The few patrons inside glanced up—torn cloak, blood-crusted sleeves, dirt on his boots—but they looked away just as quickly. Vaelmont had seen worse. Silence and anonymity were often the only kindness the city offered.
Vergil dropped a few bronze coins onto the counter without a word and climbed the stairs to his room.
The door clicked shut behind him, and only then did he allow his body to sag against it. Exhaustion poured in like floodwater. His joints ached. His shoulders screamed. The dull throb of a demon's blade still burned faintly across his back.
He stripped in silence, shedding clothes stiff with dried blood and sweat, scattering them across the floor. With a flick of his fingers and a quiet Ember Blaze, the small bath in the corner filled and steamed. The water wasn't hot—just clean.
Vergil stepped in with a hiss through clenched teeth.
Steam rose around him, curling over his skin like smoke. He sank lower, arms draped over the rim of the tub, head tilted back, eyes half-lidded. For the first time since the Goremire King, his body began to unwind.
The room was still. The only sound was water gently lapping against porcelain and the soft crackle of the conjured flame.
He stared at the ceiling.
Alone.
Still alive.
And then—
[You missed a spot.]
Vergil didn't move. "…I will drown myself just to shut you up."
[Worth it.]
He closed his eyes, choosing silence over further commentary.
Tomorrow, he'd check on Eleanor.
Tomorrow, he'd take the next step toward whatever nightmare came next.
But tonight…
Just the bath.
Just the core.
Just five minutes of stillness.
No monsters. No screaming system. No blood.
Just peace.
For now.
---
When Vergil emerged, his skin was pale from the heat, but his posture had returned—straight, composed, alert. He dressed in silence, slipping into the spare set of gear he'd picked up from a traveling vendor: a close-fitting charcoal-gray tunic reinforced with light leather across the chest and shoulders, matte black trousers designed for movement, and a sleeveless forest-gray cloak with stitched utility loops lining its inner hem. His boots were thick-soled and scuffed—worn, but reliable.
He ran a hand through his damp hair, tying it back at the base of his neck, then fastened the last buckle across his chest.
The balcony door creaked open, and he stepped out into the night.
The air was cool. Still. Far too quiet for a city like Vaelmont.
Stars peeked through the indigo haze above, dim and distant.
Vergil watched them for a while.
Then he turned back inside.
---
The door closed with a muted thud behind him. He walked to the center of the room and dropped into a seated position, cross-legged on the floorboards. From his inventory, he drew out the Astralyth Core.
It pulsed faintly in his hand, radiating a low hum of crystallized power—energy that hadn't yet decided whether it belonged to the dead king or to him.
He stared at it in silence. The light within it flickered softly, syncing with the rhythm of his mana. Warm. Alive.
His expression didn't change, but there was something focused in the stillness of his body.
"Let's refine this thing," he muttered.
He placed the core in front of him, both palms open toward it.
"Half to advance my circle," he said under his breath. "The rest goes to the mana organ."
His aura stirred, quiet and controlled.
Then—
"Authority of Predation."
Black, spectral mouths tore open in the air—fangs bared, swirling with hunger—and devoured the core in vicious, silent gulps. As the crystal vanished, a torrent of raw Astralyth energy surged into Vergil's body, flooding his veins like wildfire.
His breath hitched—then steadied.
Inhale—he pulled the energy inward, channeling it toward his Mana Heart, the nucleus of his inner magic.
Exhale—he compressed it, letting the pressure build in tight, deliberate waves.
Inhale—he anchored his will, forcing the power deeper into the core of the organ.
Exhale—he refined it, filtering the flow as it condensed into true mana.
Each breath pulsed with mounting strain. His Mana Heart pounded like war drums in his chest. Pain spread through his ribs—sharp, molten—but he clenched his jaw and endured.
[Mana Heart Proficiency has reached 76%]
[Mana Capacity has increased by 20]
A faint inner glow radiated from his center, pulsing outward. But he didn't stop.
"Time to switch…"
He diverted the remaining flow, now guiding the energy toward the mana circle coiled inside the heart itself—a ring of power, fragile and forming.
Inhale—he drew mana into the arcane structure.
Exhale—he compressed it tightly, expanding the circle's reach.
Inhale—he focused, stretching the ring under carefully measured tension.
Exhale—he hardened the structure, layering it with stability and intent.
[Mana Circle Proficiency: 41%… 42%… 44%…]
[Magic Power increased by 5]
The circle shimmered faintly within him—brighter, more solid. The Astralyth energy continued pouring in, slower now, no longer overwhelming but still potent.
[Mana Circle Proficiency: 60%]
[Magic Power increased by 5]
[New Skill Acquired: Verdant Core (E+)]
Vergil exhaled sharply, a cold mist curling past his lips. His heart still thundered, but the pain had settled into something quieter—an iron rhythm, deep and steady.
"…That'll do."
His eyes opened, glowing faintly in the dim candlelight. Sharper. Colder. Anchored.
Stronger.
'Combination'
The blue panel flared to life before him.
[Skill Combination Available]
"Combine Greater Regeneration Core and Verdant Core," Vergil commanded.
[Combining skills… Combination successful.]
[New Skill Acquired: Verdant Regeneration Core (C-)]
Grants advanced passive regeneration capable of healing deep wounds, internal damage, and minor limbs (fingers, toes, ears, tails) over time.
Minor limb regeneration functions even during combat, though it consumes stamina. This cost is reduced when surrounded by natural flora or ambient mana.
Regular wounds heal swiftly and efficiently. Stamina usage is significantly reduced compared to lower-tier regeneration skills.
Passively draws mana from the environment to fuel regeneration and ease overall strain.
Provides moderate resistance to bleeding, toxins, infections, and decay-related effects.
Note: Full limb regeneration (arms, legs) is not currently possible.
Visual Effect: When regenerating, faint green veins glow beneath the skin. Ghostly vines or leaves briefly bloom along wounds before fading.
Vergil sat in silence, letting the changes settle. It felt like coals smoldering beneath his skin. Not comforting—potent. Alive. The kind of heat that promised survival through attrition.
"Not bad…" he muttered, flexing his fingers. Green light pulsed faintly up his forearm, then vanished. "Very not bad."
That sentence doesn't even fucking make sense, you donut.]
Vergil ignored the system and pressed on.
[ Tough Body — Proficiency: 45% (F+)]
"Almost there," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "Let's speed this up."
He opened his skill interface with practiced ease and began trimming the fat.
"Sacrifice Mycelial Armor, Screeching Dive, Wailing Howl, and Limb Burst."
[40 F+ Rank Evolution Points Gained.]
"I already had 10 F+. This should be enough…"
[50 F+ Evolution Points used on 'Tough Body'.]
['Tough Body' Proficiency increased to 95%.]
"Good."
He summoned his old dagger from inventory, grabbed it by the worn grip—and without hesitation, stabbed it into his own palm.
A sharp hiss escaped his lips.
"Shit. Still hurts."
The blade met resistance—slight, but present. The flesh was tougher. As he withdrew it, the wound began sealing before his eyes. Skin reknit, muscle tightened, and a soft green glow pulsed along the veins before fading.
He stared at the now-flawless palm in silence.
Then a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Tch. That's more like it."
He flexed his hand, feeling the hum of regeneration beneath the skin—a warm thrum, steady as a second heartbeat.
"The difference in Tough Body is subtle... but it's there. Skin's denser. Pain dulled just enough to matter. And unless I'm losing limbs or getting my guts pureed, I won't die from the usual bullshit."
He exhaled slowly. Collected. Composed.
With Verdant Regeneration Core backing him, he could afford to take more risks. Survive worse. Push harder.
Vergil turned toward the window just as dusk bled into night, green light flickering in his eyes.
"…Not bad."
But it was a damn good start.
He stretched his shoulders, sore and worn after the long day. Residual mana still pulsed beneath his skin, the remnants of refinement humming like low thunder through his nerves.
"Six more days…" he muttered, stripping off his belt and draping his coat over the chair.
One more mission tomorrow—just enough to stay sharp. After that, train with Elvira. Magic theory. Spell refinement. And maybe—just maybe—I'll reach the second circle.
He dropped onto the bed in silence. Boots off. Sword placed beside him—always within reach. His body sank into the mattress, tension bleeding out with every breath.
"For now… sleep."
He closed his eyes as the last flickers of lanternlight danced across the wooden walls. Outside, Vaelmont had quieted. No monsters. No chaos. No system commentary.
Just wind. And distant village murmurs.
Finally, peace.
---
An hour later, the door opened—quiet as a breath.
Eleanor stepped inside, her expression unreadable. Her long, damp white hair clung in loose strands to her shoulders. Eyes—sharp, violet, and cold—scanned the room once.
Then she stepped in fully, closing the door behind her with a gentle click.
She moved without a word. Boots off. Satchel set neatly beside the bed.
Vergil lay motionless, his breathing slow and even, one arm draped over the edge of the mattress. He looked different like this. Less guarded. Vulnerable in a way that wasn't weak—just... unarmored.
She stared for a moment longer than she meant to.
Then, wordlessly, she lay down beside him.
She faced away, leaving a few inches of space—but not too many. Just enough.
There was no warmth in her face. No softness in her posture. But she hadn't chosen the other bed. She hadn't left the room.
And that was something.
Her eyes closed.
The silence between them wasn't comfortable. But it wasn't cruel, either. It simply was—like two wolves sharing the same fire. Untrusting. Scarred. But tired of the cold.
She didn't speak.
Neither did he.
But as sleep crept in, the space between them slowly disappeared.