The morning light slipped through the curtains like a blade, slicing across the room and catching the faint glint of steel at Vergil's bedside.
His eyes snapped open.
Not groggy. Not slow. Sharp and alert.
His gaze flicked to the side instinctively—and found Eleanor already gone, her presence only marked by the faint scent of frost-laced lavender and a subtle indent in the sheets where she'd slept. No note. No words.
Typical.
Vergil exhaled quietly and sat up, the cold air brushing against his bare arms. He cracked his neck once, rolled his shoulder, and stood. The ache in his muscles was still there—a dull throb from the Astralyth refinement—but manageable. Controlled. Owned.
His eyes landed on the cloak draped over the nearby chair.
Charcoal-gray tunic, snug dark trousers, reinforced padding—he dressed quickly, pulling on each piece with mechanical precision. He fastened the last strap, adjusted the utility loops along the hem of his forest-gray sleeveless cloak, then slid his arms through and let it drape over his frame. The fabric fluttered briefly as he turned toward the mirror.
He looked like a traveler, a hunter—one who'd seen death and fed it in return.
A quiet breath passed his lips as he slipped on the sturdy black boots, tightened the buckles, and gave one final glance at the room before grabbing his satchel.
No wasted time. No second thoughts.
The door opened with a creak and clicked softly behind him as he stepped out into the cool morning of Vaelmont. Dew clung to the rooftops and wooden railings, and a few townsfolk were beginning to stir. Smoke curled from chimneys. The scent of baked bread and damp earth filled the air.
Vergil walked with calm confidence, his boots striking firm against the dirt path. No hesitation in his stride.
As he approached the guild, the building stood tall and familiar—wooden beams weathered by time, windows glowing with warm firelight, and the faded guild crest hanging above the door like a silent invitation.
Vergil pushed the door open, stepping inside without a word.
He didn't come to talk.
He came to work.
---
Vergil stepped into the guild hall just past morning, his boots clicking softly against the polished stone floor. The air inside was a bit warmer than the breeze outside, tinged with parchment, candle wax, and the faint scent of old leather and steel. Familiar.
His gaze settled on the front desk—Elina was there as always, flipping through a stack of requests, quill in hand, her posture precise and composed. Her ash-brown hair was tied in its usual low braid, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
He walked up with casual confidence, setting a small pouch on the desk with a light thud.
"Morning, Elina. I've come to collect my payment," he said, sliding out the five glittering Astralyth stones and placing them on the polished surface.
Elina raised a brow, looked at the stones, then at him.
"You've been busy," she said, nodding approvingly. "Five E-rank Astralyth stones... Good job, Vergil. That'll be ten silver."
She counted the coins out quickly and slid them across. Vergil pocketed them without a word. Silver clinked faintly.
'This should hold me over for now… but not for long,' Vergil thought, eyes already scanning the board behind her.
"I'll take another E-rank mission," he added, voice even.
Elina paused, her violet eyes flicking to his. "Already?"
He nodded once. "No point wasting time."
She sighed softly but didn't argue. Instead, she reached beneath the desk and pulled out a stack of freshly posted E-rank requests, spreading them across the counter.
"There are a few options available right now. I'd suggest something with low risk if you're going alone."
Vergil ignored the comment, eyes already scanning the sheets. He picked one up about skeletons in a forgotten cemetery, then another about spider infestations in a mine. He set both aside without a second glance.
'Not what I need... I need high physical threats. I need pressure.'
Then Elina recommend him golems.
His fingers tapped the paper.
'Found you,' he grinned inwardly.
But then a thought hit him. 'Wait… can I even consume golems with Predation?'
[System Message: Hell nah lil bro, your mouths can't eat rocks.]
'Your making it gay'
[No you are)
Vergil's smirk instantly faltered. 'Goddammit. And stop calling me that—I'm not your little bro.'
[System: You don't have to admit it. We both know.]
He was about to mutter something when Elina then mentioned another one about Orcs.
OA group sighted not far from the town, harassing supply wagons and livestock.
Vergil's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 'Orcs, huh? High strength, tough bodies… they might not be top-tier here, but they'll do. Perfect for pushing my physical stats.'
"I'll take the request involving the orcs," he said, voice calm, slipping the paper forward. Acting as if he understood what was written on it.
Elina looked up, visibly unsurprised. "I knew you'd pick something like that." She rubbed her temples, exhaling. "Of course, you'd choose the most dangerous one on the list."
Her tone was mildly exasperated, but there was something else behind her violet eyes. A flicker of concern, faint but there.
"Elina," Vergil said simply, tilting his head slightly. "You know I'll be fine."
She ignored that. "Orcs are at the top of E-rank. A small group isn't too bad, but if there's a chieftain or—heaven forbid—a king, the mission easily becomes D-rank. This could be classified as a promotion request."
"Even better," he said without missing a beat, that cold confidence threading his words. "So give it to me."
Elina folded her arms. "You should take a team for this, even if it's you. I know you're strong, but arrogance is how adventurers end up dead."
"I'll go solo," Vergil replied flatly. His voice was still soft, but there was steel beneath it—unshakable resolve.
Elina studied him in silence, her expression unreadable. Her lips pressed into a faint line, then she slid the paper toward him.
[System: You're really gonna solo this? You're insane.]
'If I go with a team, I might accidentally kill someone if they have a good skill...'
[System: …Okay, yeah, fair.]
'And I'd have to split the loot.'
[System: Now that's the kind of logic I can respect.]
Vergil took the request and folded it neatly, slipping it into his coat.
Elina finally spoke again, her voice quieter this time.
"…Just don't die out there."
Vergil gave a slight smirk—rare, genuine. "I'll try not to."
And with that, he turned and walked toward the exit, sunlight pouring through the tall guild windows, a new hunt on the horizon.
It was a quiet walk to the destination.
…Why am I lying? It wasn't.
[Hey. You gonna keep ignoring me, lil bro?]
"La-la-la-la," Vergil muttered aloud, deliberately humming like a child, hands tucked behind his head as he strolled down the uneven trail.
[Hello? Seriously?]
"La-la-la-la," he repeated louder, kicking a small rock into the underbrush without missing a beat.
[You know, you're walking into a camp full of club-wielding psychos. This is the part where most people start getting more focused, not dumber.]
"I am focused," Vergil replied, tone flat. "Focused on getting beat up."
[…Come again?]
"I need Resilient Body to reach full E-rank. It's sitting at 95%.I need real damage now."
[So you're gonna take damage on purpose?]
"Controlled damage," Vergil clarified, adjusting the straps on his coat. "Non-lethal. No vital points. Just enough to force my body to adapt."
He cracked his neck and took a long breath through his nose, then exhaled slowly. "The regeneration skill will come in handy."
[Oh yeah, I'm sure the glowing vines will really help when they turn you into soup.]
"They're orcs, not siege engines. And besides—Verdant Regeneration Core is already strong enough to patch most wounds mid-combat. I'll be fine as long as my stamina is their."
The dirt path curved into a shallow gorge flanked by half-buried ruins. Cracked stone pillars rose like jagged teeth from the ground, and moss clung to toppled walls. Debris from a caravan—splintered crates, broken wheels, and bloodied cloth—marked the area with grim silence.
Vergil stopped briefly, eyes narrowing.
[Aha, its a marking]
'No shit then'
"But anways thats good. The more of them, the better. More swings, more pain, more progress."
[Of... course]
He flexed his fingers, checking his grip on the sword at his hip, and stepped forward into the crumbling stone valley. Shadows moved between the ruins. The low grunt of something heavy echoed through the gorge. Then a growl. Then laughter.
Vergil tilted his head side to side, bones cracking.
"Let's level up the hard way."