5:12 AM – Vaelmont Inn, Second Floor
Vergil stirred beneath the coarse blanket, the creak of wooden beams and the faint murmur of wind brushing the shutters the first sounds to greet him. Morning light filtered through the slats, drawing lines of gold across the small, spartan room. His body ached in that satisfying way—every fiber sore from training, yet alive.
His eyes flicked open.
[Get up, Vergil. Venegance is only for the hardworking, not the lazy.]
Vergil grunted. "I know, I know."
[Doesn't look like it.]
"Shut up, I got this" His eyes glinted with a hint of confidence and firmness.
He sat up slowly, the bedsheets rustling as they slid off his shirt, damp with sleep-sweat. Rolling his neck with a pop, he shifted his gaze to the adjacent bed.
Eleanor lay nestled beneath her blanket, a mess of silver hair cascading over her pillow. Her face was half-buried in the fabric, breathing slow and peaceful.
Vergil exhaled quietly, then stood and made his way to her side. He crouched, gently nudging her shoulder.
"Eleanor."
She groaned.
"Wake up. We've got work to do."
"Ugh… already?"
Vergil gave her a moment before speaking again. "Eat quick. We're heading out."
Eleanor slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes. "You're dragging me into something reckless again, aren't you?"
Vergil smirked faintly. "Not reckless. Calculated."
"Oh? And who calculated it?" she asked, stretching with a sleepy scowl as her violet eyes stared into his.
He stood tall, arms folded. "Me of course, the man that will conquer the world ."
Eleanor narrowed her eyes, feigning offense. "Whatever you say ?"
"Of course, we will win.."
She scoffed. "You're ridiculous sometimes."
"Ridiculous and right," he replied, grabbing his coat and strapping on his sheath. "We trained for this. You've reached Second Circle. You're stronger now."
Eleanor stood, brushing her hair back with a faint, proud smirk. "Fine. But if we die, I'm haunting you."
"I'd expect nothing less."
[What a healthy working relationship. Should I note that you'll be haunted in the after life.]
"Hell no, let a man rest in peace ," Vergil muttered, stepping toward the window as the early light spilled further into the room. His gaze shifted over the rooftops of Vaelmont, now tinged in the pale blue of dawn.
His eyes sharpened.
Let's see how far Eleanor has come.
'Analysis.'
Eleanor Valtier
Race: Human
Class: Aria Weaver (Unique)
Title: Noble Heiress
Level: 13
Lifespan: 120 Years
Stats:
Strength: 8
Constitution: 12
Dexterity: 15
Intelligence: 25
Wisdom: 20
Magic Power: 50
Mana Capacity: 50
Skills:
Aria's Blessing (Passive - Unique): Her voice influences emotions subconsciously. At higher mastery, it allows instinctive command or soothing.
Resonant Magic (Active - E+): Spells woven through her voice gain potency, range, and can synchronize with allies.
Harmonic Distortion (Active - E): Disrupts ambient mana, disorienting foes.
Echoed Words (Passive - F+): Spoken spells linger, allowing for delayed or reinforced casting.
Crystallized Core (Passive - E+): Mana is naturally compressed, increasing efficiency and output.
Mana Manipulation (Active - E+): Enhances control over internal and external mana.
Mana Sensitivity (Passive - E+): Can detect mana fluctuations and energy signatures.
Aria's Vital Cadence (Passive - E): Synchronizes life force with mana, reinforcing vitality and extending lifespan to 150 years.
Volt Lance (E-) – 70%: first circle lightning spell. Mild paralysis and burns.
Minor Restoration (F+) – 80%: Basic healing. Soothes pain and stabilizes light wounds.
Entangling Snare (E-) – 100%: first circle Nature-based binding spell. Roots immobilize targets with strong battlefield control.
Vergil frowned slightly.
Her magic stats are solid. Intelligence, Wisdom, Magic Power—all excellent. Constitution's a bit low, but she's not as frail as before. Strength is bad, but at least Dexterity's passable.
Looks like she's done some conditioning herself… still, we'll need to fix the rest after this.
Entangling Snare's at 100%. Seems like E-rank spells cap there unless upgraded. Noted.
He turned back toward Eleanor. She was strapping on her satchel, ready.
Vergil fastened his coat and slid his shield onto his back. "Let's stop by Elvira's. Then grab a paralysis potion from Osric."
5:38 AM – Elvira's Cottage, Outer Edge of Vaelmont
The dirt path leading to Elvira's house was damp with dew, the cool morning air hanging heavy with the scent of moss and woodsmoke. Her home stood at the village's edge, an old stone cottage wrapped in ivy and brambles, a faint wisp of chimney smoke curling into the sky.
Vergil stepped up and knocked—three times, light and even.
A minute passed before the door creaked open.
Elvira appeared, bundled in a thick shawl, silver hair loosely tied back. Though her joints moved slow, her gaze was sharp and direct.
"Well, good morning, lad," she said with a faint, dry smile. "Quite early for you to come and train here."
"Not training today," Vergil replied. "We're heading out. There's a subjugation we're handling."
Elvira blinked, her brows subtly rising.
Subjugation? At this hour?
He looks serious, and the girl too… Must be something important. But where are they going? He's not saying. Hmph. Always with that half-closed mouth of his.
She glanced at Eleanor, who bowed politely. "Good morning, Miss Elvira."
"Morning, dear. You're still following this stubborn boy around, I see."
"I try to," Eleanor said with a light grin.
At least she's stable. Stronger than before too. Her mana feels... sharper. Denser. That training wasn't wasted.
Elvira stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Come in, both of you. I don't know where you're heading, and I'm sure you're not going to tell me, but I'll make sure you leave ready."
Vergil nodded. "Thanks."
She's worried. She doesn't need to say it. But that's fine. We'll come back alive.
They stepped inside, the door closing behind them with a quiet click.
---
5:40 AM – Elvira's Cottage, Interior
The warmth of the hearth gently kissed the inside of the cottage. Morning light crept through the lace-curtained windows, casting soft patterns on the wooden floor. A kettle hissed faintly in the background, and the scent of herbal tea and dried sage wafted through the air.
Vergil stepped in first, ducking slightly under the low beam, while Eleanor followed, blinking in the cozy lighting.
"You always forget how warm it is in here," Eleanor said, brushing her fingers along a hand-carved wooden chair.
"That's because insulation is quite expensive. ," Elvira replied dryly, already walking toward her shelves. "I use twenty years of hoarded tea leaves and the spirit of my back pain to warm the place."
Vergil cracked a subtle grin . "Next time, when I visit i will collect some friewood."
"Whatever," she said without looking at him, but there was no bite in her tone.
He's grown again, she thought, side-eyeing him briefly. Stronger, Sharper. The kind of man who knows how dangerous he's becoming… and still chooses kindness.
But little did she know that was all a facade.
She set down a few worn flasks on the table, each filled with various herbs. "Sit. Drink before you go running off to fight some… whatever-you're-not-telling-me-about."
Vergil sat, quiet but comfortable. Eleanor flopped into the seat beside him, elbows on the table like a child used to visiting this home.
'She really is nice to Vergil, although she sounds harsh, its just a front' Elenaor thought as her violet eyes flickered between the two
"Is that new?" Vergil asked, nodding toward a softly glowing crystal embedded in the wall beside the hearth.
Elvira glanced at it, then at him, eyes narrowing slightly with a crooked smile.
"You noticed, huh? I enchanted it myself. Helps keep the heat steady. I'm not completely useless now, despite my old age."
She tapped her left wrist, the fingers slightly curled and unresponsive. Her smile didn't waver, but the shadow passed behind her eyes.
Vergil leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Your not useless, a persons worth is determined by themseleves, you taught us more than anyone could."
Their eyes met.
A moment passed—quiet, meaningful.
'Damn boy. Don't say things like that… you'll make an old woman cry before breakfast.'
"…I know," she said softly, before shifting her gaze to Eleanor. "And you—how's that mana core? Still buzzing like an excited squirrel?"
Eleanor laughed, hands behind her head. "More like a nervous cat these days. But it has become more stable since yesterday."
"Good. Next step is to make sure its fully stablized before increasing and stop trying to hit Vergil."
"That was one time… and Vergil deserved it."
Vergil raised an eyebrow. "Hell na, i did nothing wrong, don't accuse the innocent."
[No cap, that time was your fault]
'Even you, I thought we were boys'
[A man must take the blame from a women]
'Didn't know you were a lady's man'
[What can I say, im better than you at getting girls]
'Chill out there, your overestimating yourself'
"Fine, im sorry for whatever I did." Vergil sighed as he rolled his eyes
Elvira gave a theatrical sigh. "Yes, yes. You two look more like a couple than a team at this point."
Vergil looked slightly away, the corner of his mouth twitching.
'She's teasing me again. Means she's in a good mood.'
Elvira placed two cups of tea in front of them, then sat down herself with a grunt, cradling her own cup.
"You know," she said after a pause, "back in my day, if a young man showed up before dawn looking like that, I'd assume he was running off to propose. But no—just monsters and mayhem, as usual."
Vergil chuckled lightly, taking a sip of the hot tea. "Monsters are less complicated."
Her gaze softened. "And much less frightening."
Their eyes lingered again, and something passed between them—unspoken but understood. Gratitude. Trust. A growing bond forged not by blood, but by fire and time.
Eleanor watched the exchange with a knowing smile, sipping her tea.
'She's like the grandmother he never had. No wonder he always listens to her, even when he pretends not to.'
Elvira stood and shuffled toward a cabinet, grabbing a small box wrapped in violet string. She handed it to Vergil without a word.
He blinked, taking it. "What's this?"
"A favor," she said simply. "Don't open it unless you're dying."
Vergil looked down at the box, then up at her again, eyes shadowed by something unspoken.
"…Thank you."
She patted his shoulder once—firm, maternal, but affectionate. "Don't die. You're too damn stubborn for that
'Come back safe, boy. I already lost them. I won't lose you too.'
[Users relationship with Elvira has deepened, Your relationship has increased from 5 stars to 6 stars.]
Eleanor's tone is colder and more composed.
No jokes about generals or proposals.
Vergil remains observant but keeps things balanced.
Their interaction has more tension, yet still retains a hint of familiarity.
6.10 AM – Vaelmont, Cobblestone Lane
The cold morning mist clung to the air as Vergil and Eleanor walked side by side in silence. Their boots echoed softly against the damp cobblestone path, the quiet village slowly waking around them.
Eleanor kept her eyes forward, her arms folded tightly across her chest. The silence between them wasn't awkward—but it wasn't exactly comfortable either.
Vergil glanced at her briefly. "Sleep okay?"
She didn't look at him. "Well enough."
Her voice was distant, clipped. Not unfriendly—but not warm either.
Vergil nodded once. "Good. We'll need focus today."
They turned down a narrow alley that led toward the main road. Fog lingered low near the rooftops. Osric's shop came into view, its crooked sign swaying gently in the breeze.
A faint scent of roasted herbs and something metallic drifted from inside. Vergil pushed open the door. The bell overhead gave a weak jingle.
Immediately, a small pop sounded from behind the counter. A burst of violet smoke curled up and vanished into the rafters.
Osric stumbled out from behind a curtain of hanging roots, goggles lopsided and hair singed at the tips.
"By the stars—oh. It's you," he muttered, brushing soot off his apron. "Didn't expect anyone sane this early."
"Need a D rank paralysis potion," Vergil said, stepping forward.
Eleanor remained near the door, arms still folded, her gaze flicking around the shop. Every movement was measured, restrained—like someone constantly scanning for danger.
Osric blinked. "First of all your in a hurry and second of all do you hacd enough money for a D rank paralysis potion."
Vergil grinned as his brow eyes stared at him "can you put it on credit, ill give 15 silver and pay the rest later"
Osric scratched at his beard. "Fine, you better pay be back, or else."
"Got it" Vergil smiled
[Your one smooth talker i tell you that]
As the man rummaged through cluttered shelves, Eleanor finally spoke, her voice quiet but firm. "How long will it take?"
Vergil turned slightly toward her. "The potion or the job?"
"Both."
He paused. "Potion—less than a minute. Job? Depends on what we find."
She nodded slowly but didn't speak further.
[She's on edge. But she's hiding it well. That look in her eyes... it's not fear—it's focus. Cold, sharp focus.]
Osric reemerged with a small vial, the liquid inside a shimmering green with faint silver strands twisting through it.
"One paralysis potion," he said, placing it on the counter. "Strong enough to lock down a mid-tier beast, maybe even something worse if you catch it clean."
Vergil took it, inspecting the fluid. "Looks good."
Osric leaned in slightly. "You heading out on something serious?"
Vergil's gaze didn't shift. "A subjugation."
The word hung in the air for a second too long.
Osric nodded slowly. "Alright. Just don't die. Otherwise ill come to collect your debt in the afterlife."
Vergil smirked faintly, placing the coins on the counter.
Eleanor was already turning to leave.
He followed her outside into the pale morning light. The sky had started to shift toward gray-blue. Ashwood Forest loomed in the distance like a sleeping monster.
Vergil put the vial in his inventory.
Eleanor's voice came, low and direct. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah."
She looked at him, finally—eyes sharp, unreadable. "Dont be too reckless."
Vergil didn't flinch. "I won't."
For a moment, their gazes held. No warmth. Just mutual understanding.
Then she turned away again.
They began walking, boots striking the road in rhythm.