There was a stillness in that space beyond time and meaning.
The world around them was empty—no wind, no light, no sound. Just black, stretching infinitely in every direction. But standing there, like a soft candle in the dark, was Elvira.
She smiled.
It wasn't a smile of pity or even sorrow—it was kind, warm… almost like nothing had happened. As if the world hadn't crumbled. As if death hadn't stolen her away.
"You're alright," she said gently, like the breeze of spring after a long winter.
Vergil's breath caught in his throat.
Her voice. That voice he thought he'd never hear again. That old, slightly rasped but ever-gentle tone that carried stories, lessons, and scoldings with the same affection.
But something inside him twisted, tighter and tighter, like a vice.
'Still thinking about others rather than yourself'
His eyes stayed locked on her. He didn't speak. He couldn't. He didn't want her to worry, didn't want to burden her. His face was blank, carefully arranged in a fragile calm. Not a crack in sight.
But inside, everything was breaking.
He had imagined this kind of moment before—often in dreams. He used to wonder if, by some twist of fate, he'd ever meet his real parents again, and if he did, what he'd say. Would he ask why they left? Would he say he missed them? Would he scream or stay silent?
But now, here he was, faced with something just as real, just as painful.
He didn't say anything.
Instead, Vergil took one step forward—and then another—and then he ran.
He crashed into her like a wave, arms wrapping around her as tightly as he could. His head buried in her shoulder, holding her as though the darkness might steal her again at any moment if he loosened his grip.
She didn't flinch.
Her arms wrapped around him with the ease of someone who had always been waiting. She held him gently, like a grandmother comforting a frightened child, like she had done before… in simpler days.
"It's alright," she said again, voice calm and loving, steady as ever.
Vergil didn't move at first. His arms trembled slightly. His breaths grew heavy.
His mind shouted at him—don't fall apart, don't let go, don't break. You have to be strong. You have to carry it.
But he couldn't.
His body had endured loneliness for his whole life. But this was the first time he had someone to call family. Vergil couldnt say anything to himself. He felt.
Guilty.
It started in his chest. A heavy pressure, like a stone crushing his lungs. Then it spread to his limbs, his thoughts, until it filled every fiber of his being.
Although he had caused death to many innocrnt, he did not care.
Not once.
Even when his hands were stained with blood.
He only smiled then.
He never cried.
But now… now he was shaking.
His voice cracked as he tried to hold the tide.
"I cannot repay you for what you have given me" he whispered.
Elvira didn't respond immediately. Her hand gently stroked his hair, calming, understanding.
Vergil's body was tense—coiled like a beast trying to tear itself apart.
"I'm Sorry" he said again, barely above a whisper. "
His mouth refused to say more. His throat tightened. Words lost all meaning.
He didn't deserve forgiveness. He didn't even deserve this moment. And yet here she was—still smiling, still holding him like none of that mattered.
'Blame me,' he wanted to say. 'You should blame me. Hate me.'
But he couldn't speak through the trembling.
Elvira finally leaned back, just enough to look him in the eyes.
"You think I don't know pain?" she said softly. "You think I've never made mistakes?"
Her voice wasn't angry. It was calm, tinged with a deep sorrow, like the wind that whispers through ruins.
"I've watched loved ones die. I held my son's lifeless body once, Vergil. I've seen villages burn. I've made choices that I regret every day… but I kept going."
Vergil lowered his head again, unable to meet her gaze.
"You're not the first to cause destruction… and you won't be the last," she said gently. "But you… you gave me something in those weeks I thought I'd never feel again."
She paused.
"Happiness."
The word hit him like a hammer.
"You reminded me what it was like to care again. To teach. To scold. To laugh. You made this old woman feel needed."
Vergil's jaw clenched tightly.
He tried to stop it, he really did. But tears streamed down his face, one after the other. Hot. Relentless. Silent.
His lips trembled. He shook his head, not in denial, but in despair.
He couldn't speak. He didn't want to break down like this.
But Elvira pulled him closer once more, resting his head on her shoulder again.
"You don't have to say anything," she whispered. "I know."
Vergil clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms so hard they nearly broke skin. His face twisted. All the screams he'd buried, the pain, the guilt, the hate—all of it came out in sobs he couldn't contain anymore.
He wept, the kind of crying that echoed in the soul—the kind where time no longer exists and nothing else matters but the weight in your chest.
He wanted her to curse him.
Wanted her to yell, to scream, to tell him he was a monster.
But she didn't.
She just held him.
And in that silence, with only the sound of his ragged breathing and muffled cries, Elvira finally spoke again.
"Others may blame you. Curse you in the afterlife for what you did."
Vergil froze.
"But I won't."
He looked up at her, vision blurred.
"You are… like a grandson to me."
His breath hitched.
That warmth—real, gentle warmth—spread through the cracks in his shattered spirit. But it only made the guilt worse, because he didn't deserve it.
Yet she offered it anyway.
"I'm grateful to have met you," she continued. "Even if it was just for a short time."
Vergil bit down on his lip until he tasted blood, trying to hold back another wave of tears.
She wiped one away with her thumb.
"You gave me purpose again. You gave me joy."
He couldn't speak.
He didn't need to.
She smiled once more, the same soft smile from their first meeting. The one that made that broken house feel like a home.
Their time was short.
The darkness around them trembled.
He didn't know how long he could stay here, or if this was real, or just a dream created by his collapsing sanity.
But for now…
He held her tightly, one last time.
He wanted this moment to last forever.
Even if it couldn't.
The world around them was still, frozen in the quiet aftermath of grief. Nothing moved, nothing stirred, as if all of existence had held its breath, watching this final moment unfold.
Vergil gripped Elvira tightly, unwilling to let go, his fingers digging into her back as if anchoring her to this world, to him. But no matter how hard he held on, he could feel it—her warmth was slipping away, her presence fading, her body becoming lighter.
Then, he saw it.
A soft, glowing white began to spread from her fingertips, moving up her arms, consuming her bit by bit like she was turning into light itself. It was beautiful, yet it carried a finality that made his chest ache.
'No not yet Vergil whispered to himself in his mind, his voice breaking. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself, to push back the lump rising in his throat. He knew deep down that this was their last meeting.
Elvira only smiled.
Her fingers, now half-transparent, brushed against his cheek, a touch so light it was almost like the wind.
"You've grown so much in such a short time," she said, her voice gentle, warm, full of pride. "I only wish… I had more time to see what you would become."
Vergil clenched his jaw. His mind screamed at him to stop this from happening, to force fate to change. He had never been one to believe in things like destiny, but right now, he hated it.
He had seen death before. He had caused it. He had never once hesitated to take a life when necessary. But this—this was different.
This was someone who had given him something he never had before.
A home.
A moment of peace.
A warmth he had never known.
A bond that felt… real.
[Your bond with Elvira has increased to 10 stars]
He ignored the system.
"I—" His voice faltered. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words tangled in his throat.
Elvira's form flickered, the light overtaking more of her body now. Her legs had disappeared, then her waist. Soon, she was only half of what she once was, a being of white and gold, drifting toward the beyond.
Her smile did not waver.
"There is something for you…" she said softly. "In one of the drawers… you'll find a letter."
Vergil blinked, his mind struggling to process her words through the thick haze of emotion drowning him.
"A letter?" he repeated, almost in a daze.
"A recommendation… for the academy," she murmured. "I wrote it for you, since you wanted to go. Even after everything… I still believe in you, Vergil."
His breath hitched. Even in her final moments, even as she was fading away, she was still giving.
His hands trembled.
She had no reason to do this. He had done nothing to deserve such kindness. And yet… she gave it to him anyway. He was a bastard.
His chest tightened, emotions surging up, threatening to break free. He wanted to be strong, to hold it together, to not let her see the cracks forming in his mask.
But then—
She looked at him one last time.
And with a warmth that reached beyond death itself, she whispered:
"I'm happy, my beloved grandson."
Vergil's heart stopped.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the world around him vanished.
It was just him and her.
That word—grandson—hit him like a blade straight through the soul. It was something he never expected to hear. Something he never thought he could have.
He had always walked alone. Always fought alone. Even Eleanor was just a pawn to him. He always told himself he didn't need something as fragile as family in his old world. But ever since he came here, he was wrong. Family is something that makes humans whole. The emotions they feel together. Happiness, sadness and agony, they experience together. He wanted to experience all the good times just like others.
But here she was.
Giving it to him.
His lips parted, but his voice barely came out, hoarse, broken, raw.
"…Grandmother."
She gave one last smile after hearing him say that.
And then—she was gone.
The last traces of her light drifted into the air, scattering like the final embers of a dying fire. The warmth she left behind lingered for just a moment before the cold, crushing silence took its place.
Vergil stood there, unmoving.
A pit had opened in his chest, something heavy, something unbearable.
Then, a sudden notification rang in his mind.
Title Acquired: Burden Carrier]
"You who have walked the memories of those closest to you. Their pain, their joy, their sins—you carry them now. Do not forget them."
Vergil let out a quiet breath, his fists clenching at his sides. He didn't need the system to tell him that.
He already knew.
The burden was his to carry.
It always had been.
And now, he had one more to bear.
The silence after her disappearance was deafening.
The last traces of her light had long since faded, but Vergil stood frozen in the same spot—arms still slightly raised, as if she were still in them. As if by refusing to move, he could pretend she hadn't just vanished into nothingness. Into peace. Into light.
His gaze dropped slowly, falling to the ground where she had stood. There was nothing there. No body. No shadow. Just empty space, and the cold that filled it.
His lips parted.Then he began laughing.
"Hahahahahahahahah" He kept on "Ah" the the tears rolled down as he laughed
"I really am a bastard, grandmother…"
The words trembled in the air.
His knees finally gave out, dropping him to the floor. He didn't fight it. He welcomed the collapse. The weight in his chest pressed down like a mountain, suffocating and heavy.
"…I'm sorry, I cannot stop blaming myself."
He stared at the floor with blank, lifeless eyes. The same hands that had clung to her, begged her not to go, now rested limply at his sides—tainted hands. Ones that had taken, used, destroyed.
The world felt too big now. Too silent.
He clenched his teeth and slammed his fist into the ground.
Once.
Twice.
A third time—hard enough to crack the earth beneath his knuckles.
But it didn't ease the guilt.
Nothing could.
Because no matter how much he hit himself, no matter how much he bled… she was gone.
And he was still here.
He cursed the heavens. Cursed himself. Cursed this world that always seemed to demand something in exchange for every fleeting moment of happiness.
'Its made me realise, that the only thing thay truly exists in this reality. Is Pain, Suffering and Emptiness. Happy moments are fleeting while the emptiness is long.
All she did was give. Even in her final breath.
And what had he done?
Opened the gate.
Brought the demons.
Let the village burn.
Got her killed.
"I told myself I wouldn't care," he muttered, voice barely audible. "That it didn't matter. That nothing mattered but strength."
But now?
Now that warmth was gone.
And it mattered more than anything.
He thought of her quiet laugh, her scolding voice, her tired but patient eyes when he struggled to use spells. The way she called him stubborn. The way she set a warm plate down in front of him after a long day.
He thought of how she smiled, even as she faded.
Even as she forgave him.
He closed his eyes. The tears wouldn't come anymore—he had already given them all to her.
But the pain remained.
That, he would carry.
Forever.
His fists clenched. Blood trickled down from where his nails dug into his palms. No matter how many he had killed, how many he had used, he had never felt like this. This hollow, aching weight.
She had given him warmth, guidance, a home… a piece of humanity he thought he had lost.
And now it was gone.
His gaze rose slowly to the heavens—cold, distant, indifferent.
"Life is always full of surprises huh weever."
His voice dropped into a low, seething murmur.
The wind shifted as if the world heard the promise and recoiled.
"I'll break you…" he whispered, His malice carved into his words , "…until nothing's left."