The sun bled low, painting the ruins in rust and shadow. Crooked trees jutted like ribs, their branches whispering of rot.
Whishh… The distant cawing of birds made it all the eerie.
He could hear them. Darin and his dogs, trailing from the shadows. Footfalls light on stone. They thought they were subtle but they weren't
Clink. Thud.
He let the sword clatter to the stone with a careless fumble. From the dark, a low chuckle answered Darin, waiting with that same cocky rasp.
Any moment now…
A twig snapped behind him. Snap! Sharp, deliberate. Vergil didn't flinch, his lips twitching into a grin. Fingers brushing the hilt of his blade.
The line was cast, and the hook was baited. Now, he only had to wait for them to bite.
Tonight, three men would die.
And their skills… would become his.
But should I have a little fun with them first? Vergil mused, eyes gleaming.
He channelled mana through his limbs, a faint shimmer tracing his skin. Not full power, but just enough to enhance his body modestly. A single point in each physical stat. Enough to seem competent… not unstoppable.
With a flick of energy, he activated Dash! His Dexterity spiked as he lunged into the fray.
The scavengers lunged at him with their…
Clang! Screech! Claws of rusted steel slashed toward him; his blade rang against them with shrieking metal, sparks spitting into the air. Footwork balanced on the knife's edge of collapse.
A staged struggle.
And the bait was irresistible.
"Ha! Look at the newbie struggling!" one of Darin's lackeys jeered from the shadows.
"Told ya he'd bite off more than he could chew," Darin chuckled, cracking his knuckles.
Vergil let another scavenger lunge at him, barely parrying in time to avoid damage, his strained breath just audible enough for the audience to hear.
Darin grinned. "Let's kill him."
They stepped into the ruins, drawn by their arrogance. Blades drawn. Predators circling their prey.
But they weren't predators.
The first Grave Scavenger lunged at Darin, snarling. Darin sidestepped easily, slamming his sword into its side, only for the creature to twist unnaturally and rake its claws across his arm.
"Damn, these things are fast!" one of the men cursed.
"They're just bottom-feeders," Darin growled. "Stay close. Wipe them out."
He never finished.
A WAILING HOWL tore through the ruins. It was high-pitched and too unnatural to be human, disorienting the group just for a moment.
And in that moment. Vergil struck.
Dash!
One moment, he was facing the scavengers; the next, he was behind a man.
Savage Claw!
His fingers were tearing through the man's back, reaching his spine with terrifying ease. Splatter!
Blood sprayed on the rocky floor.
A dying scream echoed.
Vergil withdrew his hand, letting the man crumple with a wet, gurgling sound.
Darin whirled around. "What the?"
Vergil smiled as the stolen skill flowed through him. It was raw and crude, but certainly adaptable. Already, he was refining it beyond what the beasts could manage.
"Darin," he said, voice calm. "It's quite effective, don't you think?"
The scavengers surged forward, drawn by the scent of fresh blood pouring from the man's injury. Darin's group, dazed and unready, found themselves caught.
Between monsters.
And one of them… was Vergil.
Darin's eyes widened in shock at his collapsed ally, twitching in a spreading pool of blood.
Darin staggered back, fingers fluttering uselessly at his belly. "You...what did you do, you little."
Vergil tilted his head. "I killed him."
The remaining two lackeys faltered, their swagger collapsing into dread.
This wasn't a misstep.
This was a trap.
Vergil moved.
Dash!
He was on them in an instant.
His sword carved across the throat of the closest man, once, twice, three times. Precise cuts, not wasteful. The man staggered, clutching his ruined neck as blood poured through his fingers.
Darin roared and lunged, his blade cleaving down.
Vergil sidestepped, letting a Grave Scavenger intercept the strike.
Then he moved behind him, silent as death.
He leaned in and whispered as he thrust his blade between Darin's ribs.
"You were right, Darin. I really should've taken it easy."
Darin choked, collapsing to his knees, blood spilling from his lips.
"Wait... we can talk..."
The final lackey tried to run—but a scavenger's claws yanked him to the ground, where his screams were quickly smothered by gnashing teeth.
Vergil crouched beside Darin, studying him like a curious scholar observing the final moments of a dying experiment. He placed a bloodstained hand on the man's throat, feeling the flickering heartbeat fade.
"It's alright. You were a fun toy," Vergil whispered.
Authority of Predation!
With a raised hand, abyssal maws tore open. Ssshhhhh… Shadows swallowed the corpses with a wet, sucking hiss, leaving only bones behind.
[User has gained 2 Strength and 2 Constitution]
Skills Acquired:
Passive:
Tough Body (F+)
Battle Instincts (F+)
Active:
Power Strike (F+)
Quick Guard (F)
Power slid through him like heat, he could even taste it on his tongue and couldn't help the small, sharp thrill curling in his chest.
Darin's corpse crumbled, black mouths gnawing it into nothing, leaving only his equipment behind.
Vergil stood slowly, his gaze lingering on the skeletal remains of the fallen. The Grave Scavengers paid him no mind now. They were busy feasting on what was left of Darin's group.
Vergil cleaned his blade, catching his reflection in the steel. For a heartbeat, he saw something unfamiliar. Remembering of the boy who trembled to even kill. The thought passed like smoke.
Tonight had been productive. But it wasn't enough. It never had. Each kill fed something that never stopped gnawing.
But not enough.
He still wanted more.
He traced the shallow cut with a fingertip, proof of his own gamble. He wasnt just hunting, he wanting to push himself.
A calculated wound.
The scent stirred the scavengers again. They hissed, hungry.
Vergil grinned, lifting his shield.
"No analysis. No shortcuts. I won't learn anything by playing it safe."
One scavenger lunged, dagger flashing.
Quick Guard!
Steel clanged, and Vergil's counterstroke ripped its throat. Two more came. Claws and blade. He twisted past the swipe, drove his sword into one's heart, then barely blocked the overhead chop of the last. Bones rattled, but his slash nearly cleaved its neck in half. Clang! Snap! Silence.
His breath steadied. His body was adapting. And still, they came.
He welcomed them.
The corpses of scavengers sprawled across the ruin, blood thick in the air. Vergil exhaled, rolling his shoulder. He'd learned much in hours of fighting. Wild swings had become controlled slashes, momentum guiding his blade through joints and tendons. His grip loosened, wrist flexible, strikes fluidly.
[Skill Acquired: Slash (F)]
The sword felt less foreign now. He glanced at the fallen. Weak alone, deadly in packs, their scraps of stats and skills flashed before him.
Vergil smirked. "Fodder."
With a raised hand, abyssal maws tore open. Authority of Predation. Corpses vanished into shadow, their essence flooding him. Notifications flared—two level-ups, ten skills, stats pushing into the twenties.
He laughed softly. "I can clear E-rank missions like nothing."
Loot glittered nearby. Astralyth Crystals, Darin's corpse, a handful of silver. Not much, but enough. He sat, ate stale bread, and let strength hum through his body before rising again.
Hours passed in blood and steel. The last scavenger fell, its eyes dimming. Vergil crouched, shadows devouring another pile of corpses.
[Parry (F)] joined his arsenal, alongside other scraps of scavenger instincts. He rolled his shoulders, aching but stronger, crystals heavy in his pouch.
"Plenty. Ten to the guild, the rest for my mana circle." His thoughts narrowed. Average E-rank hovered in the late tens, dangerous, but within reach.
He flexed his fingers again, noting the increased precision and strength in everyone's movement. His growth had been steady, but the gap between E and D rank was said to be significant. He had no plans to slow down.
The night was still young, a pale sliver of moon beginning to rise. But for now, he'd hunted enough.
Turning on his heel, Vergil began back toward the village, the soft wind brushing past his cloak.
I should check on Eleanor's progress, he thought. If she's ready, I can bring her along next time. The more experience she gains now, the faster she'll grow to aid me.
---
Meanwhile…
At the edge of the village, a pale green light pulsed. The air was cool, still heavy with magical residue.
Eleanor stood in the centre of the garden, weaving mana with precise movements. The energy pulsing faintly, aligning into a perfect glyph, humming against the night air.
Across from her, seated in an old armchair wrapped in blankets, Elvira watched silently.
The spell finalised, the ward hovered midair like a floating glyph of power. Eleanor held it there, maintaining its form effortlessly.
"Stability, duration, and flow, all within acceptable parameters," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
Elvira finally spoke, voice low:
"You've surpassed what most beginners take a year to learn. You don't waste movement or words."
Eleanor didn't respond with thanks. She simply dispelled the ward and turned to adjust the next set of runes.
"'Efficiency,' Eleanor said coolly, never looking up from her work. 'I won't be a liability when the time comes to join him.'"
Elvira leaned forward slightly.
"You speak as though it's a certainty."
Eleanor's gaze flicked toward her.
"It is. He'll come back stronger. And when he does, he'll go deeper into danger. I intend to follow. He should see me as valuable, even if that's all he ever sees."
There was no warmth in her tone, only cold conviction. No admiration, no sentiment. Just calculated determination.
"Vergil is strong, but reckless. Power without restraint draws enemies. If he continues alone, he'll taste defeat. He needs balance. That's what I'll be."
Elvira was silent for a moment. Then, with a thin smile:
"You're learning."
Eleanor didn't smile. Praise was pleasant, but it carried a weight, proof that she was changing into something colder. Something closer to him.
The wind whispered through branches, brushing against the window panes like a warning.
Inside, Eleanor resumed her casting, unflinching, methodical, cold. No hesitation. No doubt.
He still wanted more.
She wouldn't be left behind.
She wouldn't be weak.
And next time, she wouldn't just watch Vergil fight. she'd fight beside him. On her terms.