The sound of fists colliding echoed through the ruins—flesh against flesh, bone against bone, the wet thuds of impact blending with harsh, steady breaths.
The orc brawler fought like a storm—heavy, brutal, relentless. But Vergil? He was the eye of it.
Each time the orc struck, Vergil stumbled a little less. His footwork grew tighter. His movements more compact. He no longer flinched from pain; he anticipated it, rolled with it, and struck back harder.
The brawler went for a wide haymaker, roaring. Vergil ducked low—not just to dodge, but to counter. He twisted his body, planting his left foot firmly, and launched an uppercut with everything he had.
Crack.
The orc staggered, eyes wide.
Vergil's own knuckles ached, but he didn't stop. He stepped in, used the momentum of the orc's retreat to slam an elbow into the side of its jaw, following up with a sharp knee to the gut.
"You're teaching me more than than anyone ever could," Vergil muttered, blood running down the side of his face, his voice low and wild.
[Art Proficiency increased: The Lowest form, the highest peak Combat (F) → The lowest form, the highest peak (F+)]
[Passive skill proficiency rising… Tough Body (E-) → Tough Body (E)]
[Resilient Body (E) 50%]
Every punch he took, every time he was thrown into the dirt and rose again—it all added to the fire.
He grinned through the bruises, through the pain coursing through his ribs. The dull throb in his muscles didn't slow him—it sharpened him.
The brawler tried to grab him.
Vergil twisted his body mid-grapple, wrapped his arm around the orc's, and used its weight against it—throwing it over his hip and slamming it down.
The impact shook the earth.
Breathing heavily, Vergil stood over the orc, fists trembling but raised.
"This body of mine…" he whispered, staring down at his bloodied hands, "It's not perfect yet. But it's learning."
The brawler rose again, slower now, bruised and bloodied. It bared its fangs in a snarl.
Vergil stepped forward, not back, lowering into his stance—more stable now, fists aligned, body tight.
"Let's keep going," he said, brown eyes blazing.
"I'm not done learning."
The sun hung low, bleeding gold and crimson across the shattered ruins. The wind carried the scent of dust, blood, and fading adrenaline.
Vergil stood still, chest heaving, body swaying slightly. His arms trembled at his sides, each breath slow and shaky. Cuts lined his skin, bruises blooming across his body like ink on parchment. Blood trailed down his lip, his fists swollen and raw.
[Passive Skill Activated: Regeneration (E-)]
[Wounds closing… Minor fractures repaired…]
[Stamina: 20% → 15% → 10%.
His vision blurred for a second, then refocused. The warmth of regeneration washed over him one last time, dulling the pain just enough to let him breathe again.
Before him, the orc brawler lay collapsed. Its massive frame unmoving, fists slack, breath shallow—barely conscious, completely defeated. The beast had given everything, and so had Vergil.
"...You really didn't make it easy," Vergil muttered, stumbling back a step.
He exhaled—then let himself fall, landing on his back with a thud that kicked up dust around him. The sky above was a dull violet, streaked with orange.
He just laid there, smiling.
Not a victorious smirk or smug grin—just the wide, dazed smile of someone who had fun. Real, raw fun.
"God… that was incredible."
His heart pounded in his ears, but not from fear. From excitement. Every blow, every bruise, every mistake—it was a lesson. And he'd learned. Fought. Adapted.
And now, he was finally still.
[User has levelled up]
[Resilient Body → 60%]
[Tough Body (E) → 15%]
[The lowest form, the highest peak (F+) → 70%]
Vergil chuckled to himself, still smiling.
"That really was rough, i need to learn self-restraint."
His eyes fluttered shut for just a moment, the wind brushing against his face as he laid there beside the fallen brawler, two warriors who had given everything they had.
For now… that was enough.
"You were the best" Vergil said. His breath heavy but he was smiling.
The sky dimmed above as the last rays of sunlight faded behind the ruins, casting long shadows across the broken stone and bloodied ground. Vergil lay still for a few more heartbeats, catching his breath, his body still aching—but the moment of peace didn't last long.
He sat up slowly, eyes gleaming with anticipation now.
"It's time," he muttered, reaching out his hand.
With a thought, the black mouths spewed out once again from hisnhand
They devoured hungrily, leaving behind only torn armor and bone. Flesh, muscle, blood, and soul — consumed leaving behind the 3 Astralyth crystals with the mages glowing the brightest
Vergil shuddered slightly, his veins burning for a moment as power rushed into his core.
[User has gained 1 strength , 1 Constitution, 8 dexterity, 8 intuition
Skills Acquired:
From the Orc Brute:
Passive Skills:
• Endurance Core (D-): Increases base durability and stamina regeneration under physical strain.
• Stagger Resistance (E+): Greatly reduces chance of flinching when struck.
Active Skills:
• Crushing Blow (E+): A heavy, downward strike that deals concussive damage and can stagger foes.
• Body Slam (E): Launches body weight into a charging slam, capable of flattening smaller enemies.
From the Orc Berserker:
Passive Skills:
• Bloodlust (E+): Minor strength and speed increase when surrounded or wounded.
• Rage Flow (E): Attack speed increases progressively the longer combat continues.
Active Skills:
• Hatchet Tornado (E+): A rapid, spinning assault with dual weapons.
• Blood Frenzy (D-): For 15 seconds, increases damage output and reduces pain feedback—but drains stamina rapidly.
From the Orc Brawler
Passive Skills:
• Combat Instinct (E+): Slightly increases reflexes and evasion when health is low.
• Muscle Tension Control (E): Increases control over explosive movements, improving fist-based strikes and dodging.
Active Skills:
• Bone-Cracker (E+): A focused punch aimed at bones or joints, dealing bonus internal damage.
• Pummel Flurry (E+): Rapid strikes that build pressure on the target's defense.
• Vaulting Strike (D-): A leaping punch or kick that breaks the enemy's stance or momentum.
From the Orc Shaman:
Passive Skills:
• Mana Sense (E+): Allows detection of nearby mana fluctuations and hidden spells.
• Chant of Restoration (D): Passive chanting slowly restores minor health over time to self or allies.
Active Skills:
• Healing Surge (D): A burst of regenerative energy healing moderate wounds.
• Spirit Shackles (D-): Temporarily binds the enemy's movements with spectral chains.
• Bloodfire Blessing (E+): Increases an ally's Strength and Magic Power briefly.
Vergil leaned back slightly, eyes narrowed as his system flooded him with new data. His breath came slow, calm—but his mind raced.
"So that's what you three had to offer..."
His muscles tightened, senses sharpened, and he could feel the changes. His mind clearer. His movement—lighter. Every nerve tingled, alive with power.
He clenched his fists, feeling the subtle difference in control, in poise.
"I'm getting closer."
The black mouths vanished, their feast complete.
And Vergil—stronger than ever—stood once more, the wind brushing through his long hair, violet eyes calm yet dangerous.
He pulled his shirt back on with slow, deliberate movements, the fabric sticking to blood and sweat. Then he picked up his coat, letting it drape over his bruised frame. Once dressed, he looked toward the horizon, eyes steady—as if something was waiting beyond it.
He then grabbed the 3 cores
'Altogether I have 4 cores, and one of them contains alot more mana than the others,
I had too much fun fighting these guys and didn't check if there was any others,Ill have to give these 3 back to the guild to make some money. and give the shamaans core to Eleanor, I can't focus solely on myself. my physical stats are in the 40s now, and I currently have 3 extra stat points.
'Put all points into dexterity'
[All points have been allocated to dexterity]
[40 to 43]
"I'm finally level 10. Took long enough… but it doesn't look like I'll reach the second circle anytime soon. Still, when I was using my fists… it felt incomplete."
[That sensation stems from your underdeveloped musculature.]
"What do you mean? Explain in more detail."
[While the system increases your stats, it amplifies your potential rather than building a proper foundation. Your strength is technically higher, but your body hasn't caught up physically. Your muscles, joints, and form are not yet conditioned to handle the full extent of your power—resulting in inefficiency, imbalance, and that 'incomplete' feeling when you strike.]
[Until your physical foundation is refined, you won't be able to fully harness the strength the system provides.]
"So how do I fully harness the power?"
[Training, of course. Your stickman body can only do so much, lil bro.]
"That hurts, you know."
[That's a you problem.]
"The problem with that is… even if I start now, I won't even be close to refining my body to its peak. That'd take a good six months at best."
[Incorrect. Based on your current physique, diet, rest cycle, and available resources, a realistic estimate for reaching optimal physical conditioning is approximately 9 months and 12 days—assuming consistent training with no major interruptions.]
"...I was hoping you'd say three days."
[Keep dreaming]
"Oh well… let's head back," Vergil muttered, brushing the dust off his pants. "Fifteen silvers for exterminating them, and these crystals go for two silvers each..."
He glanced down at his hand—The 4 stones clinked together in his palm.
He put the crystals in his inventory and started walking, wincing as his muscles protested every step. The dried blood under his shirt itched, and the bruises were starting to settle in nicely.
"Damn it still hurts and my pants are all bloodied, im going to have to give it a wash.
The sword on his back rattled slightly with each step, like a reminder.
"Looks like ill have to wait a bit in order to reach second circle.
Still, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
The road back was quiet, save for the crunch of gravel under his boots and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. The sun hung low, casting long shadows that trailed behind him like silent ghosts. Every step sent a dull ache through his legs, but he kept moving—shoulders squared, eyes forward. The village lights flickered faintly in the distance, and with them, the promise of food, coin, and a few hours of sleep
An hour later, Vergil finally reached the village gates, his steps slower but steady. He passed by the familiar stalls and dimly lit taverns without a glance, ignoring the murmurs of merchants and the clatter of evening crowds. The inn came into view—modest, worn, but quiet.
Without a word, he pushed open the door, nodded at the innkeeper, and made his way upstairs. Room 6. He'd already paid for ten days in advance, and right now, that decision felt like a gift from a wiser version of himself.
When he opened the door, the room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the moon through the window. Eleanor was already asleep on the bed, her breathing slow and steady, one arm draped lazily over the edge. It was already past ten.
Vergil blinked, surprised for a moment—he hadn't expected her to be back so soon. Quietly, he set down his gear near the door, shrugged off his coat, and moved toward the bathroom. The thought of hot water easing the tension in his battered muscles was too tempting to ignore.
Vergil stepped into the small, steam-dampened bathing room, the scent of wood and heat thick in the air. A wooden bucket sat beside the iron stove, half-filled with warm water. He poured in a fresh kettle of hot water, watching the steam rise before dipping a cloth and wringing it out.
The first wipe over his arms drew a quiet hiss—grime, blood, and fatigue stripped away with each stroke of the damp cloth. The water, warm from the heated stones lining the small natural pool, lapped gently at his skin. He worked in silence, steam rising around him, the low crackle of the camp stove in the distance blending with the ambient hum of the forest.
No luxuries. No scented oils or marble tubs.
Just warmth, water, and a rare moment of quiet.
It was enough.
Vergil exhaled slowly, leaning back against the smooth moss-covered edge of the spring. The cool Vaelorian air kissed his damp skin, wrapping around him like a soft mist. His muscles ached—not the kind of ache that called for rest, but the kind that whispered of progress. Of growth.
He let his eyes close for a moment, letting the tension unwind.
Tomorrow, he'd push harder. But for now, this—this stillness—was earned.
"Combination," he muttered aloud.
A soft hum resonated through his body, and the familiar blue skill panel flickered to life across his retina like a holographic screen.
"What skills would you like to combine?"
Vergil leaned back against the stone, eyes narrowing in thought. "Combine Resilient Body and Tough Body (E)," he replied.
"Combining skills... please wait."
"Combination successful."
The panel shimmered, text reforming into the name of the newly forged skill:
---
Skill Unlocked: Ironhide Body (E+)
Grants a durable and damage-resistant physique, combining blunt resistance, pain tolerance, and overall physical toughness.
Reduces damage from:
Blunt force impacts (e.g., punches, hammers, falls)
Sustained physical strain (e.g., fatigue, prolonged combat)
Mild to moderate slashing and piercing attacks
Increases resistance to body trauma, including bruising, fractures, and body shock.
Enhances endurance in harsh environments and allows the user to fight longer with fewer physical setbacks.
---
Vergil read the skill, lips curling faintly. "That's a good one."
He swiped the window aside. Another line of text had appeared earlier—one he'd been saving.
'Mana Sense'
He hesitated, then shook his head. 'Combining it with Mana Affinity now would be a waste. Mana Affinity's still only at 65% proficiency and is still F rank. I'll wait till it upgrades to E-. No point rushing.'
His fingers hovered once again.
"Next... combine Primal Awareness and Combat Instinct."
"Combining skills... please wait."
"Combination successful."
The screen glowed with a deeper hue, the result of two honed instincts fusing into something far more refined.
---
Skill Unlocked: Instinctual Combat Awareness (D-)
An evolved survival-based skill that blends primal danger sense with battle-hardened instinct. The user becomes sharply aware of threats, especially when under pressure, and can react with near-animal precision.
Effects:
Greatly enhanced reflexes and reaction time in life-threatening situations, especially when health drops below 50%
Improved evasion and positioning in combat
Detects hostile intent, traps, and ambushes passively
Tracks subtle changes in the terrain or environment, granting an edge in unfamiliar areas
Mild "danger sense" triggers body tension before attacks land, enhancing immediate response
---
Vergil let out a low whistle. "This… will help a lot."
He leaned forward, bringing up his final focus for the moment.
Skill Art: The Lowest Form, the Highest Peak (F+)
Proficiency: 70%
Vergil read the description and gave a small, almost amused laugh.
'This really does suit me…'
He stood, stretching his limbs as the mana within his core pulsed gently.
"Most of my other skills still need time. My sword mastery is still F-rank, sitting around 30%. I need to focus on refining my body first—sharpen everything I've got before pushing further."
His eyes drifted toward the quiet horizon beyond the trees.
Then, almost absentmindedly, he flexed his fingers. A thin layer of frost crackled across his knuckles—barely noticeable, cold but calm.
"I still haven't had a proper chance to use this yet…"
The ice magic spell he'd picked up not too long ago was still nestled quietly in his skill list, untouched.
"Most of the fights I've been in so far… they've been too fast either Too close or Too chaotic." He frowned, thinking back. "Ice needs setup. Positioning. Precision."
But that didn't make it useless—far from it.
"It's practical." His tone was sure now. "Slow them down. Restrict movement. Shut down heat-based creatures. Trap limbs. Wall off corridors, in the future if I have enough mana but I just haven't been in the right kind of fight for it."
He rubbed his chin.
"But I'll be heading back there soon… and that guy might be even stronger."
Vergil stared at the small trail of steam rising from the bathwater, his reflection faint on the surface. The flickering lanternlight of the room cast soft shadows across the stone walls.
"I'm going to need more trump cards—something unexpected. Something sharp."
He clenched his fist beneath the water, frost threading over his knuckles before it cracked and melted into warmth.
"I'll head to Elvira from morning until evening. She might be the key to unlocking more of this ice affinity… and after dinner, I'll train my body until it breaks if I have to. Three days left before we return. That's all I've got."
The frost faded as he slowly lowered his hand beneath the water, his fingers relaxing.
"Time to stop ignoring it."
He rose from the bath, water dripping from his frame onto the polished wooden floor. The warmth clung to him for a moment before the inn's cooler air kissed his skin. He dried off and slipped into his worn clothes—simple, but clean. Familiar.
Inside, the room was dim. Eleanor lay curled up under the blanket on the left side of the bed, her breathing slow and even—peaceful, for once. Her white hair spilled over the pillow like moonlight.
Vergil moved quietly to the opposite side, careful with his steps. He set his sword beside the bed and sat for a moment, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing. A rare moment of stillness in a world constantly pulling them into chaos.
He slipped under the blanket without a sound, facing the ceiling.
Not peaceful sleep.
But enough.
Just enough to wake up stronger.