4:47 AM – Vaelmont Outskirts
Vergil's breath came in ragged bursts, each inhale sharper and colder than the last. His boots pounded against the uneven dirt trail, flinging up wet clumps of mud and morning dew with every desperate stride. Sweat soaked his shirt, trailing down his spine in rivulets, clinging like a second skin. His lungs burned. His heart thudded like a war drum in his chest—fast, relentless.
He'd been running since just before sunrise—four hours of sprint intervals through the forest trails beyond Vaelmont.
Not from danger.
From his own limits.
"Come on… don't slow down now," he growled between gritted teeth, forcing his trembling legs to keep moving despite the fiery ache in his calves. His vision blurred—not from mana overuse, but sheer physical exhaustion.
Every hill felt steeper than the last. Every step over gnarled roots and loose stones was a chance to fall. But he kept going.
Because this wasn't just training.
This was survival.
He could still see him in the back of his mind—cold, cruel, and smiling. The bastard waiting for them when they returned. The one who had nearly killed him last time.
Three days left.
And this time… Vergil intended to be ready.
He reached the edge of a clearing and stumbled, crashing to one knee. His body screamed. Steam rose from his sweat-drenched skin, meeting the icy dawn air. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, hands digging into the frozen grass as if to anchor himself to reality.
He slammed his palm into the dirt.
"Not enough… not yet."
But his body disagreed.
He collapsed backward onto the dewy grass, arms spread wide, chest rising and falling like a dying bellows. Above him, the sky was painted in soft pastels—light blues and faint golds heralding a new day.
"…System," he croaked, squinting up at the sky, "why the hell did you wake me up so damn early?"
A soft ding echoed in his head.
[You authorized early wake-up protocols for body training. You need to train that stickman body somehow.]
Vergil groaned and threw his arm over his face.
"I authorized that…?"
[You said, and I quote: 'If I try to sleep in, wake me up. No mercy.']
He winced. "…Right. I was feeling extra brave yesterday."
[Would you like to disable early training protocols?]
"No," he muttered, rolling onto his side, shivering slightly from the cold sweat, "just… give me five minutes to not exist."
[Five minutes granted. Do not die.]
He let his eyes close, letting the quiet of the forest seep in. Somewhere far off, a bird cried. The air was cold, clean, and utterly still.
He was tired.
But he was growing.
Stronger. Sharper. More real.
After a long pause, he opened one eye.
"…System, remind me to stretch before I run next time."
[Reminder set: Stretch. Or suffer.]
Vergil let out a breath of amusement. "Yeah, yeah…"
[I would also like to inform you that you should practice the martial arts you've acquired. Repetition allows muscle memory to form and improves combat efficiency.]
"Okay, okay, stop nagging. You're starting to sound like an overbearing sensei."
[Got jt, lil bro.]
Vergil snorted. "Now your back to normal."
He pushed himself up slowly, wiping the sweat from his brow and glancing back toward the trail.
Still two more hours until breakfast.
Still three days until the next fight.
But for now, five minutes.
Five minutes to breathe.
Absolutely! Here's the continuation with a smooth time skip, a reflection on the gains, and a breakdown of the stat increases using decimal values to reflect the realistic progress from intense running and body training:
---
[Time Skip – 2 Hours Later]
6:47 AM – Vaelmont Inn, Training Room
The scent of sweat still clung to his skin as Vergil stepped back into the small, wooden-floored training space behind the inn. His shirt was long since discarded, his body steaming faintly in the morning chill. He rolled his shoulders with a low grunt, veins faintly pulsing along his forearms, calves twitching slightly as the tension eased.
He'd run until his legs gave out—twice.
By the end, even the system had suggested a break.
Vergil leaned against the wall, a tired smirk playing on his lips as the familiar chime echoed in his head.
[Minor Physical Improvements Detected.]
[Stats Updated.]
Stat Increases:
Strength: +0.03
(Muscle activation and strain through hill sprints and explosive pushes.)
Dexterity: +0.04
(Reflexive balance control and micro-adjustments over uneven terrain.)
Constitution: +0.06
(Sustained cardio, prolonged muscular fatigue, environmental resistance.)
Vergil exhaled sharply, wiping a bead of sweat from his chin with the back of his hand.
"Not bad… I'll take every scrap I can get."
His legs still throbbed, but they no longer felt like jelly. There was a faint tightness in his core—proof his posture and form were improving with every run. His balance, his pacing, even how he controlled his breathing—it was coming together.
Slowly, yeah. But it was coming.
The kind of slow that couldn't be faked or rushed.
The kind of slow that built monsters.
He glanced at the morning light bleeding through the paper-thin window. Most of Vaelmont would just be waking up now.
Vergil cracked his neck.
"Time to visit Elvira."
And this time… he wasn't going there just to ask questions.
He was going to become stronger.
Absolutely! Here's a detailed continuation of that scene with added emotion, internal thoughts from Eleanor, and a stronger sense of their dynamic:
---
But before heading out, Vergil climbed the creaky stairs of the inn and made his way to the room he shared with Eleanor. The door was slightly ajar, the dim morning light casting soft lines across the wooden floor.
He pushed it open and stepped inside.
"Eleanor, get up," he said, his voice still a bit hoarse from the early training.
A muffled groan was the only response as she rolled over, burying her face deeper into the pillow.
Vergil sighed and walked over, shaking her shoulder with increasing urgency. "Eleanor. Wake up."
This time she stirred, peeking at him through half-lidded eyes. "...I'm up," she muttered, her voice low and tired but not unfriendly.
"Good," Vergil said, stepping back. "We're eating breakfast and heading to Elvira after. And here—" he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out the mana crystal, faintly glowing with traces of the Orc Mage's power. He held it out toward her.
Eleanor blinked at the crystal, then sat up slowly, the sheets falling from her shoulders. "Don't you need that?" she asked, brow furrowed.
"Not at this moment," Vergil replied, his tone steady. "I already obtained everything I could get. It'd be better if you used it to strengthen your mana heart—push yourself closer to forming the second circle."
She hesitated, staring at the crystal in his hand. The thought of taking it—something he earned, something powerful—made her hesitate. But there was no doubt in his gaze.
"…Got it," she said quietly, reaching out and accepting the crystal with both hands.
As her fingers closed around it, she felt the faint thrum of residual power.
He could've kept it and used it to breakthrough himself. But instead, he gave it to me—like it was nothing.
She glanced up at him.
No… not like it was nothing. Like it was necessary.
She bit her lip and gave a small nod. "Thanks."
Vergil gave her a faint, tired smile—almost a smirk, but softer.
"Don't thank me. Just get stronger."
She looked down at the crystal again as he turned toward the door.
He keeps pushing forward like a storm. And yet… he still looks back to make sure I'm not left behind.
Eleanor clenched her fist around the crystal.
I won't be.
Of course! Here's the revised version with more natural and refined dialogue, while keeping the intention and tone intact:
---
Vergil stepped out of the room, the hallway dim and quiet in the morning haze. The wooden floor creaked beneath his boots as he made his way down, the scent of breakfast drifting up from the kitchen below.
I need Eleanor to grow stronger, he thought, hand on the railing. If she improves, we both benefit. I won't always have time to cover for her—and she's got potential. It'd be a waste not to sharpen it.
He reached the common room of the inn. The air was warm, carrying the scent of baked bread and herbs. A few travelers sat at scattered tables, nursing warm drinks and quiet conversations.
Vergil approached the counter. "Breakfast for two."
The innkeeper nodded. "Right away."
By the time Eleanor descended the stairs, her steps still heavy with sleep, Vergil was seated and already halfway through his plate. The table was simple but full—eggs, warm bread, a block of salted cheese, and steaming broth.
Eleanor slumped into the seat across from him. "You're really the type to enjoy torture in the morning, huh?"
Vergil glanced up. "If you'd run for four hours too, you'd be eating like this."
She gave a tired sigh and started sipping the broth.
They ate in silence for a while, save for the occasional clink of spoons and cutlery. After a few minutes, Vergil stood and pulled on his coat.
"Eat up. We're heading to Elvira's after this."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "You're really handing me this mana crystal?"
Vergil pulled the mana crystal from his pouch and set it gently on the table beside her. "Yeah, You're closer to reaching second circle than I am. You'll make better use of it."
She frowned slightly. "But you could still use it, right?"
"Maybe. But right now, it's more useful in your hands. Strengthening your mana heart and circle comes first."
Eleanor hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll make it count."
"Good." Vergil gave her a look. "But don't just rely on the crystal. You need to dig deep—push yourself. Second circle won't come easy."
"I'm not scared of hard work," she said, a bit sharper.
"No," he replied calmly. "You're scared of being a burden to me. That's the part you need to face."
Eleanor looked away, quiet for a breath, then stood.
"…I'll prove you wrong."
Vergil gave a small smirk. "Looking forward to it."
Absolutely! Here's the rephrased version, emphasizing the moment the energy within the crystal fades and Eleanor forms her second circle:
---
Absolutely! Here's the rephrased version, emphasizing the moment the energy within the crystal fades and Eleanor forms her second circle:
---
They followed the winding trail to Elvira's cottage, the crisp morning air brushing against their faces. Mist curled low over the ground, and the sound of their footsteps faded beneath the soft hush of the woods.
Vergil stepped forward and knocked three times on the wooden door. "Elvira, it's Vergil."
The door creaked open moments later, revealing the old woman wrapped in her shawl, her blue eyes sharp as ever. She gave them both a long look, then nodded. "Come in."
Inside, the scent of dried herbs filled the warm air. Elvira led them to a wide, circular formation carved into the floor
Vergil looked at it with curiosity a sit piqued his interest
Elvira saw Vergils puzzled abd curious face
"This rune formation is used when someone breakthrough to the next cirlcle, of course the formation gets more advanced the higher the circle"
"It helps stabilize the mana flow and amplify the resonance between the mana heart and the crystals used making it easier to form the second circle and helps reduce the failure rate.
"Now have her sit there," she said. "And start the process."
Eleanor knelt in the center of the circle as Eleanor took out the mana crystal—still glowing faintly with the residual energy of the Orc mage. She took it carefully, her fingers curling around it as she closed her eyes.
Elvira activated the formation with a soft chant. The runes lit up, casting pale blue light across the room.
"Focus on your core," Elvira instructed. "Feel the crystal. Let the energy pass through you—not all at once, but steadily. Let it shape you."
The crystal pulsed in Eleanor's hands, its glow brightening, then slowly dimming as threads of mana bled into her chest. Her breath slowed. Her mana heart began to stir.
Vergil watched in silence, eyes sharp. He could feel it—the shift in her presence. The chaotic waves of raw magic she once had were settling, smoothing into rhythm. Inside her, the first circle of mana trembled… then began to spin, drawing in the fading energy of the crystal.
Bit by bit, the crystal's glow weakened. As the energy continued to flown kut. Eleanor's body remained still, but sweat beaded along her brow. She was guiding it well—carefully, deliberately. No panic. No struggle.
And then, with a final flicker, the mana within the crystal vanished.
The crystal now once brimming with energy had become a dull, grey colour.
Eleanor's eyes snapped open, and a quiet pulse radiated from her chest inside her mana heart—gentle and stable. A second circle had formed, orbiting the first in perfect harmony.
Vergil let out a low breath, a flicker of approval in his eyes.
Elvira gave a satisfied nod. "It's done. She's stabilized her second circle."
Eleanor blinked, looking down at her hands, her body tingling with the aftereffects. Her mana flowed more freely now, clearer, more refined. A subtle smile touched her lips.
I can feel it… everything's sharper. Stronger.
She rose slowly, her legs unsteady at first, but the strength in her gaze told a different story.
Vergil stepped beside her. "You've taken a big step forward. Good."
Eleanor glanced at him, then looked away—just a little. I won't stop here, she thought. I'll keep growing… for me. And for him.
As Eleanor sat within the glowing rune circle, Vergil remained a short distance away, arms crossed and eyes quietly observing. The circular formation hummed softly, the air around it shimmering with residual mana as the crystal in Eleanor's hands began to lose its glow.
He could feel it.
The Astralyth energy was being drawn into her, gradually refined through her inner circuits. Her breathing slowed, deep and rhythmic, as she guided the mana to her core with practiced precision. Minute by minute, the fading light of the crystal mirrored the progress of her internal transformation.
Finally, as the last flicker of light left the crystal, a subtle pulse escaped from Eleanor's body. Elvira's eyes narrowed in quiet observation.
"…It's done," the old woman muttered. "She's formed her second circle."
Eleanor opened her eyes slowly, sweat beading her forehead, but her gaze was sharp—alive. Vergil couldn't help but nod, a flicker of satisfaction passing through him.
But his moment of quiet pride was quickly replaced with frustration as he turned back to his own task.
"Let's try again," he muttered, staring at the crystalline frost forming between his fingers. He'd been at it for the past hour, trying to conjure and control the spell Elvira had demonstrated.
"Icebind Thread," he whispered.
A shimmering thread of frost arced out, forming between his finger and a wooden post—but the connection wavered. The line crackled, too brittle, and snapped before reaching its full length.
Vergil cursed under his breath. "Again."
Elvira watched him from her stool, leaning slightly on her cane. She didn't interrupt—but her thoughts were quietly assessing.
"His control is poor. His mana manipulation is unrefined. Nowhere near the prodigies going to the Academy. Not in technique… not in instinct. The only things he has going for him are that absurdly efficient 100% mana heart… and that he refuses to give up."
She exhaled slowly and finally spoke.
"Vergil. Ice is about patience, not brute force. You're trying to dominate it. That's not how it works."
"I know," he muttered, wiping his brow. "I'll just keep trying"
"Then you'll keep failing." She said it bluntly, without malice. "But if you keep going, even failing becomes a form of progress."
Vergil clenched his fist, then let it go. He brought his hands up again, slowing his breathing. This time, he focused not on shaping the ice, but listening to the sensation of mana threading outward.
A failure yet again, he kept going and going and going until he finally did it.
The result wasn't perfect.
But the thread held.
"Good enough," Elvira said with a nod. "Tripwire range. Two minutes before it melts."
Vergil exhaled and let the thread fade into the air.
"...It'll do."
He glanced toward Eleanor, who was now quietly meditating after her breakthrough.
'She's catching up … I need to keep my lead'
Elvira's gaze flicked between them both—one with natural magical refinement, the other clawing for every inch with grit and blood.
And yet… something about Vergil's persistence brought a faint, almost imperceptible smile to her lips.
"Alright," she said. "Again. We'll run it until your fingers freeze."
Vergil cracked a tired grin. "That's more like it."
The hours dragged on.
By noon, Vergil's breath was fogging in short bursts, his fingers numbed by repetition. Thread after thread of brittle ice snapped before it could hold—some too thin, others too wild, several refusing to manifest at all. The ground around him bore the fading marks of failed attempts, tiny cracks of frost webbed across the dirt and wood like shattered glass.
But still, he persisted.
Eleanor, meanwhile, remained in near-total stillness within her meditative circle. Her eyes were closed, posture upright but relaxed. Inside her, the freshly formed second circle pulsed faintly—unstable at first, like a flame flickering in wind. She focused on her breathing, cycling her mana in careful, measured loops between her two circles. The process wasn't as intense as forming the circle itself, but it demanded just as much discipline.
Here's a vivid way to describe two mana circles rotating around a mana core:
---
Two luminous mana circles orbited the central core in a synchronized dance, each one etched with intricate runes that pulsed with arcane energy. One rotated clockwise, the other counterclockwise, creating a mesmerizing current of power between them. As they spun, streams of glowing mana arced from the circles to the core, feeding it with pure energy. The core itself shimmered like a crystalline heart, thrumming with a deep, resonant hum, as if alive. The rotational motion wasn't just mechanical—it resonated with purpose, with rhythm, like a celestial mechanism of magic in motion.
She could feel it.
The new circle pushing back slightly, resisting the flow at times, like an untrained muscle. But she kept working, breathing deeper into the magic, syncing both circles like a dance. It was slow progress, but steady—and most importantly, it was hers.
By the time the sun began to dip below the trees, casting long shadows through Elvira's front yard, Vergil had dropped to one knee, panting. Frost clung to the tips of his hair, and his sleeves were half-frozen, crusted with half-melted threads of mana.
"Again," he growled to himself, barely able to feel his hands.
He brought his fingers together slowly, channeling mana from his heart. He didn't rush it this time. He let the energy cool, condense, then gently thread outward—like weaving silk.
A line of glimmering blue light stretched between his fingers and a nearby branch.
Thin. Cold. Tense.
And it held.
For three full minutes.
Vergil exhaled shakily, shoulders slumping with exhaustion, but a grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
[User has learned the rank 1 skill Ice Thread (F)
"Icebind Thread… finally," he muttered.
Elvira, sipping a cup of warm herbal tea by the window, didn't even look his way when she spoke. "About damn time."
[Finally, the training arc finished]
Vergil chuckled under his breath. "You know… for someone who said I was hopeless, you've got a lot of patience."
"I'm old," Elvira replied dryly. "You stop wasting time on pleasantries when your bones start aching every time it rains."
He sat beside the house's outer wall and leaned back, eyes flickering toward Eleanor. Her mana had grown steadier, more refined since the morning. The aura around her was calm now, like a pond after a storm.
She opened her eyes not long after, letting out a long breath.
"Stabilized," she said softly.
Vergil gave a tired nod. "Good. You're officially stronger than I was 5 days ago."
Eleanor smirked faintly. "And you look like a half-dead icicle."
"Thanks," he said, chuckling. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Elvira glanced at the two from the window and snorted softly to herself. A pair of fools… but maybe that's exactly what the world needs.
[Your relationship with Elvira has increased to rank 6]