Walking beneath the dripping canopy. The forest closed around him like a suffocating cloak. The ever bright bioluminescence now glimmered faintly. The wind picked up its pace, prickling his skin.
But he moved forward.
The dead oak that marked Rotroot was now marked by even more scratches. Passing it washed a sense of relief over Vergil, yet the trees creaked in the breeze.
Shadows pressed to the ground, as if beckoning him to come back. Stalking him.
As the trees thinned to the green lands, the glow of lanterns appeared in the distance. The golden light shimmered faintly in the night. Each one signaled a beacon of safety.
That was when he heard it.
A whisper brushing his lips. Almost human, but not quite.
"...Yeah, nope. Not staying for that."
Vergil picked up his pace, refusing the urge to turn around.
By the time Vergil had returned, the night sky deepened, leaving a few stars to shine their light. The lanterns glowed more vibrantly as he rolled his shoulders, proud of what he had achieved.
"Finally back," he muttered, half tired and relieved.
He pulled up his inventory screen. The mana crystals shimmered faintly, stacked neatly in one slot with a number beneath it.
He grinned. "Didn't even realize they stacked like that… but that really helps."
His curiosity gnawed at him to ask.
"System, how do I use the mana crystals?"
[To refine the Astralyth Stone, you must break down its energy and convert it into an energy type your body can use, with a breathing technique.]
Its tone was monotone but for some reason smug.
Vergil frowned and pouted. "A breathing technique? But… I don't even have one."
Clap.
"System, give me a breathing technique?"
[Who do you think I am, your mama?]
Vergil let out a soft sigh, his plan to coax the system had failed. "Chill out," he said, trying to laugh it off.
The guild was more alive upon arriving, the voices of adventurers mingled with the clinking of mugs. The scent of ale and booze combined with the air, forming a unique scent.
Vergil made his way to the counter. The same receptionist was still at her post, looking up as he approached. Her eyes were exhausted; fresh strands of hair sticking out of her hairpin, but she paid no mind, putting a smile on her face despite the exhaustion.
"Still going strong?" she asked, tired but amused.
Clink.
"Yeah," he said, setting down ten Astralyth crystals on the desk.
Her brows lifted in amazement upon seeing them.
"The mission was five goblins, twenty-five bronze. You brought back double."
She looked up, eyebrows raised. "Either reckless… or skilled."
Vergil rubbed his neck. "Lucky, mostly."
She smiled faintly, sliding over the pouch. "Fifty coins, then. Don't spend it all in one place."
[Broke boy, stop dreaming. You ain't saving shit.] the system mocked.
"Shut up, I'm having the moment of my life," Vergil shot back in his head.
The receptionist pulled him back to reality. "Aren't you going to take the money, or should I keep it?"
Vergil blinked, fumbling the money. His money. "Right... sorry. Thanks. Uh… what's your name?"
"Elina. Elina Velcraft."
"Thanks, Elina," he nodded before heading out, his pouch jingling softly.
The streets were peaceful. Calm and quiet. Vergil stretched his arms once more, yawning.
Then it hit him like a punch.
'Do I even have a place to sleep?' He thought to himself. Instinctively he sprinted back inside.
Elina tilted her head as he reappeared.
"Forget something?"
"Yeah, uh… do you know where the inn is?" he asked, his tone sounded desperate.
Her lips twitched, suppressing her laughter. "Down the main road. Left at the blacksmith's. On the right, you'll see a sign for The Iron Hearth."
"Thanks, you're a lifesaver." Relieved, he stepped out once more.
The Iron Hearth wasn't far. Its unique sign of a crude hammer and flame design swayed overhead, calling him. Inside the scent of roasted meat clung in the air. A curt man stood behind the counter, flicking through a ledger.
"Got any rooms available?" Vergil asked, loosening his pouch strings to pay.
The man didn't even glance up from the ledger before speaking one word.
"Full."
Vergil's face twitched. 'Fuck!' He poured himself sprawled on a sidewalk, having to sleep on the streets.
[Homeless on the first day. Couldn't be me] the system snickered.
"Oh, be quiet. Where do you even live, huh?"
[A place called home, homeless boy.] Snickering.
Vergil groaned inwardly. 'No comeback from that one.'
He stepped back onto the street, weighing his only options. Only one person in Vaelmont saw him as someone more than a stranger.
'Guess I'll ask Elvira for help.' Vergil sighed, not wanting to burden her or have to owe a favour, but the situation had called for it.
Jingle. Swoosh.
Vergil walked slowly. The low breeze of the night and the coins were the only sounds he heard. When he reached her door, he hesitated before knocking three times.
The door creaked open. Elvira stood at the door, framed in the light of the lamp, her face fatigued and eyes widened in surprise.
"Oh, Vergil. Is something wrong?"
He itched the back of his head. "Yeah, uh… the inn's full. I don't have anywhere to stay. Would you mind if I stay here, just for tonight?"
Her smile was small but genuine, unlike the others Vergil had seen in his previous life, though he noticed a subtle hollowness in hers. "Of course, lad. Gets lonely here sometimes. You're always welcome."
The words struck deeper than expected, each one wrapped in warmth but beneath it hid something else. Something fragile, which almost ached.
The small oil lamp filled the room with its glow. Seeing the house once more made Vergil feel at home as Elvira gestured towards the bed.
"There's only one bed," she said. "You can take it. I'll use the chair."
"No way. I'll take the chair," Vergil replied immediately, declining the offer. "It would be rude of me."
"Zip it, lad." She chuckled, waving off his protest. "Chair suits me fine. You need proper rest."
He hesitated and was about to speak up but sighed. "Alright… Thanks." He set his dagger down and kept the bow and quiver in his inventory.
For a while, the silence lingered. Then curiosity pressed out of him. "Elvira… don't you have any family?"
Her eyes drifted toward the ceiling. A long pause stretched before she answered, her voice carrying a quiet weight. "Not anymore."
Vergil studied her, something heavy pressing in his chest. Their situations were the same.
He leaned forward slightly. His voice dropped. "I also never had anyone."
The confession slipped out unguarded, flat but heavy. His gaze flickered to the pendant in his pouch. Edran's pendant. His story still nagged at him.
"Elvira," he said cautiously. "Do you know someone named Elira Velmont?"
Her head snapped toward him, sharp worry in her eyes. "Yes. That's Edran's mother. He went hunting two days ago and… never came back. Why?"
Vergil clenched the pendant in his fist. The truth weighed heavy on his tongue. He had taken his life. Devoured his corpse. Yet the feeling of guilt began to slip away. Was he becoming less human, he wasn't sure.
"I found him. He didn't make it."
Her reaction was hollow. Her eyes dimmed, body sagging in the chair ever so slightly. A silence stretched between them, her sorrow muted and old.
"I see…" she whispered.
"I'm sorry," Vergil said. "I know that doesn't help."
"It's not your fault, lad. Did he have anything?"
Vergil opened his hand, the pendant glinting in the lamp's glow. "This. It was his."
"Give it here. I'll return it to her. You shouldn't worry."
He placed it in her hand, she closed her fingers, wrapping her warmth around it gently.
Vergil turned away. Silence returned, broken only by the soft whisper of the wind outside.
---
That night, exhaustion pulled at him. He let himself sink into the bed, eyelids growing heavy.
But then.
A voice.
The voice thundered through his mind, colder than he remembered.
"I can't take care of him."
His breath caught. His chest constricted. He knew that voice.
Father.
Then another voice cut through, closer, sharper.
"Vergil."
He jolted upright, sweat clinging to his skin. His breath came fast. That wasn't a dream. That was memory.
He pressed a palm to his forehead, whispering, "Of all things… it had to be that."
The rain outside tapped against the roof, steady and cold. He closed his eyes again, forcing the memory away, letting the pull of sleep drag him down.