"The world is most loved, huh. I wonder about that."
Vergil exhaled, listening to the coins in his pouch. 'Five gold coins, not much–enough to start but how to use them wisely?'
He lingered amid the flow of villagers. Their laughter faded into the background noise, from a life that he wasn't sure was his.
"What do I even do now?" he muttered under his breath. "Survive? Grow stronger? Or just… drift through the norm?"
The question stayed with him. He'd asked for another chance, but now that he gained it, the only thing left was the painful reality of existing.
[You seem lost.]
He closed his eyes. "That's one way to put my situation."
[Then allow me to offer a suggestion.]
[Why not become the strongest?] Vergil's hands clenched at his side.
The words sounded ridiculous and absurd, yet disturbingly right to him.
"The strongest?" The words barely left his throat.
[And replace God.]
Vergil hesitated before looking down.
"I can barely even hold a knife. How do you expect me to even fight?"
[Then would you rather stay a loser, like before? Remember that you have me now.]
He blinked and the market vanished, the sound, scent and warmth dissolved into the endless void arohnd him.
Infinite, silent, empty. A flicker of white hair crossed his mind.
Weaver!
"Yeah... I have you." Vergil smirked.
'Replacing god huh.' The idea was already insane, but it resonated within him.
His reflection shimmered faintly in the black surface beneath his feet. Eyes hollow, yet burning.
"Why not?" he whispered, his voice shifting into a quiet laugh. "I'll replace God."
"If the gods ever cared about me, they should've answered the first time."
The darkness pulsed once, like a heartbeat.
[Then let's do this.]
The voice faded, the silence that followed felt heavier–almost sharp.
When the world around him blinked back into focus, the chatter and surroundings steadied his gaze.
[How about heading to the blacksmith?] The system suggested.
It wasnt a bad idea, but first he needed directions.
His eyes found an old woman on a bench.
"Excuse me, ma'am—"
The women looked and spoke.
The sounds that reached him weren't words at all. Just meaningless noise.
What? My stomach dropped. He didn't understand a thing. 'Perfect. There's even a language barrier.'
"System," he muttered under his breath.
"At least give me the language."
[Integrating language of Eternia now.]
His skull lit on fire. A thousand voices etched into his mind, the language settling into him until it burned into place.
The old woman's eyes widened as he winced.
"Young man, are you alright?"
'Alright? Hardly,' he thought, swallowing the bitterness of the new language. He forced his voice even. "I'm fine."
Her expression softened. "You had me worried there."
'Worried...' Vergil echoed quietly. He already had enough of that.
"Do you know where the blacksmith is?" Vergil asked carefully, his tone polite.
She pointed down the street. "Just head that way–it's hard to miss," she said with a chuckle.
He turned to leave, but her voice followed
"Wait! Can I have your name?"
Vergil hesitated. "Vergil," he said, tucking a strand of loose hair behind his earlobe.
She chuckled softly. "If you ever need advice, come and see me. I'm always here." Her eyes lingered on him.
Advice, huh? Maybe kindness or maybe something else. Either way, he'd remember.
"I will, if the time comes," Vergil murmured, already scanning the street for the blacksmith's workshop.
First, find the blacksmith. Second, learn something about this damned world.
He made his way down the path. The hammering reached him before the sight. When the workshop finally came into view, it felt like walking into sound itself.
Stepping inside, the smell of the forge hit first. The heat was as thick as a blanket with a hammer singing a rhythmic tune.
Sparks scattered the air like fireflies–each strike rattling the floorboards beneath the giant smith.
He paused, lifting his head. Smoke clung to his skin, eyes as black as coal basked in the flame.
For a moment, Vergil felt small. A dwarf looking at a titan.
"Ah, young blood, eh?" His voice rumbled low–like the forge itself had learned to speak.
Vergil blinked. "Young blood?"
The man laughed. "It's just a saying, boy… though judging by you, it seems about right."
'I mean, I guess,' Vergil thought.
He turned and spotted a mirror. His reflection stared back.
He was frail–too soft for a world like this, and that would change.
[You're so scrawny-looking.] The system spoke in his mind at the reflection. Vergil's lips twitched, half in annoyance and half amused that this system had such tact, thinking it was just a machine.
'What did you just say?' He muttered, eyebrows furrowing.
The blacksmith asked curiously, "So, kid, what are you looking for?"
"A dagger," Vergil replied confidently, brushing off the system's jab. He wanted a weapon practical for him, and a dagger would do.
"A dagger, eh? No weapon training, I presume?"
"Yeah."
The blacksmith headed to the back and returned shortly after, holding a dagger and handing it over to him. Vergil's fingers closed around the handle, sharp and steady. No words were needed. It was more than enough.
As Vergil inspected it, the system began analysing the weapon.
[Metal Dagger]
Attack: +5
The blacksmith exhaled. "This dagger's been in the inventory for a while. It was my first creation, back when I was just starting. I've used it myself a few times and kept it in good condition. But because it's just... normal, adventurers don't usually want it. Not their type of weapon."
"Then thanks." Vergil chuckled, but was on guard. "How much?"
"The name's Gilbert," he said with a smirk on his face. "And it's on the house."
'Free? That doesn't happen. There's a reason.'
"Then thanks Gilbert," Vergil said carefully, keeping his guard up.
"You taking on a monster subjugation by any chance?"
"I am. But... I've got no clue where to go," Vergil admitted.
Gilbert sighed. "You're new to this, huh? Just head straight from the entrance… you'll see the Guild."
Vergil paused, frowning. "Why are you helping me so much? I'm a stranger. You've got no reason to go this far."
This guy's been helpful, maybe a bit too much. The info was fine, but giving me the dagger for free? Either he's just a good man… or he has a reason.
Gilbert only smiled. "Think of it as a blacksmith's intuition."
Vergil smiled and handed over a gold coin. "Take it."
Gilbert's eyes widened. "That dagger's only worth 30 silver at best!"
Vergil fastened the weapon to his waist. "Think of it as my way of showing gratitude."
The saying was to repay gratitude twice–and revenge tenfold.
For me? Gratitude is repaid tenfold… and revenge a hundredfold.
Making allies along the way wouldn't hurt. Before facing the realms above, I need to conquer this one first.
[System Notification]
[Your relationship with Gilbert has progressed to ★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ (1/10 Stars). You can now view your relationships in the 'Confidants' section. Say 'Confidants' to access it.]
"Is he someone who can grant special effects if I improve our relationship?" Vergil asked.
[No, he isn't.]
"Please explain."
[Only those destined to reach greater heights can grant the system effects I'll notify you when you meet one.]
"Huh. What an interesting system," Vergil murmured.
Vergil walked through the doors of the Adventurers' Guild. The scent of ale thick in the air.
She looked up and smiled politely. "How can I help you?"
"I'd like to register as an adventurer."Registration is three gold," she spoke without looking up.
Three gold, the words stabbed harder than a blade.
'Five coins spent, and already I'm nearly broke. This world wastes nothing.'
He handed it over, each click stinging harder than the last.
"Your name?" she asked, reaching for a crystal plate.
"It's Vergil," he replied.
She disappeared into the back. When she returned, a small card glowed faintly in her hands–a shard of mana pulsing within."
---
[Adventurer's ID]
Name: Vergil
Rank: F – Adventurer
---
Seems about right. It wasn't impressive, but it would do.
"You start at F-rank" she said.
"And you can take E rank quests if you wish."
A safeguard. Prudent but frustrating.
"What requests are available right now?" he asked.
"The only subjugation request currently available to you is an F-rank goblin hunt in Rotroot Forest."
Vergil gave a slow nod. "I'll take it."
"Bring back proof of your hunt—those crystals, preferably."
So crystals are the proof, huh?
He turned from the reception desk, a smirk forming on his lips, flexing his fingers around the dagger. Every journey begins in bloodshed.