Vergil and Eleanor walked along the dirt path, the faint morning chill brushing against their clothes as sunlight filtered through the trees. The village ahead was just beginning to stir—distant voices, the clatter of wood, and the occasional bark of a dog.
Vergil kept his eyes forward, but his thoughts wandered.
'System, you've been pretty quiet lately.'
[Because listening to you complain about your stamina and grunting while throwing fireballs isn't exactly entertaining.]
'Wow. You could at least pretend to care. Emotional support would be nice once in a while.'
[I'm not your therapist. I'm your System. You want support? Go hug a tree.]
'Okay, rude. But fine, be that way. You know, I've grown stronger without you nagging me every two seconds.'
[And yet you still talk to me. You lonely or just that dumb?]
Vergil smirked slightly.
'Probably both.'
[Glad we're on the same page.]
"Why are you smiling like that?" Eleanor asked, her eyes narrowing.
Vergil blinked, quickly wiping the grin off his face. "Huh? Nothing. Just remembered something funny."
"Unlikely," she said flatly. "You don't seem like the type to remember anything useful."
'Ouch. She's worse than you.'
[She's got potential.]
Gilbert wiped his hands on a worn cloth as Vergil and Eleanor stepped into the forge. The air was hot, filled with the scent of metal and smoke. Sparks flickered near the hearth, where a sword lay half-forged on the anvil.
"You look like you've been through something," Gilbert said, voice gruff but not unkind. "Training done for now?"
Vergil nodded. "Yeah. I've pushed as far as I can go for the moment. Figured it's time to start preparing for the next step."
Gilbert's expression turned serious. "If you're going to keep walking this path, your gear needs to match your resolve."
Vergil nodded again, eyes flicking to Eleanor. "That's why we're here. Eleanor needs a weapon."
Eleanor raised a brow. "I'm a mage."
"And mages can still get stabbed," Vergil replied flatly. "You've got the instincts, but if someone closes the gap, spells won't always save you. Pick something."
She hesitated, eyes scanning the racks of weapons that lined the forge wall.
Gilbert gestured with his thumb. "Take your time. Try a few. I'll watch your stance."
Eleanor stepped forward, silently picking up a short sword. She gave it a few careful swings—light, clean, but she frowned.
"Too heavy in the blade."
She swapped it out for a dagger next, testing the feel in her palm, flipping it between fingers with ease. "Too short. Doesn't feel… right."
A curved saber followed. Then a staff. Then a pair of knives. Each time, she moved gracefully, but each time she shook her head and placed it back.
Finally, her eyes landed on a slim rapier resting on a mounted rack. She drew it gently, the polished steel catching the light. Its balance was elegant. Simple.
She gave it a few light thrusts, footwork smooth, measured. Then a quick spin—controlled, precise.
"This one."
Gilbert nodded. "That's a duelist's weapon. Fast, agile. Doesn't forgive sloppy technique."
"Good," Eleanor said, her voice colder than usual. "I don't plan on being sloppy."
Vergil gave a faint smile. "Fits you."
She shot him a sideways glance. "Don't get sentimental."
Gilbert stepped forward. "I'll tune the edge, make sure it's sharp enough to pierce light armor. Come back tomorrow. I'll have it ready."
"Could I also get some arrows?" Vergil asked
"Help yourself, their in the corner"
Vergil took around 20 arrows and filled his quiver
Vergil turned to leave with Eleanor, but paused. "Thanks, Gilbert."
The blacksmith just gave a nod, eyes already returning to the anvil. "Don't die."
Outside, the wind had picked up, rustling the leaves scattered along the dirt path.
'She's going to stab someone one day.'
[Probably you.]
'Whatever you say… she needs me and I need her,' Vergil muttered inwardly.
[Spoken like a fool in denial.]
Vergil rolled his eyes inwardly and walked beside Eleanor in silence as they made their way through the village. The morning was already in motion—vendors shouting, children weaving through stalls, and the steady rhythm of hammers ringing out.
Soon, they arrived at the Adventurers Guild—a tall stone building with ivy crawling up its sides and a wooden sign creaking slightly in the breeze. Seasoned adventurers sat on the steps, chatting over worn maps and dented gear.
Vergil pushed open the door, the scent of parchment, sweat, and metal thick in the air. Eleanor followed him in without a word.
Behind the front desk sat a young woman with auburn hair tied in a neat braid and sharp green eyes that flicked up the moment she saw Vergil. Her nameplate read: Elina.
"Well, well," she said, folding her arms over the counter. "You're back. And… not alone this time?"
Eleanor raised a brow. "Problem?"
"No, just surprised," Elina replied, eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm used to him brooding alone. Who's the shadow?"
"Eleanor," Vergil answered flatly. "She's with me."
"I can see that," Elina said, tone even. "You know bringing someone on a quest makes you responsible if they get hurt, right?"
"I won't," Eleanor said, voice cool. "I'm not a liability."
Vergil sighed. "We're looking for a mission. E-rank, straightforward. No basements."
Elina reached under the counter and pulled out a few parchments. "Lucky for you, we just got something in. Should suit your level."
She handed him a dark-gray quest slip.
Mission: Eliminate the Ashen Gravetalon
Location: Ashwood Forest
Rank: E
Type: Beast Hunt
Details: Skyborne predator nesting in the dead forest ridge. Known to ambush travelers and livestock.
Reward: 3 silver. Additional pay for feathers, talons, or beak fragments.
Note: Creatures shows signs of corruption. Proceed with caution.
Vergil scanned the details. Thinking he was smart "We'll take it."
Eleanor leaned in. "Flying, corrupted, territorial... Sounds lovely."
Elina offered a thin smile. "Try not to get torn apart midair."
Vergil tucked the parchment away. "We'll be back before sunset."
"And if you're not?"
Eleanor stepped forward slightly. "We'll still be alive."
Elina blinked once, then shrugged. "Whatever helps you sleep. Good luck, brooding duo."
As they left, Vergil muttered, "She's warming up to you."
[Or preparing your obituary.]
Before heading out, Vergil made a quick stop by one of the village's general stores—a cramped little place nestled between a baker's stall and an old herbalist's hut. The sign above the door had long since faded, but the inside was orderly and stocked with essentials.
A bell jingled as they stepped inside. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with dried meat, loaves of travel bread, basic potions, flint kits, and water skins.
Vergil moved with practiced familiarity. He grabbed two water flasks, a small pouch of dried jerky, three flat loaves of long-life bread, and a bundle of dried fruit. Enough for a day's travel—and a possible night out, just in case.
Eleanor leaned against a shelf, silent but observant.
He set everything on the counter. The shopkeeper, an older man with a lazy eye and a missing tooth, gave him a crooked smile. "Thirty copper for the lot."
Vergil handed over the coins without a word.
As the supplies were bagged he took the dagger strapped to his belt. he had used it during his earlier subjugations—worn but still sharp—and handed it to Eleanor.
"This is for you," he said quietly. "If the monster gets too close."
Eleanor blinked, surprised, then took the dagger. Her grip was steady. "I got it," she replied with a faint smile.
She glanced at the supplies. "But where are you going to put all that?"
Without a word, Vergil opened his inventory with a thought. The food and water disappeared in a shimmer of light.
Eleanor blinked. "...That's convenient."
"Don't ask questions," he said, tightening his cloak. "Just listen to me."
Her eyes narrowed, her voice turning cold. "Got it."
[That was almost tender. Almost.]
'Let's just focus.'
The dirt road stretched ahead, flanked by tall grass and crooked trees bent slightly under the wind. The air smelled of pine and damp soil—clean, but quiet. Too quiet.
Their destination: the outer edge of Ashwood Forest, where sightings of Ashon Gravetalon—plural—had started piling up. One bird had turned into several. The guild upgraded the request into a Rank E subjugation, but still classed it as manageable for a low-party mission.
Vergil walked at a measured pace, bow slung across his back, quiver resting against his shoulder. Eleanor walked beside him, hand occasionally brushing the dagger at her hip—the one he'd given her earlier.
"So," she began casually, "what's the plan when we run into them?"
"We kill them."
"Plural. That's reassuring."
[Very comforting leadership. Morale at an all-time high.]
Vergil didn't respond aloud. 'They're birds. Just fast ones.'
[Fast, territorial, coordinated, talon-bladed flying knives. But sure. Birds.]
Eleanor glanced over at him. "You always this talkative on missions?"
"Only when I'm irritated."
"...That explains a lot."
The deeper they moved into the forest, the denser the growth became. Trees arched overhead, weaving a natural canopy that filtered the sunlight into shifting patches. Twigs snapped underfoot, and once or twice, Eleanor paused to adjust her stance, eyes scanning the treetops.
Vergil caught sight of the first sign—thin streaks of blood along a mossy trunk. Claw marks gouged deep into the bark nearby. The spacing was high. Aerial. These weren't ground beasts.
"Claw marks," he muttered. "Recent."
"Think they're close?"
"No. I think we're already in their territory."
[And here I was hoping for a peaceful bird-watching walk.]
Vergil rolled his shoulders and drew an arrow. The tension in the forest was growing—but not from magic or instinct. Just the weight of being watched.
They moved in silence for another few minutes until Eleanor pointed upward. "There."
High above, wings rustled through the canopy. A dark blur swept between branches—then another, smaller silhouette followed it. At least three.
"Ashon Gravetalon," Vergil confirmed, eyes narrowing. "They're circling."
"They look smaller than I expected."
"They're fast. And they cut through leather."
Eleanor's grip tightened on her dagger. "I'm not leather."
"No," Vergil said flatly, "but they don't care."
[You should write motivational speeches.]
Vergil stepped forward, boots crunching under dead leaves. His stance lowered slightly as he scanned the canopy again.
"We bait them. One will dive first. The rest follow once we're distracted."
"You sure?"
"I've seen it before."
Eleanor exhaled slowly. "So what's the plan?"
"Don't die."
[Classic.]
Eleanor smirked faintly. "You've got a way with words."
He nocked an arrow. "Let's see how many we're dealing with."
Vergil halted, raising a hand to signal Eleanor. His eyes swept the trees—high, gnarled branches, sharp winds, no sound.
Then he activated [Analysis].
---
Name: Ashon Gravetalon
Level: 6
Race: Monster
Class: None
Stats:
Strength: 26
Constitution: 25
Dexterity: 28
Intuition
Magic Power: 3
Mana Capacity: 3
Passive Skills:
Piercing Talons (E) – Attacks have partial armor penetration when using talons
Active Skills:
Screeching Dive (F+) – A disorienting dive attack
Wing Cutter (E-) – Mid-range feather slash
---
Three targets.
One perched overhead, another lurking in the underbrush, and the third gliding above the canopy.
Vergil smoothly unslung his bow and nocked an arrow. His focus locked onto the one above.
Twang.
The arrow shot through the air and struck clean into the Gravetalon's wing joint. The beast screeched and tumbled from the air, crashing through branches and landing with a thud.
The others responded immediately—one launching itself toward Eleanor, the other diving straight for him.
"Eleanor. Left side."
"I see it." Her eyes glowed faint green. "Entangling Snare."
Vines and tendrils erupted from the ground under the diving Gravetalon. They whipped around its body and yanked it down with brutal force, slamming it into the dirt. The bird screeched and thrashed, but it was pinned.
Vergil dropped his bow and drew his sword in one fluid motion. He approached the entangled beast fast.
No hesitation. No wasted movement.
A single clean stroke. Steel flashed. The Gravetalon's head dropped limp into the leaves.
One down.
Vergil turned. The last one was weaving through the air, limping from the arrow wound, but still airborne—still dangerous.
He nocked a second arrow.
It saw him aim and veered hard, trying to dodge.
Didn't matter.
Twang.
The arrow sank into its chest. The creature flailed, lost balance mid-flight, and crashed violently into a tree trunk before dropping to the ground.
It didn't rise.
Vergil kept his sword drawn, watching for movement.
Silence.
He exhaled.
Eleanor stepped over to the fallen beast, a faint grin on her lips. "That was clean."
Vergil retrieved his bow, slinging it across his back. "Too slow on the second one."
"You're impossible," she muttered, but she was still smiling.
He didn't respond.
There were more important things to do—like harvesting their Astralyth stones, talons, and feathers.
Vergil crouched beside the fallen beasts. The blood was still warm, feathers twitching faintly from the last nerve spasms. He moved quickly and efficiently, carving the talons free, plucking intact feathers, and reaching deep into the chest to extract the Astralyth crystals—each one faintly glowing with condensed life force.
With the valuables secured and stored in his inventory, he stepped back, his gaze cold and calculating.
Time to feed.
Vergil raised his hand, palm outstretched toward the corpses. A black, corrosive energy began to swirl, spiraling into shape—before suddenly splitting open into a cluster of gaping, void-black mouths, lined with jagged, unnatural teeth. They spewed forth from his palm, writhing in the air like starved serpents.
The moment they touched flesh, they began to devour the corpses whole—bones cracking, muscle tearing, feathers dissolving into smoke as they were dragged into the endless void behind the mouths.
[User has gained 3 Dexterity points and 1 Constitution point]
[User has gained 3 new skills. 2 skill detected that does not suit user's path. Converting into E- and E rank Evolution Points.]
[10 E-Rank Evolution Points Obtained]
[10 E rank Evolution Points Obtained]
Vergil closed his fist. The mouths vanished instantly, leaving only bloodstained grass behind.
He exhaled quietly.
It wasn't much. But it was progress.
Eleanor stood nearby, silent for a moment, watching the last of the corpses vanish.
"Was that… magic?" she asked cautiously.
"No," Vergil said flatly. "Something else."
She didn't press further. Just nodded.
"Alright," she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Let's keep going. They might have more nesting deeper in."
Vergil nodded once. "Lets continue."
They had taken down twelve already.
Active skills gained
Aerial Predator (E-) – Increased evasion and awareness while airborne
Pack Coordination (E) – Gains minor stat boosts near allies
Passive skills
Hunting Focus (F) – Boosts critical chance briefly, by briefly showing vital points of the enemy
Adrenaline Flight (E) – Triggered when HP is low; boosts evasion and speed
Each corpse had been picked clean of feathers, talons, and Astralyth stones—trophies for coin and strength. After every kill, Vergil opened his palm, and the Authority of Predation answered. Black mouths bloomed from his skin, grotesque and fanged, hungrily devouring the bodies until not even bone remained, although no stat points were gained he got one level and converted the shitty skills into 50 F- Evolution points, 40 F Evolution points and 10 F+ evolution points
Eleanor had stopped flinching at the sight. If anything, she watched with a quiet curiosity now, eyes focused as if trying to learn something unspoken.
Vergil barely acknowledged her gaze. Power flowed through his limbs, subtle but real. Bits of speed, toughness—he could feel it accumulating.
They pressed on, deeper into the thicket where the trees grew tighter and shadows danced longer.
Then came the screech.
High-pitched. Brutal. Not from ahead—but behind.
The trees parted with a violent crash as something massive burst through the foliage.
It was a Gravetalon, but far larger than any they had seen. Feathers torn, talons cracked, bleeding and frantic. Its wingspan spanned nearly four meters, and yet it didn't charge—it ran, flapping wildly to stay aloft, too wounded to fly properly.
It didn't look at them.
It didn't care.
It fled, screeching as it tore through the forest.
Vergil's eyes narrowed.
'Analysis.'
---
[Analysis Activated]
Name: Ashen Gravetalon King
Level: 12
Tier:0
Race: Monster
Class: None
---
Stats:
Strength: 33
Constitution: 29
Dexterity: 37
Intelligence: 12
Wisdom: 14
Magic Power: 8
Mana Capacity: 10
---
Passive Skills:
Alpha Predator (E): Enhances dominance over lesser Gravetalon. Increases aggression and mental pressure to suppress weaker minds.
Sky Sovereign's Grace (E): Grants superior aerial mobility, reducing stamina loss during flight and boosting reaction time mid-air.
Keen Predator's Sight (E+): Can track rapid movement, see clearly in low-light, and detect basic magical illusions.
Hardened Plume Carapace (E): Dense, armor-like feathers that reduce slashing and piercing damage significantly.
---
Active Skills:
Predator's Dive (E): Executes a deadly aerial plummet with crushing force. Impact radius: 3 meters.
Screech of Dominion (E): Emits a powerful scream that causes disorientation, mental shock, and mild mana disruption within 15 meters.
Razorwind Slash (E): Uses a wing beat to launch compressed blades of wind in a wide arc.
Wingbeat Disengage (F+): Uses gust force to retreat quickly while knocking back enemies.
Bloodrush Instinct (E): When grievously wounded, the King temporarily gains 30% to all physical stats and enters a berserk state.
---
Vergil watched it vanish into the trees.
"…Why the hell is it running?" he muttered, hand instinctively reaching toward his sword.
Eleanor stepped closer. "That was the king?"
"It shouldn't run."
Just then—
[Passive Skill: Primal Awareness has activated.]
A chill traced down Vergil's spine.
Something else was coming.
Something stronger.
His eyes slowly narrowed.
He said nothing.
But his fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade.
And the wind went quiet.
The forest was too still.
No birds. No rustling. Even the wind held its breath.
Eleanor looked back in the direction the Gravetalon King had disappeared, brows furrowed. "Shouldn't we go after it?"
"No."
Vergil's tone was low, clipped. His gaze was fixed—not on where the King had gone, but where it had come from.
From deeper.
From darker.
His fingers flexed slightly, one resting near his bow, the other still hovering over the sword at his hip.
"That thing wasn't just scared," he said quietly. "It was hunted."
Eleanor tensed. "Hunted? By what?"
Vergil didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
[Passive Skill: Primal Awareness – Tier E+]
Warning: Unknown presence approaching
It wasn't just his nerves anymore. His body felt it—the instinct of prey, etched into the bones of every living thing. His heart beat slower, not faster, as if his body knew silence was the only defense.
Whatever it was, it didn't fly.
It moved through the forest.
Fast. Heavy. Controlled.
The air thickened with pressure.
Vergil gave a sharp gesture to Eleanor. "Back up. Stay behind me. Don't cast unless I say."
She obeyed without question, eyes wide but focused.
Leaves trembled on nearby branches. Somewhere to the east, a tree cracked—splintered as something massive shoved past it.
No more screeches.
No more roars.
Just the deep, deliberate rhythm of something that did not need to make a sound to assert dominance.
Vergil's hand slid to his quiver, drawing a black-fletched arrow. His breathing leveled out. He didn't pull the bowstring yet.
He wanted to see it first.
He needed to.
The underbrush stirred ahead. A shadow moved just out of sight, heavy, slow.
Then—
Silence again.
Even the tension in the wind had fled.
Nothing came through.
No attack.
No monster.
No sound.
And that—that was what made Vergil's grip tighten.
Because the predator hadn't left.
It had stopped.
And it was waiting.