Rebirth-Transcending All Beings-Chapter 35: Plan

What was the meaning of life to Vergil who transmigrated?

His schedule had always been work — study — sleep.

He had never found studying to be amusing nor boring, after all it was custom to everyone. He had tried his best, but he wasn’t particularly good nor bad.

And that wasn’t enough to break the cycle of grief and torment. Yet Vergil felt a sensation some strange and new.

A cold ember that nourished his very soul.

Excitement.

Yet it didn’t come from the fact that he was growing.

No.

It was from getting the shit beaten out of him.

The sound of flesh against flesh reverberated through the clearing. The thud of impacts were beginning to blend in with their steady breaths.

The clearing once thrived with tranquility, now gave way to blood and violence.

The orc pushed forward, yet each time he struck, Vergil stumbled a little less.

His footwork grew tighter, his movement became more refined with every exchange.

He no longer flinched from the pain — he had been accustomed to it — Vergil’s eyes watched as he anticipated the brawler’s movements.

The orc aimed for his vital points, Vergil ducked low, planting his left foot into the ground.

Then driving his right fist to the brawler’s jaw.

Crack.

The orc staggered backwards, eyes widening. He was clearly superior in this aspect of combat, but the human moved like a tidal wave.

Incessant.

Vergil followed the momentum, his knuckles dripped with blood but he didn’t care. The orc retreated backwards, using the same strategy Vergil did.

But to no avail, Vergil slammed his elbow into his jaw followed by a knee to the gut.

Vergils hair fluttered against the wind. His breath became more ragged as the learning experience continued.

[Your Art has reached the next rank.]

[Tough Body Proficiency....]

Every punch Vergil took. Every time he fell head first into the stained grass, taught him a new lesson.

He kept moving, he kept rising. He wouldn’t stop and he never would.

The orc tried to grab Vergil, but he twisted mid grapple — wrapping his arms around the orc’s like a python.

And with a heavy grunt, he used the shifting of weight, slamming it down with an impact that shook the forest.

Vergil stood tall over the orc in the middle of the clearing, but Vergil did not end the fight — moving back a few feet before reforming his stance.

The brawler rose slower, bruised and bloodied yet bared its fangs with a snarl.

Vergil moved in once more, changing into another of the orcs stances. Eyes blazing as he clenched his fists.

The sun had begun to disappear, bleeding a soft crimson glow that scattered across the forest. The wind slowly passed by, carrying the stench of blood and sweat as it travelled.

His knees stood taller than ever, the wind fluttered his black hair, before sending a chill through his pale skin.

Vergils eyes widened as he panted. His chest heaved before realising he had passed out standing.

His gaze flickered to the orc which had now became still. His fists were swollen and raw and his body was contaminated with bruises everywhere.

Even then, Vergil gave a bow of respect to the dead orc. The beast had given everything he had and Vergil gave the same.

It wasn’t a bow of worship but respect.

His vision blurred a green light spread from his core, stitching him back to par as he straightened himself up.

He exhaled in — then out. Letting the ground take hold of him with a thud that kicked up dust. The sky above had turned pitch black.

"Is this the reason why," Vergil whispered. "An ecstasy only given by violence."

"I must really have a few screws loose," he chuckled hoarsly. His heart still pounded in his ears. The fight wasn’t about survival but a teaching experience.

He stared at the dark sky above. The system pummelled his head like jabs with notifications. He had levelled up his Skills and that was enough for him.

His eyes came to shut, the wind brushed against his face as he finally caught his breath. But the moment of peace never lasted long.

"Authority of Predation." Vergil raised his palm, that spat out black mouths once more. They devoured hungrily, leaving only torn armour and bone and a small growing crystal that pusled in the middle.

Vergil’s body shuddered at the pleasure that followed after.

User has gained 1 strength, 1 Constitution, 8 dexterity, 8 intuition]

[User has gained the aformentioned skills.]

Vergil rose up, moving to where he had sheathed his blade into the soil. "I’ve gained as much as I could." He withdrew his sword before sheathing it. "I hope its enough."

Beneath his blood-stained, ruined clothes. His muscles pulsed and his senses sharpened. He clenched his hand once then twice before relaxing.

The black mouths had finished their meal — finally vanishing into thin air as if they didn’t exist.

He moved, grabbing the crystals that he earned. Altogether he had four and the mage’s crystal contained the most amount of energy.

He sighed both in happiness yet also in regret. He had too much fun with the brawler that go didn’t check if there were others. His body stilled, as he listened for even the faintest sound.

Nothing.

His eyes lingered on the shaman’s core. ’Can’t focus on myself all the time.’

His physical vestige had finally reached the forties. Ahd he had three extra stat points from that fight. Although he felt he should’ve had more, he didn’t complain.

"All into Dexterity."

[Dexterity has increased to 43]

He was finally level ten. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to reach the second circle before the next ’meeting’

He cracked his knuckles once. He couldn’t put the sensation, when he was fighting — he felt it was incomplete.

[That sensation stems from your underdeveloped muscles.]

"Go on."

[While your stats increase, your physical body hasn’t caught up. You can exert more strength but you will always be... incomplete]

"So the only way to harness my potential..."

[Is training for your stickman body.]

"That hurts you know."

[A you problem if I must say. And may I also add, it will take at least a year.]

"I was hoping you’d say three days."

[The word is cruel man, and dreams are crueler.]

Vergil nodded at the statement, as he began dragging his body back to Vaelmont.