Rebirth-Transcending All Beings-Chapter 67: Normality [3]

Another month slipped by like the wailing wind as time moved sluggishly.

Vergil sat cross-legged near the dying embers of the blue flame. A sharpened stone clutched in his hand.

His breathing was slow and even — quietly humming as he began scratching the stone wall.

He could walk properly now, although the slight awkwardness, he had regained his balance and was now able to walk around without using the walls for support.

Yet it was still strange to only see one arm and one sleeve and even stranger to know it was beginning to feel natural.

The scratch marks he carved now formed letters — then words — the sentences.

Writing.

He had gotten better at it over the last month. He made sure to memorise the alphabet every day, then practise basic words and form clumsy sentences.

And now he could form structured and more complex sentences which was an achievement to him. He carved, pausing every few moments to reframe his thoughts.

A couple of days ago they found a glowstone board — well that’s what mother calls it.

The word had surprisingly settled in well and he would call her that. Always.

Anyways, it contained crystals that glowed — and we ate that.

It was quite the delicacy.

Vergil leaned back, stretching his arm. The ’board’ had been a lucky find. Half-buried under a collapsed section of the cavern wall.

Luminare sliced it open with a single swipe of her hand surprisingly, revealing a glistening, tender core inside. It was sweeter than anything Vergil had tasted — the warm energy that pulsed lingered in his chest for days.

He smiled at the vivid memory, continuing to carve into the stone. But not every day — sometimes meals were scraps, food from yesterday and sometimes no food at all.

Still, Luminare always gave him her share even if he refused. If he tried to object she would pout — when he looked at her eyes, he juet couldn’t oppose, forcing a reluctant acquiescence.

With this sentence, I don’t think I have anything left to learn.

He frowned, pausing.

No. There always will be.

Language wasn’t just about sentences — it was about the stories of those who passed — to be passed down to those who come.

He understood that much.

But for now, he was proud of how far he’d come — in a quiet hidden place where he didn’t need to impress anyone or meet anyone’s expectations.

A part of him noticed.

How far he had fallen.

Vergil dropped the stone with a loud thud, before running his fingers over the lines he carved.

He looked once more on his right side, exhaling slowly as he remembered his attempt to use the Authority of Transformation to regain his arm.

Yet it was useless, he could grow arms on his back, but his arm would remain the same.

Although it was a painful lesson.

Vergil stood at the chamber, the crackling of flames dying reverberated across the stone walls.

Sometimes he felt a phantom pain where his right arm was, itching at nothing but when he looked, all that remained was a sleeve.

Vergil scratched another few lines onto the stone.

I still visit the spike and look up to think about everything I could have achieved.

His thoughts drifted to the spike. Luminare told him, it rose from the deepest point of the cavern. A colossal black monolith — and something tied deeply to Vergil’s history.

Sometimes he would remain there for hours, sleeping, being lazy and practising writing.

A life he couldn’t enjoy back on earth. He smirked as he added the next part.

There’s still a lingering ember inside — wanting to get stronger. But I’m mostly over it.

I haven’t eaten with Predation in a while.

The Authority of Predation. The first ability he ever obtained ’uniquely to’. Not taken from some primal animal but a gift from a god. Perhaps it was a curse — sometimes when they killed a beast, he wanted to feed it and become stronger.

Yet he resisted. Not out of fear or shame. But simply because there was no reason to become the strongest anymore.

Still, life wasn’t without its minor annoyances after all.

Vergil smirked as he wrote the next line, imagining the look on a certain spear. Not that it could make a facial gesture.

That female spear keeps bitching at me.

Luminare’s weapon — never missed a chance to have a go at him.

"Devil-spawn."

"Half-breed."

"Pathetic wretch clinging to master’s pity."

At some point it had become nothing more than background noise — finding it even funny at times. Maybe because he was taking all of mother’s love.

But the spear’s rage burned brightly whenever he made fun of it that he couldn’t stop making fun of it.

He laughed softly, tossing the stone aside and leaning against the polished stone.

The fire crackled low before finally dying out, the once warm illumination finally swallowed by darkness and shadow.

He glanced at the open door, where Luminare slept on the bed wrapped in the makeshift blanket from cave beasts.

The blood baby too had come and rested on his head. Vergil stired at the jagged sediment ceiling above.

This was his life now. Hard and isolated but beautiful in a way that very few would probably ever understand.

He leaned down, reaching for another rock, trying to reach out with something he didn’t have before realising and using his remaining arm.

He hummed softly forming a tune that pierced the quietness of the world around him.

Picking it up, he began writing again — slower and more precise this time forming more neatly formed sentences.

I wonder what comes next.

I feel like something is changing.

Maybe it’s me.

Maybe it’s the world.

Maybe it’s both.

He closed his eyes, listening to his heartbeat, the steady sleeping of his family and the drip of water that echoed.

Somewhere far above, he imagined that world churning on — very slowly — unaware of the boy carving both his dreams and memories onto stone.

’I should go for a bath.’ Vergil finished his final syllable before turning around.

Vergil moved along the pathways, turning before coming to an open area.

Water bubbled up from the cracks in the stone. It was clean to drink as well. Luminare had encased the two areas to prevent contamination.

Vergil slowly took off his clothes, sitting in the bath as he let the warm sensation run down his body before humming.

Yet far from the quiet warmth of the bath, a trembling figure entered the small wooden cabin.

The door creaked open slowly as Luminare stumbled forward — using the walls as support.

Her clothes clung to her skin, heavy with sweat and something else — a sweet metallic scent tinged with something unnatural.

Her eyes were dazed as she made her way to the bed — whatever she had done, drained her of everything she had.

She collapsed on the edge of the makeshift bed, her pieces of armour that remained on her knees faintly clinking against the wood.

"Master," the spear hummed with a soft and tentative voice.

"Where did you go?" It added, this time filled with worry.

She said nothing, her breathing hitching before a terrible sound escaped her throat — a violent retch. She lurched off the bed, staggering to a hand-carved wooden bucket.

The spear hummed with a faint divine light in alarm as Luminare vomited, not food but mouthfuls of shimmering blue blood that splattered into the bucket in sickening waves.

"Master!" The spear cried out, releasing a wave of blue and white light.

After what felt like an eternity, Luminare wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and sank into the warmth of her bed with a ragged breath.

Her face, normally a pale white, was now ashen, mimicking a dead-white mask.

Still, she waved a hand dismissively, yet her breath hitched once more as if about to retch once more but held it in.

"I’m fine," she rasped, her tone changing from how she spoke to Vergil. Colder — like the frostbitten shores.

"Master, your injuries have worsened," the spear vibrated pleadingly. "You can’t keep doing this! Your soul is deteriorating."

"I was fixing the space-time array," she said flatly, dismissing her concern.

The spear buzzed angrily, distrust dripping from its tone. "Master... don’t lie to me, I know better. It doesn’t cost much to adjust the array."

Luminare’s eyes dimmed, flickering to the door. "Is Vergil around?" she asked quietly.

The spear hesitated, then spoke carefully.

"Master, why... why do you care for him so much?" There was sorrow in its vibration, a wounded sound.

Luminare’s eyes flickered back to the spear and instantly the spear trembled. It wasn’t the soft eyes she had known but the eyes of someone from a time long gone.

Luminare rose steadily, leaning towards the spear — gently placing her forehead against the stone embedded on the shaft. Her hands trembled as they brushed the sharp edge.

She began whispering words — too soft for the air to catch and carry away.

When she pulled away, the spear recoiled violently, its glow flaring in disbelief. "Master — where did you–" the spear was unable to even finish its sentence after hearing her words.

"Please think this through, Master!" the spear cried. "You can’t be serious — if you do this, it will disgrace you forever. You will become a laughing—"

"Say another word," Luminare interrupted, her voice pressing down on the spear like a word from God. "And you will remember my wrath."

The spear froze, trembling, not daring to utter another syllable.

In a single moment, all the warmth and exhaustion was replaced by a cold and lethal pressure that filled the room.

The silence lingered. No steps. No crackle.

Then—

She moved.

Luminare walked towards the door without a single look of exhaustion, as if her will alone stitched her broken body upright. Yet the cold nature of death remained in her eyes.

But just before she left — she paused.

She turned her head slightly, just enough for the spear to see the sharpness in her eyes, and brought a finger to her lips.

"Say a word about this to Vergil," she whispered sweetly, almost playfully.

Her lips turned into a smile — but there was nothing warm about it. "—and you know what will happen."

Then she stepped into the night, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft click.

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[Users Relationship with Luminare has increased to rank 7]