Vergil Is Back-Chapter 46 - 37: The Blood of the Abyssborn

Tokyo – Abandoned Shrine District, near the cursed boundary

Rain had started to fall.

Soft, cold, and barely present, like the city itself was weeping for what lingered in its corners. The air was heavy with cursed energy. Broken lanterns and crumbling stone statues of forgotten kami watched over the ruins with blind eyes.

Leon's clone walked beneath the veil of night, his steps soundless, his form a blur between raindrops.

Updat𝓮d fr𝙤m ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com.

He wasn't here to be seen.

He was here to learn.

As the clone neared a place where the cursed boundary frayed—where the spiritual world bled into the physical—something stirred in his mind.

A pulse. A memory.

Flashback – Personal Dimension, Moments Before Departure

Void surrounded him.

Stars wheeled slowly in the darkness, like galaxies were holding their breath.

Leon stood before the System's inner sanctum—his real body, still and quiet, yet glowing with dormant power. His coat fluttered in a wind that didn't exist. Before him floated the menu, alive with choices and cosmic potential.

[Confirm Purchase: Bloodline – Abyssborn Seraph]

He stared at it. Not with doubt. But with clarity.

"Both Heaven and Hell denied me. This time, I'll write something of my own."

He tapped Accept.

[Bloodline Acquisition: Initiating—Brace for Soul Rewriting]

It hit him instantly.

A searing light—pure and divine—crashed into his soul. But it didn't stay pure. Shadows curled into it, reshaping it, balancing it. Wings sprouted from his back, not angelic, not demonic—but forged from seraphic flame and abyssal smoke. His body trembled as his DNA unraveled and was rewritten with essence far older than any god.

"Abyssborn Seraph. A being of paradox... perfect for one who walks between worlds."

When it was done, his reflection shimmered before him in a pool of stardust—long silver hair now streaked with faint void-blue, eyes like black diamonds wrapped in living flame.

Back in Tokyo

The clone blinked.

The rain struck his coat but never soaked it. His gaze returned to the decaying shrine gates before him—where cursed spirits lingered, whispering madness into the wind.

"That bloodline wasn't just power," he murmured, voice low. "It was the next step in what I'm becoming."

His presence now—a cursed being wouldn't dare approach it, yet sorcerers couldn't perceive it either. He was a fracture in the system. A ghost in a world that didn't know how to classify him.

"This place doesn't know me yet...""...but it will."

He stepped forward—and the cursed barrier shivered.