Morning arrived the next day in Vaelmont, the soft light filtering in through the cracked shutters.
The village began to stir outside, as the murmurs of life slowly returned.
All was still inside, yet Eleanor was the only one awake–a one-ti exception.
Sleep had never truly co. Her eyes were closed, and the warmth next to her remained steady. But her mind wandered elsewhere, her blue eyes looked at the ceiling above, before falling to the boy next to her.
Vergil.
An odd na among these parts.
She didn’t move, instead, she observed him in silence.
But her thoughts weren’t on him, not at first. Not until the mories flooded her mind.
They were on the na that had haunted her since the night of the betrayal.
Kaeden.
Her uncle. Her parents’ killer.
He wore his kindness like a mask. Smiling too easily, speaking too gently. But beneath it, he was a serpent.
He’d led the coup under the cover of darkness, cutting down her mother and father.
The forr Duke and Duchess of House Valtier–before dawn ever broke, were slaughtered.
The few loyal returned were able to smuggle her out amidst the chaos.
And ever since, she had lived in silence.
The last surviving daughter of Valtier. A duchess without a domain. A noble without power.
She clenched the bedsheets tighter.
He still sat on their throne, wearing their title as if it were always his.
Eleanor’s gaze returned to Vergil.
The way they understood revenge differed. His pursuit of power wasn’t fueled by grief nor hatred, but sothing else.
An insatiable hunger to rise beyond his current self. To beco sothing greater. But even with that ambition, he had lines he wouldn’t cross.
Especially with the people beside him.
She’d noticed that.
He never asked her to bleed for him. Never demanded her loyalty. They used each other, yes–but he didn’t lie to her.
That counted for sothing.
His back was turned to her. The bandages across his wound were slightly loose. The injury had swollen overnight, but not dangerously so.
His fra was slight. His hands were smooth. His face was unremarkable. Black hair was always slightly ssy.
His brown eyes were ordinary. He could disappear into a crowd, unnoticed. A man not made for battle or command.
And yet... he endured, he kept moving forward.
He moved like soone who carried sothing heavy inside.
Just like her.
Her own hands flexed on her lap. Smooth. Barely calloused. No swordswoman. No soldier.
She had never been trained for war, why would she? A noble daughter like her was ant to be betrothed, to smile, to curtsy, to host.
But there was one exception.
The rapier.
A weapon of elegance and grace. It was gifted to her as a formality, an accessory to her noble upbringing.
She practised it in secret, dancing in the empty courtyard whilst aslo getting formal lessons during the day.
It was the only weapon she truly knew how to wield.
And her only solace. She quietly stood up from the head, brushing away a loose strand, before stepping towards the washroom.
The cold water t her face, waking her up from her mories.
Today was another step.
Toward vengeance.
Toward reclaiming what was hers.
’Maybe... just maybe. I won’t have to walk this path alone.’ Eleanor thought.
A groan ca from behind her.
Eleanor turned slightly, wiping her face with the cloth by the basin as she glanced over.
Vergil had begun to stir underneath the covers as his eyes slowly fluttered open.
He blinked once, before closing them again
"...Ugh, why is it so bright?" His voice ca out hoarse.
"Its early," Eleanor spoke, before moving to sit on the bed before checking the bandages.
"You didn’t tear it open again. That’s sothing."
Vergil tried to sit up, but the pain was still unbearable.
He slumped slowly with a painful grunt. "Still hurts like shit you know."
"You’re very lucky it wasn’t worse." She knelt beside him, adjusting the bandage.
"If his blade had gotten deeper... We, wouldn’t be here."
His gaze was fixed on her face.
Calm, composed and still unreadable as ever.
"...You really stayed," he murmured quietly.
Eleanor t his gaze. "I did say you aren’t going back until you’re fully recovered."
"I rember," he murmured before a smirk ford at his lips. "Didn’t think you ant sleeping next to though."
Eleanor didnt smile back at him. "If you had stopped breathing, soone needed to be there to notice." Her voice ca out softer than before.
Vergil chuckled once before wincing
"How considerate of you."
She stood up. "You can keep up with your jokes when your able to walk–until then, don’t try anything."
He watched her as she moved across the room. "How do I put this, you’re different."
She paused near the window. "What’s that supposed to an?"
"You act cold. Detached. Like you’re only here because it’s convenient. But you haven’t asked to leave. You don’t ask questions when I do sothing. You joined not because you had to–but because you wanted sothing from ."
"We’re both, very similar." She replied.
"Ambitious," she continued. "You never asked to bleed for you, and your treat as your equal. But yes–there is sothing I desire from you."
A quiet mont passed between them.
"I know we’re using each other." Her eyes locked onto his.
"Im fine with this arrangent, but if you die before I’m ready to let go." Her voice turned colder and sharper.
She trailed off, before looking away.
Vergil watched her for a long mont, sothing softer flickering in his expression.
"...I’ll try my best not to die then." He spoke with a smug face.
The corner of her lip twitched.
But she didn’t respond.
They understood each other in silence.
And for now, that was enough.
Eleanor turned toward the door, five silver pieces resting in her palm–then stopped as Vergil’s eyes suddenly narrowed.
His breath caught.
A sharp pulse rang in the back of his skull–not pain, but instinct.
[Primal Awareness Activated. You are being watched.]
The ssage echoed in his mind. His senses sharpened to the impending danger.
His eyes flickered to the window, narrowing in on the world beyond the shutters. Morning light split inside but the air had shifted.
Too quiet.
Too still.
"Wait a second," he spoke quietly.
Eleanor glanced "What is it?"
Vergil moved slowly, ignoring the ache in his back as he sat up."Sothing’s watching us."
Her eyes widened. "From where?"
He didn’t answer imdiately, he stared toward the trees at the village’s edge.
For a mont, nothing moved.
Then, a silhouette slipped back into the forest brush.
Gone in a heartbeat.
But he’d seen it.
Not a villager. Not a scout. Not an animal.
Sothing else.
Vergil clenched his jaw. "That damn monster."
Eleanor’s eyes darkened. "You think it followed us?"
"I think it’s been watching since the fight." His voice was low. "It has more than regeneration. When we fought, I felt like I knew what I was going to do next... now I’m sure."
He stood carefully, turning from the window. ’It has a puppet-type ability. Sothing it can send to spy–projection, clone, maybe both. But that doesn’t matter. The point is, it’s not just hiding.’
"It’s learning," Eleanor finished, voice like frost.
"Exactly." He sighed. "Let’s head back in a week."
She nodded.
"Go to Elvira," Vergil said. "Tell her I sent you. Focus on improving your magic."
"And the rapier?"
He held out the five silver coins. "That’ll cover it for now."
Eleanor took the coins without hesitation, slipping them into her pouch. "And you?"
"I’ll handle supply runs. Take on so simple missions, build up money, grab a few potions if I can."
She watched him a mont longer, then turned to leave. "Stay alive."
"You too."
She opened the door but paused.
"We’re not strong yet," she said without looking back. "But we’re not the sa as yesterday."
Vergil gave a tired smile. I agree with you."
And with that, she stepped into the morning light–while he turned back to the window, where shadows lingered at the forest’s edge.
[Primal Awareness Deactivated. Target is no longer within range.]
But Vergil knew.
It would be back.
And next ti, it wouldn’t be watching.
It would be hunting.
---
In the forests beyond the village, sothing was watching.
It stood unnaturally still. The silhouette was half hidden amongst the trees.
At first glance, it might’ve passed for a cloaked traveller with dark hair.
Just another soul pausing by the woods.
But it wasn’t human.
Nothing like one.
Wearing a crude copy. A rotting mimicry of Vergil. But the features weren’t right.
The skin was too pale, too taut, as if stretched over a fra it didn’t belong to.
One eye hung lower than the other, the jaw crooked, twisted into a stitched half-smile.
Its chest rose and fell in a parody of breath, though no air ever moved.
The arms dangled awkwardly, the fingers twitching every few seconds, spasming like they were searching for sothing to hold.
And still, it stared.
The inn sat quietly at the village’s edge. Smoke rose from the chimney. Light filtered through the shutters.
Inside, it knew, the real one was waking.
The real Vergil.
The source.
It didn’t yet understand what he was. But during their brief encounter, it had felt sothing in him.
Not raw power. Not dominance.
Hunger.
The kind that simrs, quiet and patient.
Waiting.
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