Before heading to the abandoned village, Vergil decided to stop by the tavern across from the guild. The Emberfang Tavern—a well-known establishment in the village that Elvira had recommended.
As he pushed open the heavy oak doors, a wave of roasted meat, charred wood, and ale greeted him. The tavern's interior was a mix of stone and dark timber, with a massive iron chandelier casting a warm, amber glow. A roaring hearth crackled against one wall, flames dancing in the open fireplace, living up to the tavern's name. The floor was well-worn—scuffed by countless boots and stained with the ghosts of spilled ale.
Laughter and boisterous chatter filled the air. Adventurers swapped tales of hunts, barmaids weaved through the crowd with mugs and platters in hand, and for a moment, Vergil felt the weight of the world lift slightly. This was a place of respite before the next battle.
He made his way to the counter, where a broad-shouldered man with a grizzled beard was wiping down a tankard. His eyes were sharp, calculating—the kind that had seen blood and fire. This was Garrik "The Fang" Bronn, a retired mercenary turned tavernkeeper.
Garrik glanced up and raised a brow. "Ah, you're new 'round here. What can I get ya, lad?"
"Something filling but quick. I've got work soon," Vergil said, leaning on the counter.
Garrik let out a low chuckle. "Ain't that the story of every adventurer. Got just the thing—Hunter's Stew with Emberbread."
He barked an order to the kitchen, then filled a mug with water and set it down. Not long after, a steaming bowl of stew was placed in front of Vergil. Thick and hearty—chunks of venison, potatoes, and carrots swam in a dark broth rich with herbs. A warm loaf of Emberbread rested beside it, golden and crisp on the outside, soft and steaming within.
Vergil took a bite. The flavors hit instantly—deep, earthy, perfectly seasoned. He dipped the bread into the broth, letting it soak before tearing into it.
A satisfied hum escaped him.
"Not bad, eh?" Garrik asked with a smirk.
Vergil nodded. "Yeah… it's good."
The smirk softened slightly. "Good food keeps you strong. You've got that look—like you're heading somewhere rough. Don't go dying out there."
Vergil finished the meal, wiped his mouth, and stood. "No plans to. Thanks."
He dropped a few coins on the counter, adjusted his gear, and stepped out. The warm glow of the Emberfang faded behind him as he set out down the road toward the outskirts.
The abandoned village awaited.
---
The hour-long journey took Vergil through rugged dirt paths and dense woods. The scent of damp earth lingered in the air. As he walked, he passed broken fences, moss-covered stones, and crumbling signposts—ghosts of a place forgotten by time.
When he finally reached the village, the sight was haunting. Twisted vines coiled around collapsed homes, their shattered windows staring back like hollow eyes. The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustling wind and the faint, rotten scent that drifted on it.
Vergil slowed, eyes sharp. He drew his dagger, the soft hiss of steel a whisper in the silence.
A noise—a scuffle.
He turned, spotting a rodent nearly the size of a cat, rooting around in the debris. It hadn't seen him. In one clean motion, Vergil lunged, stabbing it through the skull.
[Authority of Predation Activated]
[User has gained 1 Dexterity point]
[Skills acquired: Lesser Disease Resistance (F-), Filthy Bite (F)]
Vergil's eyes narrowed.
More came. Rats—filthy, diseased things—burst from the shadows. One after another, they attacked, relentless. He cut them down, but it was wearing on him. His stamina chipped away with every strike.
Something's wrong. These aren't just beasts.
They were coordinated. He could feel it. They weren't smart enough for strategy… which meant something was guiding them.
Then—a jolt. His instincts screamed.
He twisted just as the wall behind him exploded. Wood and debris flew as a massive rat burst through the remains of a home.
Shit. That's the leader.
Behind it, a larger swarm surged in. These rats were bigger, scarred, and more grotesque. Their eyes glowed crimson. And unlike the others, they moved in formation—controlled, deliberate.
Then the leader screeched.
Move!
Vergil activated Dash. His body surged forward, speed increased by 10%. He bolted through the ruined village, the horde thundering after him.
A rat leapt onto him, jaws sinking into his arm. He growled in pain, tore it free, and hurled it back. Blood soaked into his sleeve.
I don't have time for this.
He needed to regroup—to hide, to think.
He weaved through the maze of broken homes and twisted alleys. The monstrous leader bounded after him, unnaturally fast for its size.
Then—CRASH.
Vergil stumbled as something slammed into his back. A sharp pain tore through him—claws raking across flesh. He hissed, blood pouring from the wounds. His coat was shredded.
If I stop now, I'm dead.
He activated Dash again, lungs burning, legs screaming. Another rat latched onto his ankle. With a grunt, he slammed it into a wall mid-run and kept going.
Up ahead—an abandoned house. The door hung ajar.
He dove inside and slammed the door shut just as the swarm skittered past. Silence. His breath came in ragged gasps. Blood and sweat clung to his skin.
He slid to the floor, back against the wall, heart pounding.
Now wasn't the time to rest—but he had a moment.
From his inventory, he pulled out a potion.
[Low-Rank Healing Potion]
Can heal basic wounds. Must be poured directly onto the wound. Causes immense pain.
Vergil didn't hesitate.
He poured the potion over his back.
Ssssshhh—
A violent hiss escaped his lips as agony flared through the wounds. He gritted his teeth, fists clenched.
"F-fuck, that hurts…"
The pain blurred his vision, but he forced his breathing to steady.
Focus. You need a plan. If I don't take out that leader first, the swarm won't stop coming.
He opened his system interface and scanned his new abilities.
No stat points… but the skills might help.
Time to turn the hunt around.
Here's a polished and refined version of your Chapter 6 – Part 2, maintaining the tone, structure, and character voice while improving flow, grammar, and clarity:
---
[New Skills Acquired]
Lesser Disease Resistance (F-)
Scurry (F-)
Lesser Poison Resistance (F-) x2
Nimble Dodge (F-)
Filthy Bite (F)
Vergil raised an eyebrow.
"So not all the rats had skills, huh?"
Activating the Combination System, a large blue panel materialized before his eyes.
---
[Combination System]
Select the skills you wish to combine.
First Combination:
Dash (F)
Scurry (F-)
Nimble Dodge (F-)
[Combination Successful]
New Skill: Evasive Sprint (E-) (Active)
Enhances the user's speed and agility for a short duration, allowing for rapid movement while instinctively dodging attacks.
Abilities Gained:
Increased Sprint Speed (Dash): Temporarily boosts movement speed.
Unpredictable Movements (Scurry): Erratic movement makes the user harder to hit.
Reflexive Dodging (Nimble Dodge): Automatically avoids weaker attacks unless surrounded.
Limitations:
Duration: Only a few seconds.
Ineffective against AoE (area-of-effect) attacks or significantly faster enemies.
Short cooldown between uses.
Vergil smirked. "Good. Now for the next one."
---
Second Combination:
Lesser Poison Resistance (F-) x2
Lesser Disease Resistance (F-)
[Combination Successful]
New Skill: Weak Toxin Resistance (E-) (Passive)
Grants improved resistance to poisons and diseases, slightly reducing their effects.
---
Final Combination:
Feral Bite (F)
Filthy Bite (F)
[Combination Successful]
New Skill: Vile Bite (F+) (Active)
A vicious bite that tears flesh and infects the wound with bacteria, causing lingering discomfort and minor debilitation.
Abilities Gained:
Stronger Bite (Feral Bite): Slightly increased bite force, effective against unarmored targets.
Minor Infection (Filthy Bite): Dirty wounds cause irritation and potential infection.
Weak Bleeding Effect: Causes slow bleeding and slightly delays natural healing.
Limitations:
Ineffective against armor or thick hides.
Infections are mild but may worsen over time.
Bleeding is minimal unless the wound is aggravated.
---
Vergil sat slumped in the corner of a decayed, abandoned house, his back pressed against a cold, crumbling wall. Blood slicked the floor beneath him, seeping from a deep gash in his abdomen. Each breath came ragged and shallow, pain blooming with every twitch.
Moonlight filtered through the broken roof in jagged beams, casting eerie shadows across the wreckage—shattered wood, layered dust, and the fresh corpses of what had dared to cross him. His dagger rested loosely in his grip, its edge stained a deep crimson.
Despite the pain, despite the exhaustion, a crooked grin crept across his lips. His brown eyes glinted in the dim light—wild, dangerous.
"This is getting fun," he muttered hoarsely, a savage thrill in his tone.
Outside, the wind howled through the empty village, carrying with it the scent of blood and decay.
---
Vergil slipped out through the back window, agile and quiet. Leaping onto a nearby ledge, he climbed onto a rooftop and pressed himself flat, peering over the edge.
Below, the rat leader and its guards stalked the ruined streets, slow and methodical.
"Analyze."
A system panel flickered to life.
---
[OverVermin]
Level: 3
Worth: 0
Lifespan: 15 years
Tier: 0
Race: Monster
Class: None
Stats:
Strength: 14
Constitution: 12
Dexterity: 7
Intuition: 7
Magic Power: 1
Mana Capacity: 1
Passive Skills:
Lesser Pack Leader (F)
Survival Instincts (F)
Hardened Hide (E-)
Active Skills:
Feral Bite (F)
Tail Smack (F-)
Feral Charge (F)
Adrenaline Surge (E-)
---
Vergil narrowed his eyes. Stronger than the goblins I fought… but only two levels higher.
He scanned the rest of the pack—level 2s, all of them. Then, an idea sparked.
Yeah… that could work.
But first, he needed rest.
---
After a few hours of recovery and silent observation, Vergil saw his chance.
The OverVermin had entered a rundown building—most likely the old village hall—alone, separating itself from the others.
Perfect.
He moved like a shadow, dropping from the rooftop and weaving through the alleyways. Upon reaching the hall, he scaled its side and crouched at the roof's peak. Pressed flat, he peered through a cracked beam.
Inside, the OverVermin rested.
Vergil reached into his inventory and pulled out a small vial—the paralysis poison he'd bought from Osric. He uncorked it, coating his blade in the dark, viscous liquid.
Now all he had to do was strike.
He found a loose tile, carefully lifting it without a sound.
Then—he dropped.
Vergil landed with precision, driving his dagger straight into the OverVermin's skull. The monster screeched, limbs thrashing.
"How do you like that, you son of a bitch?" Vergil growled, twisting the blade. "Not so fun without your little friends, is it?"
He bared his teeth.
"Now let's start round two."