Rebirth-Transcending All Beings-Chapter 32: Orcs

Kneeling behind a crumbled stone wall, Vergil watched the orcs move in an orderly formation through a clearing a few metres away from his position.

The trees surrounding the clearing swayed from the chill that passed. The steps of the orcs crunching leaves under their feet echoed through the stillness.

One of them grunted, tilting his head to the left where the ruins were, before continuing his patrol.

Unaware of the shadow watching from the cobbled masonry.

Vergil studied each of them. "Four." His eyes sharpened as Analysis activated.

’The shaman first, the others will crumble after.’ His thoughts paused as the chill fluttered his hair. A small yet calculating smile tugged at his lips.

"The brawler — yeah, I’ll leave him alive." He exhaled, his right hand brushed the hilt of his sword.

He had found a way to push his skills to the next level. All that was left was to put the plan into motion.

Vergil shifted his position, moving into their blind spot.

The silence had returned. Only the crunch of grass and leaves broke through.

Thump!

A faint ripple of energy from his mana heart began to circulate through his veins — his muscles tensed before expanding beneath his skin.

Without delay, he slowly unsheathed his sword halfway.

His ring and middle fingers pressed on the flat side of the blade. A small drip of blood leaked from his tips.

The blood shifted, turning into a purple liquid that coated the blade. Venom’s Edge.

Vergil’s eyes locked onto the shaman who moved with a rigid and lazy pace behind the pack as if he was untouchable.

Vergil breathed in — then out — his form became a shadow that sliced through the clearing.

One cut was all he needed and it was all it would take.

In a fluid motion, his sword — now fully unsheathed — whistled through the wind, closing the few metres they were apart.

The shaman’s lips moved to chant a spell, before a shadow jumped — their eyes met for a brief moment.

Vergil twisted his body, angling his blade vertically as it cleaved into the side of its neck.

His feet landed on its cloaked torso, pressing down like a boulder onto the shaman’s lungs.

The shaman’s lips trembled, trying to cast a spell, gargling blood, before the ember in its eyes died out.

The three remaining orcs stared, confused at the events that had taken place.

Frozen.

Their hands clenched around their weapons with a sharp creak of leather.

"Try me!" Vergil’s voice pierced the calmness. His right hand removed the sword from the shaman’s neck.

A thundering, internal rhythm echoed in his brain — the sound of pure euphoria, pulsing just behind his eyes.

[Skill Created: Taunt (F)]

[Taunt (F): Your bloodlust and provocation have manifested into a skill. Slightly increases the chance of drawing enemy aggro and disrupting enemy focus. Targets may experience temporary emotional agitation.]

Vergil blinked at the message that floated in the air before vanishing. "Never in a million years, did I think I would get something like this," he chuckled darkly.

The orc berserker charged, its veins bulging at the sight of his smug smile.

The brawler and brute followed seconds behind, their formation shattering within moments.

Vergil relaxed, taking in a slow breath — his feet pivoted off the shaman’s torso, moving backwards into a corner crowded by trees. ’This way, it’s one and one.’

Vergil spread his legs, shoulders angled. A hybrid stance between an archer and a swordsman.

It was unorthodox and imperfect, but his skills guided him, honing what he had into something more.

His grip on his sword tightened as the berserker raised his axe high while the others watched from behind.

Giving space but waiting for the opportunity to interfere.

Vergil didn’t flinch as the axe swung down. He shifted his body to the right at the last moment. Moving towards its right side.

Vergil’s stance shifted, moving his right foot forward and planting his left foot into the grass below.

His sword cut through the air, slashing vertically at the Berserker’s side.

The berserker didn’t flinch, pulling the axe from the tree it had smashed, before carving vertically.

Vergil’s instincts reacted first, as steel clashed with a violent clang. The shockwave rattled Vergil’s arm to the bone.

The axe clipped his left shoulder, tearing into the muscle — his lips twitched upwards.

Vergil hissed as he moved himself once more to the trees, a green glow painted his veins stitching the wound till it closed.

He watched as the berserker staggered back slightly from the parry, the others wanted to join in to aid their brother but he kept moving forward.

Relentless and never retreating.

Vergil stepped into the orc’s pace, his sword arced low, slicing across the orc’s thigh. Green blood splattered over Vergil’s sword and clothes.

The berserker grunted, its legs beginning to shake.

But Vergil continued his momentum, his eyes flickered to the spectators who could do nothing but helplessly watch their brethren being slaughtered.

Vergil used the bleeding leg as a stepping stone, driving his blade into its abdomen until he felt the grinding of bone.

The berserker slammed Vergil off with his palm, using all its crushing force, pushing him into a tree that almost shattered from the impact.

Vergil slumped, coughing a mouthful of blood that dripped onto both the ground and his clothes.

He refused the earth, mirroring his foe’s own cold, tireless fury. The pain surged throughout: he did not feel hatred nor fear, there was only one word to describe it.

Ecstasy.

He jotted back up, moving in once more. The orc’s grip on its weapon trembled, fighting the urge to not give in.

"Yes, keep going," Vergil whispered. The paralysis was doing its work. He stepped once more onto its shin, ripping the blade free from its abdomen.

The orc tried to shake him off but it’s limbs wouldn’t move. Vergil pivoted once more — blade flashing as it cut through the sunbeams.

He jumped up, curving his sword horizontally as it met its neck.

The orc let out its final breath before collapsing headfirst into the dirt.

Vergil veered backwards, watching the proud orc’s final movements."You were persistent, I’ll give you that."

But he didn’t stop there.

Each step he took was precise and deliberate, his bloodied sword dragged as he made his way to the other spectators.

The orcs that watched locked eyes with him and instinctively took a step back. What was in front of them wasn’t a human.

Yet after realising what they had done, the orc Brawler charged forward with unbridled rage, closing the distance instantly.

Vergil’s eyes closed — his form turning into a shadow that blurred past the brawler and towards the brute that trembled.

The last thing it saw was Vergil’s maniacal grin before falling to the ground — neck bleeding profusely.

The silence lingered.

Vergil tilted his head back to the brawler. "Its just you and me left."