Rebirth-Transcending All Beings-Chapter 64: Awakening

The heart’s labour had bore its masterpiece to fruition.

The foundation was set, all the organs were set, yet much remained unfinished.

The spine came next. It had already made the foundation, connecting the nerves it could to the brain but much was left.

The heart spun new vertebrae beneath the base of Vergil’s skull. Cartilage formed first, crude but hardened into proper bone, locking into place along the growing column.

Delicate strands of nerve tissue threaded out once more, descending along the spine — pulsing with a faint crimson energy.

Around the lungs, the ribs grew back with excruciating care. Each shaped fully before fusing with the sternum, each one placed correctly until the pieces fit together naturally like the work of a master craftsman.

No bone or organ became malformed or dysfunctional. Blood Baby wouldn’t allow anything other than perfection.

The pelvis was next, a solid base was constructed with layers of tissue before moving upwards once more.

Muscle fibres grew slowly, layering across the ribs, spine and abdomen — each strand aligned properly, weaving strength into the torso.

Ligaments and tendons connected bone to muscle with living fibre before the lungs blossomed larger within the protective ribs. The liver swelled, sculpted properly into its lobed structure.

The stomach and intestine settled in their rightful places. The kidneys refined themselves, separating cleanly from surrounding flesh — their filters forming one by one till the nutrient-rich blood flowed cleanly through.

All the while, blood vessels matured from their once thin-threaded shape into proper arteries, capillaries and veins — extending outward and pumping blood throughout the body.

Flesh began to wrap itself across the body’s core, laying itself over the muscle, anchoring to the web of nerves beneath.

At first, it was thin, translucent as newborn silk.

But with time, it thickened.

Pigmentation began to spread evenly across the skin that formed, veins smoothing the natural appearance. The Demonic Energy infused the healing of the skin — A skill special to Blood Babies.

The ability to increase regeneration properties without mutation.

No scars marred the surface. It had replicated everything seamlessly under close scrutiny. If it wasn’t perfect, it destroyed it and restarted to leave no evidence of trauma.

It wasn’t a body upgrade but a body remade. Perfectly. Albeit, the right arm was still gone. It had activated too late to be able to save it, only closing the wound up.

The torso that was once hollow was now repaired, unmarred — and beneath it all, the blood heart beat steadily.

And it tested all the functions. Muscles twitched softly, tendons flexing under tension — lungs fluttering in shallow spasms.

The work was done.

And all that waited was for Vergil to wake up from his slumber.

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(A/N, let me recommend you something. Listen to Spending Time by Prayer Pray. You won’t regret it.)

"I’m here again," Vergil’s voice echoed in his mind. He once again found himself back to where everything first began — an endless, pitch-black void.

However, something was different, he wasn’t floating — he was falling.

Sinking slowly as if the darkness itself was an ocean that knew no depth.

It wasn’t the sensation of terror nor desperation — only an eerie, crushing peace that gripped him — pulling him down.

For a moment, Vergil simply surrendered to it, accepting this punishment.

And he heard something. Not the voice that asked for what he yearned for.

A hum — faint, but it pierced through the darkness with a rhythmic melody.

The soft notes of a violin played somewhere far above — the sound alluring — a lifeline both beautiful and warm in a place so cold and empty.

It began stirring something deep inside him. ’I want to hear more.’

But the further he descended, the fainter the violin sound — becoming nearly a whisper.

’More.’

Driven by instinct, he reached upwards — swimming through the heavy dark.

Higher.

Higher.

The music grew louder as he rose, beocming more vivid and real.

Until at last, he broke the surface.

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"It seems you’re waking up," a calm, yet amused voice spoke.

Vergil gasped awake, eyes fluttering open. The world around him spun, dizzy and hazy — his body aching all over.

Above him stretched a wooden ceiling — no signs of weathering, just rot. The beams crooked and splintered.

He blinked once. Before the voice spoke again.

"Hello, Devil-spawn," the voice called lightly nearby.

Vergil turned his head with effort — but there was no one there.

Only a gleaming white spear leaning against the wall — humming softly.

"This way, fool," the voice urged again.

Vergil frowned, shifting to take a better look despite the intense agony.

"Where are—" he rasped.

He rose from the bed, only to slip and crash into the wooden floor with a grunt.

His right arm. Gone. Only the rough hanging sleeve brushing against his side.

Using his remaining arm, he lifted the changed cloth, to find nothing there, as if the massive gaping hole was just a dream.

A hollow, heavy silence filled the room.

Vergil stared at his sleeve once more, accepting the weight that pressed down on him.

Perhaps it was better if he died was his first thought. Would he still be able to achieve his goal?

And finally he accepted it with a smile.

There was no escape.

Not this time.

"Relax, kid," the spear hummed casually.

Gritting his teeth, Vergil forced himself up. Someone had put a rough linen shirt — long sleeved and hastily made.

"What are you?" Vergil’s lips formed a bitter smile. "Are you mocking me?"

"Perhaps I should," the spear sneered. "But do be grateful."

"Did you save me from death?"

"That, I did not," the spear answered smoothly. "You should thank that blood pet of yours. It’s quite the creature."

Vergil titled his head — confused — until Blood Baby appeared from his chest, red and small, floating in the air before nuzzling against his chest like a loving child.

Vergil, surprisingly, didn’t flinch. ’Seems my efforts worked in the end.’ He managed a weary smile. "Thank you."

The blood baby crossed its tiny arms, looking proud of itself.

"Your just like me." Vergil muttered fondly before the creature dissolved once more into his chest, becoming his heart.

And before he knew it, he could hear it once more — the same music he heard in the void.

The violin.

Soft, mournful and beautiful. Playing just behind the old door.

Vergil turned his head slightly, listening.

"That," the spear said proudly, "is my master."

Vergil exhaled, shoulder sagging from exhaustion. "Your owner? Did she move us here?"

"Indeed she did" the spear said. "And you owe her... Devil-spawn."

’Why is it calling me that?’

"You haven’t answered my question." He asked. "Who... no what are you?"

Not that he could see clearly, the spear wasn’t just a weapon with a consciousness, it radiated something that made him nauseous.

"I am the Divine Spear," the spear boasted proudly.

Vergil stared at the spear. He couldn’t quite put the words that entered his mind before bursting into a hollow laugh. "So I couldn’t escape after all."

He laughed till all that he could do was chuckle. " My life was only prolonged... do tell me when you plan on killing me."

A heavy silence filled the room.

"I think you’re misunderstanding a lot," the Divine Spear spoke sharply.

Vergil glared at the spear. "What?"

"Before you drown yourself in self-pity, go outside," the spear suggested. "Talk to my master — you’ll understand everything then."

Vergil hesitated, using the bed to pull himself up as the violin’s melody became a siren’s call — gentle and pleading.

"After all," the spear added, barely a whisper. "We’re trapped here. Just like you."

Vergil sat on the bed for a long moment, the sound of the violin continued playing — beckoning him to move.

Then — slowly — he pushed himself to his feet.

The empty sleeve of his shirt swayed gently as he moved. Step by step, he stumbled towards the door, drawn in by the enchanting melody.

This place was a far shot from paradise.

It was a vast hollow chamber of stone, branching into multitudes of shadowed tunnels and narrow passageways. The only source of light coming from a weak fire nearby, barely keeping the darkness at bay.

Vergil stumbled forward, the uneven ground biting into his bare feet. He tripped on an uneven step, catching himself with his remaining hand — grimacing as he straightened himself.

There, not far ahead, she sat.

A woman sat alone on a hand-carved wooden chair; smoothing a bow across the strings of a worn-out alabaster violin.

The notes that reverberated felt delicate and sorrowful — completely at odds with the broken world around them.

Vergil squinted at her features.

’Beautiful.’ The word almost leaving his lips.

Silver white hair, flowing down her back — falling into elegant braided crowns, held by a simple band. Her skin was pale and smooth, untouched by hardship, her eyes showcasing a clear sky.

Her dress was simple — woven from faded blue fabric that somehow made her appearance even more ethereal.

She had an almost otherworldly presence. And Vergil assumed it was an illusion.

But his left eye pulsed faintly — yet the illusion remained.

She was real. Tangible.

And yet, Vergil didn’t care.

The path he wanted to walk — to become the strongest, was now gone. And he was experiencing it once more.

The crushing weight of reality.

Vergil staggered closer, finally slumping down onto the rocky floor with a heavy grunt — leaning against the cavern wall as the performance continued.

"Don’t you have anything to say to me?"

The woman asked with a soft, amused smile, never pausing in her movements.

Vergil stared up at the rough ceiling of the cavern. "What is there to say?" His voice quiet as a whistle. "Do you want a thank you?"

The woman continued playing, the notes growing slower and softer with every beat.

"You seem upset."

Vergil didn’t respond, watching the crackling flame. The sound of water dripping echoed in the distance.

"Be grateful," she whispered. "At least you’re alive."

He kept silent.

"Our lives are full of despair." Her voice delicate and unyielding. "All you need to do is accept."

Vergil chuckled. "If only it was that easy."

Finally, he turned his hollow gaze toward her. They stared at each other, her hands moving until she played her final note.

"I’ve decided," she said with a serene smile. "I’m going to take you in as my son."

"What!?" Vergil breathed in suspicion and disbelief.

Before he could speak any more, a furious voice shrieked from inside the cabin. "Luminare, you cannot. Please reconsider."

The Divine Spear rattled where it leaned. "He’s a demon, for goodness sake!" Its voice echoing through the door like a crack of thunder.

Vergil turned his head, watching the absurd scene unfold with exhausting detachment. One wanted to adopt him — the other rejected him.

He closed his eyes briefly. ’This is going to be a long day.’