Rebirth-Transcending All Beings-Chapter 62: Descent To Misery

Vergil spat blood from his mouth. "Why couldn’t it have missed?"

Vergil’s eyes flickered to his abdomen where the final light spear Seron threw had pierced him.

His thoughts became a raging storm, scattered like leaves. Everything happened so fast.

One moment he was standing, blood spraying from his face and the next, he was falling into darkness. The wind howled against him — fluttering the tattered remains of his clothes.

His gaze hazed over like static. The pain rivalling his final moments on earth.

It wasn’t just his abdomen, his whole midsection was aflame — tearing an ugly wound. Blood gushed out in unrelenting, thick streams that soaked his torn tunic.

He couldn’t breathe properly, his lungs succumbing to the weight of reality.

His eyes flickered to what concerned him most—his arm.

It was gone. Exploded from his body in a moment of desperation. A necessary calculation, he told himself. Could he have escaped without sacrificing it? No, it was too late to think about such things.

All that remained was a jagged stump — now closed off by Verdant Regeneration. In his remaining hand, his fingers trembled slightly as he clenched the object tightly.

The Blood Jade.

The cursed bead pulsed a scarlet red light with each ounce of blood it absorbed — giving off its own heartbeat, or was it his heartbeat?

The warmth of the Jade spread through his body, devouring his spilled blood in return.

Every drop was drawn into the jade, like a sponge in an ocean. A soft vibration ran through it, enjoying the process even though it was killing Vergil.

The thought sent a chill through him.

"How much do you absorb, at this rate? I’ll have to give up," Vergil rasped, not even sure if he was speaking aloud anymore.

The system did say it needed a lot. But the term was vague. His whole body had now become a leaking blood vessel.

It absorbed all of that and still yearned for more. ’You’re a greedy bastard, that’s for sure.’

But to Vergil, it was also his hope. Devils are a symbol of hope amidst despair — even if the path leads to an endless and futile attempt at life. He would cling to it with everything he had.

He had no idea what it would do. But he knew it was going to be the key to his survival. After seeing Elvira’s memories, the box she gave her was a one-time use. And it wasn’t going to save him.

This was why he chose the blood jade. Vergil realised his body had no stamina left to heal his wounds. His body wasn’t only dying.

He was also slipping.

’It seems Verdant regeneration has reached its limit — just a little more.’

His hands tightened around the jade, desperate to summon something as he plunged deeper into the abyss — the wind rushing to catch him, like a relentless scream to his ears.

Yet even that wasn’t enough to overcome the sound of his thundering heartbeat.

He couldn’t place where this feeling was coming from. Perhaps it was the thrill of betting his life on the line or hysteria.

"I really am a crazy bastard." He gagged.

The sliver of hope that remained was a feeble optimism that mocked him. A cruel hand that was just out of reach.

Was it enough to be stronger? If he didn’t push himself would none of this occur. Perhaps.

But this was the path he chose. He wouldn’t regret it, no matter how many atrocities he would cause.

’This is who I am.’

Death felt closer than ever. He hovered on the precipice of consciousness. A small part of him yearned to sink into that dark ocean once more.

And then

without warning.

It happened.

"Blegh!"

The sound burst from his throat, a guttural, choking cough — blood spraying from his mouth in a violent spasm.

His hands touched something jagged, eyes widening.

A cold, merciless spike of obsidian was what he landed on — breaking his fall and the spear that pierced him. It shattered his ribcage — and pierced straight through his heart.

And his world shattered with it. He couldn’t scream, too stunned to let one out after everything that occurred.

His heartbeat stopped.

Where it once beated — was left with a hollow cavity.

Vergil’s body convulsed, trembling as blood gushed from the hole, a gory fountain that sprayed the air and coated the jagged obsidian.

His mind reeled, spiraling into a state beyond agony. Too overwhelming. He had touched death once and now for the second time.

And still, the blood jade fed.

His hands clenched, not of instinct but in desperation — his fingers now coated in the blood of his ruined heart.

The jade glowed brighter, greedier at its feast, pulsing violently with a surge of unnatural energy as it devoured everything that poured.

Vergil’s thoughts fractured, he couldn’t focus. His body refused to respond.

He was prepared to die from the fall, or to survive by a miracle.

But this?

This was the annihilation of everything that made him who he was.

’How —di it come to this?’

His body slumped, impaled like a discarded offering to the gods — pinned to the spike like a grotesque banner of failure.

Perhaps it was due to his greed that he suffered a miserable fate?

But who could blame him. What’s wrong with wanting more. He never had anything. Anything!

’So why? Did you give me false hope from the start — Weever?’

And yet his hand still held the jade.

Even with no heart.

Even with the hands of death looming over him, there were still so many things he yearned to do.

"So many regrets." His mind became a whirlpool of remorse. The faces of Eleanor and Elina flashed in his mind.

His only ’friends.’ If he could even call them that. He had promised them, he would be behind them. And now, here he was, impaled on a spike, unable to make sure they were safe.

Vergil knew he was too late for redemption. He prided himself as a selfish person, never willing to accept that something ’can’t’ be done without effort.

He tried on Earth, again and again. No matter what others said. He hated their intrusive opinions — but he wanted to be somebody. Somebody who matters.

So why did it feel like all of that didn’t matter? Only when his life slipped away did he realise what he wanted. A friend. A family.

’I hope Eleanor and Elina get to the academy... should I have been better?"

The guilt curled in his battered guts like a parasite. He had never truly let them in. Especially Eleanor. He treated her like a tool, used her for her usefulness and never once did he consider how she felt about any of it. And yet, she stayed.

Elina has been on the more cheerful side. A sort of kind-hearted person who understood various people from her job. ’I wonder what her decision was.’

’Have I finally grown a heart? Probably not. So this is why people say ’your life flashes before your eyes.’

Yet another thought came to mind. Maybe they were still alive. Those three bastards. If Eleanor and Elena were gone — perhaps it would make his suffering justified.

The slow bleed into oblivion — even then, Vergil felt this punishment wasn’t nearly enough.

"System."

His voice was barely a rasp, a fragile whisper as he called out into the nothingness.

He wanted to hear that shitty mechanical voice, one last time.

[What are you doing, Vergil? Get up!]

He had relied on it so much, like a guiding star as he made his way through this filthy world. It made him finally realise how much the system meant to him.

’I disappointed you.’

The weight of his failure, spoken aloud, crushed him like a mountain. They belittled each other, the system made fun of him every chance it got. And — he believed he would always come out on top.

But all those beliefs crumbled. He realised he was wrong. ’How blind could I be. I should’ve known better.’

And he finally spoke the words.

"My friend..."

The words came from a vague and warm memory. He couldn’t remember how it all happened anymore. But it was a term that made him feel at peace. To have someone stand by your deathbed was a honour for him.

Although he was irrational by all the jokes, teasing him about his near death experiences. He never minded, finding them funny — but pretended otherwise.

’Why aren’t u being funny man.’

The truth was, that he missed them—he wanted to hear more jokes.

[Don’t give up. After everything you’ve gone through, you’re giving up like that?]

[Remember what you said, you wanted to reach God! Don’t tell me you’re ready to stop!]

The blood jade beneath him pulsed faintly, greedily absorbing the crimson flood that spilled endlessly from his wound.

He could feel the end. Taste it. Hear it in the silence between each fading heartbeat.

It was over.

Vergil’s final breath escaped his mouth — coming out as nothing but air and regret. His body slumping further, skin pale.

And in the silence that followed, the world carried on, indifferent to his fall. And Vergil finally processed the system’s words.

’God... God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God God!’

[Adrenaline Surge has been activated.]

The systems voice was a whisper to his thought. His eyes widening as a final desperate spark lit once more.

He moved.

Vergil reached up with his one working arm. Fingers trembling, bones grinding against each other, nerves screaming. His entire body was agony, his mind a haze. But the thought stayed.

’I want to reach God.’

’I want to keep going... to reach greater heights.’

He pulled.

Flesh tore and muscles snapped like overstretched wires. His body and mind worked in harmony, dragging himself off the spike. The jagged stone ripped deeper, widening what it already pierced.

Blood poured like a waterfall of red before moving towards the blood jade.

And with a squelch of skin, he fell, slamming into stone, laying on his back, staring deep into the abyssal sky.

What was left of his chest heaved, lying in a pool of blood that slowly emptied into the Jade.

’More. More.’

He tried to crawl. Just a little. Just enough to prove he wasn’t done yet.

But he didn’t even get to move a centimeter.

And then—