Rebirth-Transcending All Beings-Chapter 28: Goremire King [1]

"I should keep going for now," Vergil whispered to himself. "Only five Astralyth Crystals... nowhere near enough."

His gaze lingered on the faint glow of the last crystal he’d harvested. The residual energy shimmering inside.

Valuable, yet, but is was insufficient for him.

’I need to increase my mana stats as soon as possinle. At this rate, I’m still lagging behind. If I could just find more...’

He steadied his breathing, before activating his subtler boons.

"Mana Affinity." The mana sent out from his heart with a vroom, pulsed like a heartbeat.

Spreading through his veins, it sharpened his senses, smoothing the rhythm as he strided.

His boots barely registered on the forest floor as he sprinted, weaving between trees and vaulting over roots.

He sensed the tremor beneath his feet.

A low steady hum beneath the ground. It was familiar to him.

The same kind of resonance he’d sensed before–when a nest of Goremires lay nearby.

He slowed, crouching behind a rotted log, scanning ahead.

The trees parted into a shallow clearing. As sunlight began to filter through the canopy.

At its center lay a jagged pit, surrounded by glowing mushrooms and the debris of rotted corpses. Vines pulsed faintly along the mud. walls, and from within.

Stomp!

A large figure shifted in the light. Moss covered-back rose and fell like a mountain in living form.

Fungal plants jutted from its spine, and its arms ended in sharp claws.

Two dim green eyes burned from beneath the canopy of its body.

"A nest," he whispered. "And that... isn’t a regular Goremire."

He focused.

"Analysis."

---

[Analysis Activated]

Target: Verdant Goremire King

Rank: E+

Level: 11

Tier: 0

Species: Mutated Plant-Beast Hybrid

Class: None

Stats:

Strength: 38

Constitution: 42

Dexterity: 32

Intuition: 9

Magic Power: 26

Mana Capacity: 28 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

---

Passive Skills:

Verdant Core (E+): Passively regenerates the body at an accelerated rate, when near flora and absorbs ambient energy to improve recovery.

Mycelial Armor (F+): Natural armor composed of bark and mushroom plating. Reduces physical damage. Weak to fire and blunt force.

Toxin Spores (F): periodically releases spores that sap their foes stamina and slows reflexes.

---

Active Skills:

Root Snare (F): Entangles enemies in a small radius.

Limb Burst (F+): Detonates excess fungal growth in a cone, dealing acid damage.

Mire Slam (F): Slams the ground to create a shockwave.

Fungal Eruption (E-): Unleashes toxic spores in all directions.

King’s Call (?): Unknown effect. May summon or awaken nearby lesser Goremires.

Mycelial Surge (E-): Controls aggressive mycelium and spore release. Increases battlefield corruption and regenerative capacity.

---

Vergil’s jaw tightened.

"Figures. A mutated king... and it’s guarding a mana-dense nest. That explains the crystal saturation."

He eased backward into the underbrush, keeping low.

If I kill that thing, the circle boost alone is worth it... but one mistake and I’m mulch. I don’t have any blunt weapons on hand–but fire should be enough.

His heart began to beat faster in anticipation.

This was the thrill he needed. The kind that separated survival from evolution.

He ducked behind the twisted bark of a dead tree as the thick mist curled around his boots, heavy and wet. Each breath tasted of spores and decay.

Rushing in would be suicide. The Verdant Goremire King was a sluggish beast, but impossibly durable. That regeneration alone meant a prolonged battle would turn against him.

If it uses King’s Call... I’ll be swarmed before I can blink.

He summoned his steel bow from his inventory, along with his quiver of steel-tipped arrows.

The weapon pulsed faintly in his hands, resonating with the mana in his bloodstream.

He hadn’t mastered the bow, but he had enough proficiency to make a shot count.

He nocked an arrow. His hands were steady, mostly. His stance, though slightly off, was stronger than before.

---

[Bow-Sword Mastery (Passive)]

+3% Bow Proficiency

Total: 11%

---

Vergil narrowed his eyes and whispered:

"Ember Blaze."

Mana surged through his fingertips, flooding the arrowhead with an ember.

A controlled flame sparked into life. Focused, quiet, hot. Smoke coiled gently from the arrow’s tip, illuminating the tension in his arms.

---

[Ember Spark Proficiency +10%]

New Total: 27%

---

The flame brightened.

He released.

FWUMP–thnk!

Vergil dashed to the side, narrowly avoiding a piercing jab. The mist lit up as fire clashed with rot, and his blade struck low, cutting into the beast’s leg with a sizzling HSSSSK as fungal tissue burned and blackened.

The Goremire shrieked, not in pain, but rage.

It spun, its massive limb being thrown down like a hammer.

Vergil ducked–rolling beneath the blow drawing his sword upward mid motion.

The strike wasn’t deep, but the fire did its job, halting the regeneration in that spot, if only for a heartbeat.

He slid back, panting as the sword glowed a faint orange colour.

It’s working... just not well enough. If I can get Ember Blaze to flow evenly across the blade, my damage output will double. But I’ll have to refine it.

Still, every cut mattered. Every second the fire delayed the healing brought him closer to victory.

The creature snarled, parts of its body already twitching with fresh regrowth.

Vergil raised his sword again, a crooked grin splitting his face.

"Come on, let’s dance."

The Goremire King charged, its bloated mass thrown forward like a landslide of rot and muscle.

Tendrils whipped out in wide arcs, razor-sharp, dripping spores and malice.

Vergil tensed.

Too fast–

He pivoted sharply, eyes narrowing.

"Power Strike!"

His blade surged, not to clash head-on, but to knock the tendril off course. The redirected limb hissed past his shoulder, burned tissue flaking and splattering the ground.

I’m not strong enough to meet it directly, Vergil thought, boots skidding across damp soil. But if I use Power Strike defensively, I can divert the momentum instead of blocking it.

The Goremire twisted, its torso splitting open to reveal rows of jagged, spore-ridden maws. It lunged.

Vergil dove beneath it and rolled, before using another Power Strike.

His sword slashed upward in a searing arc, carving into the underbelly. Black sludge burst forth as burning fungal flesh peeled away. The creature staggered back with a guttural howl.

"Still regenerating..." Vergil breathed, already moving. "That core must be buried deep."

A tendril struck from his blind side–silent, sudden.

Quick Parry!

He twisted, snapping his sword up. Sparks and flame exploded as steel met rot. The blow glanced off, grazing his shoulder but sparing him a direct impalement.

"Close," he hissed. His shoulder throbbed, but regeneration kicked in, healed the wound, at the cost of more stamina.

He began circling again, breathing hard, eyes locked on the abomination.

Its movements were slower now. Patches of burned tissue weren’t healing as fast. Each Power Strike left deeper scars. Ember Blaze, even incomplete, was wearing it down.

Can’t keep this pace forever. Stamina’s dropping. I need an opening, somewhere near the core.

Flicking blood and ash from his blade, Vergil exhaled.

"Alright, King," he murmured, heart pounding. "Let’s see how long you can keep patching yourself together."