Rebirth-Transcending All Beings-Chapter 57: Foresight

On the other side of the campfire, Eleanor relaxed. Her transformed hair from Vergil’s ’Authority’ was now pulled back into a knot — save for a few strands of brown hair that remained loose.

Her onyx-hued eyes held the reflection of the flickering flames, though her mind lingered elsewhere as the sound of crackles permeated the air.

Her hands remained firm on her lap, yet her presence remained sharp as if she was untouchable.

Elena made her way slowly, sitting next to Eleanor. Her auburn hair caught streaks of amber as she relaxed herself.

She glanced once at Eleanor, then the fire — amber eyes warm, but not naive.

She was experienced in her own way.

"You’re not really the type to hang around the fire," Elena spoke. "Thinking about something?"

"... It’s nothing," Eleanor replied coldly — sitting like a statue that never moved.

"I came to see if a certain person was still brooding." Elena teased lightly.

Eleanor didn’t respond. Her gaze remained fixed on the flames, her silence heavy.

After a beat, Elina tried again. "How’s Vergil? He looked like he hadn’t slept in days."

"He’s functional,"

Elina blinked. "Aren’t you two close?"

Eleanor let out a small laugh. "Nowhere near."

"But you work well together."

"To him, it doesn’t mean anything — we use each other. That’s it."

"His words, not mine," she added.

A smile formed on Elena’s lips. One that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "He really said that?"

"... If he wants to be friends, then he can say it himself." Her expression softened. "Otherwise, it’s pointless."

Elena stared deeply into the fire, contemplating. "I just don’t think he knows how."

Eleanor scoffed at the words.

"No, really," Elena continued. "People like him... they move differently. Always watching. When they speak, it’s after calculating the person’s usefulness.

"Not because they’re liars—but because they’re afraid the wrong sentence might make people leave."

"Fear doesn’t excuse weakness," Eleanor replied in a frost-toned manner. "He always acts on impulse and usefulness — but he never asks for help."

Elena nodded slowly. "Maybe, but not everyone learns how to ask. Some are simply never taught."

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. "Then they stay alone. It’s not my problem."

The fire popped, and for a while, neither spoke.

"I wasn’t born in the capital like people assume. I grew up near the northern border of Huanglong. Cold winters, small towns. My uncle raised me—he was quite a businessman. Taught me how to read contracts before anything."

Eleanor gave no indication she was listening, but Elina went on.

"I started helping him by the time I was ten. Filing reports, checking records. He was thorough in his teaching — and surprisingly enough, I was good at it.

A faint breeze carried the smell of burning wood.

"When I turned seventeen, I moved to Vaelmont and officially became a guild receptionist. I never wanted to be an adventurer — I just stuck to the norm, working behind a desk.

"And?" Eleanor said, finally looking at her. "Why tell me all this?"

Elena’s gaze didn’t waver. "Because I’ve seen all kinds of people walk through those guild doors. Warriors, killers, cowards. Vergil’s not the first cold person I’ve met."

Eleanor’s brow tensed slightly.

"You won’t open up, so neither does he. But you’re not the same. You push people away because you don’t care. I believe he does."

Eleanor’s voice was quiet but sharp. "Don’t pretend to understand me."

"I’m not," Elena said simply. "Just talking to the fire. If you’re listening, that’s your choice."

The two sat in a crackling silence under the night sky. Elena was calm while Eleanor remained unreadable after their conversation.

But something began to form between them. A lingering and fragile connection.

"And about the academy," Elena fiddled with her fingers. "I’m still unsure — but I’ll make my decision tomorrow."

"Whatever suits you." Eleanor stood up, before she walked away.

"Make sure to talk to Vergil!" Elena shouted.

She did not reply as her silhouette was swallowed by the darkness, her arms remaining at her sides.

But for just a moment, her steps slowed.

She would never admit it.

But part of her had listened.

Parting with Elena, she made her way back to the carriage — the night’s chill clung like a damp shroud as the embers of the flame bled into the dark.

A breeze swept past, brushing stray strands of brown hair across her cheeks, and with a quiet breath, she tucked them behind her ear.

As she approached the carriage, a shadowed silhouette began to make itself comfortable on a log.

His brown hair tousled as a jug was cradled in his hand — illuminated by the moonlight. It was Vergil — and for the first time, a smile formed on his face.

Eleanor’s onyx eyes narrowed. ’Drinking?’ She thought. "Him of all people."

Vergil was an aloof and coldhearted boy, composed and sharp. He didn’t strike her as the type to let even a drop of alcohol past his lips. His mind was his weapon — dulling it even slightly would be a betrayal of who he truly was.

Her body stilled, observing. The way he just stared at the moon smiling, but why? A question that wouldn’t be answered unless she asked, but he would never tell.

"Of all people..." she muttered a jagged irony, the words honed with a cruel, quiet mirth.

As a smirk tugged the corner of her lips, cold yet almost mocking. "So, Vergil’s an underage drinker after all."

Her voice wasn’t loud enough for him to hear, just enough for the wind to carry it elsewhere.

She didn’t approach him.

There was no reason for her to do so. He had chosen solitude over companionship and she would grant it — just as she expected him to do for her.

As she turned away, a thud came from behind. Vergil had collapsed on the ground.

She sighed, pulling his arms over her shoulders, moving towards the carriage.

---

The midnight moon had begun to eclipse the night, gently pooling its shine through the carriage — casting a faint silver glow across Vergil’s sleeping form.

His fingers twitched, subtly. Breath ragged. And then—

A faint crimson glow leaked from beneath his closed eyelid. Humming quietly of something ancient.

His eye twitched. Once, then again, more violently. A pulse or demonic energy washed through his veins — his body convulsing.

Then the eye opened.

It forced itself open, like something was tearing it from within.

The brown iris fractured like shattered glass. The pupil morphed back into a narrow vertical black slit, surrounded by a concentric ring of brilliant red that pulsed outward.

The eye moved on its own, scanning the area. Its glow was hypnotic, resembling an infernal eclipse.

Vergil grit his teeth reflexively as he stirred awake.

Suddenly—

[Foresight has been activated]

The vision crashed into him like a blade to the mind.

He couldn’t scream.

Scarlet coloured imaged filled his mind. Fractured and skipping like an ancient film reel. Each frame imprinting on his mind as it flashed by.

A four legged beast, tainted in scarlet with a gaping maw, its body mishaped and pulsing — a human face embedded on its forehead.

A boy bloodied and limping, reaching a cliffside. He looked down, only seeing a bottomless pit. He tried jumping, but a hand wrapped around his throat, lifting him from the ground.

The man who grabbed him was clad in white armour as his grip tightened and the boy thrashed.

And then—

Nothing.

The vision cut abruptly, as if the thread was severed. Like someone knew he was watching and chose to blind him.

Vergil’s body snapped upright.

He gasped, as sweat leaked from his body like a broken pipe, hands clutching his head. The pain was searing as if his brain was being melted.

He looked around frantically. Voice hoarse.

"Who... who was that?"

Only the wind answered. Elena breathed softly nearby while Eleanor slept, unaware.

Vergil’s hands trembled. As he stumbled forward from the cramped space. His eye still glowing faintly.

Authority of Transformation.

The iris changed to chocolate brown."What are you hiding from me?" he whispered to the night. "What don’t you want me to see...?" 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

His fingers dug into the edge of the carriage, nails biting into the fabric.

"Need a plan. But what happened after?" He breathed out.

Vergil made a mental not of the details. The carriage was still present, so it was on this trip and between morning and noon.

One four legged beast and one man.

Vergil’s head overheated with both information and pain.

But he couldn’t remember the end.

Or the beginning.

Only the terror in the middle.

Gripping the side of his head, he sat back in the carriage. But the paranoia remained.

"The drawback of this skill is on another level," Vergil muttered, his breath heavy, before collapsing.

------

The next day began.

The light of dawn painted a soft gold hue across the wooden interior. The road beneath rumbled in a steady rhythmic thump towards the capital.

But inside the carriage.

Silence had settled like a thick fog.

Eleanor and Elena sat side by side, eyes locked on the third passenger across from them.

Vergil.

His face flushed, drenched in cold sweat that clung like a second skin. His chest rose and fell irregular, not with panic, but exhaustion.

His eyes were hazy — unfocused. A vacant gaze of someone who couldn’t even dream for sleep.

He sat motionless, his hands trembling at intervals, twitching into a grasp as if grabbing something foreign that wasn’t present.

Elena leaned forward first, her voice gentle but uncertain. "...Vergil?"

No response. Not even a glance.

His lips parted, letting out a shallow breath. His skin growing paler as time passed.

Then a familiar chime rang in his mind.

[User has suffered a severe backlash from ’Foresight’.]