Everyone in the massive cavern watches the exchange with bated breath.
Raul moves first, his desperation triggering his ultimate technique.
Violent arcs of lightning erupt powerfully around his entire physical body.
Crackling electrical currents race across his pale skin and dance wildly along the entire length of his steel sword.
For one brief, terrifying moment, he truly resembles a descending god of lightning wreaking havoc.
The heavy stone arena floor literally explodes beneath his boots as he launches his charge.
His sparking sword points directly and flawlessly at Vergil’s exposed chest.
The compressed air itself screams under the sheer velocity of the incoming attack.
High above on the benches, Aaron grips the cold edge of his stone seat until his knuckles turn completely white.
Gregory narrows his serious eyes, analysing the kinetic weight.
Even Madam Sierra’s standard, amused expression turns completely serious on the platform.
Vergil alone remains chillingly calm, his heartbeat dropping.
A translucent, rapidly spinning shield of dense swirling water forms before his chest.
Chaos Water Wave.
After successfully mastering the standard Inferior Water Wave Sword Technique months ago, Vergil had strategically spent a large amount of his accumulated contribution points purchasing two specific manuals from the ledger:
The Advanced Chaos Water Wave Sword Technique
The complete Inferior Rock Wolf Boxing Technique
According to the text, the advanced Chaos Water Wave Sword Technique contains exactly three sub-abilities:
Water Cut
Chaos Water Wave
Chaos Water Lion
Water Cut condenses the fluid force of countless ocean waves into a single, devastating kinetic slash.
Chaos Water Wave forms a rotating defensive shield capable of dispersing and cancelling incoming magical attacks.
Chaos Water Lion summons a massive, lion-shaped construct of chaotic water to physically devour enemies.
Mastering all three distinct sub-abilities would officially evolve his baseline Sword Skill Seed into a powerful Sword Star Seed.
Unfortunately, Vergil has only recently begun comprehending the intricate pathways of the Chaos Water Wave defensive manual.
His overall mastery of the advanced spell remains highly incomplete and unrefined.
Yet, in this split second, it is the absolute strongest physical defence available to his vessel.
Dense inner energy pours wildly from his physical pathways into the steel.
The spinning water shield thickens rapidly before his eyes.
Layer upon layer of highly pressurised, swirling water rotates in a vortex before him.
Raul’s high-speed lightning sword strikes the centre of the array.
Boom!
The lightning-coated spear of steel crashes violently into the exact midpoint of the water shield.
The entire structure of the cavern arena shakes under the concussive force.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
The incomplete water shield immediately begins collapsing under the electrical output.
Violent, tearing lightning forks slice through layer after layer of the defensive water barrier.
Vergil grits his teeth tightly, drawing upon his core reserves to pour more inner energy directly into the technique.
For one brief, agonising moment, the two opposing elemental powers reach a perfect state of equilibrium.
Then, the volatile energy metrics completely collapse.
BOOM!
The compressed Chaos Water Wave detonates violently outward.
The unstable kinetic collision instantly shatters Raul’s lightning-covered steel sword into pieces.
Hundreds of razor-sharp metal fragments erupt outward into the space.
The exploding concussive water wave carries the shards in every single direction like a deadly mechanical storm.
Raul’s glowing eyes widen in sudden horror.
Vergil’s pupils contract sharply as the debris flies.
Neither exhausted fighter has the remaining reaction time to dodge.
Jagged sword fragments tear brutally through human flesh.
Dark blood sprays heavily across the dry arena sand.
The resulting shockwave of the detonation hurls both heavy combatants backwards through the air.
Raul crashes violently into one stone arena wall, leaving an indentation.
Vergil smashes heavily into the opposite bedrock boundary.
Solid stone cracks deeply beneath the twin physical impacts.
A massive cloud of grey dust erupts across the entire length of the battlefield, obscuring the view.
A heavy, breathless silence follows the blast.
Nobody in the captive stands speaks.
Nobody breathes a single breath.
Even the seasoned perimeter guards stare at the smoke screen in absolute shock.
The thick grey dust slowly and agonisingly settles onto the floor.
Both bleeding men are covered from head to toe in dark crimson blood.
Twisted, broken steel sword fragments protrude deeply from their limbs and torsos.
Vergil remains slumped weakly against the base of the stone wall, his breathing shallow.
Across the wide expanse of the arena, Raul slowly and painfully lowers his chin.
Then, using the cracked stone behind his spine for leverage, he forcefully pushes his broad body upright.
One foot sets into the sand.
Then the other matches the alignment.
Raul stands upright.
A bloody, macabre grin slowly spreads across his lacerated face.
“You…
you nearly managed to kill me right there, boy.”
His raspy, broken voice echoes clearly through the dead silent arena.
“But I am still standing on my own two feet.”
From the high spectator stands, frantic, terrified shouts suddenly erupt from the group.
“Vergil!”
“Stand up, man!”
“Get up off the ground!”
Aaron, Basil, Damien, and Gregory are already standing on their feet, their eyes wide.
Vergil takes one deep, agonising breath into his lungs.
Sharp, blinding pain explodes through his entire nervous system as he forces his torso upright against the stone.
His trembling, bloody legs can barely support his baseline weight.
He manages to take one clumsy step forward.
Then another step matches it.
Suddenly, his remaining physical strength completely gives out.
He crashes heavily onto one knee in the dirt.
Fresh blood drips steadily from his jawline onto the arena floorboards.
Directly across from his position, Raul begins moving forward with measured steps.
Every single movement looks intensely painful for his broad frame.
Thick blood thoroughly soaks his grey robes.
Sharp metal fragments still protrude visibly from his torn flesh.
Yet, through sheer willpower, he continues walking forward to finish the match.
One staggering, heavy step after another.
Then, Raul suddenly drops heavily to one knee as well, his strength wavering.
His broad chest heaves violently as his lungs gasp for oxygen.
“Huff…”
“Huff…”
A trembling, blood-stained hand presses firmly against the dry ground to steady himself.
“I…
I cannot afford to die inside this cage now.”
His gravelly voice is barely a low whisper in the expanse.
The rest of the arena remains deathly silent.
Raul’s vision begins to blur into dark static.
Fragmented, painful memories rapidly resurface within his consciousness.
After his original capture and sentencing on the surface, a smug young noble heir had visited his dark prison cell.
Raul still flawlessly remembers that smooth, aristocratic smile.
The utter amusement in the eyes.
The absolute sociopathic cruelty.
The complete, chilling absence of any human remorse.
The noble had calmly and thoroughly explained how Raul’s younger sister had actually survived the initial manor massacre.
How she had been captured by the guards.
How she had suffered immensely in the dungeons.
How he had personally and repeatedly violated her dignity.
How her broken, lifeless body had later been carelessly discarded in a roadside ditch like trash.
Then, the noble heir had left the cell, laughing loudly into the corridor.
Fully knowing Raul could do absolutely nothing to touch him from behind bars.
Raul’s trembling fingers dug deeply into the arena dirt, drawing blood from his nails.
“My revenge…
my blood debt is not yet finished.”
The hoarse words escape through his tightly clenched teeth.
Then, a terrifying roar erupts from his lungs.
“MY REVENGE IS NOT FINISHED!”
Using every single remaining shred of raw willpower left inside his shattered physical body, Raul rises once more to his full height.
Fresh blood pours rapidly from his reopening wounds.
His vision sways violently from side to side.
Yet, through pure psychological refusal, he remains standing.
His bloodshot eyes lock directly onto Vergil’s kneeling form.
The young man appears barely conscious, his head hanging low.
Barely holding onto life.
Raul feels a faint, lingering trace of genuine sympathy for the youth.
The boy is undeniably talented.
Impossibly brave.
Perhaps under entirely different, surface circumstances, they could have become trusted comrades.
But Raul cannot afford to die here today.
Not before completing his blood debt.
“I’m truly sorry, kid.”
Then, he launches his final, running charge.
The entire cavern arena holds its collective breath.
Vergil calmly watches Raul’s shadow rapidly approaching his position.
The external sounds of the world completely fade away from his perception.
The frantic cheers.
The panicked screams.
The rushing wind.
Everything disappears into absolute silence.
Only Raul’s incoming silhouette remains in his universe.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Then, a cold, predatory light flashes brightly through Vergil’s dark eyes.
Until this exact moment, everyone in the compound believed his newly formed Sword Skill Seed was his only hidden weapon.
They were completely, fundamentally wrong.
Long before ever arriving at this underground slave camp, Vergil had secretly and meticulously practised the core forms of the Rock Wolf Boxing Technique after watching Captain Mark train the village children back home.
The version he had learned from observation was highly incomplete and fragmented.
No matter how much he trained his body, he could not form a valid Skill Seed using the broken forms.
But after arriving at the camp, he had strategically exchanged his contribution points for the complete, authentic boxing manual.
Within mere hours of carefully comparing the missing manual sections against the movements he already flawlessly knew, his high comprehension speed succeeded.
He successfully formed an official Boxing Skill Seed.
Exactly one full month ago.
The hidden martial seed had granted his Spirit Space a single, powerful active ability:
Rock Wolf Howl.
The moment Raul’s exhausted, charging body enters his immediate striking distance,
Vergil’s body explodes forward from the sand like a coil spring.
His bare fist shoots directly toward Raul’s exposed chest plates.
At that exact same split second, a terrifying, ethereal wolf howl erupts violently across the expanse of the arena.
Awooooo!
The phantom sound seems to emerge directly inside the conscious pathways of Raul’s own mind.
His moving body instantly freezes in place.
It is only for a microscopic fraction of a single second.
But in a high-stakes battle between martial experts, a fraction of a second is everything.
Dense internal energy surges explosively into Vergil’s driving fist.
The skin instantly hardens into a slate-grey texture.
The muscle fibres compress to maximum density.
His bare hand becomes as completely solid as iron-bound stone.
Then, the strike connects.
Bang!
The hard punch lands directly and perfectly in the exact centre of Raul’s chest.
Crack!
The sickening sound of breaking bone echoes powerfully throughout the silent cavern walls.
Several of his ribs shatter instantly under the pressure, driving inward.
Raul’s eyes widen to their absolute limits in shock.
A massive spray of dark blood bursts violently from his open mouth.
His frozen body stands stiff like a stone statue for a fraction of a moment.
Then, his centre of gravity fails, and he slowly falls backwards into the sand.
Thud.
The arena remains dead silent.
Raul coughs weakly once, his fingers twitching.
A stream of dark blood flows steadily from his lips.
His dimming eyes stare blankly toward the distant, glowing crystal ceiling of the cavern.
For one brief, final moment, he thinks of his sister’s face before the tragedy.
Then, the remaining light completely fades from his eyes.
His blood-soaked chest stops moving entirely.
Raul is officially dead.
Several long seconds of absolute silence pass.
Nobody in the stands moves a single muscle.
Nobody speaks a single syllable.
Vergil stands completely motionless over the body, his frame swaying slightly from exhaustion.
Then, he slowly turns his back on the scene.
Ignoring the dead corpse.
Ignoring the gathering crowd.
Ignoring the stunned, speechless spectators on the viewing platform.
Step by painful step, he begins walking toward the darkness of the arena exit.
Every single movement of his body looks as though he might collapse flat onto his face at any given moment.
High above on the platform, Young Master Almus watched the boy’s exit silently.
His handsome facial expression remained perfectly calm and unbothered.
Yet, the depths of his green eyes had become extremely, piercingly serious.
Beside his shoulder, Madam Sierra frowned deeply as she closed her ledger.
“He actually revealed another, completely hidden Skill Seed during the final trade.”
Almus nodded his head slowly.
“I saw the formation.”
His heavy gaze continuously followed Vergil’s retreating figure until it vanished into the tunnel.
“A Sword Skill Seed.”
“A Boxing Skill Seed.”
“And a baseline level of raw comprehension talent that continues to drastically exceed my worst-case expectations.”
A heavy, uncomfortable silence settled deeply between the two authorities.
Finally, Almus adjusted his silk sleeves and spoke, his voice dropping to a cold whisper.
“I should begin actively searching for a very specific type of buyer.”
Sierra glanced toward his profile, her brow raising slightly.
“You plan to sell him early during the upcoming Mercury City gladiator auction?”
“Of course I do.”
Every single year, powerful, hidden organisations from across the entire eastern region gathered in the grand plazas of Mercury City.
The absolute finest, most lethal slave gladiators from the Underdark and Surface realms were displayed and auctioned off to the highest corporate and noble bidders.
Originally, Almus had intended to simply let blind fate decide Vergil’s ultimate future destination.
Whoever purchased the common boy’s contract at the block would purchase him.
To him, it did not matter in the slightest.
But now, after witnessing that stone-hard punch, he was heavily reconsidering the variables.
Vergil’s internal growth rate was becoming highly alarming.
Far, far too alarming for comfort.
“The surface academic factions would absolutely love to bid on someone like him,” Almus said quietly, his eyes narrowing.
“A rare, dual Skill Seed genius born from a backwater village.”
“An impossibly fast learner.”
“A natural, methodical researcher.”
Sierra’s expression darkened at the strategic threat.
“If the high scholars of the academies acquire his contract, their researchers may eventually trace his background and discover the location of this illegal training camp.”
“Exactly my concern.”
Almus rested his chin on one hand, staring out at the blood-stained sand below.
“I fundamentally need a buyer who values absolute, crushing obedience far more than latent martial talent.”
“A ruthless buyer who would never, under any circumstance, grant him a single path to legal freedom.”
His gaze remained fixed entirely on the empty arena exit.
For the absolute first time in several years, Almus felt an internal sensation he rarely ever experienced.
Genuine concern.
Because the blood-covered, seventeen-year-old commoner walking calmly away from that slaughter did not carry himself like a broken slave.
He closely resembled someone who would one day become extraordinarily, systematically dangerous to his enemies.
Exactly two days later, Vergil returned permanently to his designated cavern residence.
His brutal, calculated battle against Raul had completely changed everything about his daily life in the camp.
The armoured perimeter guards treated his presence with a different level of caution.
The uniform servants treated him with a noticeable layer of fear.
Even the commanding Madam Sierra treated him with a newfound professional distance.
She had personally visited his isolated cave quarters to deliver the news.
Standing firmly at the stone entrance with her usual composed, rigid expression, she looked directly into his dark eyes.
“From this day onward, you no longer need to physically participate in any future weekly tests or monthly trials.”
Vergil remained perfectly, chillingly silent, absorbing the change.
“The camp administration will automatically provide your account with two hundred contribution points every single week.”
“Your only singular responsibility to the Young Master is to continue growing stronger in your arts.”
After her black uniform vanished back down the path, Vergil sat quietly inside the dim safety of his cave for a very long time.
For the absolute first time since being blindfolded and dragged into this underground town, he finally possessed something infinitely precious.
Freedom.
It was a highly limited, monitored freedom.
But it was substantial freedom nonetheless.
Without the constant, exhausting interruptions from mandatory survival competitions and physical trials, he immediately and entirely devoted his focus to cultivation.
Every single morning at the sound of the horn, he left the perimeter of the underground town carrying a fresh pack of paper sheets, black ink, and a fine paintbrush.
The immense, unmapped cavern ecosystem became his personal, unrestricted training ground.
Sometimes, he sat silently atop jagged rocky cliffs overlooking the glowing green crystal rivers.
Sometimes, he meticulously painted the alien structures of giant mushrooms that towered high above the ancient forest canopy.
Sometimes, he painted massive waterfalls cascading violently down the distant cavern bedrock walls.
And sometimes, he painted the apex magic beasts.
At the very beginning of the cycle, he strictly observed their movements from afar, using his brush to sketch their raw physical forms.
Later, once his predictive model was fully updated, he actively hunted them down with his steel sword.
After every successful kill he made, he carefully and anatomically dissected the warm corpse on the stone, recording every microscopic detail in his painting sheets.
Layered muscles.
Bone densities.
Organ alignments.
Structural weak points.
Behavioural patterns.
Everything he witnessed became actionable knowledge.
Everything he recorded became pure, concentrated fuel for his internal growth.
At the exact same time, away from prying eyes, his hidden cultivation path finally accelerated at an exponential rate.
Without the constant supervision of patrolling guards or Sierra’s magic circles, Vergil quietly and comfortably resumed training his core Origami Skill.
Sheets of thick grey paper folded continuously and flawlessly beneath his nimble fingers.
Wolves.
Bears.
Foxes.
Birds.
Lizards.
Hundreds of tiny, folded paper animals gradually began to fill the hidden nooks and crannies of his cave.
Then, utilising his improved brush control, he began delicately painting their external surfaces.
Textured grey fur.
Coarse black fur.
Shimmering golden feathers.
Vibrant green scales.
His artistic execution and control over the ink improved rapidly with every sheet.
Soon, after carefully infusing the painted crafts with a steady stream of his internal energy, the tiny creations closely resembled living, breathing baby magic beasts.
Several patrolling guards who occasionally visited his cave coordinates to check his status were completely fooled by the constructs at first glance.
The successful discovery filled Vergil’s calm soul with a quiet wave of deep excitement.
His original, foundational dream had never changed for a single second since his rebirth.
The Sword Skill Seed was undeniably powerful.
The Boxing Skill Seed was exceptionally useful for a surprise trade.
But the Origami Skill remained his true, definitive path toward transcendence.
The ultimate path toward engineering perfect, indistinguishable human clones.
The absolute path toward guaranteed survival in a lethal world.
While the other ambitious captives in the camp pursued raw, destructive power to eventually dominate their peers, Vergil pursued power for a far simpler, more pragmatic reason.
To ensure that one day, no matter what horrific dangers or executioners appeared before his face, another perfectly identical body would always be waiting, completely safe somewhere else in the world.
Several quiet months quickly passed down in the dark.
Far above the massive cavern bedrock ceiling, the surface seasons changed completely.
Meanwhile, deep within his hidden sanctuary, Vergil’s core cultivation advanced steadily every single day.
The advanced first sub-ability of the Chaos Water Wave Sword Technique.
Water Cut.
Mastered completely.
The protective second sub-ability.
Chaos Water Wave.
Mastered completely.
The destructive third sub-ability.
Chaos Water Lion.
Mastered completely.
Each successive martial breakthrough significantly strengthened the core framework of the Sword Skill Seed within his Soul Space.
The internal changes to his spirit vessel became increasingly obvious over the weeks.
The glowing seed pulsed with visible energy far more frequently.
Its deep blue light grew brighter and more concentrated.
The intricate, sword-shaped symbol engraved upon its smooth outer surface became increasingly complex and refined.
Then, exactly two full months before the scheduled date for the annual Mercury City gladiator auction, the final breakthrough threshold officially arrived.
Vergil sat silently cross-legged inside the dim isolation of his cave.
Thick streams of inner energy flowed peacefully and fluidly through his physical pathways.
His focused consciousness descended deeply into the centre of his Soul Space.
Absolute darkness entirely surrounded his spiritual avatar.
An endless, silent black void stretched infinitely out in every single direction.
Three distinct, glowing Skill Seeds floated quietly within the empty dark:
Origami
Boxing
Sword
For several long moments of internal perception, absolutely nothing happened within the void.
Then, without warning, the advanced Sword Skill Seed violently trembled on its axis.
A brilliant, blinding blue light erupted powerfully from its metallic surface.
Vergil immediately focused his entire mental attention directly onto the transformation.
The glowing seed pulsed with raw kinetic force.
Once.
Twice.
Three successive times.
Each individual pulse released an exponentially stronger wave of concentrated spiritual energy.
The entire foundational structure of his Soul Space shook under the output.
Fine, glowing cracks rapidly spread across the entire outer shell of the vibrating seed.
The deep blue light radiating from within intensified to a terrifying degree.
Brighter.
Brighter.
Brighter still.
Until the object closely resembled a miniature sun suspended directly in the middle of the darkness.
Then,
Crack!
The brittle outer shell completely and violently shattered into pieces.
Innumerable fragments of raw blue light scattered beautifully throughout the infinite void.
At the exact centre of the detonation, a tiny, condensed star remained behind.
A genuine, cosmic Star.
Radiant, blue-white light instantly and thoroughly illuminated the entire expanse of his dark Soul Space.
The newly born Sword Star Seed floated proudly and majestically within the centre of the void.
Compared directly to its massive, radiant presence, the baseline Origami and Boxing Skill Seeds suddenly seemed completely insignificant.
Extremely dim.
Noticeably small.
Behaving like flickering candle flames placed before the breaking of a grand dawn.
The brilliant Sword Star slowly and fluidly rotated on its axis.
With every single complete revolution it made, it released heavy waves of pure, sharp sword intent.
Visible energy ripples spread out continuously through the surrounding darkness.
Then, an entirely unrecorded phenomenon occurred within his spirit.
The black Origami Skill Seed began to move on its own.
The grey Boxing Skill Seed simultaneously moved its position.
As though reacting directly to an invisible, massive gravitational force, both baseline seeds slowly began to revolve around the perimeter of the Sword Star.
Like planets orbiting a central sun.
One pitch black.
One slate grey.
And directly between them, the radiant blue Sword Star beautifully illuminated the entirety of his inner universe.
Vergil stared silently at the cosmic display within his mind.
A deep, profound feeling of genuine accomplishment slowly filled his calm heart.
Years of rigorous, hidden cultivation.
Years of constant, exhausting psychological struggle.
Years of continuously fighting for a single chance at basic survival.
He had finally, definitively stepped beyond the limitations of the common Apprentice Realm.
He had officially become a true Star Master.
The brilliant Sword Star continued to shine its light through the dark.
Then, completely out of nowhere,
A powerful, agonising physical sensation struck his physical nervous system.
Primal hunger.
An overwhelming, hollow hunger.
The sensation erupted violently from every single individual cell in his physical body.
The newly born Sword Star was greedily consuming his biological energy reserves at a terrifying, unsustainable rate.
The massive spiritual breakthrough had entirely drained his physical vessel.
The clawing hunger instantly became completely unbearable.
His conscious mind was violently and instantly expelled directly out of the Soul Space.
Vergil’s physical eyes snapped wide open in the dark.
The familiar, rough stone ceiling of his cave immediately entered his blurry vision.
His empty stomach growled with a deafening roar.
Every single muscle fibre in his limbs screamed desperately for immediate nourishment.
Without a single moment of hesitation, he reached out and grabbed the survival stockpile of fried beast meat stored inside his cave.
He devoured the food instantly.
One large piece.
Two large pieces.
Ten whole pieces.
The entire weekly supply of protein completely vanished within a few frantic moments.
Yet, the gnawing hunger inside his gut remained entirely unchanged.
It felt as though a bottomless, structural abyss had opened up directly inside his stomach.
The rotating Sword Star demanded everything to stabilise its core.
Vergil shot directly to his feet from the dirt.
Then, his body ran.
The vast cavern ecosystem blurred unrecognizably around his silhouette.
Tall trees.
Jagged rocks.
Glowing crystal rivers.
Everything in his path turned into stretched streaks of pure colour.
Before ever reaching the elite Star Master Realm, even while heavily enhancing his muscles with internal energy, travelling from his distant cave to the gates of the underground town required nearly half an hour of running.
But now?
It took his new body less than ten single minutes.
The massive iron town gates rapidly appeared ahead in the gloom.
The patrolling camp guards immediately noticed his high-speed approach.
Their hands instinctively tightened around the shafts of their iron spears.
Then, their entire bodies froze dead in place.
A strange, invisible pressure naturally radiated outward from his moving form.
It was not an active display of hostility.
It was not a projection of murderous killing intent.
It was simply pure, undeniable martial presence.
The unmistakable presence of a genuine Star Master.
Their baseline physical instincts screamed at them not to dare interfere with his trajectory.
By the time the guards finally recovered their senses, Vergil had already passed cleanly through the iron gates.
He charged directly through the stone streets of the compound.
Common workers leapt aside into the alleys in panic.
Uniformed servants stumbled clumsily out of his direct path.
Absolutely no one dared to step forward to stop his momentum.
Soon, he burst violently through the main compound entrance.
The heavy wooden doors slammed loudly against the stone walls.
Nearby ledger workers jumped up in sudden alarm.
Vergil headed straight toward the coordinates of the central dining hall.
His eyes were visibly bloodshot from the strain.
His grey training clothes hung loosely and loosely from his frame.
The intense breakthrough process had consumed so much internal fat and energy that his face appeared almost skeletal.
Then, his raspy voice shouted through the hall.
“Bring me absolutely everything you have in the storeroom.”
The female kitchen workers completely froze at the sound.
Several dropped the heavy wooden trays they were currently carrying onto the floorboards.
The sheer biological pressure radiating from his frame made their hearts race with panic.
Without a single word of hesitation, they turned and rushed frantically toward the kitchens.
A few minutes later, mounds of food began arriving at his long table.
Platters of roasted beast meat.
Freshly caught cave fish.
Boiled eggs.
Whole loaves of bread.
Raw vegetables.
Wild fruit.
Bowls of thick soup.
Entire wooden trays completely covered the surface of the massive table.
Vergil immediately sat down and began eating.
No.
He was systematically devouring the layout.
He barely took the time to chew the meat.
Plate after individual plate disappeared into his mouth.
The young kitchen workers watched the display with wide, unblinking eyes.
Even the veteran guards standing by the arches looked thoroughly stunned by the volume.
As the dense calories rapidly entered his physical body, he felt the internal structural changes take hold.
His exhausted, skeletal muscles recovered their mass.
His depleted inner energy rapidly replenished itself within his pathways.
Every single strand of energy became noticeably denser.
Far more refined.
Incomparably more powerful than before.
The hungry Sword Star greedily absorbed the metabolic output.
One full hour passed in the hall.
Then a second hour passed.
The mountainous pile of kitchen food slowly and thoroughly vanished.
Finally, after more than two continuous hours of non-stop eating, the clawing hunger successfully subsided.
Vergil leaned back comfortably in his heavy wooden chair.
For the absolute first time since the breakthrough process began, a trace of genuine satisfaction appeared on his calm features.
He exhaled a long, slow breath of warm air.
Then, he slowly raised his head to survey the room.
Only now did he finally notice a silent figure sitting directly across the table from his position.
Madam Sierra.
She was calmly and elegantly sipping a cup of hot herbal tea.
Judging directly from the completely untouched, cold cup placed before her plate, she had been sitting there watching him for quite some time.
Sierra set the ceramic cup down gently onto the wood.
“Are you officially finished with your meal?”
Vergil nodded his head once.
“Finished.”
Sierra studied his physical frame in total, analytical silence.
The intense pressure radiating from his body had already stabilised considerably into his core.
But to an expert like her, it was entirely unmistakable.
Star Master Realm.
He was the absolute first captive trainee in several years to successfully reach this realm before the auction.
Finally, she smoothly stood up from her chair.
“Follow me closely.”
Vergil rose silently from his seat, his clothing now fitting his restored frame.
Without speaking another word, he followed her steady footsteps through the corridors of the compound.
Neither of them spoke a single syllable.
The surrounding perimeter guards quietly and respectfully stepped aside into the arches as they passed.
Soon, the two entered the vast expanse of the central arena.
The exact same stone arena where wild wolves had hunted terrified children on his first day.
The exact same arena where Raul had died on the sand.
Sierra walked directly to the exact centre of the arena floor and stopped her boots.
Then, she slowly turned her torso around to face him.
“Let me see the true extent of your new strength.”
Vergil slightly frowned at her request.
“I cannot.”
Sierra’s green eyes narrowed into sharp slits.
The ambient temperature of the entire stone arena seemed to instantly drop a few degrees.
“You cannot?”
Vergil slowly shook his head, his posture relaxed.
“I require a sword.”