The rain hammered down in relentless sheets, turning the forest paths into trails of mud. Vergil with Freya and Aeka emerged from the shadows of the trees, their black cloaks soaked and clinging to their bodies. Each step squelched softly as their boots hit the wet ground. The familiar silhouette of Avalorne's mansion stood ahead, its lantern-lit windows glowing dimly through the misty night.
By the time they reached the entrance, all of them completely drenched. Water dripped from Vergil's hair, his white locks plastered against his face, but his sky-blue eyes remained sharp, calm, and calculating. Beside him, Aeka wrung out her cloak with a sigh, her breaths visible in the cold night air. Her crow perched on her shoulder, its feathers ruffled from the rain.
"Go on, Aeka," Vergil said as he pushed the heavy mansion doors open, a gust of warmer air rushing out to greet them. "I'll show you where you'll be staying."
Aeka nodded, stepping inside. The warmth hit her skin, making her shiver from the sudden contrast in temperature. The soft glow of candlelight lit the halls, and faint sounds of the wind echoed from beyond the windows. Vergil led her down the corridor, his boots tapping lightly on the hardwood floor. He stopped at a door on the west side of the mansion.
"This is yours," he said, gesturing toward the door. "Get some rest. You'll need it."
Aeka gave a tired smile, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. "Finally..." she muttered, wiping her face dry with her sleeve. "Thanks, Nii-san."
Vergil watched her enter the room, closing the door quietly behind her. His gaze lingered for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. He then turned and made his way toward his own chambers.
The door to his room creaked open, and Vergil stepped in with purpose. Without hesitation, he peeled off his soaked cloak and hung it on a hook near the entrance. His armor followed, piece by piece, revealing the black undershirt and trousers beneath. His movements were efficient, practiced, and sharp, like a soldier shedding his battle-worn gear.
With a dry towel draped over his shoulders, he sat at his desk, reaching for a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill. The soft glow of the lantern cast his shadow against the wall, his figure appearing larger and more ominous. He dipped the quill into a bottle of black ink and began writing with precise, deliberate strokes.
"To Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Eliza II,
As per the mission directive, Lord Darius Blackquill and his wife have been eliminated.
The operation was clean, with no witnesses. The removal of the Blackquill household head will allow the appointed successor to assume control without issue.
No further actions are required on this front.
— V.R."
Vergil leaned back in his chair, inspecting the letter one last time. Satisfied, he folded it carefully and tied it shut with a wax seal bearing his personal mark — a small, curved dagger. He then let out a sharp, controlled whistle that echoed softly through the quiet air.
From the darkness of the ceiling beams, a barn owl descended gracefully, its wings outstretched as it landed on his desk. Its golden eyes locked onto Vergil, tilting its head with quiet curiosity. Without a word, Vergil tied the letter to the owl's leg with deft precision.
"Deliver it," he ordered softly, his voice low but commanding.
The owl gave a soft hoot before taking flight, its wings barely making a sound as it glided out through the open window. Vergil watched it until it disappeared into the night sky. His eyes lingered on the moonlit clouds, his gaze cold and distant.
Elsewhere in the mansion, Freya had already change her clothe after the mission, her blond hair still damp as she made her way to check on the five adopted daughters of Vergil. The hallway was dim, but her beastman eyes could see clearly in the darkness. Her wolf-like ears twitched as she approached the children's room.
Opening the door quietly, she peeked inside. The five girls were fast asleep, curled up beneath warm blankets. But what caught Freya's eye was the sight of the five small wolf-dog hybrid puppies snuggling next to them. Each of the girls clung to one of the pups like a stuffed toy, their peaceful faces untouched by the worries of the world.
Freya tilted her head, suppressing a small grin. "They're already attached," she muttered to herself. Her gaze lingered for a moment longer before quietly shutting the door.
Her body was still sore from the mission, and her eyes felt heavy. She made her way to her room, her mind drifting back to the kill. The shot had been clean, her aim flawless. No hesitation. No doubt. Yet, the weight of that memory clung to her. She sighed deeply before closing her door and letting exhaustion pull her into sleep.
The smell of freshly cooked breakfast filled the mansion, wafting through the hallways and stirring its sleeping inhabitants. Vergil was in the kitchen, moving with methodical precision as he flipped pancakes, stirred a pot of stew, and seasoned slices of bacon. His eyes were calm, focused. He didn't need to look at the food to know it was ready. His hands moved with the precision of a master assassin, even in the kitchen.
The first to appear was Freya, stretching as she entered. Her wolf-like ears twitched as she caught the aroma. "Meat?" she asked, sniffing the air.
"Stew, bacon, and eggs," Vergil replied, flipping a pancake with a quick, practiced motion. "Wake the others."
One by one, the five adopted daughters arrived, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Their pups followed closely behind, yipping happily as they darted toward the smell of food. The youngest of the girls lifted one of the puppies into her arms and giggled as it licked her face.
The last to arrive was Aeka, her hair disheveled and her eyes still half-closed. She shuffled in with a slow, lazy gait, not even bothering to hide her exhaustion. She sat at the table, resting her chin on the surface.
"You're late," Freya teased with a grin. "Slept in after a little work, huh?"
"I'm not a morning person," Aeka muttered, eyes still closed. Her crow perched on her chair, fluffing its feathers.
Vergil placed plates of food on the table, his gaze briefly resting on his sister. "Eat," he ordered firmly. "Work begins soon."
Aeka sighed but complied. She shoved a piece of bacon into her mouth, letting out a muffled groan of satisfaction.
The morning sun brought no peace to Albronne's mansion. A frantic cry rang through its halls, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. The head butler burst into the master's chambers to check on Lord Darius and his wife. His eyes widened in horror as he saw them slumped lifelessly on the balcony.
"No… NO!" the butler shouted, stumbling backward, his heart racing with dread. Blood pooled beneath their heads, mixing with the rainwater that had not yet dried. Their faces were pale, eyes blank, frozen in the moment of death.
The butler stumbled out of the room, shouting for the guards, the servants, and anyone who would listen. Soon after, a doctor from Châteauclair arrived, carefully inspecting the bodies. He pulled his gloves tight and examined the wounds. Two clean shots, precisely at the temple. He knew immediately it wasn't natural.
"Assassins," the doctor muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with unease.
Later that day, Lord Harry Blackquill arrived to oversee the aftermath. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at the balcony, his jaw tight with restrained emotion. "Foolish brother," he muttered. "I warned you…"
He sent a letter to Empress Eliza II, detailing his brother's death. The Empress responded quickly, offering condolences and an official decree:
"By Imperial Order,
Lord Harry Blackquill is hereby appointed Lord of Albronne.
Serve well. Serve wisely."
In the dimly lit study of Vergil, the soft glow of sun shining against the polished mahogany furniture. Vergil sat behind his grand desk, his piercing blue eyes locked on his guest. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze was sharp — a predator calmly observing its prey. On either side of him stood Aeka and Freya, their presence reinforcing his authority.
Seated across from them was Godfrey Montclair, a middle-aged merchant with a neatly trimmed beard and a fine navy-blue coat embroidered with gold threads. His eyes darted around the room, absorbing the luxurious decor, but his focus quickly returned to Vergil. Godfrey knew better than to let his attention stray for too long.
"Lord Vergil," Godfrey began, leaning forward, his hands clasped together. "Preparations for my store in Avalorne are nearly complete. My family and I are ready to move as soon as the permits are finalized. But I have one concern — your clinic in Châteauclair."
Vergil leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger on the armrest. "What of it?"
"If you'll be stationed in Avalorne from now on, what will become of the clinic in Châteauclair? It has prestige, connections, and loyal patrons. It would be a shame to see it abandoned," Godfrey explained, his voice measured but hopeful.
Before Vergil could respond, Aeka raised her hand, smiling with confidence. "Actually, I have a suggestion."
All eyes turned to her. With her usual sly grin, she clasped her hands behind her back and tilted her head slightly, her crow resting on her shoulder.
"Why don't we turn the clinic into something more profitable?" Aeka proposed, her tone light but her words calculated. "We can convert it into a high-end cosmetic store. If you're worried about the prestige, I can assure you, it will only grow. After all, I'm in the process of creating a line of cosmetics myself."
Godfrey raised an eyebrow. "Cosmetics, you say? That market is already crowded in Châteauclair. Every noblewoman in town wants something to make her look younger, fairer, or more beautiful. What makes your line different?"
Aeka's smile widened. She took a step forward, her eyes shining with mischief. "Simple. Unlike the competition, I won't poison my customers."
The bluntness of her words caught Godfrey off guard. His eyes widened, and he let out a short, surprised laugh. "Poison? You're exaggerating."
"Am I?" Aeka countered, her eyes narrowing like a predator cornering its prey. "Most cosmetics these days are laced with white lead or mercury. They make you look pretty in the short term, but over time, they ruin your skin, your health, and even your mind. My products will be completely safe — no lead, no mercury, no poisons. And because of that, noblewomen will trust us. Once they try it, they'll never go back."
Godfrey's eyes flickered with understanding. He knew how dangerous mercury-laced cosmetics were, but the nobility had been too addicted to "instant results" to care. However, the promise of safe, long-term beauty was an untapped niche.
"You might have something there," Godfrey admitted, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "If that's the case, I'll have my wife and daughters try the first batch. If it works as you say, I'll be your partner in this venture. I'll return in one week to review your progress."
Aeka gave a curt nod. "I'll have the samples ready."
Godfrey stood, adjusting his coat with a grin. "Then I look forward to it. I'll bring some friends along as well. This could be the start of something grand." He turned toward the door, his steps lighter than before.
Vergil watched the merchant leave, his eyes narrowing in quiet contemplation. The conversation had gone exactly as planned. With a clinic in Châteauclair repurposed into a cosmetic hub, it would become another extension of his influence.
After Godfrey's departure, Aeka roamed the halls of the mansion, her black cloak trailing behind her like a shadow. The faint echoes of distant laughter drew her attention. She followed the sound until she reached the room where Vergil's five adopted daughters were playing with their new wolf-dog hybrid puppies.
Aeka Ragnaros stood by the entrance of the hall, her eyes silently observing the scene. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her black cloak draped over her shoulders like a shadowy veil. The faint hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she watched the chaos unfold before her.
The girls had already met her the night before, but Aeka knew names alone weren't enough to understand them. She wanted to know their personalities, their quirks, and their strengths. After all, they were her nieces by blood and shadow, and she intended to be more than just "Aunt Aeka" to them.
Her sharp gaze softened as she watched the youngest, Sylvi, tumble forward, tripping over her own feet while trying to catch a particularly fast puppy. Her silver hair bounced as she hit the floor with a squeal, but instead of crying, she burst into giggles and sat up with a big, triumphant grin.
"Caught you!" Sylvi declared as she clutched the squirming pup in her arms, hugging it tightly.
The other four girls rushed over to her side, some laughing, others pouting that Sylvi had caught the puppy first. They argued playfully, pointing at each other in mock complaints, but no one seemed truly upset.
"Looks like you all have some fire in you," Aeka finally spoke, her voice calm yet firm, like a bell ringing in the distance.
The five girls froze at the sound of her voice, their gazes snapping toward her in unison. Her presence had gone unnoticed until now. Their expressions shifted from surprise to awe as they watched Aeka approach them. Her movements were fluid, each step silent as if she were gliding over the marble. Her black armor and cloak gave her the appearance of a wandering shadow, while her short, soft asymmetrical bob framed her sharp, observant eyes.
"Aunt Aeka!" Sylvi waved, still holding the squirming pup in her arms. "Look, I caught the fastest one!"
Aeka crouched down to Sylvi's level, tilting her head slightly as she reached out to ruffle the girl's silver hair. "Not bad, Sylvi. Quick reflexes and persistence — those will serve you well in the future."
Sylvi's face beamed with pride as she hugged the pup tighter. "I'm the best hunter here!" she declared, earning playful glares from her older sisters.
"Oh really?" said Mina, the eldest of the five. Her green eyes narrowed playfully, her sharp, fox-like grin reminiscent of a schemer in the making. "We'll see about that during the next hunt, runt."
"I'm not a runt!" Sylvi shot back, puffing up her cheeks.
Aeka chuckled at their bickering, then rose to her full height, gazing at the five of them. She placed her hands on her hips, her eyes scanning each one as if she were sizing them up.
"Alright," Aeka began, her tone taking on a more serious note. "I've already met you all, but I'd like to get to know you better. Names aren't enough to tell me what you're capable of. I want to know your strengths, your weaknesses, and how each of you thinks." Her gaze swept over each girl, her eyes sharp and calculating. "You're all my nieces, after all. If you're going to be part of this family, I expect greatness from each of you."
The girls' expressions shifted. Gone were the playful smiles. They understood what she meant. This wasn't a mere family gathering anymore — this was an evaluation.
Aeka stepped forward and pointed at Mina, the eldest. "You first. Tell me about yourself."
Mina straightened her posture and crossed her arms, her green eyes filled with pride and confidence. "I'm Mina, the eldest. I'm the fastest of the five, and I'm always the one who keeps the others in check." She flicked her hair back with a smirk. "If there's trouble, I handle it. If there's a race, I win it. That's all you need to know."
Aeka raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but amused. "Confidence is good, but overconfidence will get you killed. If you think speed alone will save you, you'll fall the moment you face someone faster." She glanced at Sylvi. "And judging by earlier, it looks like Sylvi was faster than you."
Mina's face flushed with embarrassment. "That doesn't count! The puppy tripped me!"
"Excuses won't save you, Mina," Aeka replied coldly. "Remember that."
She moved to the next sister, Aria, the second eldest. "What about you?"
Aria's blue eyes glanced away, her expression quieter and more reserved. "I'm Aria. I... I don't like fighting like Mina does, but I'm good at spotting things. I'm always the first to notice when someone is sneaking around."
"A sharp eye, huh?" Aeka's gaze lingered on Aria for a moment longer. "Observation is a powerful weapon. If you see something before it happens, you control the battlefield. Keep sharpening that skill."
Aria nodded slowly, her eyes shining with a quiet determination.
Next was Elen, the third sister. She twirled one of her long strands of brown hair, her golden eyes darting about nervously. "I'm... Elen. I'm not that strong or fast, but I like puzzles." She scratched her cheek, glancing at her sisters. "I'm good at figuring out things. Like locks."
"A locksmith, huh?" Aeka said, rubbing her chin. "Good. A sharp mind is just as important as a sharp blade. We'll see if your brain is as sharp as you claim."
Elen blinked, then gave a small smile. "I'll prove it."
Aeka's eyes shifted to Lira, the fourth sister, a quiet girl with short, wavy auburn hair and amber eyes. She sat on the ground, her arms wrapped around one of the puppies. She looked up with a calm gaze.
"Lira," she said softly. "I'm good with animals. They like me."
"Beastiary instincts, huh?" Aeka crouched to meet Lira's gaze. "If animals trust you, then you're already a step ahead of most. People aren't that different from beasts. If you learn how to read them, you'll control them too."
Lira tilted her head in thought, nodding slowly.
Finally, she turned to Sylvi, who was still hugging her puppy like a prize. Aeka smiled and ruffled Sylvi's hair once more. "And you, little hunter?"
"I'm Sylvi! I'm gonna be stronger than everyone!" Sylvi declared, raising her arms with a wide grin.
Aeka chuckled, her eyes warm. "Bold words, but strength isn't just about muscles, Sylvi. Strength is about the will to stand, even when you're knocked down." She pulled Sylvi into a small hug, whispering, "You'll learn that one day, little one."
With her evaluation complete, Aeka's heart felt lighter. Each of the girls had their own quirks and talents, and though they had a long way to go, she could see the seeds of something greater in them. She didn't just see them as Vergil's stepdaughters. No — they were her nieces, bound not by blood, but by fate and shadow.
Later that day, she gathered the five of them in the training hall. "I'm going to show you something," Aeka announced, tossing a stack of wooden training swords onto the ground. "Pick one up. We're going to do something simple."
The girls glanced at each other before grabbing the swords.
"Don't think this is a game," Aeka warned, her eyes darkening. "If you want to be part of this family, you need to understand one truth."
She walked to the center of the hall and raised a training sword. "In this world, only those with power survive." She pointed the sword at them. "Show me if you have the power to stand."
Her gaze was as cold as steel, and her smile was as sharp as a blade.
"Come at me together."
The five girls charged, their determination blazing like wildfire. Aeka's smirk never wavered.
Midday sun poured into the training hall, illuminating the smooth stone floors where five young girls stood in front of a line of wooden targets. Their faces were marked with determination, sweat trickling down their brows after an intense session of basic combat techniques. The faint echoes of their earlier training still lingered in the air.
At the center of it all stood Aeka Ragnaros, her black cloak draped over her black light armor, giving her the appearance of an untouchable shadow. Her soft asymmetrical bob swayed lightly as she glanced over each of her nieces with a critical eye. Her sharp, calculating gaze swept over them like a hawk scanning for signs of weakness.
"Not bad," Aeka said, her tone firm but not unkind. "Your footwork has improved, and you're all learning to control your swings. But remember, power is useless if you can't land a hit."
She clapped her hands twice, and the girls straightened their postures, eyes focused. Aeka turned toward a set of training dummies lined up at the far end of the hall. "Now it's time to see which weapon feels right for each of you. I've set up targets for you to practice your strikes, throws, and accuracy."
With a wave of her hand, she gestured toward the small wooden rack behind them. Lined along the rack were not just simple training swords and daggers but also an assortment of other wooden weapons: spears, axes, short bows, clubs, and throwing knives.
The five girls exchanged glances. Their eyes sparkled with excitement as if a world of endless possibilities had just opened up before them.
"Pick what feels right," Aeka instructed, arms crossed. "Not every fighter is suited for swords or daggers. Some of the greatest warriors I've seen preferred bows, spears, and even throwing knives. No one weapon is 'perfect'—only the one that fits you is."
Her words seemed to resonate with the girls. Each of them approached the weapon rack with caution, their eyes scanning the options with deep thought.
Mina, the eldest, immediately reached for a spear. Her eyes narrowed with precision as she held it upright. Her sharp grin returned as she twirled it experimentally, testing its weight. "This feels right," she muttered, spinning it with ease. "Better reach, more control."
Aria, the second eldest, eyed the weapons more cautiously. After some hesitation, she settled on a set of throwing knives. Her soft blue eyes lit up with curiosity as she balanced the weight of one in her palm. She threw a knife at a target, missing by an inch, but her eyes gleamed with determination. "I'll get it next time," she whispered to herself.
Elen, the third sister, took her time. She moved from weapon to weapon, testing each one, before her eyes settled on a short bow. Her golden eyes widened with recognition, as if something deep within her had been awakened. She plucked at the bowstring with a small smile. "This one… feels right," she said softly.
Lira, the fourth sister, stood off to the side, her amber eyes calm but watchful. She reached for a club, a simple blunt weapon. Her movements were quiet, her gaze steady as she gripped it in both hands. She swung it experimentally, its weight seeming to suit her quiet, methodical personality.
Sylvi, the youngest, didn't hesitate. Her eyes locked onto a pair of dual wooden daggers. Her silver hair bounced as she snatched them from the rack, twirling them like toys. Her footwork was wild but energetic, her speed compensating for her lack of control. "Fast and sharp, just like me!" she declared with a wide grin.
Aeka watched them with quiet satisfaction. She knew from experience that every warrior had a weapon that resonated with their soul, and it seemed each of the girls had found theirs.
"Good choices," Aeka said, stepping forward. "Now, I want you to spend the next hour practicing with those weapons and you feel other way is always free to change to other weapon. Get a feel for them. They are an extension of your body — your mind, heart, and instincts must move as one."
Her eyes flashed with authority. "But don't forget — your weapon does not define you. You define the weapon."
While Aeka trained the girls, Vergil Ragnaros had already begun his duties as Avalorne's resident doctor. The newly opened clinic was simple but efficient — clean stone walls, rows of shelves lined with medicinal herbs, and a few patient beds for those who needed rest.
Vergil, wearing a calm but firm expression, moved with precision and grace. His every gesture was measured, his focus absolute. Each patient who entered, whether a human villager, a beastman traveler, or a wandering elf, received the same warm attention and thorough care. This policy was unspoken but well-known throughout Avalorne—all races are treated equally at Vergil's clinic. No special treatment for nobles, no dismissiveness toward the poor. Each life was regarded with the same value.
Vergil's prices reflected his fairness. A light ailment, like a cold or mild injury, was treated for one silver coin, including the cost of medicine. More severe illnesses, like infections or chronic conditions, required three silver coins—still a reasonable price considering it included both treatment and medicine. It was the same policy he had implemented in Châteauclair and Draconoa Village, but something had changed in Avalorne.
Here, Vergil's icy demeanor seemed to have thawed. His smiles, though subtle, were genuine. His brief exchanges with villagers were no longer curt, and the children who once viewed him as a mysterious figure now gathered around him without fear. Even Freya noticed the change. She watched him closely, noting how he knelt to speak with a dwarven boy about his cough or reassured a worried elven mother about her child's fever.
"Next patient," Freya called out, her voice clear but firm. She glanced at Vergil with a small, approving smile.
A beastman father with his young daughter approached, the little girl clutching his leg nervously. She had a scrape on her knee from playing too roughly with friends. Vergil crouched down to meet her eyes, his blue-sky gaze calm and reassuring.
"No need to be afraid," he said softly, offering a rare, gentle smile. "This will only take a moment."
The little girl nodded, her tail swishing slowly behind her as she watched Vergil clean her wound. Freya knelt beside him, handing him a small bottle of ointment. The girl's eyes lit up as Vergil placed a small charm in her hand after the treatment—a token of courage, he called it.
"Thank you, doctor!" the little girl said, her eyes shining with happiness.
Her father bowed his head respectfully. "To think a lord of Avalorne would treat us like this… Thank you, Lord Vergil."
Unlike most doctors who charged exorbitant fees, Vergil's policy was simple:
1 silver coin for simple ailments (cuts, colds, fevers).
2 silver coins for moderate conditions (burns, minor fractures).
3 silver coins for life-threatening ailments (severe wounds, diseases).
The fee included medicine. No bribes, no overcharges, and no exceptions for nobility or adventurers. Everyone was equal in Vergil's clinic.
Word of his fairness and skill had already begun to spread. The villagers trusted him. The adventurers respected him. Even noble merchants who had heard of his reputation sought his care.
But what shocked the people most was Vergil's smile.
For the first time, the once-cold assassin-doctor was engaging with the people. A smile here. A word of encouragement there. His humanity had surfaced — not as a mask, but as something genuine.
"You're getting soft, you know," she teased.
"For this chase, as leader of Avalorne also must give people not only opportunity but also give them smile ," Vergil replied, his face calm but with the faintest curve of a smirk.
Freya raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "If patience means making kids smile, then sure, you're the most 'smiling' person I've ever met."
The two shared a brief laugh before Freya called in the next patient. The clinic remained a sanctuary of equality, where every race, every traveler, and every citizen knew they could receive care. It was not just a clinic—it was a symbol of Avalorne's growing reputation as a city where fairness reigned.
As the golden glow of twilight cast long shadows over Avalorne, Vergil and Freya returned home. The air was cool, carrying the faint chirping of crickets from the surrounding forest. As they approached the mansion, Vergil's sharp gaze immediately caught sight of something unusual—the entrance to the underground training chamber was ajar. His eyes narrowed.
"Did we leave that open?" Freya asked, her wolf-like ears twitching with alertness.
"No," Vergil replied, his voice calm but firm. Without another word, he stepped inside, with Freya following close behind.
The scent of sweat and wood greeted them as they descended into the underground training room. The faint thudding of footsteps echoed in the distance. When they reached the chamber, the sight that awaited them brought a small, rare smile to Vergil's face.
His five adopted daughters—Mina, Aria, Elen, Lira, and Sylvi—were sprawled across the training mat, panting and drenched in sweat. Their small chests rose and fell as they tried to catch their breath. Each girl clutched a wooden training weapon of her choice. Mina held a long staff, Aria a short sword, Elen a pair of daggers, Lira a spear, and Sylvi a small crossbow-sized training bow.
Nearby, Aeka stood calmly, wiping down the wooden training weapons before placing them on the rack. Her black cloak was off, revealing her sleek black combat attire. Her movements were precise and methodical, a clear display of her discipline and experience.
Vergil crossed his arms and chuckled lightly. "Looks like someone got ahead of themselves," he said, his gaze moving between his daughters and Aeka.
The five girls sat up quickly, startled by their father's sudden appearance. Their faces were flushed from the intensity of their training, and they all tried to put on brave smiles.
"W-We were just training, Father!" Mina said, gripping her staff tightly.
"Yeah, Aunty Aeka was just teaching us how to use our weapons better," Aria added, her eyes filled with determination.
"Did we do something wrong?" Sylvi asked nervously, hugging her small bow.
Vergil shook his head, his gaze softening. "No, you did nothing wrong. But I did say you'd only start training after my current assignment was done." He glanced at Aeka, one eyebrow raised.
Aeka shrugged as she finished hanging the wooden swords. "They were curious. I figured better they learn properly than try it themselves and get hurt." She flashed a sly grin. "Besides, it's not like I taught them anything dangerous. Just footwork and basic stances."
Freya sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "Honestly, I don't know who's more stubborn, you or them." She approached the girls and crouched down. "Alright, that's enough for today. Go wash up. Dinner will be ready soon."
The girls groaned but obeyed, dragging their feet toward the bath. Mina glanced back and whispered, "We'll do better next time, Aunty Aeka."
Aeka gave a small nod. "Of course you will."
Once the girls were gone, Vergil gave Aeka a glance filled with silent understanding. He didn't reprimand her. Instead, he simply said, "Don't push them too hard. They're still children."
"I know," Aeka replied, leaning against the wall. Her eyes followed the girls until they disappeared from sight. "But better they learn discipline early than later. You know that better than anyone, Brother."
Vergil said nothing, but his gaze lingered on the training weapons for a moment longer.
Later that evening, Aeka went to the underground laboratory, a space filled with alchemical tools, glass vials, and shelves lined with ingredients. Vergil joined her, his hands in his coat pockets. The dim glow of magical lanterns illuminated the room with a pale blue hue.
"So, what's the plan for this cosmetic venture of yours?" Vergil asked, his eyes scanning the shelves of herbs and oils.
"I'm torn between making a lotion or a makeup remover," Aeka replied, tapping her fingers on the workbench. Her soft asymmetrical bob swayed as she tilted her head in thought. "The lotion could be something like a skin-nourishing balm, but the makeup remover… I'm thinking of something that doesn't burn the eyes."
Vergil leaned against the wall, folding his arms. "Why not do both?" he suggested casually. "Skin lotion for daily use and a milk lotion for cleansing. Both are unique enough to stand out in Châteauclair's market."
Aeka raised an eyebrow. "Both, huh? That's ambitious."
"It's efficient," Vergil countered. "People will need both products. Might as well offer them at the same time." He stepped forward, his gaze sharp. "But remember, no dangerous ingredients. No mercury, no white lead, none of that poison they sneak into beauty products."
"Please," Aeka scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You think I'd let my work be sloppy like that?" She pulled out a notebook and scribbled down a few notes. "You'll see, Brother. I'll make something even the empress will want to use."
With their discussion complete, Vergil left Aeka to her work.
Dinner was a lively affair that night. The dining hall of Vergil's mansion was filled with the aroma of roasted meat, fresh bread, and hearty stew. The five stepdaughters sat together, laughing and chatting as they dug into their food. Aeka had joined them, sitting near the center of the long table. Freya sat next to Vergil, eating quietly but watching the others with a content expression.
As the plates began to clear, Vergil placed down his fork and leaned forward, his gaze shifting toward Aeka. "How did they do?" he asked, his eyes flicking toward his five daughters.
Aeka sipped her drink, set it down, and wiped her lips with a napkin. "Better than I expected," she admitted. "They're not as clumsy as I thought. Each of them picked a weapon that fits their instincts. Mina likes the staff, Aria prefers the short sword, Elen favors daggers, Lira picked up the spear, and Sylvi's got an eye for the bow. Classic choices for kids their age."
Vergil leaned back, his eyes narrowing with amusement. "The same as our old training days, huh?"
"Pretty much," Aeka said, glancing at her plate. "The only difference is they have you to guide them. We didn't have that luxury."
Vergil's face grew still, his thoughts drifting to their shared past. He didn't say anything, but Aeka knew he was thinking about the brutal training they both endured. She didn't push the topic.
The lively chatter of the five girls continued, filling the silence. Then, suddenly, Vergil's expression shifted. His gaze locked onto Freya, who had just taken a sip of her drink. She blinked, surprised by the intensity of his stare.
"Freya," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Tonight, you face your final test."
The table fell silent. The five daughters froze in place, eyes wide with curiosity and shock. Even Aeka raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued.
"Final test?" Freya repeated, setting down her cup.
Vergil's eyes were as sharp as a blade. "You've trained well, and you've learned much. But to be an assassin in the Brotherhood of Shadows, you must face me in combat." His eyes didn't waver. "Tonight, in the underground chamber, you will fight me."
Freya's ears flattened slightly, her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced at Aeka, who only gave her a grin filled with knowing amusement.
"Don't look at me," Aeka said, folding her arms. "You're on your own with this one."
Silence hung over the table. Freya's eyes shifted back to Vergil. Her breathing slowed as her mind settled into focus. She had trained for this. She knew it would come.
"Understood," she said, her voice firm. Her eyes glowed with resolve. "I won't hold back."
"Good," Vergil replied with a nod, his eyes cold but proud. "You'll need that resolve."
The five daughters erupted into excited whispers, their eyes full of admiration for Freya. Mina clenched her fists, smiling. "You'll do great, Freya!"
"Show him what you've got!" Aria added, pumping her hands in the air.
Freya smiled faintly, but her gaze remained locked on Vergil. No more doubts. No more hesitation. Tonight, she would face him. Tonight, she would prove herself worthy of the title assassin.
After dinner, the underground chamber hummed with an air of quiet anticipation. The five adopted daughters of Vergil sat along the edges of the room, their eyes wide with excitement. Their gazes darted back and forth between Vergil and Freya, who now stood facing each other in the center of the dimly lit arena.
Aeka was present but not as a spectator. She stood in the alchemy section of the underground lab, carefully mixing natural ingredients for her upcoming beauty lotion. Her fingers moved with precision as she crushed herbs with a mortar and pestle, but every so often, she glanced toward the training area, keeping an eye on the duel.
Vergil wore his full combat attire: a sleek, black, lightweight armor reinforced with shadow enchantments. A single dagger gleamed in his hand, the cold metal catching the glow of the lanterns. His black cloak hung behind him, making his presence blend with the darkness.
Freya stood opposite him, wearing a modified version of her combat gear. Her beastman agility was on full display, her wolf-like ears perked up and her tail swaying slowly. She carried twin daggers in each hand, with a longsword strapped to her back in case she needed it. Her blue eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, sharp with focus and resolve.
Their gazes met—cold, calculating, and unyielding. It was the look of two assassins about to clash, master and student no longer.
A soft metallic tap-tap echoed through the chamber. Aeka had lightly tapped one of the glass vials on her workstation, signaling the start of the trial.
Vergil moved first.
Like a shadow given life, he surged forward with blinding speed. His cloak flowed behind him like a streak of darkness. His dagger lashed out, aiming directly for Freya's chest. The blow was fast, precise, and lethal—but Freya was ready.
Her instincts flared as she pivoted to the side, narrowly dodging the first strike. Her foot slid along the smooth stone floor, her daggers spinning in her hands as she deflected a follow-up slash. Clang! Clang! The metallic clash echoed through the chamber.
"Faster," Vergil muttered, his eyes locked onto her every move.
In the blink of an eye, he flicked his free hand, and three throwing knives shot out like streaks of silver lightning. Each one flew with pinpoint accuracy, aiming for Freya's head, heart, and legs.
Freya's eyes widened. Her body twisted into a roll, the knives narrowly missing her head and legs. Her heart pounded in her chest as she kicked off the ground and leaped to the side. Her movements were sharp, precise, and wild like a beast evading a hunter's snare.
"Good," Vergil muttered to himself as he disappeared into the shadows.
Freya's eyes darted around, scanning the room. Her beastman senses heightened as she listened for the faintest sound of footsteps or breathing. But there was nothing. Just the flickering glow of lanterns and the faint clinking of Aeka's alchemical tools in the distance.
"Where are you…?" she muttered, crouching low, her daggers raised defensively.
Her breath was slow, controlled. She focused her senses, her ears twitching, her eyes scanning the faint outlines of every shadow. She extended her sense of smell, her beastman instincts sharpening every sensation. The air shifted—barely—but she noticed.
A throwing knife zipped past her face, barely missing her cheek. She jerked her head back, her heart skipping a beat. Without thinking, she rolled backward, using her momentum to push herself deeper into the shadows.
He's playing with me.
Her mind raced as she considered her options. Vergil was hunting her, forcing her to react rather than act. If she stayed defensive, she would lose. She needed to turn the tables. Her eyes shifted toward one of the nearby lanterns.
Light creates shadows… shadows are his weapon. But light can also blind.
A plan began to form.
Vergil remained hidden, his eyes locked on Freya as he crouched atop one of the support beams high above the training area. From his position, he could see her every movement. She was doing well—better than most—but he could still sense her hesitation.
"Come on, Freya," he whispered to himself. "Think. Stop reacting."
Then, she moved.
Her eyes glanced toward the lantern closest to her. In a swift motion, she grabbed a loose wooden training sword from the rack and hurled it at the lantern. The glass shattered, and the flames flickered wildly, briefly illuminating the room in a burst of orange light. Shadows twisted and danced in chaos.
There you are!
Vergil's eyes caught the flicker of movement—a mistake. A small misstep. He darted forward like a shadowy arrow, his dagger aimed directly at Freya's back. His speed was overwhelming. No hesitation. No mercy.
But this time, Freya was ready.
Her beastman instincts flared as she felt the slight shift in the air pressure behind her. Her muscles coiled like a spring. As Vergil closed in, she spun, her daggers flashing like twin fangs of a predator. Their blades met. Clang! Sparks flew as metal clashed against metal.
But Freya didn't stop. Her footwork shifted as she twisted her body, using the force of the clash to spin herself behind Vergil. Her blade was at his throat. The cool edge of her dagger pressed lightly against his skin.
The room fell silent.
Breathing heavily, Freya locked eyes with Vergil. Her blue eyes were sharp, unyielding, and filled with the resolve of an assassin.
"Checkmate," she whispered, her voice calm but triumphant.
Vergil's eyes widened for a moment. Then, slowly, a grin formed on his face. "Heh… well done."
From across the room, Aeka tapped the glass vial again—tap-tap—signaling the end of the trial. She didn't even look up from her alchemy work, but her smile was clear for all to see.
Vergil stepped back, slowly lowering his dagger. He glanced at the faint red line on his neck where her dagger had pressed. A single drop of blood formed, but it didn't bother him. In fact, it made him proud.
"You've passed," he said simply, sheathing his dagger. His voice carried the weight of finality. "From this moment forward, you are no longer just my assistant."
The five adopted daughters gasped, their faces filled with pride and excitement.
"You are now an assassin of the Brotherhood of Shadows." His voice echoed throughout the chamber, his eyes sharp with authority. "No more calling me 'Doctor' or 'Master.' From now on, you stand as my equal in the shadows."
Freya's heart swelled with pride, her chest rising as she took a deep breath. Her hands slowly lowered the daggers, her arms trembling slightly from exhaustion. Her eyes never left Vergil's face.
"Yes… Master," she said with a smirk, catching herself. "I mean… Vergil."
The five daughters erupted into cheers, clapping and shouting her name. "Freya! Freya! You did it!" Sylvi's little hands clapped furiously, her small face glowing with excitement. "You're so cool, big sis Freya!"
Mina cupped her hands around her mouth. "Now you can train us too, right?! Right?!"
Freya glanced at them, her eyes softening as her wolf-like ears twitched in amusement. "We'll see."
As the children celebrated, Vergil stepped closer to Freya and placed a hand on her shoulder. His gaze was firm but warm. "You've done well. But know this—this is only the beginning. Being an assassin is more than fighting in the dark." He squeezed her shoulder. "It's living in it."
Freya nodded slowly, her eyes filled with understanding. "I'm ready."
Vergil's grin returned, his eyes filled with the quiet pride of a master watching his student surpass expectations.
"Then welcome to the shadows."