Chapter 541: Lonely Tree
Vergil remained there, observing Qliphoth as one might gaze at a curious painting, but already weary of the fra. With each word, each taphor, the interest that had previously ignited him gave way to sothing simpler: boredom.
He sighed, long and heavy, and leaned back in his chair as if he were in a cheap tavern, not before an entity capable of shaping planets.
“So that’s all?” His voice sounded grave, laden with weary irony. “An unresolved story, a safe, an idiot god, an unfortunate birth. If it’s over, you can send back.”
Qliphoth lifted his face slowly, the smile still on his red lips, but his golden eyes flashed for a mont with sothing Vergil recognized: frustration.
He rose from the chair unhurriedly, adjusting his cloak on his shoulders.
“I’m not in the mood for endless philosophies. If you won’t yield the territory, there’s no reason for to force you.” He ran a hand through his hair and took a step back. “After all, I’m not going to gain any of this.”
His words hung in the air like cold blades.
Qliphoth, still seated, leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. Her voice was low, but charged with an intensity that reverberated through the surrounding forest of blood.
“And what do you intend to do, then?”
Vergil turned to her, a wry smile on his lips, and answered without hesitation:
“I’m leaving.”
The simplicity of the answer seed to defuse the space. For a mont, even the bubbles in the lake quieted.
“Months…” he continued, walking slowly to the edge of the small island, gazing at the crimson horizon. “I’ve been here for months. I haven’t achieved anything in particular, it’s true. But I’ve satisfied a hunger greater than that of power.”
He paused, glancing sideways at the red-skinned woman.
“I’ve learned.”
Qliphoth raised her eyebrows curiously. Vergil didn’t give her ti to intervene.
“I learned from raising Vanny and Rize. I learned from fighting your dryad. And now I’ve learned even more about you… about the World Trees.” He held up his finger, as if listing them. “Your rules, your limits, your prisons.”
His eyes narrowed, and his smile widened.
“Even if I search for a reason to call this a waste of ti, I can’t. Because, in the end, I’ve gained so much.”
Qliphoth remained silent, simply watching. Her hat hid most of her face, but Vergil saw the slight movent of her lips tightening.
He chuckled softly.
“You, on the other hand…” He turned fully, facing her head-on. “You’ve gained nothing but a cup of tea from .”
The silence that followed was so thick it felt material. The lake gurgled in response, as if laughing along with him.
“What a waste for soone like you, don’t you think?” Vergil teased, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You spent all this ti just looking in the eye, listening to speak, testing . And in the end… nothing.”
He took a few steps toward the table, moving closer to her again. With each word, Vergil leaned in a little closer, until he was almost on top of her, like soone forcing a predator to reveal its teeth.
“Tell … don’t you feel sorry for yourself?”
Qliphoth didn’t blink. He simply lifted the cup and took another sip, with the practiced calm of soone who won’t allow himself to give in.
Vergil laughed again, low, full of contempt.
“Maybe you should co with .”
The sentence fell like a thunderclap on the table. Qliphoth paused, his fingers still gripping the porcelain.
Vergil continued, this ti in a lower, almost confidential tone:
“Think about it.” You live rooted in this fetid lake, in this wretched vault created by another. Caught in your roots, trapped in your own existence. I, on the other hand, walk. I conquer. I take. I could lead you beyond these chains.
His smile widened, cruel.
“But no. People like you don’t like company.”
He walked away, raising his hand in farewell.
“Lonely won… they prefer to play goddess, pretend they don’t need anyone. It’s easier than admitting that the tea, in the end, was just an excuse not to drink alone.”
The impact of the words reverberated through the space. The blood forest shuddered. The roots contracted like tensed muscles. And Qliphoth finally let out a spark of emotion in her golden gaze—sothing between anger and pleasure, as if each provocation were a sweet poison she couldn’t help but taste.
Vergil was already walking toward the edge of the island again, lifting his chin.
“That’s it, Tree. Show the way out.”
He didn’t turn to see if she smiled, trembled with anger, or remained motionless. Because, deep down, he already knew the truth.
She would let him go.
Not because he had won, nor because he had conquered that territory. But because, for the first ti in centuries, perhaps millennia, soone had dared to treat her not as a goddess, not as an entity, not as a world… but as that which, in her essence, she most feared being.
A solitary woman, sitting at a table, with only a half-empty cup of tea.
Vergil was already a few steps from the edge, the liquid red of the lake reflecting her silhouette like a distorted shadow.
“Wait.”
Her voice sounded like a root piercing stone: firm, inevitable. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a cry. It was an order.
Vergil stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“Hm.” A low sound escaped his throat, more a sigh of boredom than surprise. “Changed your mind? Are you going to give the territory after all?”
Qliphoth laughed. It was short, dry, a sound that cut through the air like shards of glass.
“Always so direct.” She set the cup aside delicately, but the clink of tal on the saucer sounded like a funeral bell. “No. The territory will not be yours.”
Vergil turned slowly, staring at her disdainfully.
“Then what do you want?”
She crossed her legs, her hat obscuring part of her face, but the golden glow of her eyes escaped the shadows.
“I want to understand.” The word echoed through the island, reverberating in the roots, as if the entire forest were repeating it in unison. “You provoke , insult , treat like… like sothing lesser. And yet…” her lips curved in an enigmatic smile, “you don’t turn your back like the others.”
Vergil tilted his head.
“Is that what you think? That I haven’t turned my back?” He gave a low laugh. “I’m leaving, tree.”
Her smile didn’t fade.
“But if I were, I would have left already.”
For a mont, silence fell between them. The bubbles in the lake burst again, slow, like deep breaths. Vergil narrowed his eyes, but didn’t respond imdiately.
Qliphoth then raised his hand. Small, pulsing roots sprouted from his fingers and dissolved into the air.
“You call lonely. You say I don’t like company. Maybe you’re right.” His voice was calm, but charged with sothing deeper, an old weariness. “But then why do your words bother so?”
Vergil crossed his arms, watching her with that sa half smile.
“Because they’re true.”
She leaned forward, her hat sliding just enough to reveal part of her face. Wine-red skin, nearly perfect features, and those eyes that burned like golden suns.
“True or not… you’re still here.”
Vergil didn’t back away, but he didn’t advance either. He stood still, studying her, like a swordsman waiting for the slightest movent from his enemy to strike.
“And what do you intend to do with , now that you’ve got ?” His voice cut through the air like a blade. “More tea? Another taphor?”
Qliphoth smiled slowly, resting her chin on her palm.
“No.” She paused, the silence stretching heavy. “I just want to… prolong this mont.”
Vergil arched an eyebrow.
“Hah. I knew.” He shook his head in disbelief, but there was sothing in his eyes—a spark of amusent, perhaps even curiosity. “You really are a lonely tree.”
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