Chapter 546: Fruit of the World Tree
The silence that followed seed to hold the breath of the forest itself. The lake of blood had stopped bubbling, as if the entire world were waiting for her answer.
Qliphoth kept her golden eyes fixed on Vergil. There was no more pretense, no more taphors. Only a naked truth, which seed to hang heavy in the air like lead.
“I accept,” she said finally, each syllable drawn out as if tearing sothing inside her.
Vergil arched an eyebrow. A slow smile curved his lips.
“Ah… finally,” he murmured, satisfied. “So that’s it.”
Qliphoth straightened in her chair, her long red fingers intertwining like roots twisting beneath the earth.
“But… for sothing like that to happen…” she paused, and the sound echoed like distant thunder, “you will have to consu the fruit of the World Tree. The seed where it all begins.”
Vergil showed no surprise. He simply leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and fixing her gaze.
“Eating the fruit of a tree that spends all day boring with taphors?” He smirked. “Sounds fair.”
“You speak as if you don’t understand,” she countered, but her voice held no reprimanding force. It was almost a lant. “The fruit is more than an offering. It’s a bond. It’s a root. Once you accept it, there will be no going back.”
Vergil leaned back, crossing his arms.
“Since when do I worry about going back?”
She stared at him, as if trying to find a crack in that wall of arrogance. She couldn’t find one. Then she lowered her eyes and let out a long sigh.
“I just want to get out of here,” she admitted. “I can’t stand this lake anymore. This prison. This feeling… of always being trapped.”
Vergil tilted his head, his smile becoming more provocative.
“Hah. A tree complaining about being rooted. Who would have thought.”
For a mont, her golden gaze sparked with irritation. But soon it gave way to sothing darker, more vulnerable.
Written silently, Qliphoth raised her hand. Her elongated nails glowed red, and the air around her trembled like glass about to crack. Out of nowhere, a fruit appeared in her palm: large, pulsating, a deep crimson color, as if made from the very heart of the forest.
The scent emanating from it was sweet and bitter at the sa ti, intoxicating and nauseating. An ancient, primordial perfu.
Without ceremony, she tossed it to Vergil.
He reached up and caught it easily, twirling it between his fingers as if it were just any apple. Her blue eyes sparkled as she examined the pulsating object.
“Hm,” she murmured. “Cute.”
The irony was clear, and Qliphoth only narrowed her eyes in response.
Vergil lifted the fruit to his face, observing its irregular, almost living shape.
“And what do I do with it?” he asked, without taking his eyes off the object.
Qliphoth rested his chin on his hand, his lips curving into a slow, enigmatic smile.
“Chew… and swallow.”
Silence fell again. Her words echoed across the island, through the roots, across the lake.
Vergil looked away from the fruit and toward her, a smile playing on his face.
“That’s it?” he asked, as if doubting a recipe that was too simplistic.
“That’s it,” he replied firmly.
He chuckled softly, a sound filled with disdain and amusent.
“You make wait for months, fill my ears with endless philosophies… and in the end, I just take a bite of a fruit?”
Qliphoth didn’t answer. She simply kept her gaze fixed on his, motionless, like a statue.
Vergil then turned the fruit one last ti between his fingers and lifted it, bringing it to his mouth. His teeth glead as they opened in a cold smile.
“Hah. I hope it tastes better than your tea.”
He sank his teeth into the flesh of the fruit.
The sound that followed wasn’t a simple bite. It was like a muffled thunderclap, a deep crack, as if the world itself had shattered sowhere in the distance. The juice flowed out, thick and hot, reminiscent of blood.
Vergil chewed slowly, his eyes still locked with hers, defiant.
“Hm.” He licked his lips, swallowing. “Not bad.”
Qliphoth watched silently, but the surrounding lake began to bubble furiously again. The roots trembled as if in ecstasy. The island itself seed to breathe more deeply, as if it had been waiting for this mont forever.
Vergil turned the fruit in his hand again, now marked by the bite.
“And now?” he asked casually, as if asking about the next step in a trivia ga.
Qliphoth smiled. A smile filled with things words couldn’t convey.
“Now… you’re no longer alone.”
Vergil fell to his knees with a dull thud, the fruit slipping from his hand, already partially crushed. His entire body shuddered, as if a thousand swords had pierced his flesh at once.
“Tsk… shit…” he growled, teeth clenched, but soon the first gush of blood rose up his throat.
He vomited amidst the silence of the island. The scarlet liquid splashed onto the ground like embers, boiling as it touched the surface of the pulsating earth. But even as his body seed to fail, his aura grew. Bluish flas, mixed with black and red fragnts, expanded from him like a hungry whirlwind.
The surrounding roots writhed in ecstasy, as if trying to draw closer to that energy. The lake bubbled uncontrollably, spewing crimson waves that splashed all the way to the edge of the small island.
Vergil lifted his face, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but a savage smile split his features.
“Is that… all?” His voice sounded distorted, as if several voices echoed within him. “I can take… more…”
Qliphoth, still seated at the table, began to fade. The outline of her body fragnted into golden particles, like leaves burning in the wind.
She watched him with that unfathomable gaze, showing no rcy. Only a faint smile frad her lips.
“See you soon, Vergil.” Her voice echoed, deep, as if coming from beneath the earth. “That… if you don’t die.”
The last sparks from her body dissipated into the air, and the island plunged into darkness.
Vergil gasped, vomiting more blood, until his vision blurred. Everything around him dissolved—the lake, the roots, the forest itself. Only a void remained, a swirl of shadows.
And then he woke.
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