"Hands off the young master, you brat!!!"
Taka's personal bodyguard roared and lunged forward, blade drawn.
Dante met him with a smirk, intercepting the strike with his dagger. Steel rang out.
"Make me, doggy," he sneered, his tone grim but playful.
"Imbecile!" the bodyguard spat, swinging again.
On the sidelines, Diana narrowed her eyes. "Cocky and arrogant… but he's got potential", she mused. "Pity he's not pure of blood."
She hesitated. The rules demanded she stop this, but something in her wanted to see how far Dante could take this.
Strike after strike came at Dante, but he slipped through them like water, dodging with ease.
"Really? I've seen better ones in books."
That hit a nerve.
"That's it!" the bodyguard snapped, mana surging around him.
Diana rose instantly. "Hold your horses!" she shouted.
Too late.
A blade of energy screamed through the air toward Dante. But the boy only smirked. He'd been waiting for it.
With a swift pull, the rusted chain at his side snapped taut—wrapped around one of Taka's feet.
"AHHHH!!!"
Taka shrieked as Dante yanked him into the path of the energy.
"No!" the bodyguard shouted, dashing forward—but it was done.
Then, from the western side of the stage, a blur of motion. A man appeared, sword drawn, blocking the attack. Dust exploded around them.
When it cleared, all three—Taka, Dante, and the newcomer—stood unharmed.
"You've got guts using the young master as a shield," the man growled, pointing his blade at Dante.
Dante scoffed. "So? Not like I care. Look at his state."
Taka was shivering, soaked in his own urine.
"You're in no position to—"
"A spar is a spar, Third Brother."
Diana's voice cut cleanly through the field. She stepped forward, expression calm but commanding.
"Sister… he's just—"
"I said, a spar is a spar. Right?" Her gaze turned icy.
"Y-Yes, Sister."
"Good boy."
She turned to the crowd.
"The winner of this friendly spar… is Dante."
Gasps. Whispers. The crowd dispersed in silence. Taka was escorted off, face burning with humiliation.
"I'll report this to Father!" Taka barked as he was taken away.
"Tch, spoiled daddy's boy," Dante muttered.
"A bit harsh, don't you think?"
Dante turned. Diana stood behind him, calm and curious.
"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.
"You dare!?"
Her bodyguard Fina flared with fury, blade half-raised.
"Now, now, Fina. He's just a young lad," Diana said, lowering her hand.
She looked at Dante with genuine interest.
"You showed impressive combat instinct. You used your opponent and his surroundings. Even Taka's bodyguard struggled against you."
"Get to the point. I hate compliments," Dante said, folding his arms.
She met his gaze—and paused.
In his eyes… she saw a figure. A woman. Vague. Flickering.
"I'm a woman who appreciates weapons," Diana said, recovering. "And I can't help but admire your creation. Rusted chains. Wooden daggers. Modified into something… new. What do you call it?"
Dante glanced at his makeshift weapon.
"Chain Blades," he muttered. A nod to his old life as a gamer.
---
The next few days…
News of the duel reached high ears. Taka's father, Evan Ruthwilfer, brother to the Patriarch, stood seething.
"You lost… to a trash?"
His voice was venom.
"But Father, it was he who—"
"SILENCE!"
The room shook with his rage.
"You dare lie to me? Grandlady Diana was the witness!"
Taka froze. He had forgotten.
Evan stood and moved past his trembling son. At the door, he stopped.
"I'm going on an expedition with the Patriarch for a few days. When I return…"
He turned slightly, his shadow long.
"Prove you're worthy of being heir—or don't bother calling yourself my son."
He shut the door.
Taka stood there, fists clenched, blood trickling from his lip where he bit too hard.
"Dante…"
---
Meanwhile, in the Library…
Dante flipped through dusty tomes. Myths. Materials. Forgotten gods.
"Huh… Kalikrithar?" he mumbled.
It caught his interest.
"Says here it's not just a metal. It's the breath of a war goddess. The first goddess to ever descend upon the world…?"
"You've taken an interest in Kalikrithar, I see."
Dante looked up. Eva, the librarian, smiled as she stacked books nearby.
"Can you tell me more, Lady Eva?"
She gently flipped the page in front of him.
"It was forged in the void and born during the goddess's Dance of Annihilation. Solidified breath, formed from the stomp that shattered the first demon god, Koraoun. It's not mined—it's awakened, pulled from the void itself."
Dante listened, captivated.
"One hidden clan worshipped her faithfully. She gifted them a land of Kalikrithar. That land's location? Still unknown."
"That's it?" Dante asked.
"No one's found it since. But if you're wondering what it looks like…" She winked. "Crimson, my dear boy."
As she left, Dante sighed.
"I don't understand women… not even in this world."
---
The Next Morning…
Diana descended the stairs for her morning walk in her private garden. A rhythmic clank of wood echoed from the training field.
She followed the sound.
There he was—Dante. Shirt damp with sweat, muscles straining, slamming his weapons into a handmade wooden dummy. Over and over.
"My… my", she thought. "It's just like then…"
A memory: her betrothed, a boy of seven years old. Alone. Training in the dawn light. The same stubborn drive in his eyes.
Back in the present, Dante continued, relentless. But…
"Hmm, that posture…"
She stepped forward.
"Dante," she called. "May I give you a few suggestions?"
He paused and turned to her, breathing heavy.
Wondering what she'd say next.
Chapter 3 — End.