Chapter 5 ….
Lucia Equites.
She was the woman whom his father had taken in as his new wife, after Dante’s mother—who had given birth to him—had passed away from illness.
Though not a drop of blood connected them, from their very first meeting she had played the part of a good mother to Dante.
He had thought she would embrace him endlessly with warmth.
“So you dared to do such a thing to me.”
The reason Dante, until the brink of death, had been unable to sense mana and failed to awaken his stigmata.
It was none other than Lucia standing before him.
He hadn’t known it before, but now he did.
That she was the very root of all his ruin.
A wound.
Though he had never shown it outwardly, Lucia’s existence had left an immense scar in Dante’s life, one that could never be erased.
“I saw the Lord of the house bestowing a sword upon you. I’m so very proud of you.”
With a gentle smile, she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder.
Flinch—
He shuddered before he realized it.
It wasn’t fear.
It was closer to disgust.
His hand had nearly moved to his waist on instinct—as if to draw the sword that had yet to be named.
If not for his superhuman patience, he might have unsheathed it right then.
“Hm? What’s wrong?”
Had she felt his tremor through her hand?
Lucia tilted her head slightly and asked.
“Ah, I think the training was a bit too harsh. Seems the spasms won’t go away.”
Quickly bringing his body under control, Dante answered calmly.
“Your way of speaking…”
But such excuses didn’t work so easily.
As the one who had raised him, she instantly noticed that Dante’s tone was markedly different from yesterday.
Her elegant brows furrowed, and her gaze bore down on him full of doubt.
Sensing it, Dante hesitated, then forced himself to speak.
“…I’ve grown up now, after all.”
“Pft—!”
She burst into laughter.
Had there been no one watching, perhaps she would have laughed even louder.
Lucia smiled knowingly, continuing in a gentle tone.
“Yes, yes. You’re old enough now to carry a real sword. No longer just a little child.”
His awkward excuse, forcing himself to sound like a boy, seemed to have worked.
“If you’re not feeling well, go and rest.”
Her voice was kind, her words full of supposed care.
“Thank you.”
Dante bowed at once and brushed past her.
“I know you must be busy, but spare me some time, won’t you? I brought in a very rare medicinal herb from the south, just for you.”
Medicinal herb…
Grinding his teeth silently, Dante forced a reply.
“I shall do so.”
And without turning back, he quickened his steps.
“Young master?”
Behind him, Eina hurriedly followed with a flustered look, having just given a polite bow to Lucia.
But Dante had no room to care for Eina at the moment.
He had to get away.
Farther. Faster.
So long as he could still suppress the murderous urge rising in him, he had to put as much distance between himself and Lucia as possible.
Disgusting.
Her fake gentleness made him feel like vomiting up everything he’d just eaten.
“Young master? Are you all right?”
Eina tugged on his sleeve, her face full of concern.
“Ah.”
Dante stopped walking.
“Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”
It must have looked like he was running away. Strange enough for her to notice.
“It’s nothing. I’m just a bit tired.”
He couldn’t very well say it was because he nearly cut his stepmother’s throat. Forcing a smile, he waved it off.
“Oh my, then let’s hurry back.”
Eina’s flustered reaction lightened his mood a little.
Perhaps because she reminded him of that scruffy pup he had often encountered while living his last years in the mountains.
He’d grown quite fond of it.
I wonder if it’s still doing well.
Hopefully his death hadn’t startled it too much.
Shaking off the thought, Dante nodded.
“Let’s go back.”
Thanks to Eina’s fussing, the killing intent and revulsion burning inside him eased just a bit.
“I’ll accompany you.”
With a purposely cheerful air, Eina led him up to his room.
“Please get some rest. Ah, and what about dinner?”
It was nearly time for the evening meal.
But Dante had only just finished a massive feast.
He had no appetite left.
“Hm…”
Even so, he hesitated.
This newly evolved body constantly demanded fuel. Even if he wasn’t hungry now, he would soon be.
“Not now. Could you prepare a late-night meal instead?”
“Of course!”
If Dante wished, she would gladly cook at night—or even at dawn.
“Then bring it to my room, please.”
He had no desire to go near the dining hall for a while. He might run into Lucia again.
“All right. Is there anything you’d like in particular?”
“Meat.”
He answered without hesitation.
“Haha! Got it. I’ll ask the chef to prepare lots of meat. He dotes on me, so he’ll probably send tons.”
Dante didn’t know what she found so funny, but Eina burst out laughing and nodded.
“I’ll see you later then.”
Click—
The door shut, and silence fell.
“Phew.”
Dante let out a deep sigh and sat on the bed.
His short legs dangled, not reaching the ground. It made him think he needed to grow taller soon.
“Quite a lot happened today.”
So similar yet so different from the life before he returned.
The day had been full of excitement, joy, and anticipation.
Until just a moment ago.
Stepmother.
And his two half-brothers.
Whatever else might change, he had to deal with them.
Of course, with this new life, there might be room to improve those relationships.
But I don’t want that.
He couldn’t brush it off with thoughts like: It hasn’t happened yet. It might never happen.
His past life had been far too brutal for that.
Just remembering them made him sick to his stomach.
And besides…
It doesn’t seem like things will change.
That one word Lucia had used—herbs.
That was proof enough.
But how?
He wanted to erase her right away, but he had no justification.
She had done nothing yet, not openly.
Even if he had a reason, it wouldn’t be easy.
Lucia’s power and influence were far too great for him to overcome right now.
Then at the very least, until I have enough strength, I need to ensure my safety.
As he pondered, a thought suddenly struck him.
“Yes, there was that.”
Soon, an incident would occur in the Empire.
He had been young then, but the event was so significant he remembered it vividly even now.
If he used it well, he might not be able to eliminate them, but he could at least avoid facing them for a time.
“It’ll be difficult…”
At his current age, executing the plan in his head wouldn’t be easy.
To be exact, getting permission for it would be hard.
Still, if he wanted to avoid living under the same roof as Lucia, he had no choice but to succeed.
Resolutely, Dante turned his thoughts inward.
“What I need most right now is how to use mana.”
He could sense mana, had awakened his stigmata, and his body had been reforged.
But he didn’t know the first thing about properly wielding mana.
In his past life, he’d never even caught a whiff of it—so of course he didn’t.
“I need to master this.”
The path would be difficult. It was his first time walking it.
“Still, that’s fine.”
Compared to the thorny road of his previous life, this was a path of flowers.
“In the end, there’s no answer but training.”
Not just simple running like today, but proper training.
He knew hard days lay ahead, and yet Dante smiled.
At dawn, Dante awoke as the first light spread.
Despite devouring two full servings of the late-night meal Eina had brought him, his body felt refreshed—like reborn.
Its performance was astonishing.
He washed and dressed, ready before Eina could come wake him.
Only one step remained: breakfast.
Knock, knock—
Right then, Eina entered with a knock.
“Young master, it’s time to—oh?”
She blinked in surprise. Dante was already washed and changed.
“You’re ready already?”
“Yes. From today, I plan to train in the mornings.”
“So that’s why you wanted breakfast prepared early?”
She had been puzzled why he needed it after eating so much last night, but now she understood.
Looking a little proud, she set down the tray.
The meal was simple—because Dante had requested it so.
He planned to eat properly after training, so he asked only for something light.
Well, light in type, if not in quantity.
Five sandwiches, a big bowl of soup, and piles of salad.
Dante polished it all off in one sitting and stood.
“You’re leaving already?”
Eina, busy clearing the dishes, looked up.
“I’ll be at the training ground. If Sir Milleon comes, tell him where I am.”
“Yes—” she called after him, but Dante had already walked out.
The morning air was crisp.
The faint light over the training grounds filled him with anticipation.
“The sword… later.”
He longed to draw the sword he had received yesterday—he hadn’t yet tested it once.
But he held back.
First, he needed to fully adapt to this new body.
He set the unnamed sword on the rack and began stretching.
It was a martial art he had refined alone over decades, building on what he had been taught at the Imperial Knight Training Institute, Rittergut.
“Hoo—!”
He inhaled deeply and stepped into stance.
Thump—
It felt as though his body and the earth had fused.
Good.
Perhaps because of the awakened stigmata, or because of his evolved body.
Or maybe simply because he was young again.
Whatever the reason, a sense of fullness unlike anything before flooded him.
Unaware, Dante smiled as he moved.
His fingers sliced the air smoothly, his legs bore his weight firmly.
Whoosh—
The wind rose.
Mana, drawn out naturally through his motions, stirred the air.
His moves looked simple, but their effect was profound.
They let him control his muscles to the smallest fibers, pushed joints and ligaments past their limits, increased flexibility, strength, and speed.
If the knights of his house saw this, they would faint from shock.
Amid the mana-laden breeze, Dante gradually lost himself.
The state of no-self.
His hand edge became a blade, radiating killing intent. His foot became an anchor, holding his center firm.
Within each simple motion lay intent vast enough to touch the horizon.
How much time passed?
I’m not tiring at all.
The thought came to him suddenly.
In his past life, even after decades of training, his body would strain within ten minutes.
But not now.
Twenty minutes, thirty—he felt nothing.
His body had become that much stronger.
In awe, Dante adapted himself to his new flesh.
“Phew.”
After a full hour without pause, he finally stopped.
He hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Looking down at the marks his training had left in the dirt, Dante frowned.
“I’ll need to consult Sir Milleon later.”
A fully awakened knight might help him develop an even more effective method.
“Well then…”
His warm-up complete, Dante smiled as he turned toward his sword.
He had resisted the urge long enough.
“Your turn now.”
Shing—
A clear ring resounded, and the blade gleamed under the rising sun.
Planting his feet firmly, Dante raised the sword.
Whoosh—
A swirl of mana rippled outward.
In that instant, Dante and the sword became one.
Complete immersion.
No stray thoughts remained—only the act of swinging the blade.
“Haa—”
With a breath, his arm moved.
No—the sword moved.
Left to right.
Top to bottom.
The path was plain, unadorned.
Like a sacred ritual, endlessly slow.
If Eina had been there, she would have clutched her chest in frustration at the slowness.
But to Dante, this was his daily practice of decades. His dream, his ideal.
Swish, swish—!
Though it cut through empty air, there was the sound of something being sliced again and again.
What it was, he couldn’t say.
But his blade was certainly cutting.
“Mmm.”
A low hum escaped someone.
It was Milleon.
He had come at once when Eina told him Dante was in the training yard, only to find the boy swinging his sword.
Words failed him.
Could that truly be a ten-year-old child’s sword?
Dante’s strikes bore a supreme will that Milleon couldn’t even begin to fathom.
How?
Though the sword was slightly too big for his body, throwing the balance off a little, such trivial flaws paled before the sheer depth of skill.
Milleon, watching Dante for a long while, at last could not contain his feelings and spoke—
