Chapter 13
A book title, huh…
There’s no such book.
After all, it was a lie made up just to climb Mount Kalothes.
Dante’s composure wavered slightly.
What excuse should I give?
But there was no need to agonize over it. As he had always done, he had only one choice this time as well—to cover it up with another lie.
Without taking his eyes off the sacred flame, Dante shook his head.
“I saw it when I was very young, so I don’t really remember it clearly.”
Even as he spoke, he let out a silent, bitter laugh inside.
A boy barely ten years old talking about “when I was very young”?
The three knights’ faces stiffened at his answer.
On the surface, they looked deadly serious, but Dante couldn’t help but suspect they were holding back laughter.
“…I see.”
Hearing Milreon’s voice tremble slightly turned suspicion into certainty.
They were laughing at his words—only, out of consideration for Dante’s dignity, they couldn’t show it outwardly.
I guess it’s lucky I’m still a child.
Since he was young, situations like this could be brushed off easily.
Even though Dante was an unparalleled prodigy, they still couldn’t let go of the thought that he was merely a child.
So most things were simply dismissed with, “Because he’s still young.”
And in this case, it worked to Dante’s advantage—even if it left a sour taste.
“…Anyway, that must be the remains of the dead god.”
Worried they might ask more questions about the book, Dante quickly changed the subject.
“It seems so.”
Pointing at the faintly burning blue flame, Milreon also lost his smile and nodded.
The event was shocking enough that the knights’ attention shifted easily.
“We should go down. The soldiers will stay here and protect Eina.”
“We obey!”
When the temporary captain answered, Dante approached the pit.
“Lord Dante.”
Milreon stepped up beside him, stopping him.
Looking at him questioningly, Dante saw Milreon extend his hand.
“Allow me to escort you.”
“…Hm?”
The distance down was only about thirty meters.
For an ordinary person, it was unthinkable to jump—but not for Dante.
He had awakened his Stigmata.
And Milreon was one of only two people who knew this.
So what did he mean by “escort”?
Dante stared at him, puzzled, then suddenly realized something.
Patrick and Elaine were watching.
Ah… he’s trying to keep the secret.
Milreon was simply mindful of the fact that Dante had been hiding it until now.
But honestly, since leaving the mansion, there was no longer any reason to hide it.
Even if it was revealed here that he had awakened, there was nothing Lucia could do.
And even if these knights spoke freely when they returned—it didn’t matter.
By then, he would already…
“That won’t be necessary.”
Dante waved his hand, cutting him off.
“Lord Dante, it’s dangerous alone.”
Patrick stepped in, trying to dissuade him.
“It would be better to heed Milreon’s—”
But Dante ignored his worried words and simply stepped forward.
Words wouldn’t persuade them. Showing them directly would be much faster.
“Lord Dante!”
Patrick and Elaine cried out in alarm, reaching out.
As knights of great skill, their movements were swift.
But—
Dante avoided their grasp with astonishing ease.
“…What!”
A ten-year-old child, slipping past the hands of knights? Was that even possible?
While they reeled in shock, Dante was already relishing the sensation of freefall, descending rapidly.
Thud!
Almost the same moment his small body landed, the three knights touched down beside him.
“Wh–what is this…?”
Patrick stared wide-eyed at Dante, unharmed after the fall.
“Don’t tell me…”
Elaine, equally shocked, suddenly seemed to realize something.
“You’ve awakened your Stigmata?”
Avoiding their reach was one thing—but surviving a fall from that height unscathed?
It could only be explained if he had awakened.
“How…?”
Patrick, even more shocked than before, scrutinized Dante.
Then he let out a hollow laugh.
Now that he focused, he could sense it—an unmistakable, overwhelming aura of mana.
“Truly, you’ve awakened…”
His expression shifted from shock to disbelief. Dante averted his gaze slightly.
“You can ask Sir Milreon for the details.”
Explaining it himself was far too bothersome.
“So, you knew.”
“Lord Dante wished to keep it private.”
Milreon gave an awkward excuse. He didn’t apologize.
After all, his young lord’s will outweighed the feelings of senior knights.
“I see.”
Patrick and Elaine both nodded in understanding—though their surprise was far from settled.
Meanwhile, Dante paid no attention to their exchange.
Something far more important filled his sight.
That’s the sacred flame.
It was an amorphous substance, no larger than a fingertip.
The flame itself was faint, yet the divinity emanating from it was immense, overwhelming.
Dante felt as though he were standing before his father as he slowly approached.
Fwoosh—
Could it truly be the remnant of a god’s avatar?
The blue flame trembled, as though rejecting him.
But to Dante, it looked pitiful.
This feeling… not pleasant.
From the flame poured a profound sorrow and emptiness that struck deep into his chest.
I pity you.
With genuine sympathy, Dante reached out unconsciously.
It’s warm…
Contrary to his expectation of searing heat, it felt warm and gentle.
“Please wait! We don’t know what it is yet—caution is—”
Vmmmmm!
Just as Milreon stepped forward to shield him, the blue flame shot toward Dante like a bolt of light.
“Stop it!”
The three knights drew their swords in a flash and swung.
But it was too late.
The flame was faster than their blades.
And then—
Whoooosh!
It engulfed Dante.
“Lord Dante!”
Milreon cried out in horror.
But Dante couldn’t respond.
An overwhelming voice reverberated inside his head, irresistible.
【Worship.】
For mortals destined for death, it was a command impossible to refuse.
Though the flame had felt warm, its voice resembled a hellish inferno—burning, destructive, transcendent.
“Ghhh…!”
【Kneel. Bow your head. Accept your god.】
His legs trembled involuntarily.
Strength drained away as his knees bent toward the ground.
He tried to resist, to summon strength—but it was useless.
As if displeased by his defiance, the divine will pressed harder, tightening its grip on his body.
Crack, crackle!
His muscles and joints twisted with grotesque sounds.
Even his enhanced body couldn’t endure this overwhelming force.
And yet, Dante resisted.
Though the voice had stolen control of his body, it could not touch his mind.
【Ignorant one. I promise you glory. Submit!】
Boom!
A terrible force surged through him, from head to toe.
Flames roared, flooding into his mana circuits, threatening to burn him alive.
“Hrrgh!”
Dante’s eyes widened.
His organs felt like they were being incinerated into ash.
Never in this life—or the last—had he felt pain like this.
The blazing inferno rampaged inside him.
Even his resilient body couldn’t withstand the divine power, screaming in agony.
It felt as though his body was about to explode from within.
Dante clung desperately to his fading consciousness.
I… I must control it…
Though he didn’t know its nature, at its core it was still mana.
If he could control it, perhaps he could escape this cursed situation.
Snap—crackle!
But his mana circuits, already straining, began to tear apart.
“Kh-hhh!”
The pain was blinding, as though only annihilation lay at the end of resistance.
The unknown god’s will struck relentlessly, seeking to force his submission.
Yet—
Dante’s mind only grew sharper.
He did not fear the voice.
He did not despair at its threats.
He did not bow to its majesty.
He endured.
No matter how unbearable, he endured again and again.
I will not yield.
Even if broken, he would never kneel.
So Dante vowed.
【Impudent wretch!】
Perhaps it had not expected this.
The will roared with anger.
But the crushing pressure of before was gone—replaced instead with impatience.
Sensing this, Dante slowly moved his hand to the hilt of his sword.
Wooooooom—!
A sound like a beast’s roar reverberated.
I will not yield.
The sword forged through decades of hardship, right up until his death, stood firm in his heart.
Lofty, dignified, sublime.
I will cut you down.
That was what Dante did best.
Even if it was nothing more than a will, without form or body—
If I wish to cut, there is nothing I cannot cut.
He brought down the sword in his heart.
He had done this hundreds of thousands, millions of times.
No matter the agony, no matter how frayed his sanity, nothing could stop him from swinging his blade.
The sword, standing tall as though piercing the heavens, fell.
【Stop!】
The will cried out in panic.
It had sensed how threatening this inner blade truly was.
【I will grant you the world! With my power, I promise you dominion above all mortals!】
Nonsense.
A dead god could not grant such things.
And even if it could, Dante would never accept.
He sought only one thing—to see the end of the sword.
Ignoring its temptations, he let his blade fall.
Slash—!
He felt the sensation of cutting.
He had not cut a body.
He had merely severed the oppressive will that pressed upon him from head to toe.
But that was enough.
【Aaaaaaaaah!】
The nameless fire god’s lingering resentment and grief split in two, scattering back into the world like pale smoke from a dying fire.
Leaving no trace, hiding its existence completely.
“Haaah…”
Dante forced his trembling eyelids open.
Fwoosh—
Inside his body, he felt the gentle heat of the sacred flame.
No longer destructive or threatening.
It simply merged with his mana, circulating solemnly.
I’ve obtained it.
Though not in the way he expected, Dante had finally claimed the sacred flame within himself.
