Chapter 37…
Silence.
The roars and screams that had been so deafening were gone.
Instead, the earth, stained red with blood, exhaled hot steam, heating the air around it.
Though the ground was littered with monster blood and torn flesh, creating a nauseating sight, Isabella paid it no mind.
Thud—!
Her white sword, which had reaped the lives of countless monsters, was driven into the blood-soaked earth.
“Are you all right?”
At the familiar voice from behind, Isabella turned her head.
It was Arthur.
His entire body was drenched in blood, and he was gasping for breath.
“I’m fine. Unlike you, that is.”
At her words, Arthur groaned and shook his head.
He knew she was teasing him, but he couldn’t argue back.
“Is everything cleared out?”
“Windgale and Palantium are handling the rest. With those two knight orders, whatever comes out will be dealt with.”
His voice sounded sulky.
That look of his was amusing.
Normally, Isabella would have burst out laughing.
But not now.
She couldn’t laugh.
Too many soldiers had lost their lives.
How many was it again?
She recalled the report before they set out: around twenty squads had been wiped out.
That meant over ten thousand men.
In just a few hours of battle, more than ten thousand precious lives were lost.
They had all been the sharp swords of the Duchy, its sturdy shields, and its treasured people.
How could she possibly laugh in the face of such deaths?
“Anyway, this large-scale invasion was successfully repelled. We’ve slain well over a hundred thousand monsters.”
Reading Isabella’s expression, Arthur slipped in a positive report.
“That’s fortunate.”
They had overcome an enemy force more than five times their size and achieved victory.
Even if it was a pyrrhic one, victory was still far better than defeat.
“Asking for the Mage Corps was a masterstroke.”
“That was Sir Dante’s foresight. Honestly, I thought it was just an exaggeration…”
Arthur let out a dry laugh, remembering the moment.
“To think they’d wipe out a third of the enemy in a single strike.”
The greatest contributor to this victory was the Mage Corps.
Without them, their casualties would have been several times higher.
But one overwhelming strike of magical firepower had turned the tide of battle.
“Indeed.”
Isabella nodded.
If not for Dante’s insistent demands, she would never have requested support from the Mage Corps.
They were the Empire’s core strategic weapon.
No matter how dire the situation, she hadn’t thought the Emperor would ever grant permission.
But after three years of persistent requests, approval was finally given.
“It’s truly fortunate.”
Isabella thought of Dante.
“How did that boy even think of the Mage Corps?”
“Heir of the Aquites family—he must know many things,” Arthur answered reasonably.
But Isabella wasn’t convinced that was all.
When Dante had come to the Duchy, he was only ten.
Far too young to grasp the realities of war.
His extraordinary swordsmanship was one thing, but this was different.
Yet from the very beginning, Dante had constantly spoken of the Mage Corps, as if anticipating exactly this.
“By the way, Sir Dante is truly remarkable. I’d only heard rumors, but seeing him…”
Arthur’s voice, tinged with admiration, caught Isabella’s attention.
“Right?”
For the first time, she allowed herself a small smile.
“How could someone his age possess such skill?”
If the Mage Corps had overturned the battle, Dante had laid the foundation for victory.
He had taken the head of Gorgos.
In human terms, it was equivalent to slaying the enemy’s supreme commander.
“Gorgos was never an easy foe.”
Isabella’s eyes grew serious.
Gorgos was no ordinary monster.
He was a calamity.
An existence so dangerous that even entire knight orders risked annihilation against him.
Yet a thirteen-year-old boy had severed his head. Alone.
It felt utterly unreal.
“Though he had Acrassion’s support, I never thought he’d be strong enough to face even Gorgos.”
“It’s not so surprising. That child has already awakened his Trait—and is looking beyond, toward the next realm.”
“…Already?”
Arthur’s eyes widened at Isabella’s words.
He was more shocked by this than by Dante slaying Gorgos.
Because he knew exactly what she meant.
“T-that’s impossible, isn’t it?”
“It is possible. I still find it hard to believe myself.”
“The Liberation of the Stigmata…”
Arthur let out a hollow laugh, sounding like an old man.
“Has there ever been a precedent?”
“None.”
Isabella shook her head without hesitation.
Then she added,
“And there never will be again. Except for someone like Dante.”
“I still remember what he said when he first came to the Duchy.”
“What was it?”
“He said he didn’t want to become a flower in a greenhouse.”
A dry chuckle escaped her.
Despite the childish words, Dante’s expression back then had been deadly serious.
“He said his dream was to see the end of the sword. That he’d risk any danger to achieve it.”
At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it.
Such aspirations were common among those who took up the blade.
But once he arrived in the Duchy, Dante never wasted a single day.
He tried everything possible to make his dream reality.
“I’ve never seen him let go of his sword.”
From the very first day until now, Dante had always been swinging his blade.
When traveling from the Empire to the Duchy.
While waiting in the royal fortress for the monster waves.
When the war began and he was thrown into battle almost daily.
Even when injured and unable to move properly.
Even after joining Acrassion and becoming its commander.
Not once did he rest.
“Yes, that child is a genius.”
Isabella said it firmly.
A genius.
A talent bestowed by heaven.
By that definition, no one fit the word more than Dante.
“But talent alone cannot explain him.”
For Dante, the sword was life itself.
Even Isabella, called the Sword Empress, could not match his obsession with the blade.
That was why it was possible.
Awakening the Stigmata.
Blooming his Trait.
And now, approaching the Liberation of the Stigmata.
Measured by the narrow confines of age, Dante was far too vast.
“Do you really think it’s possible?”
“Well, it won’t be easy.”
Perhaps finished with her rest, Isabella pulled her sword from the ground, slid it into its sheath, and shrugged.
“As you know, most knights never reach the Liberation of the Stigmata.”
“That’s true.”
Even Arthur had barely achieved it after decades of honing his sword, and only with Isabella’s help.
So even for Dante, it wouldn’t be easy.
“Maybe it’ll take five years, ten years. Or maybe he’ll surpass it today. Who knows?”
Isabella turned her gaze westward.
The sun was sinking below the horizon, painting the land red, dust clouds rising over the battlefield.
“Looks like it’s finally over.”
Windgale and Palantium.
The two knight orders that had finished clearing the remaining monsters were returning.
“Let’s prepare to head back as well.”
Bathed in the setting sun, Isabella looked less like a sovereign ruler and more like a noble knight.
What is the sword?
It was the obsession that had dominated Dante’s mind for decades.
A sharpened piece of steel.
The most perfect weapon granted to humans by God.
A tool for killing—what more explanation is needed?
The pride of a knight, their honor, the vessel of their lord’s will.
He had asked countless people, and heard countless answers.
But none had touched his heart.
They were just empty words.
What is the sword to me?
Shhhhhh—!
The blade of Arpeon traced a beautiful curve, flowing with the grain of the air.
He didn’t know.
The more he sought an answer, the less he understood.
Perhaps he would never know, even in this lifetime.
Yet still—
I want to see the end.
Just how far could his sword reach?
Swish, swish, swish—!
His sword strikes, once slow enough for a child to imitate, grew faster and faster.
Murmurs rose around him.
Dante ignored them.
He’d experienced this countless times in the past three years.
He focused only on this moment.
Hum—.
Arpeon let out a low cry, resonating with the natural flow of mana.
Like this? Hm, perhaps like this…
Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of swings.
And yet Dante still felt lacking.
He controlled even the smallest muscle fibers and nerves, endlessly adjusting his body to carve a more perfect sword path.
Rumble—!
The air around him howled louder and louder.
And then suddenly—
Ah. This must be it.
He found the trajectory that fit him perfectly.
Good.
He liked it.
Of course, after a few battles, he would surely find things to fix again.
But for now, he was satisfied.
“Phew—.”
Smiling faintly, Dante lowered his sword.
At the same time—
“What did I just see?”
“I’d heard the rumors, but…”
“This makes me feel worthless.”
Unfamiliar voices reached his ears.
Similar to usual reactions, yet somehow different.
As Dante sheathed Arpeon and turned, he saw a group of knights.
Palantium.
And Eisen Granado.
They looked at Dante with faces full of awe, shock, and disbelief.
“Perhaps…”
Eisen spoke, polite yet provocative.
“May I test my sword against yours, Sir Dante?”
