Chapter 77….
“It’s thanks to the knight you took from me.”
The knight he took?
Then…
“Don’t tell me, Sir Patrick?”
Milleon, Elaine, Patrick.
Those three knights had originally been part of the Silver Cross Order.
But the first two were now with Acracion, and Patrick had not returned to his original affiliation.
To help Dante, he had remained at the mansion, handling countless affairs.
Dante still didn’t consider Patrick fully his man, but it seemed Xenon had already decided that Patrick had shifted his allegiance.
“That’s right.”
Xenon nodded and continued.
“He pressed me relentlessly through letters. So I departed a little earlier.”
“Ah…”
“And the reason I was able to arrive at just the right time without being late—it was thanks to Patrick.”
Dante tilted his head, not understanding. Xenon explained further.
“This dawn, he came to me covered in blood. It was a miracle he was alive at all.”
Dante’s expression stiffened.
Come to think of it, Sierra had reported it—she said contact with Patrick had been cut off.
Hadn’t Dante ordered her to track him down?
“I also saw a knight of Acracion. Without that one, Patrick would have surely died.”
Fortunately, Sierra must have found and rescued him in time.
“After hearing his story, I realized the situation was turning dire. So I rode ahead alone.”
Xenon answered Dante’s question.
But instead of expressing gratitude, Dante asked something else.
“Are the two of them safe?”
His first concern was for them.
His face was filled with worry, and he looked ready to run straight to them.
Xenon stared quietly at him, then let out a faint smile.
“Keep being that way.”
“…Excuse me?”
“That sincerity will one day save your life.”
With those cryptic words, Xenon turned his back.
“Rest now. I’ll take care of what remains.”
The bitter entanglement spanning two lifetimes—
At last, it had reached its end.
Dante looked quietly at Lucia’s corpse, then turned away.
The chaos in the mansion was quickly brought under control, thanks to Xenon and the Silver Cross Order returning from campaign.
Their first action upon arrival was a purge.
Officials who had been swayed by Lucia’s honeyed words while Xenon was away confessed their crimes and begged for mercy—but the swords of the knights bearing the silver cross showed none.
Seventy percent of the officials who had survived the chaos were beheaded.
This left a gaping hole that threatened to cripple estate management.
But as though already prepared, Xenon brought in new talents to fill the vacancies.
Though the replacements came with lightning speed, there was no disorder. In fact, the new officials worked more efficiently and reliably than before.
The rapid restoration of order was thanks to them.
However, rebuilding the mansion itself would take time. Such a massive structure could not be restored in a matter of days.
So Dante, Acracion, and the other survivors stayed in a temporary residence.
“All prisoners have been transferred.”
While Dante was loosening up in the training yard, Milleon approached with a brief report.
“How many again?”
“Twelve in total.”
He referred to the knights of Silver Obscura.
Most had resisted Acracion and died fighting.
The twelve who were captured were too wounded to even wield a sword.
They had been kept in a makeshift prison until today, when they were handed over to investigators dispatched from the capital.
“Did we get anything out of them?”
“Nothing at all.”
Milleon shook his head.
The Silver Obscura hadn’t spoken a single word.
Their loyalty was closer to faith—fanaticism, even.
Even under brutal interrogation, they didn’t utter so much as a groan.
“Perhaps it will be different in the capital.”
There were sorcerers there. Masters of countless mysteries—surely they had ways. Perhaps even spells that could force confessions.
“I hope they can uncover something.”
Dante muttered while finishing his stretches.
“I’ve never heard of the name Crimson Creed.”
Milleon, starting his own exercises, added:
“Nor have I.”
Dante had only vaguely heard of it in his past life, never realizing it was them.
“What on earth were they after…?”
He understood Lucia had used the cult to seize the family, probably intending to oust Dante and pass power to her two children.
But that was merely part of the process—the real objective lay elsewhere.
Lucia’s words had implied as much.
The problem was, Dante had no clue what it was.
He searched his memories, looking for any clue.
Had there been an incident that could serve as a hint?
Nothing came to mind—except the occasional battlefield encounter with beings resembling Lucia.
But beyond that, no leads.
“We’ll learn in time.”
Suppressing his curiosity, Dante wrapped up his training.
“Hoo—.”
As he breathed out, Milleon looked at him with admiration.
“How is it possible to keep up martial forms for so long, like you do?”
Dante had repeated grueling motions for over two hours.
Even Zionhark could barely last thirty minutes—yet Dante endured, proof his body was beyond human limits.
“You just keep doing it.”
He smiled faintly, offering the only answer he could.
There was no secret—just years, decades, a lifetime of repetition until even the impossible became possible.
It was a harsh and arduous path, but there was no other.
Milleon gave a wry laugh. It was always the same question, and always the same answer.
“Understood.”
He knew Dante never lied.
He always meant what he said—and Milleon trusted that fully.
So his only duty was to keep repeating, keep training, just as Dante said.
One day, he would move like Dante.
No matter how long it took.
“What of the others?”
Dante drew Arpheon and assumed stance, ready for sword practice.
“They’re running to build stamina.”
Endurance, eh…
Clearly, the last battle had made them realize their weakness.
On the Crimson Night, they had tired far too quickly.
Meanwhile, Dante had shown no sign of fatigue, despite fighting in the same battlefield.
They couldn’t tolerate falling behind, not even in stamina.
Especially when some of them had trained two to four times longer than Dante.
So since coming here, Acracion had been pushing themselves in endurance training every day.
“Good.”
After all, stamina was never wasted.
It was the foundation of survival on the battlefield—the strength to swing a sword one more time.
So Dante was pleased to see them training on their own.
Just then, as he raised Arpheon into high guard with a satisfied smile—
“Lord Dante.”
Milleon, who had been controlling his muscles through martial exercises, suddenly called to him.
Dante broke concentration and turned to look.
“He comes.”
Milleon straightened and pointed.
Dante followed his gaze with a puzzled look.
“…Father?”
At the far end of the training yard, Xenon was slowly walking toward them.
It was the first time he had set foot in the yard since they’d been here.
Surprised, Dante stepped up beside Milleon.
“You were training, I see.”
“Yes.”
Xenon’s gaze shifted between Dante’s face and sword.
His expression was serious, and the air grew tense.
After a long silence, Xenon finally spoke.
“It’s been a while. I’d like to see.”
Again, his words were clipped, but Dante understood immediately.
“It would be my honor.”
Shhhk—
Arpheon moved, pointing toward Xenon.
Milleon’s eyes widened, and he quietly moved aside.
He realized—the father and son were about to cross blades.
Excitement and tension lit up his face.
On one side, the Empire’s Sword, the pinnacle of knighthood.
On the other, a genius so transcendent he might not even be human.
Who would win?
Objectively, Xenon was favored.
Ask a hundred men, and all a hundred would predict his victory.
Milleon thought so too.
And yet—
Lord Dante…
Deep down, he hoped Dante would win.
For Dante was his liege.
The one who walks ahead, and the one who follows behind.
What would their swords reveal?
As Milleon watched with pounding heart, he blinked—
Craaaash—!
Dante and Xenon.
Arpheon and Arcane.
The pinnacles of House Aquites passed each other in a single clash.
