Chapter 78….
The first to move was Dante.
As he slid his foot lightly across the ground, Arpheon thrust forward in a straight line.
A thrust like a flash of light.
The speed was so overwhelming that most knights wouldn’t even perceive it.
But his opponent was Zenon.
A supreme being—one of the very few across the entire continent who could cross blades with him as an equal.
Arcane, which had certainly been sheathed just moments ago, was suddenly raised to intercept Arpheon’s strike.
Kagagagagak—!
With a harsh metallic screech, Dante’s body, unable to overcome Zenon’s strength, brushed past him.
“Hoh.”
A small exclamation.
Zenon studied the traces left in the air by Dante’s sword.
Truly, a beautiful trajectory.
Dante’s swordsmanship had been impressive even when he once displayed it to learn from the Sword Empress, but—
Now it’s incomparable to back then.
He had suspected it the moment he learned Dante had achieved Stigmata Release.
The Dante before him now was on a completely different plane from the boy of five years ago.
But the gap between a mere hunch and direct experience was immense.
Could it be… the god of the sword is truly being reborn?
The half-joking words he once spoke now stood vividly before his eyes.
As Zenon slowly turned his body, Dante was already there, swinging his blade directly at his throat.
That too was admirable.
Not only the sword’s path, but also the judgment and decisiveness behind it were remarkable.
I’d heard rumors that he made quite an impact on the battlefield.
There was no hesitation.
He was fully aware of the meaning behind his actions.
From Dante’s blade emanated a conviction: I will cut you down.
How commendable.
If it were pure swordsmanship alone, he may already…
Zenon halted his thoughts and raised his sword upward in a strike.
Jjjeeeong—!
This time the sound was bright and clear, so pleasant it rang in the ears.
“Excellent.”
Zenon unconsciously praised Dante, then summoned his mana.
“Now, try to block my sword.”
It was the same strike as five years ago.
The last blow that Dante had barely deflected back then.
Gooooooohhhhhh—!
It was as if a giant’s massive blade were descending.
Kwaa-jik, kwajijik—!
Though it had yet to land, the ground beneath Dante’s feet began to crack like a spiderweb.
The sheer oppressive force made Dante grit his teeth.
What will you do?
Back then, he deflected the blow.
Every muscle in his body moved without pause, making microscopic adjustments, his nerves reacting moment by moment to find the optimal path.
At the most perfect point, he had unraveled the force behind Zenon’s strike.
Thus, Arcane slid harmlessly along Arpheon’s edge, like a droplet gliding across smooth glass.
Would it be the same this time?
Or would he show something different?
Zenon watched Dante with eyes full of anticipation.
And at last—
Dante’s sword moved.
…A horizontal slash?
Instead of rising upward, it swept from right to left.
A sword path that defied common sense.
But Zenon’s eyes widened.
And inwardly, he laughed.
This brat…
Dante wasn’t trying to block his sword.
No, he had no intention of blocking at all.
He had simply chosen the best method of victory in this situation.
Sacrifice flesh to cut bone.
Accept Arcane’s strike to instead slice Zenon’s throat.
It was not a duel’s etiquette, but a battlefield survival tactic.
Zenon had to admit it.
This is my defeat.
His descending strike would not kill Dante outright.
At most, it would sever an arm.
But Dante’s blade was aimed precisely at his neck.
An arm versus a neck.
If both swords struck simultaneously, anyone could see who the loser would be.
His thoughts showed on his face.
With a faint laugh, Zenon poured more mana into his blade and forcibly twisted its path.
He had no desire to lose his head while testing his son’s strength.
But just as Arcane shifted to block Arpheon—
Dante’s wrist spun.
“—Ha!”
From horizontal to vertical.
The change was so fluid and natural it was almost beautiful.
He got me good.
Dante had anticipated this very scenario from the beginning.
Not only his sword, but his instincts in combat allowed him to read several moves ahead.
Zenon smiled, a mix of shock, joy, and disbelief, as he stomped the ground.
“Fall back!”
Kwaaaaaang—!
The ground quaked violently, knocking Dante off balance.
With the ground unstable, there was no way to maintain his stance.
“Ugh…!”
In the end, Dante withdrew Arpheon and leapt back, opening the distance.
Watching him, Zenon finally spoke.
“I must ask you again.”
After a pause, he asked:
“What on earth have you been doing on the battlefield all this time?”
It had only been five years.
And yet Dante had become a monster.
To reach Stigmata Release, wield such refined swordsmanship, and not falter even against him—
In all the Empire, perhaps only a handful of knights could stand against him now.
It was unbelievable that all this had been achieved at the mere age of fifteen.
“I have learned many things.”
Dante shrugged as he answered.
Brief, yet it said everything.
“…It seems Princess Isabella holds you in high regard.”
“Not only Her Highness.”
Dante shook his head.
“One attendant, one soldier, one knight. Each was my teacher, each someone who granted me insight, and each someone I had to protect.”
Through that, Dante had learned countless things beyond words.
“I see.”
They were vague words, but Zenon understood exactly what Dante meant.
For he himself had once walked that same path.
Zenon lifted Arcane again.
“Then show me. I must see for myself what you’ve learned.”
“I’ll fight at full strength.”
“That is what I want.”
As Zenon nodded, Dante focused every fiber of his being into his blade.
In less than a tenth of a second, he entered the state of no-self.
Slowly, Arpheon rose.
Wooooooong—
The sword sang.
Arpheon, brimming with devastating power, roared as it vibrated in Dante’s grip.
And then—
Zenon saw it.
Dante’s will expanding without limit, blanketing the entire world.
So this is…
His innate attribute.
Not water, fire, wind, or earth.
Not even phenomenon itself.
But a conceptual attribute—Infinity.
“I see.”
Zenon recalled a rumor quietly spreading from the imperial palace.
That when Dante cut the Sword Empress’s chest, he declared:
[I am possibility.]
At the time, it was incomprehensible.
But now, he understood completely.
You can become anything.
A sight perfectly suited to an attribute of infinity.
Dante’s blade stretched endlessly, descending upon Zenon.
It was far beyond the giant’s strike Zenon had unleashed earlier—sublime, vast, and infinite in possibility.
Zenon couldn’t contain himself; he burst into laughter and raised Arcane.
“You’ve shown your true power, so in courtesy, I must show you mine.”
If Dante’s attribute was a limitless blade, then Zenon’s was—
Arcane moved.
A motion so simple, like swatting away a fly.
But—
In an instant, the world fell silent.
Arpheon’s roar.
Dante’s strike.
Even Milleon, watching from the side.
The sky, the earth, the trees, the birds, the insects.
All fell into [Silence].
Not a single sound remained.
In that stillness, Zenon’s sword sliced through space toward Dante.
――――――――――!!!!
It was as if the very lines connecting the world had been severed, as if all existence had stopped.
Ah…
Dante realized instinctively.
This was not a sword he could resist.
Not yet.
His infinite strike, which stretched endlessly, was helplessly cut down in this moment.
Arpheon howled in madness, but even that was swallowed by silence.
From wrist to arm to shoulder, the backlash of his shattered sword tore through him.
His body was flung through the air.
He clenched his teeth, trying to endure, but it was useless.
Dante crashed helplessly into the training hall’s wall.
Kwaaaaaang—!
Only then did the silence lift, as his body slumped downward.
“Phew…”
Zenon, watching him quietly, exhaled deeply.
“It’s been a long time since I used that… It takes quite the toll.”
When was the last time he had wielded such power?
He could hardly remember.
Even when keeping Caldrion of the North in check, he had not used it.
And yet he had unleashed it on a mere fifteen-year-old boy.
He was, once again, awed by Dante’s strength.
Then, with a sudden laugh, Zenon shook his head.
“So this is how Her Highness must have felt.”
His gaze dropped to his right arm, the one holding Arcane.
Drip, drip.
Scarlet drops fell.
The wound wasn’t deep.
But the fact that he was injured at all was the problem.
Even while being cut apart in silence, Dante’s sword had still reached him.
If this were to be revealed, the world would turn upside down.
Looking at his unconscious son slumped against the wall, Zenon spoke:
“Today, I concede defeat. I acknowledge that your blade has reached the same height as mine.”
With those words, he turned and left the training hall.
Only Milleon remained, staring slack-jawed at Dante, who lay collapsed and unconscious.
