Chapter 82…..
The training grounds were noisy.
But it wasn’t anything unusual for today.
Acracion always trained diligently, and watching them stirred the Silver Cross Knights to join in as well.
The subtle tension between the two groups spurred them on, creating an excellent synergy.
“Ah, Captain!”
“You’ve arrived.”
“Sir Dante.”
Those in the midst of training quickly noticed Dante stepping onto the grounds and greeted him respectfully.
“Here to train? How’s your body holding up?”
Zionhark approached quietly and asked.
After all, it was only yesterday that Dante had collapsed from injury and regained consciousness. Worry was only natural.
“I’m fine.”
Dante rolled his shoulders casually, showing he was perfectly well.
“That’s good to hear… but, uh, who’s that redhead back there with the nasty look?”
Zionhark whispered into his ear, even though he knew full well that a knight’s hearing wouldn’t miss it anyway.
“He’s the knight who will be helping me with my test today.”
“…Test?”
Zionhark looked puzzled.
“I applied for the position of swordsmanship instructor at Rittergut.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain the details later. For now, clear the area.”
Dante had no intention of dragging out the test.
Zionhark still looked confused, but he quickly sensed something interesting was about to happen.
“Hey, everyone clear out! The Captain’s about to do something!”
At his shout, Acracion dispersed like a receding tide to the edges of the arena, and the Silver Cross Knights soon followed suit after gauging the situation.
The grounds fell quiet.
At the center stood Dante.
“More spectators than I expected,” Albert said, stepping forward.
“If it’s uncomfortable, I can send them all away.”
“No, no. That’s not what I meant.”
Albert waved his hand and smiled brightly.
“On the contrary, I welcome it. To show my sword before the famed Acracion and the Silver Cross Knights—what an opportunity.”
But there was danger in his eyes.
If Dante were truly a fifteen-year-old boy, he might have missed it, dismissing Albert as just a cheerful and bright man.
But Dante was a veteran who had spent decades on the battlefield.
He had seen that same expression, that same gaze, countless times before.
“You.”
Dante spoke quietly.
“You intend to kill me.”
Albert’s friendly smile twisted into something chilling.
“Such frightening words. I’m merely here to serve as your test opponent, nothing more.”
It was obvious.
Albert had come to avenge his younger brother.
Or perhaps to restore the honor of his disgraced family.
After all, in the Bellast family, blood ties meant little.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Albert answered lightly.
Dante nodded, extending his hand to the side.
“Then let’s consider it that way.”
“Here!”
Tricielle hurried over and placed Arpeon in his hand.
“Good work.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
She gave a sheepish laugh, glanced around quickly, then stepped back.
“Whatever it is, good luck, Captain!”
Her silly cheer rang out.
“Acracion really does have a good atmosphere,” Albert remarked.
“We’re comrades who’ve protected each other’s lives.”
“I envy that. My own comrades are rather stiff.”
“Crimson Veil tends to be that way.”
“…How did you know?”
Since Lionel had been ruined, the position of Crimson Veil’s captain had been vacant.
But it couldn’t remain so forever. The Bellast family would never hand that role to an outsider.
Which meant—
“I guessed.”
Dante didn’t bother explaining further.
“As expected, you’re perceptive.”
Albert spoke in a tone that was half-mockery, half-compliment, and drew his sword.
Srrrng—
As befit the heir of a high noble house, his blade was extraordinary. A weapon that could rightly be called a treasure.
“Then shall we begin the test?”
His eyes now brimmed with killing intent.
Dante met his gaze squarely and drew Arpeon.
Srrng—
As the two stood poised with drawn swords, Rubrik, who had been observing, spoke up.
“The test will last ten minutes. If Sir Dante withstands without injury, he will be deemed qualified.”
“Ten minutes…”
Far too long.
“How about one minute?”
“…What?”
Rubrik’s eyes widened.
“If I defeat Albert within one minute, will that also count as a pass?”
“W-Well, of course, but…”
The idea was absurd.
Albert was Crimson Veil’s captain and a recognized swordsmanship instructor of Rittergut.
To defeat him in under a minute?
Rubrik almost wondered if Dante had gone mad from his time on the warfront.
“Then let’s do that.”
Rubrik, flustered, backed away to open space.
“If—if you’re ready, begin!”
At his cry—
Whoosh—
Albert kicked off the ground lightly and charged.
“You said one minute?”
His voice now dripped with murderous intent.
“Let’s see if a man whose tendons were all cut can truly say that.”
As expected.
Dante watched the killing edge of Albert’s sword and thrust Arpeon forward.
Clang! Clang-clang!
A blow that could have cleaved a boulder in two—stopped dead in the air.
Albert’s eyes went wide.
He had never imagined his strike could be blocked so easily.
Dante looked him straight in the eye.
“Some people refuse to accept the truth, even when the proof is plain.”
He was speaking of Lionel.
“You came here despite having no more skill than your brother. Was it arrogance? Or disbelief?”
With a flick of his wrist, Dante sent Albert’s sword flying upward.
Crash—!
His chest lay wide open.
“I’ve long heard of the Bellast family’s crimes. So I dealt Lionel the punishment he deserved.”
Arpeon sliced the air.
Ssst—!
A long red line split across Albert’s chest.
“Urgh!”
Startled by the searing pain, Albert staggered back.
But Dante wasn’t one to miss such clumsy movement.
With just a step, he closed the distance to zero and slashed upward from below.
Ssshhhk—!
“Aaaagh!”
A cross-shaped wound carved into his chest.
Blood streamed freely from the deep gashes.
“Showing me killing intent without any remorse for your sins—”
Whoosh, whoosh!
Arpeon blurred with invisible speed, tearing Albert’s body apart.
Blood sprayed. Flesh flew.
His screams echoed.
“You’ve given me ample cause to teach you as well.”
Crack—!
Arpeon pulsed with immense magic and pierced straight through Albert’s abdomen.
“Etch the same lesson as your brother into your flesh.”
Kwooong—!
An explosion.
Magic detonated inside Albert’s belly, shredding his mana circuits to pieces.
No further screams came.
The agony had gone beyond what any human could endure; his mind simply shut down.
Slick—
Arpeon slid free, stained with Bellast’s filthy blood and fat.
Dante swung it once to fling away the foul traces.
Thud—
Albert collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
Silence.
The sudden carnage left everyone speechless.
Calmly sheathing Arpeon, Dante turned to Rubrik.
The man’s eyes quivered with terror.
Fear filled him, more than he could hide.
“So?”
Dante asked coolly.
“Has a minute passed?”
“Th-that is…”
Reflexively, Rubrik checked the time.
Then shook his head.
“F-Forty-two seconds.”
“Good. I didn’t go over.”
He could have finished in a single strike, but he had taken extra time to impart the same lesson as Lionel.
“Is… Sir Albert dead?”
“He lives.”
Though from now on, calling him a knight—let alone an instructor—would be a stretch.
Relieved, Rubrik let out a shaky breath. But then Dante asked:
“Would you say I’ve proven my qualifications?”
The original condition: ten minutes against a current instructor, without so much as a scratch.
Dante had not only met it—he had vastly surpassed it.
Not ten minutes, not even one.
Just forty-two seconds.
Rubrik swallowed hard, then met Dante’s icy gaze. Quickly, he nodded.
He had no choice.
If he had shaken his head instead, he feared that sword would be pointed at him next.
“Yes. Sir Dante’s qualifications have been fully proven.”
“Good.”
A smile appeared on Dante’s lips.
“Then I can now become Rittergut’s swordsmanship instructor?”
“With the Imperial Family’s approval, it should be… p-possible.”
The Imperial Family…
Dante thought of Emperor Aizen.
He would not refuse.
No, he couldn’t.
A ten-year-old genius who had even wounded the Sword Empress was offering to personally train cadets.
A pragmatic emperor would never waste such a chance.
“Excellent.”
Dante smiled in satisfaction.
