Chapter 87….
Dante turned his gaze away from Veratis and looked up into the air.
A vast, endless void.
From that space, someone was slowly descending toward the ground.
No—“falling” wasn’t the right word.
It was more like swimming through water, graceful and unhurried.
It wasn’t exactly surprising. Dante had seen mages fly before, even back in the Principality.
What was surprising was the sheer power emanating from the figure.
“Vast…”
Even with Dante’s sharpened senses, he couldn’t begin to fathom the scale of that magic.
Veratis alone was already beyond imagination, yet the newcomer far surpassed even him.
“Dante… If you are the captain of Acracion, then you must be Sir Xenon’s son.”
Dante did not answer.
Instead, he carefully studied the speaker.
“A child…?”
At least in appearance. The figure looked barely sixteen or seventeen.
But it was only an appearance. The true age must have been dozens of times greater.
“Man… or woman?”
The gender was uncertain, the features highly androgynous.
Still, the long hair cascading down to the waist suggested a woman.
“Answer me, Dante. Is your father Sir Xenon Aquites?”
“And if he is?”
“Hoh—!”
The rebuke that burst forth carried the weight of countless years, completely at odds with the childish face it came from.
For some reason, Dante relaxed slightly, sensing an odd familiarity.
“I have bestowed countless favors upon your father, yet his spawn dares intrude upon my tower and behave so recklessly!”
At the words “my tower”, Dante’s brow twitched.
That could only mean—this child was the Tower Master.
“Good.”
He had already intended to demand answers. If the Tower Master herself stood before him, all the better.
“I did not come here as the heir of House Aquites.”
Even before the living mystery of the Tower Master, Dante stood tall and unbowed.
“I stand here as the Captain of Acracion, a knightly order of the Allied Army.”
“…And that makes a difference?”
The Tower Master sneered.
“Dante, son of Xenon. Dante of Acracion. Dante, foster son of Lucia.”
She spread both palms wide.
“The infinite begins from the one, and the one returns to infinity. You are nothing but yourself.”
Dante’s heart sank.
“Infinity… Don’t tell me she’s seen through my trait?”
His face stiffened as he spoke.
“That is different.”
“Oh?”
A spark of curiosity lit her eyes. It seemed she hadn’t expected him to deny her so firmly.
“And how is it different?”
“The heir of Aquites cannot stand against the might of the Tower. But the Captain of Acracion can.”
Dante locked his unwavering gaze onto hers.
“I am here for one reason only—to question the cause of the blood spilled upon the battlefield. So answer me, Tower Master.”
At last, the true question burst forth.
“When the people writhed in despair before calamity, bleeding and fighting for their lives—what were you doing?”
—Craaaackle!
The surrounding mages flared with mana, enraged that Dante would dare speak such blasphemy before their master.
The air felt ready to erupt into countless spells at any second.
But then—
The Tower Master lifted a hand. Instantly, the turbulent mana vanished as though it had never been.
“I understand the intent behind your question.”
Her gaze felt like it pierced straight into the abyss of his soul.
“Yet this is not the place for that answer.”
Dante frowned.
“Then…”
“Soon.”
Her single, quiet word silenced him.
“I will come to you myself and give you the answer you seek.”
That was the end of it.
The next moment, dizziness struck Dante as the world spun—suddenly he found himself outside the Tower.
He had been expelled.
“…Hah.”
Unbelievable.
To be cast out without even a single proper answer—he hadn’t expected that.
Even the shattered magic and broken doors had been restored to their original state.
Unwilling to leave it at that, Dante gripped Arpeon, ready to strike again—
But then—
A voice resounded within his mind:
—Restrain yourself. Only he who knows the time may truly save the world. Sheathe your sword and endure the weight of waiting. This is no retreat into ignorance, but a grace period for enlightenment.
After a moment of thought, Dante sighed softly and lowered his blade.
“Someone like the Tower Master would not lie.”
If he waited, she would come to him.
And if not, he would simply return here himself.
Dante put Arpeon away and turned.
In the distance, he saw his companions, all wearing worried faces.
But the people around them seemed completely unaware, as if nothing at all had happened.
“A perception block? Or memory manipulation?”
Whichever it was, the magic was astounding.
“Tch.”
Clicking his tongue, Dante strode back toward his group.
“Young master!”
Eina ran to him, eyes brimming with tears.
“I am unharmed.”
Dante patted her to reassure her. After all, nothing had truly happened—though that in itself was frustrating.
“…Did you get your answer?”
This time, Milleon asked cautiously.
Dante shook his head.
“I did not.”
Milleon’s lips tightened as he prepared to speak—but Dante cut him off.
“But soon.”
He recalled the Tower Master’s words.
“I believe I will hear it soon enough.”
In the not-so-distant future.
“For now, our tour of the Tower ends here. Let us move on.”
Though the commotion had been far from a “tour,” Dante paid it no mind.
“How about the Central Plaza clock tower?”
Milleon quickly suggested, leading the way.
“A grace period for enlightenment…”
Chewing on the Tower Master’s whisper, Dante followed behind.
Time passed quickly.
Aside from the day at the Tower, not a single problem arose, and their days were filled with joy.
Eina, thanks to that, gradually forgot her fear and enjoyed exploring the capital with Dante.
But such days could not last forever.
“It’s today…”
Eina lowered her head gloomily.
“We’ve had plenty of fun. Don’t be sad.”
“It’s not about that.”
What weighed on her was the parting with Dante.
She had followed him even into the battlefield, but entry into Littergut was impossible.
In the end, she had to return to the Marquisate with Acracion.
“It’s only a year.”
“I know, but still…”
She had waited four long years for Dante, her heart in constant turmoil.
Compared to that, a single year was little more than an extended vacation.
And inside Littergut, at the very heart of the Empire, what could possibly happen to Dante?
Besides, there would be breaks when they could see each other again. The wait wouldn’t be too long.
“Sir Milleon.”
“Worry not. We’ll look after her.”
Eina was beloved by all of Acracion.
Even Triciel had once disobeyed Dante’s orders and rammed into the Silver Obscura for her sake.
With them, her safety was almost guaranteed.
“Enough of the farewells. Come on, Captain, we’ll escort you to Littergut.”
Zionhac, who had spent their time in the capital drinking and laughing with the other knights, approached cheerfully.
But Dante shook his head.
“No.”
“Huh? Why not?”
Zionhac tilted his head, then smirked.
“Ahh, embarrassed, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Wha—really?”
Startled, Zionhac stammered, but Dante only tapped his shoulder and walked past.
“I enter Littergut not as a cadet, but as an instructor of swordsmanship. I need no send-off.”
Today was Littergut’s induction ceremony.
Naturally, cadets and their families would gather in great numbers.
Already, Dante’s youth would draw prejudice—if Acracion turned up to see him off, it would spark needless controversy.
“Wait, what?!”
Zionhac tried to follow him, but—
“Return to the Marquisate. That’s an order.”
Absolute hierarchy.
As Captain, Dante’s command could not be defied by his Vice-Captain.
Thus, Eina and Acracion had no choice but to say their farewells and leave the capital.
“…Hmm.”
Left alone, Dante checked his attire.
Unfortunately, his instructor’s uniform wasn’t ready.
Being so young, his outfit had to be custom-made.
For now, he had found something as close as possible.
A perfectly tailored black suit beneath a brown coat.
“No problem.”
Wearing spotless new clothes without a single wrinkle, Dante set off toward Littergut.
“…So many people.”
The induction ceremony was indeed one of the capital’s grandest events.
Once a year, the nobles and knights who would shape the Empire’s future all gathered.
Colorful banners hung across the streets, and the citizens’ cheers filled the air with feverish excitement.
Walking through the festival-like atmosphere, Dante steadied his pounding heart.
Littergut.
A place of both love and hatred.
This time, he would be entering under entirely different circumstances—yet his heart still beat violently.
“…Here we are.”
Before long, the grand silhouette of Littergut appeared before Dante’s eyes.
