Chapter 6 …
The deep concentration he had been immersed in suddenly snapped apart.
“Ah…”
A faint noise.
Dante felt the lingering afterglow of his sword fade as he turned his head.
Sir Milleon.
It was his young mentor, staring at him wide-eyed, mouth agape.
From the look on his face, it seemed Milleon had more or less realized the level of the sword strike Dante had just unleashed.
That wasn’t strange.
In less than ten years, Milleon would come to be known as the First Knight of the family—someone with overwhelming talent.
Though he had yet to achieve full bloom, his eyes would have seen countless things in Dante’s sword.
“Lord Dante… what in the world was that?”
Had he sensed Dante’s gaze?
Milleon snapped back to his senses and stammered as he approached.
“It’s just a sword strike. I was merely loosening up on my own.”
Just a sword strike? Loosening up?
Milleon shook his head violently.
What Dante had just shown could never be dismissed so lightly.
It was indeed a simple slash without intent or will behind it.
Yet it was anything but ordinary.
Even watching from behind was enough to make one’s mind grow hazy from the sheer profundity of it.
Milleon had felt something similar once before.
My lord’s sword.
Strictly speaking, it was somewhat different.
His lord’s sword was perfected—something only “flawless” could describe. Dante’s, however, was rougher, freer in nature.
Not like a path measured with a ruler, but more like a flow that followed the heart.
Yet the vastness he felt from it was by no means inferior.
If anything, it was deeper, higher, more boundless.
At least, that was how Milleon felt.
Which only made his doubt greater.
Is this even possible?
It wasn’t just unrealistic. It was impossible.
For someone at that age to have reached such a realm…
It was a sight Milleon could not comprehend.
“But you came out early.”
Dante lowered his sword, trying to change the subject.
If Milleon asked him how it was possible, Dante had no real answer.
What could he say? That he had died and awakened in the past?
“That’s not what matters right now! Where did you learn such a sword?”
Of course, his diversion didn’t work.
The shock Milleon had experienced was far too great to be dismissed with such a shallow excuse.
“Hm.”
Dante furrowed his brow.
What should he answer?
A flood of thoughts rushed through his mind, but no suitable reply emerged.
In the end, there was only one option.
“I don’t know.”
He would have to feign ignorance.
“You… don’t know?”
“Yes. I was just swinging my sword, that’s all.”
Embarrassing as it was, Dante decided to brazen it out.
No matter what Milleon asked, he would simply insist, I have no idea.
After all, Milleon was a knight of the household.
If Dante said so, he had little choice but to accept it.
Yet Milleon’s expression twisted strangely.
As though he had reached some grave conclusion.
What?
Was his answer really something so serious?
Dante’s eyes flicked sideways, and Milleon spoke with a resolute look.
“Very well. I will report this matter separately.”
Report?
To whom?
And what exactly?
This time Dante’s face showed his confusion.
“It seems your talent far exceeds the vessel I possess.”
“W–wait.”
He stammered, caught off guard.
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean that I am unfit to teach you. It would be better if the Commander himself instructed you directly.”
This was completely unexpected.
That Milleon would declare his own resignation?
Of course, in Dante’s previous life he had learned both the basics and advanced forms of swordsmanship from him.
And now, Dante had long since surpassed him.
So technically, he didn’t need to learn swordsmanship from Milleon again.
But that would be the same no matter who the teacher was.
At Dante’s current level, there was no knight alive who could truly teach him.
Even Xenon himself would fall short.
Dante was not at the stage of being taught by his father—he was at the stage of discussing the nature of the sword itself.
And yet, this rattled him.
The sword isn’t all I need to learn.
What he craved even more was the use of mana.
And if there was anyone in the family most adept at mana control, it was none other than Xenon Equites.
He was the Empire’s Sword, and apart from the Four Martial Saints, one of the world’s strongest knights.
And right behind him stood Milleon.
No other knight in the household came close.
In fact, even searching the entire Empire, few could rival Milleon’s talent with mana.
It was from him Dante needed guidance to grow faster.
And now, that chance was about to slip away.
No. I can’t let this happen.
“I refuse. It must be you, Sir Milleon.”
“…Excuse me?”
Milleon blinked, clearly flustered by the unexpected reply.
“I appreciate your high opinion of me, but… why insist on me?”
At this point, they barely had any relationship.
They weren’t formally teacher and student, nor did they meet often.
He was simply a promising young knight of the household, and Dante was the heir.
Nothing more.
So why say it had to be him?
Realizing his words sounded odd, Dante quickly added,
“Because you’re closest to me in age. I think I could learn from you more comfortably.”
Not a very convincing reason.
“But more importantly, my father must have had good reason to appoint you as my mentor.”
“Hm.”
Thankfully, that excuse seemed to work.
Milleon nodded slightly.
Whew.
Dante sighed in relief inwardly.
I can’t let this slip away.
Learning mana control from Milleon was crucial.
But even more important was winning Milleon himself.
A man destined to become one of the household’s greatest knights—a comrade worth entrusting his back to.
“Understood. My skills may be lacking, but I will do my best.”
Got him!
Invoking his father’s authority had worked.
“Then, could you show me your sword once more? If I am to instruct you, I must know your true level.”
It was just like the physical test the day before.
“Very well.”
Without hesitation, Dante raised his sword.
Hooo—
With a deep breath, the blade moved.
The exact same path as before unfolded, flawlessly.
Identical in every detail, yet still free.
Like a fish swimming through water, the sword cut through the air.
At times sharp and straight, at times smooth and curved.
Slow, yet infinite—the sword carved its mark upon the world.
Milleon watched silently, lips pressed tight.
This time he did not interrupt with idle words.
He simply watched, his expression one of awe, from beginning to end.
Time passed.
At last, the sword halted, pointing to the sky.
“Ah…”
Only then did Milleon exhale a suppressed gasp.
Fortunately, he refrained from blurting something foolish this time.
Instead, he said,
“Lord Dante… you are a genius. No, without a doubt.”
No twelve-year-old could wield such a sword.
Especially not one who had only just held a real blade yesterday.
There was only one explanation.
A genius.
A talent bestowed by the heavens.
“Is that so?”
Dante replied flatly.
He had heard such praise endlessly in his previous life.
And he knew better than anyone how meaningless it could be.
“To be honest… I doubt I can teach you anything.”
What could he possibly offer?
The basics of swordsmanship? The Imperial forms? The knight order’s secret techniques?
None of those surpassed what Dante had just shown.
If anything, it was Milleon who felt he should be asking Dante for instruction.
“No. There is something you must teach me.”
Dante shook his head firmly.
“I need the ability to properly wield mana.”
“Ah—mana!”
Milleon’s eyes lit up.
He might not match Dante in swordsmanship, but in mana, he could teach.
In fact, it was his specialty.
“That, I can do.”
Relief spread across his face, glad to have a way to help.
“Truly?”
“Yes. We’ll begin with basic breathing techniques to sense mana. After that, you can learn proper operational formulas from the Commander himself, and gradually progress…”
He quickly began laying out a plan.
It was as if he had thought it all through beforehand, for he spoke without pause.
Tch.
Dante clicked his tongue inwardly.
He admired the passion, but Milleon was mistaken.
“…And once you reach a certain stage, you’ll be ready to awaken your Stigma. With your talent, I believe you could do so within three years. Perhaps even two.”
Two years.
A ridiculously short time by Milleon’s reckoning, considering Xenon himself had awakened his Stigma at thirteen.
That he dared to shorten the timeframe was only because of the sword Dante had just shown.
He must have judged Dante’s talent to surpass even Xenon’s.
But he was wrong.
“I’ve already awakened my Stigma.”
“At… at twelve years old? That’s unheard of across the entire continent—wait, what?”
Clearly, he hadn’t heard properly.
“I awakened it two days ago. So what I need isn’t to feel mana, but to learn how to use the mana already within me.”
Milleon’s face went blank.
“Perhaps you’re mistaken. The Stigma doesn’t manifest that way.”
It wasn’t unreasonable to doubt.
It defied all common sense.
How could someone awaken their Stigma without even beginning basic breathing to sense mana?
He was convinced Dante was simply confused.
So Dante decided to show him.
He released a fraction of the mana covering his heart.
Threads of energy unfurled, declaring their presence.
Fwoooosh—!
The air surged.
A storm of mana.
Milleon’s eyes bulged wider than when he had seen Dante’s sword.
The disbelief in his gaze gave way to uncontrollable trembling.
Dante, clumsy with mana, imbued it into his sword.
The nameless blade let out a cry.
Not a clear ring, but the roar of a wild beast.
Because Dante’s control over mana was still infantile.
“Hrk!”
Mana, though unrefined, fused with his perfected swordsmanship.
The result: a strike of devastating power that split the air.
KWA-RA-RA-RA-RA-RA-RA-RA-RA—!
A deep scar was carved into the training ground’s solid floor.
As if a dragon’s savage claw had raked across it.
“Now you understand. I’ve awakened my Stigma. What I need is the ability to properly control this power.”
“…My god.”
Milleon’s voice trembled with reverence more than fear.
“What are you, Lord Dante?”
Incomprehensible.
Beyond common sense.
Utterly unreal.
That was the only way to describe the Dante Milleon had witnessed today.
