Chapter 7 …
No mere word like genius could ever describe such an existence.
That was what Milleon thought.
Perhaps he isn’t even human…
A human couldn’t possibly be like this.
The absurd thought flashed through his mind, and Milleon quickly shook his head to rid himself of the nonsense.
I saw it with my own eyes.
Back when he himself was still a child, just a seedling.
Milleon had witnessed the very moment Dante was born.
That day had been both joyful and tragic at once, a memory he could never forget.
So yes—Dante was undoubtedly human.
Just… incomprehensibly far removed from anything resembling ordinary.
“Your words are a little…”
Dante frowned, staring at him with an expressionless face.
Ah!
He had let his tongue slip, overwhelmed by what he had just seen.
To say, What kind of being are you?
That was not something one should say to the person to whom he would one day dedicate his sword.
“My apologies. I spoke out of turn.”
Milleon quickly bowed his head in repentance.
“No need to apologize.”
In truth, Dante wasn’t offended.
On the contrary—he found it rather amusing to see Milleon so shocked.
“You’ll be able to teach me well, won’t you?”
At the blunt question, Milleon almost burst into laughter.
Teach him well?
Honestly, even if Dante were handed over to any random knight on the street, he’d probably continue to grow without stopping.
That was the kind of talent Milleon had just witnessed.
So exceptional, so overwhelming, that the sheer weight of it pressed heavily on his chest.
“Of course.”
But if he was to teach him, then it would be properly.
No shortcuts, only the royal road—the true path of the sword.
And that was precisely Milleon’s area of expertise.
“I will give it my utmost.”
“That’s enough.”
Dante nodded.
“Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and deliver this joyful news to our lord.”
How pleased would Xenon be to hear that his ten-year-old son had awakened his Stigmata?
Just imagining his master’s satisfaction made Milleon restless.
“No, leave it.”
But Dante stopped him.
“…Pardon?”
“Father already knows.”
Milleon blinked, confused, and Dante continued.
“Yesterday’s sword-bestowal ceremony was merely a formality to confirm it once again.”
“Ah…”
Now that he thought about it, it had been odd.
Unlike what had originally been planned, Xenon had ended the ceremony right after seeing Dante hold the sword.
“Do not tell anyone else. For now, it must remain a secret.”
Dante firmly warned Milleon to keep silent.
The reason was simple.
It must be kept from my stepmother.
She was like a viper.
In his previous life, Lucia had learned that Dante possessed talent with the sword—and using deceit, she had sealed every mana circuit in his body.
And if she were to find out that he had awakened the Stigmata at the age of ten?
It would be lucky if she didn’t try to kill me outright.
Unfortunately, she had both the strength and the means to make it possible.
So for now, just for a little while, he had to hide his abilities.
At least until he had the power to cut down whatever schemes Lucia might attempt.
“…Understood.”
Milleon still looked somewhat unconvinced, but he accepted the command.
Dante’s expression was simply too grave—unbelievably so for a mere child.
Of course, a problem remained.
“But Dante-nim’s strength… it’s not something that can be hidden.”
A needle in a pouch.
No matter how tightly you wrapped it, its point would always pierce through and reveal itself.
And Dante’s talent? It wasn’t just a needle—it was sharp enough to be called a divine blade.
“So that’s why…”
“…What did you just say?”
Xenon set aside the spectacles he had been wearing and frowned deeply.
At once, the atmosphere in his office grew heavy—several times heavier than before.
“I said, I wish to meet the Sword Empress.”
In reply, silence pressed down like a suffocating weight.
In the past, Dante would have collapsed to his knees, dripping cold sweat.
But not now.
His evolved body was far too resilient to yield to something so paltry as pressure.
“Where did you hear that name?”
The Sword Empress, Isabella Everhart.
Sovereign of the Everhart Duchy, and the strongest female knight in the world—acknowledged as such by all.
Her impending visit to the Empire, to pay audience to the Emperor, was a secret so tightly kept that only the highest nobility knew of it.
I heard it in my previous life.
But he could hardly say that.
“Isn’t why I want to go more important than how I know?”
To anyone else, such words from a child would have seemed unbearably insolent.
Fortunately, Xenon was not “anyone else.”
Father values results over process.
Rather than rebuke him, Xenon looked at his son with an intrigued expression.
“Then explain.”
“I wish to witness her sword.”
Xenon chuckled softly.
It wasn’t a laugh of pride.
“I’ll grant you this—you have talent. At your age, to have awakened the Stigmata… such confidence is understandable.
But do you really believe yourself worthy to behold the Sword Empress’s blade?”
The Sword Empress was the equal of Xenon himself, the Empire’s Sword.
In other words, she possessed a might so peerless that she stood without rivals.
If you lined up every knight who dreamed of crossing blades with her, the line would probably stretch across the Empire.
And now this?
A boy who had barely just received his first true sword wanted to witness her sword?
It was the sort of claim that even a stray dog would scoff at.
“I’ll commend your curiosity and ambition. But you had best learn your place.”
Xenon picked up his spectacles again, as if unwilling to waste more time on childish requests.
“Do you truly think I am unworthy?”
But Dante didn’t back down. His voice was calm.
“You are arrogant. Are you letting a scrap of talent make you reckless?”
“I am asking sincerely. Do you truly believe I lack the qualifications to meet her?”
Xenon’s eyes glimmered.
His son had not flinched even under his gaze. He spoke his mind unshaken.
Talent aside, his spirit too seemed unyielding.
“You’ve changed a great deal.”
Compared to just days ago, he was practically a different person.
Not only in body, but in bearing.
He had always seemed a little mature for his age, but not like this.
Right now, it was like speaking with a veteran knight of decades, not a boy of ten.
“…Hmph.”
Admirable as it was, he couldn’t indulge every demand.
“Come with me.”
Xenon stood, leaving his spectacles behind.
“I’ll judge for myself whether you are worthy—through my sword.”
Step.
He pulled a blade from the wall.
Dante, without hesitation, followed eagerly.
Ignoring the greetings of servants in the corridor, the two arrived at the lord’s private training hall—an exclusive, forbidden space.
There, Xenon resolved to teach his son one lesson.
“Confidence can fuel growth. But arrogance will rot you like venom.”
Not a proverb, just common sense.
Yet also truth.
Today, Dante would learn how reckless his words had been.
And yet—
“I know that.”
The quiet reply nettled Xenon.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
Dante’s eyes were steady, unwavering.
Not childish bravado.
Xenon disliked that even more.
“Draw your sword.”
Schwing—
The blade Dante had received two days ago gleamed in the light.
His form is still flawless.
Even before, Xenon had noticed his movements were without excess.
When had he honed such skill? Impossible to say.
I’ll find out now.
Was it all appearance—or true substance?
“I’ll strike three times. If you withstand them all, I’ll accept your request.”
“And if I succeed, you will grant permission?”
“I will.”
It was impossible.
He wouldn’t go all-out, of course. But neither would he go easy.
He intended to carve into his son’s bones just how arrogant his words had been.
“So then…”
Dante lifted his sword, pointing it at Xenon.
The posture was impeccable.
“Come.”
Hooooom—
His stance, so perfectly balanced, made his small body seem many times larger.
Xenon gave a slight nod and drew his own sword—Arcane.
The blade that had accompanied him through countless life-or-death battles.
Meticulously maintained, gleaming as if newly forged.
“The first strike.”
Swaaaaaash!
Xenon’s blade fell from above, aiming to cleave Dante in two.
No mana was added, but even so it was a strike from the heights of mastery.
Clang!
Xenon’s eyes widened slightly.
He blocked it?
Dante’s sword, raised horizontally, had intercepted Arcane mid-path.
Despite the force behind the blow, he hadn’t been pushed back.
It meant he had perfectly deflected the sword’s weight.
Hah…
He had considered the possibility, given what Dante had shown recently.
But not this easily, not this perfectly.
Suppressing his surprise, Xenon spoke again.
“The second strike.”
This time, his sword flowed with intricate precision.
Its shifting point made it impossible to guess where it aimed—complex, irregular, deceptive.
Not illusion.
The blade truly split into dozens of trajectories, targeting every vital point on Dante’s body.
To miss even one meant a body riddled with holes.
Clang-clang-clang-clang—!
And yet—unbelievably—Dante blocked them all.
Every single strike, mirrored with identical movements.
At the cost of nothing more than one backward step.
Mm…
Words failed him.
No child could display such skill.
Not even many fully trained knights could.
Two days with a real sword.
Xenon had to admit—his son’s talent far surpassed the limits of common sense.
“Astonishing.”
With just those two defenses, Dante had already proven himself.
Not only qualified to see the Sword Empress’s blade—his worth overflowed.
“Now for the final strike.”
And yet Xenon pressed on.
How far did this boy’s limits reach?
This time, he put true intent into his sword.
The same downward slash as before—
But the force within it was the difference between heaven and earth.
Hoooooooom!
It was like a giant’s blade crashing down.
It looked ready not only to crush Dante, but to cleave the very ground in two.
A supreme strike.
Xenon watched closely, anticipation high.
Now… how will you answer this?
Even without Stigmata, this was a blow that even the knight-commander of the household would struggle to block.
Would he dodge?
Or block?
And if block—how?
His eyes traced Dante’s movement.
From below upward.
A straight cut—but not simple.
Every muscle made micro-adjustments.
His nerves reacted instantly, guiding the blade along the perfect path.
And then—
Sliiiiiide—
Arcane slipped along Dante’s sword, gliding away like a droplet across polished glass.
The redirected blade struck the ground at his side.
BOOOOOOM!
The impact erupted, blasting dust across the hall.
Through the haze, Dante’s face appeared—unchanged, steady as at the start.
“…I permit you to meet the Sword Empress.”
