Chapter 61…
“You’ve really changed a lot.”
Patrick said this as he walked alongside Dante.
“Have I?”
“It was unbelievable before too, but now…”
He couldn’t even put it into words.
It was only natural.
Because he couldn’t even fathom it.
Just being near him was enough to know.
That Dante had reached a realm far beyond his own.
How could that even make sense?
Patrick was thirty-five this year.
The very peak of a knight’s career.
And yet Dante was only fourteen.
He hadn’t even lived half as long, yet not only had he caught up—he had surpassed him.
But instead of feeling despair, Patrick could only feel reverence.
“It’s nothing.”
Dante shook his head.
It was only luck.
If Patrick knew how many real years he had spent training with the sword, he would never say such things.
“More importantly, where are we going right now?”
Dante subtly changed the subject.
“Ah, your knights are waiting for you. They called themselves Acracion, right?”
“Those guys?”
Before meeting Lucia, he had ordered them to rest quietly in their assigned rooms.
Dante tilted his head but followed Patrick.
The place they arrived at was the resting quarters of the Silver Cross Knights, attached to the grand training grounds.
Right now, it was empty, since all of them had marched to the border with Dante’s father.
“Oh, Captain. Did you make your introductions properly?”
The first to greet him, of course, was Zionhac.
Lounging lazily in a chair, he raised a mug of beer.
‘And where did that come from?’
Dante frowned in puzzlement, but before he could ask, Milleon approached.
“Have you been well?”
His voice carried obvious worry.
It seemed the thought of Dante meeting Lucia alone had troubled him greatly.
“I’m fine.”
Though they had crossed verbal swords, there hadn’t been any real danger.
If anything, an actual fight would have made things simpler.
“That’s a relief.”
Milleon let out a breath of relief.
“Captain, don’t just stand there. Sit down and have a beer! Oh, wait, you haven’t had your coming-of-age yet, so you can’t drink?”
He was drunk.
From the way he babbled, it seemed just a single mug of beer had been enough to get him tipsy.
Still, at least he remembered to keep calling him Captain.
“…This atmosphere is far freer than I expected.”
Patrick chuckled awkwardly.
It was nothing like the Acracion he had heard of.
“Just get used to it.”
Among Acracion, only Zionhac acted this way.
The other knights were perfectly proper.
Well, perhaps anyone would look proper compared to Zionhac.
“So then? Why did you all gather here?”
Dante sat in the chair Elaine had brought over and asked quietly.
After all, Acracion was still outsiders here.
Even if they were his knights, that meant nothing in House Aquites.
Unless Zenon returned and made things official, they were nothing but guests.
Especially now that Lucia controlled the household, even more so.
If they acted suspicious in the slightest, she would seize the chance to expel them.
‘No—if we’re lucky, it’ll only be expulsion.’
It wouldn’t be strange if she ordered their execution.
That would mean open war between Acracion and Silver Obscura.
‘We wouldn’t lose, but that kind of conflict must be avoided.’
Even if a clash was inevitable one day, now was not the time.
They first had to understand the family’s current state, where the missing people had gone, and what exactly Lucia and Silver Obscura were plotting.
If conflict arose during that process, so be it.
But it would be foolish to pick a fight just because they were caught wandering around at night.
“What’s with the serious face? We just wanted to hear what you think, Captain.”
While the others hesitated, Zionhac set down his beer.
“My thoughts?”
“Yeah. What do we do from here?”
Though his eyes were hazy from drink, cold clarity still lurked within.
Carefree, but utterly dependable.
That was Zionhac.
“What do we do, huh…”
“Give us direction. We don’t know how things work here, so we don’t even know how to act.”
“…Fair enough.”
It was a valid point.
After a short pause, Dante spoke without hesitation.
“Rest.”
“What?”
“Hm?”
“Pardon?”
Confused voices rose all around him.
They must have expected some grand mission.
“I said rest. You’ve suffered for the past four years. Take this chance to enjoy a long rest. Wasn’t that your wish?”
“W-well, yes, but…”
Zionhac stammered, caught completely off guard.
“Are you serious? Just rest, do nothing?”
“Sir Zeke. Have I ever spoken nonsense before?”
“…No.”
Zionhac answered firmly.
“Then it’s the same now. I’ve given the order. You’ll follow it.”
Whether in Belladion or here, nothing had changed.
“Just… don’t cause trouble. Especially you, Sir Zeke, Sir Cain, and Sir Trisiel.”
The three usual troublemakers.
Acracion was normally well-behaved—but not those three.
They always stuck together and stirred up trouble.
“…Understood.”
“Apologies.”
“Hey now, when have we ever—”
Dante ignored Zionhac’s protest and looked at the others.
“Any other questions?”
“What if they pick a fight?”
Elody raised her hand timidly.
“They?”
“Silver Obscura.”
It wasn’t impossible.
They strutted about the Aquites estate as though they owned it, with Lucia backing them.
They showed no respect at all to Dante or Acracion.
Ever since they had returned with Versian and his knights tied up in ropes, Silver Obscura hadn’t even bothered to hide their hostility.
“Avoid conflict if at all possible.”
Even so, a clash had to be avoided.
If things escalated, their goals would slip further away.
The best course was restraint, not getting entangled with them.
“…Yes, sir.”
The Acracion knights didn’t look pleased, but they didn’t argue either.
They had grasped the situation somewhat.
And to them, Dante was practically divine.
Just as he had said—he commanded, they obeyed.
That was how Acracion had become the strongest order in the coalition.
“Good. Then let’s all hold back, understood?”
“I’m more worried about the vice-captain.”
Cain teased Zionhac, and laughter broke out.
Watching them, Dante smiled.
A smile he couldn’t make while with Lucia.
‘Comfortable.’
Acracion was already family.
No—they were family.
On that hellish battlefield, they had risked their lives to protect one another.
If that wasn’t family, what was?
Seeing everyone holding mugs of beer, Dante smacked his lips.
‘I need to grow up faster. This is frustrating.’
The only thing that pained him was not being able to drink with them.
That night, the drinking continued late.
Somehow, Eina had brought in a mountain of food and alcohol.
She claimed she had started preparing the moment they arrived at the estate, as though she knew this would happen.
Dante had no idea how she could have predicted it when he himself hadn’t.
Regardless, the atmosphere refused to die down even as the night deepened.
Eina eventually left, and Dante too excused himself after some time.
“Let’s go.”
He wanted to stay longer, but now wasn’t the time.
“We’ll escort you.”
Milleon, Elaine, and Patrick accompanied him.
The two knights flanked Dante silently as they walked.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”
Crossing the training grounds, Dante murmured.
“Thinking about what happened here… it’s still hard to believe.”
“Is that so?”
“I already knew you were a genius back then, but still…”
Come to think of it, Milleon had once cursed in frustration while watching Dante’s swordplay.
Four years ago.
A long time—or a short one, depending how you looked at it.
But for Dante and Milleon, it felt like ages ago.
They had gone through too much in between.
“What do you plan to do now?”
This time, Patrick asked.
“Well…”
Dante quietly lifted his gaze to the night sky.
The moonlight shone faintly on the ground, like Milleon’s aura.
“There’s a lot to do.”
The hardest of which would, of course, be facing Lucia.
He would rather fight her with swords a hundred times over.
But for now, he couldn’t.
That was the most frustrating part.
“For now, I’ll review the information you’ve gathered, Patrick, and then take some rest myself.”
“A wise decision.”
“A good idea.”
Milleon and Elaine spoke at once.
“Haha…”
Patrick laughed awkwardly, as though the sight was unfamiliar.
“The one who really needs rest isn’t those drinking inside—it’s you, Dante.”
For four years, Dante hadn’t rested a single day.
Except when he was on the brink of death from injuries.
And even then, he would drag himself up to swing his sword.
Isabella had once tied him up and thrown him into bed just to make him stop.
That was how harshly he had pushed himself.
So he needed rest more than anyone.
“…Alright. I’ll try to rest as much as I can.”
Seeing the bright-eyed knights staring at him, Dante made a helpless face.
“Is that a promise?”
Milleon asked firmly.
“I promise.”
Dante nodded.
Of course, he still intended to train morning, noon, and night.
‘That’s practically rest anyway.’
He honestly believed that.
“Oh, and Sir Patrick.”
“Yes?”
“Could you find a way to contact my father?”
“Of course.”
“Once you do, deliver my letter to him.”
“I’ll find a way as soon as possible.”
The surest way to restore the family was Zenon’s return.
If he came back, whatever Lucia schemed would all vanish like foam.
But if Zenon couldn’t return?
‘Then I’ll have no choice.’
He would step forward himself.
Unconsciously, Dante’s hand stroked the hilt of Arpheon.
