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Chapter 13
The title of the book…
There is no such book.
It had been nothing more than a lie to justify his climb up Mount Kalotes.
For the first time in a while, Dante’s unshakable composure wavered.
How should I cover this up?
But there was no need to agonize. As always, there was only one path forward: wrap it all in another lie.
Dante kept his gaze locked on the holy flame and shook his head.
“I saw it when I was very young. I hardly remember anything.”
Even as the words left his mouth, he almost laughed at himself. A ten-year-old child speaking of his childhood?
The knights’ faces stiffened at once. To most, it looked like grave solemnity—but to Dante, it looked suspiciously like they were suppressing laughter.
“…I see.”
The slight quiver in Milleon’s voice turned Dante’s suspicion into certainty. They were laughing at him. They just didn’t dare show it.
I suppose I should be grateful I’m still considered a child.
Because of his age, people often brushed things aside with, “He’s still young.” Even though Dante was undeniably a prodigy, no one could shake the image of him as just a boy.
This time, that perception worked in his favor—though it stung his pride.
“Anyway, that must be the remains of the fallen god.”
He cut the conversation short before they could press him further.
“It seems so,” Milleon agreed, looking at the softly burning blue flame.
The shock of the discovery quickly diverted everyone’s attention.
“We should descend. Soldiers, remain here to protect Lady Eina.”
“As you command!”
Dante approached the gaping hole.
“Lord Dante,” Milleon said, stepping closer and extending a hand.
“I shall escort you.”
“…What?”
The drop was barely thirty meters—impossible for ordinary men, but hardly daunting for Dante. He had awakened his Stigma. And Milleon was one of only two people who knew.
Escort me?
Then Dante noticed Patrick and Elaine watching closely.
Ah. He’s worried about revealing the truth.
But secrecy no longer mattered. He had already left the mansion. Even if Lucia learned of it, she could do nothing now.
Dante dismissed Milleon’s concern with a wave of his hand.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Lord Dante, it’s dangerous alone,” Patrick urged.
“You should heed Sir Milleon’s—”
But Dante simply stepped forward.
“Lord Dante!”
Patrick and Elaine leapt, reaching for him with the speed only seasoned knights could muster.
Too late.
Dante slipped past them with ease, his body plunging freely.
“…What!”
A ten-year-old child dodging knights? Impossible.
And yet—
Boom!
He landed without a scratch, as if the fall had been nothing.
Patrick stared, dumbfounded. “Could it be…?”
Elaine’s eyes widened in sudden realization.
“You’ve awakened the Stigma.”
There could be no other explanation.
Patrick drew in a sharp breath. Once he paid attention, he could feel it: a thick, undeniable current of mana radiating from the boy.
“Truly awakened…”
His face twisted in disbelief. Dante looked away, uninterested in explanations.
“If you want the details, ask Milleon.”
Patrick turned. “So you knew?”
“Lord Dante wished it remain secret,” Milleon said with an awkward bow. He offered no apology. His lord’s will outweighed his peers’ pride.
Patrick and Elaine exchanged a glance, then nodded. They were still shaken, but they understood.
Dante ignored them all. His eyes were fixed on what lay ahead.
The holy flame…
It was small, no bigger than a fingertip, shapeless yet burning. The fire itself was faint, but its divinity was overwhelming.
Dante felt as though he stood before his father.
The blue flame trembled as if to reject him. To Dante, it looked sorrowful.
Such grief…
The sorrow and emptiness radiating from it resonated deep in his chest.
I pity you.
Without realizing it, Dante reached out.
Warm…
Not scorching, but gentle and soft.
“Wait, my lord! We don’t know what it is. Please be cautious—” Milleon began.
But then—
Piiiiiiiiing!
The flame streaked toward him like a spear of light.
“Defend him!”
Steel flashed as three knights drew their swords.
Too slow.
The holy fire was faster.
Fwoooosh!
It engulfed Dante whole.
“Lord Dante!” Milleon’s voice cracked with panic.
But Dante could not answer. A voice—immense, irresistible—echoed inside his skull.
【Bow in worship.】
It was a command no mortal could deny.
Warmth turned to terror. The voice burned like infernal fire—overwhelming, destructive, transcendent.
【Kneel, lower your head, and accept your god.】
His legs trembled uncontrollably. His knees buckled toward the ground.
No…!
He resisted, forcing strength into his limbs. But the divine will only pressed harder, twisting muscle and bone.
Cracks of strain echoed through his body.
Yet still—he endured.
The voice could bend his body, but not his spirit.
【Ignorant child… I promise you glory. Submit.】
Boom!
A wave of divine power surged through him, flooding his mana circuits like wildfire.
“Gh—!”
His insides burned, organs searing to ash. The agony was beyond anything he had ever endured.
Still—he clung to his mind.
If I can control it…!
But his circuits tore under the strain.
“Ughhh!”
Pain blanked out his vision. The god’s will lashed him endlessly.
And still—his spirit sharpened.
He did not fear.
He did not despair.
He did not break.
He simply endured.
I will not yield.
Even if his body shattered, he would never bow.
【Insolent wretch!】
The voice thundered with fury. But beneath it was… urgency.
Dante’s hand crept to his sword.
I will not lose.
His heart forged a blade of will, honed over countless years of struggle.
I will cut you down.
Even a formless thought could be severed.
He swung the sword in his mind.
【Stop!】
The voice quaked in desperation.
【I promise you the world! Power to rule over mortals!】
Empty promises. Lies. Even if true, Dante would never accept.
He cut.
Slice—
The oppressive presence shattered, split apart like glass.
【Aaaaaaah!】
The flame-god’s lingering resentment dissolved into nothing—like smoke rising from a dead fire.
“Haah…”
Dante’s eyes fluttered open.
Crackle…
He felt the faint warmth of the holy flame now burning quietly within him. Not destructive. Not oppressive.
Simply merging with his mana, flowing in harmony.
I have gained it.
It was not how he expected, but Dante had claimed the holy flame as his own.
