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Chapter 8
“How on earth did you do it?”
Milleon asked.
From the very beginning, he had thought the plan was absurd. To think that his young lord would seek out the Sword Empress merely to conceal his true strength for a time? No rational master would ever grant such an outrageous request from a ten-year-old child.
Until moments ago, Milleon had been absolutely certain of that.
“I merely gave Father reason to trust me.”
But his conviction had been shattered. To his shock, Dante had actually obtained permission. Naturally, Milleon was dying to know how.
Yet Dante avoided details. If he explained once, it would only invite a flood of further questions, and in truth, he wasn’t in the condition to recount everything anyway.
‘As expected of Father…’
He glanced subtly down at his arm. Though his face betrayed nothing, the hand that had gripped his sword still tingled. The final clash had driven such crushing force through his body that even this evolved frame could not withstand it completely.
His father, Zenon Aquites, was indeed a knight of unfathomable might.
“Anyway, the departure is set for tomorrow. Make sure you’re prepared.”
“You don’t mean I’m the only attendant, do you?”
“No. Several others will be joining us.”
Truth be told, Dante had wanted to go alone. He was confident enough in himself. But on that point, Zenon had not yielded. Talent aside, Dante’s age was far too young. He knew nothing of life beyond the estate, nor had he any experience with the harshness of the world.
No father would ever allow a child that young to venture out alone. Dante had no counterargument and was forced to accept the decision.
“Along with you, there will be three knights and twenty soldiers. And, of course, Eina. Altogether, twenty-four in the party.”
“That’s a proper number.”
Too many escorts would only draw attention, but this felt just right. And truthfully, the Empire’s roads were not terribly dangerous.
“Still, are you truly certain of this?” Milleon asked, his face shadowed with worry.
He had yet to understand why Dante wished to leave the family at all. Even if word spread of his prodigious gift, what harm could it cause?
If anything, praise, attention, and support would only multiply. For the heir to the house, that was the most advantageous position imaginable. Yet Dante still chose to walk away.
“Of course. Nothing could be better.”
Dante nodded firmly.
He understood Milleon’s doubts and fears. After all, without knowledge of the past or the truth of the future, this was the only natural reaction. But he could not very well claim that Lucia, his stepmother, might one day bring ruin upon him. No one would believe such a thing, especially when her reputation was flawless both within and beyond the house.
“That may be so. My poor wit cannot comprehend your reasons, but… I shall follow.”
Milleon, though still young, possessed a loyalty as firm as any full knight’s. However strange the decision, he would never stray from his lord’s side.
“During the journey, your training must continue without pause,” Milleon added. “I’ll see to your mastery of mana manipulation, as well as the basics of strength and swordsmanship.”
“That much is obvious.”
In fact, it was precisely what Dante wanted. This journey was not a desperate flight for survival as it had been in his previous life. It was a chance to train, to see the world, to eat fine food, to savor new sights.
‘All the things I missed before, I’ll do now.’
“Don’t worry. Just make sure you’re prepared.”
“As you command.”
Milleon smiled warmly before stepping away.
“Haah…”
Left alone, Dante collapsed onto his bed with a weary sigh.
“I’m exhausted.”
Only three exchanges, yet the weight of them left fatigue buried deep in his body.
‘Still lacking…’
He had awakened to enlightenment, reforged his body, and even manifested a stigma. Each one alone was an extraordinary achievement. But none of them yet harmonized.
The mana, he could accept—he had barely begun to take his first steps in that realm. But the disconnect between his rejuvenated body and his matured mind was a serious flaw. Ordinary knights would never even perceive it, but to Dante, the disparity loomed like a chasm.
‘I need to adapt quickly.’
It would not take long. His newly evolved body was frighteningly capable. A little more training, a little more strain, and it would all settle into place.
“Before I meet the Sword Empress, I must perfect myself.”
Morning came.
For once, Eina did not wake him. She was clearly too busy making arrangements for the long journey. Dante greeted the dawn alone—something that felt strangely awkward.
“Clicking my tongue already… How quickly I’ve grown accustomed to comfort.”
Just as he was scolding himself inwardly—
Knock, knock.
“Young master, are you awake?”
The voice was unfamiliar.
“Come in.”
The door opened to reveal a maid he had never seen before.
“Where is Eina?”
“She is preparing your baggage for the journey, my lord. I have been assigned to serve you in her stead this morning.”
She placed a basin of water before him.
“I’ll manage this myself. Bring me breakfast instead.”
A growing body needed nourishment. No matter the long road ahead, he would not skip meals.
“At once, my lord.”
Ever since his encounter with Lucia, Dante had refused to dine outside his chambers. He feared that if they met again, he would not be able to contain his killing intent.
So the servants had grown used to delivering his meals privately.
By the time he finished washing and changing, the maid returned with several others—bearing trays piled high with food.
Despite having just woken, his appetite surged, and Dante began to eat immediately.
“How are the preparations proceeding?”
“Nearly finished, thanks to Lady Eina’s efforts.”
At that, Dante pictured her scurrying about in a fuss, and a small smile crept onto his lips.
“When I’m finished here, we depart at once. Pass the word along.”
“Yes, my lord.”
When the maid left, Dante quickly devoured his meal—enough for three grown men, without leaving a crumb.
‘Where does it all go, I wonder…’
He could not understand it himself. Unless his body was instantly absorbing every morsel, the sheer quantity was inexplicable.
Patting his rounded stomach, he rose and strapped on the sword from the wall.
Clack.
The weapon clicked securely into the belt. Its weight was solid, pleasing. Though his frame was still small and the sword dragged slightly, it did not trouble him.
“I should give this blade a name…”
But nothing suitable had yet come to mind. There was no need to rush.
“Time to go.”
The estate was bustling by the time Dante descended to the first floor.
“Good morning, my lord.”
“Safe travels, young master.”
“May the gods watch over you.”
It seemed word of his departure had spread through the household.
“Thank you. I shall.”
Accepting their well-wishes, Dante stepped into the hall—only to freeze.
Zenon was there, as expected. Milleon, Eina too.
And with them—Lucia, and his two half-siblings.
He had not thought to see her again before leaving. His body stiffened.
Crack.
‘Endure.’
If even a flicker of bloodlust escaped him, Father would sense it. That could not happen.
He forced calm upon himself, drawing a long breath before approaching with steady steps.
“Good morning, Father. Good morning, Mother.”
Zenon replied as usual:
“Mm.”
Lucia, however, sighed with weary sorrow.
“Not peacefully, child. How could this mother sleep when her son suddenly departs on such a long and perilous road?”
Her voice dripped with maternal affection. To any outsider, she seemed the very picture of a loving mother, kept awake with worry.
“How deceitful.”
Dante knew better. She was displeased only that he was going to meet the Sword Empress. All her concern was an act.
“I apologize for not informing you sooner.”
He bowed to mask his expression.
“Even now, why not reconsider? I know youth is eager for adventure, but you are still far too—”
“Mother.”
He cut her off. It was impolite, but he did not care.
“Father has already given permission, and preparations are complete. There is no turning back now.”
He met her eyes directly. Her brow twitched—an almost imperceptible tell, but Dante caught it.
‘So. She falters.’
For once, Lucia had been unsettled.
Dante turned from her and looked to Zenon. His father wore an amused expression, as though noting the subtle shift between stepmother and son. Yet he asked no questions.
“Since everything is ready, you may depart now.”
“Who will accompany me, Father?”
“Those men.”
Two knights and twenty soldiers stood at attention.
“Patrick, at your service.”
“I am Elaine.”
Patrick was a genial man with the air of a seasoned mercenary. Elaine’s presence was cold, sharp as steel.
Recognition stirred in Dante’s memory. Patrick—an old campaigner turned knight. Elaine—the sole female knight of their order, destined to survive the fall of their house and earn the name Red Phantom of Variel.
A woman who had lived and died by vengeance, hunting those who destroyed her liege’s family.
Dante’s gaze softened toward her.
He extended a hand to both knights.
“Pleased to be in your care.”
“The honor is ours, my lord,” Patrick said warmly.
Elaine gave only a curt nod. She was as cold by nature as the stories told.
Next, Dante greeted each of the soldiers in turn—something no noble would ever do. But years spent wandering the wilderness had stripped him of pretension.
The men, overwhelmed, grasped his hand with shining eyes.
So much time passed in greetings that their departure was delayed.
Lucia’s gaze burned into him the whole while, but Dante ignored it. Finally, he turned once more to Zenon.
“We’re leaving now.”
“Go, then. May you return with wisdom.”
“I expect so.”
Dante smiled faintly, then raised his voice.
“Move out!”
With Milleon, Patrick, Elaine, Eina, and twenty soldiers, Dante stepped beyond the gates of the house, venturing at last into the world beyond.
