Chapter 10: The Weight of the Blade

Dante sat on one of the benches, staring at his crimson sword resting across his lap.

The class had moved on, some students still whispering about the rankings, others already preparing for the next lesson, but he couldn't focus.

Azar’s words echoed in his mind.

"You have to use a sword for what it was designed for—killing and slaughter."

Dante clenched his fist.

He had trained for years, honing his technique, perfecting his form. But today, it became painfully clear that none of it mattered against someone like Azar.

What was the difference?

Why was there such a huge gap?

He felt Iris sit down next to him, her puffy coat rustling.

"You're making that serious face again," she said, nudging him lightly.

Dante exhaled through his nose, still staring at his sword.

"I was completely outmatched."

Iris shrugged. "Well, yeah. Did you expect anything else?"

Dante frowned. "What do you mean?"

She leaned back, gazing at the dimly lit ceiling of the underground training hall.

"Azar is… different. He’s not just strong—he’s experienced. You saw how he fought, right? No hesitation, no wasted movement. Everything was fluid. He didn’t even try to overpower you—he just knew exactly how to dismantle you."

Dante tightened his grip on his sword.

Iris sighed and crossed her arms. "You’re upset that he’s stronger?"

Dante shook his head. "No. I’m upset because… I don’t understand why I need sword intent."

Iris smirked. "Then ask him."

Dante turned to look at her, and she pointed across the room.

Azar was lying on the floor, arms spread out, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression.

He looked completely unbothered.

Dante hesitated.

But then, with a determined breath, he stood up and walked over.

Azar tilted his head up slightly as Dante approached.

"Oh? Need something, crimson boy?"

Dante didn't waste time.

"Teach me."

Azar blinked.

Then—

He suddenly grinned.

"Ohhh?" Azar propped himself up on his elbows, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Crimson boy wants a lesson in murder?"

Dante scowled. "I don’t want to learn how to kill—I want to learn how to fight like you."

Azar hummed thoughtfully.

Then, without warning, he sat up and poked Dante’s forehead.

Dante blinked. "What—"

Azar poked him again.

Then again.

And again.

Dante finally swatted his hand away, annoyed. "What the hell are you doing?"

Azar laughed. "Just testing something."

Dante exhaled sharply. "Are you going to teach me or not?"

Azar stretched lazily.

"Hmm… no."

Dante’s eye twitched.

Before he could snap, Azar grinned again.

"But I can show you something fun."

He suddenly leaned in close, his silver-streaked hair nearly brushing against Dante’s face.

"Come with me."

Dante felt a shiver run down his spine.

But before he could question anything—

Azar snapped his fingers.

And the world shifted.

Dante blinked.

One moment, he was in the underground training hall.

The next, he was standing in a black void.

He stiffened, reaching for his sword—

But Azar, now floating beside him, held up a hand.

"Relax~. This is just a little trip inside my mindscape."

Dante hesitated. "Your… mindscape?"

Azar nodded. "Mhm. A personal space created from my soul and consciousness."

Dante looked around.

It was vast. Infinite.

The darkness stretched in every direction, but something about it felt alive—like the shadows were watching.

Then—

A glow appeared in the distance.

Dante squinted.

A figure was approaching.

Tall. Clad in golden robes, with chains wrapped around his wrists and neck.

His eyes were empty, glowing with a pale white light.

Dante instinctively stepped back, gripping his sword.

Azar just sighed.

"Meet my father."

Dante froze.

"What?"

Azar grinned. "Judas Iscariot."

The chained figure stopped a few feet away, staring silently.

Dante felt his breath catch in his throat.

Before he could even react—

The world shattered.

Dante stumbled back, gasping.

He was once again in the training hall, standing in front of Azar—who looked way too amused.

Dante gritted his teeth. "The hell was that?!"

Azar shrugged. "Just a little preview~."

Dante clenched his fists. "You're playing games."

Azar tilted his head.

"Am I?"

Dante scowled.

Azar then leaned in, whispering just loud enough for him to hear.

"You want to learn? Then first, tell me—"

His silver eyes gleamed with something unnatural.

"Are you willing to stain your hands?"

Dante’s stomach twisted.

But before he could answer—

The instructor clapped his hands loudly, bringing the class’s attention back.

"Alright, lesson’s over! You brats better be ready for tomorrow—we’re taking a little trip outside the academy."

The class murmured in curiosity.

Dante, however, barely heard it.

He was still staring at Azar, who was grinning like he already knew the answer to his own question.