He immediately changed angles. Left. Right. Above. Below. Four more strikes followed with almost no interval between them.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Every strike landed. Every strike stopped. The transparent barrier surrounding Dante didn't even crack.
Jurian's expression finally changed. It's stronger than before. He deliberately changed his defense — he abandoned the assault. Or rather, he tried to. His shoulder struck something solid.
Bang.
Jurian frowned. He reached behind him. Nothing. His fingers met smooth, invisible resistance. A wall. He turned. Another. Left. Right. Above. Below. His breathing slowed. A cube. He trapped me.
Outside the prison, Dante didn't even spare him another glance. Instead, three tiny blue-orange spheres materialized around Jurian, each barely larger than a marble.
Jurian's face darkened. This bastard's methods are unbelievably annoying.
Meanwhile, Aishwani arrived, her crimson-black sword coiled around her body like a living serpent. The blade shifted, metal flowing — one weapon became two, twin blades connected by a long living chain. Part of the weapon continued circling her torso protectively while the remaining length extended into her hands. Total offense. Total defense.
Dante nodded slightly. Interesting. She abandoned versatility. Now she's betting everything on overwhelming force.
Without a word she stepped forward. Every movement was flawless. Perfect footwork. Perfect balance. Perfect posture. The chained blade descended.
BOOOOM!
The invisible barrier surrounding Dante shuddered. His eyebrows rose slightly. She actually moved it.
Aishwani saw it too. It works. She immediately attacked again. Mana flooded into the weapon. The crimson blade doubled in size. The sky darkened beneath its aura. Once more it fell.
BAAAANG!!
The entire mountain shook. The impact echoed for kilometers. Students instinctively covered their ears. Even Vexion narrowed her eyes. The barrier trembled again.
Dante smiled inwardly. Good. If I hadn't switched to this strategy, I'd be struggling to react to both of you now. Their speed had already surpassed what his natural reactions could comfortably follow.
Inside the invisible prison, Jurian had no room to accelerate, no room to dodge, no room to build momentum. Three blue-orange spheres floated around him. Then a fourth appeared. A fifth. A sixth.
Jurian slowly exhaled. So this was your plan. The entire fight, you were letting us fight. Not because you had to. Because you wanted to watch.
Dante casually raised one finger. The spheres fired.
BOOM!
One punched through Jurian's shoulder. Another tore through his thigh. A third pierced his abdomen. Jurian staggered. Blood sprayed against the invisible walls. More spheres appeared. Again. Again. Again.
By the time the tenth projectile disappeared, Jurian remained standing purely through willpower. Blood poured from nearly every wound. His breathing had become ragged. He laughed bitterly.
"So — this was your idea of mercy—"
Aishwani's eyes widened.
"Jurian!"
She slammed her sword against the barrier again. Again. Again. Nothing. She couldn't reach him. She couldn't destroy the prison. She couldn't even interfere. Frustration twisted across her face.
What kind of ridiculous way of fighting is this? He separated us, then dismantled us one by one.
She gritted her teeth. We're not fighting Dante. We're fighting the battlefield itself.
Then her thoughts stopped. A suffocating pressure descended. Not physical. Mental. An overwhelming presence flooded directly into her consciousness. Every instinct screamed. Run. Bow. Submit. The image of Dante expanded inside her mind. No — not Dante. Something far larger. Far more terrifying. As though an enormous existence had begun staring directly into her soul.
Her breathing became uneven. The chained sword around her reacted instinctively, tightening protectively around her body, trying desperately to defend its master against something it couldn't touch.
A psychic attack. No. This is far worse.
Her grip weakened. For the first time since the battle began, fear entered her eyes.
Aishwani's breathing became uneven. Her hands trembled despite herself. Psychic Domination continued crushing her mind. Every instinct screamed at her to kneel, to flee, to survive. Even the crimson-black sword coiled around her body tightened protectively, its own will desperately resisting the invisible pressure suffocating its master.
Dante calmly stepped out from behind the barrier. The telekinetic prison trapping Jurian remained intact. The Mythical swordsman coughed blood before laughing weakly.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
He looked toward Dante.
"...You're a swordsman?"
A bitter smile appeared on his face.
"And you fought us using only your hands."
He shook his head.
"...Bastard."
Dante chuckled. A small ripple appeared beside him. Space folded. From the distortion, a sword slowly emerged. Its blade possessed a dark silver edge while faint violet patterns flowed beneath the metal like liquid light. The surrounding space warped around its very existence.
Jurian's smile disappeared. An Artifact. No — that pressure — that's his real weapon.
Aishwani's pupils shrank. Even beneath the crushing psychic pressure, she instinctively understood. This — this is the attack.
Dante casually rested the blade upon his shoulder. He didn't rush. He didn't posture. He simply assumed a stance so perfect that neither Jurian nor Aishwani could identify a single opening. Every angle. Every movement. Every shift in weight was flawless.
Jurian slowly closed his eyes.
"...We're finished."
Aishwani wanted to move. She wanted to attack. She wanted to defend. Her body refused to obey.
Dante swung. There was no explosion. No roar. No violent eruption of mana. Only a single slash. A dark violet line silently crossed the battlefield. Then everything behind it separated. The mountain. The sky. The air itself. Even space seemed to divide before quietly stitching itself back together.
The crimson-black sword protecting Aishwani met the slash. For the first time since the battle began, the living weapon failed. It split cleanly apart.
Aishwani's eyes widened. Then pain arrived. A diagonal wound carved across her body from shoulder to thigh. Blood painted the mountainside crimson. Her left arm hung limply. Part of her chest and hip disappeared beneath the slash before regeneration magic instinctively fought to preserve her life. She collapsed onto one knee.
Far away, Jurian stared at the wound, his own body already riddled with holes from Dante's telekinetic projectiles. A bitter laugh escaped him.
"...What a fucking monster."
Silence followed. Not because nobody had anything to say. But because nobody present could find the words. The battle hadn't ended because Dante had finally become serious. It had ended because he had finally decided to draw his sword.