"Don't misunderstand. Your pathetic lesson had little to do with my progress... Though honestly, this still isn't what I'd call good."
His gaze drifted momentarily before snapping back.
"Fine. Maybe your pitiful teaching helped, since I did learn the basics from it. But right now?"
He smirked.
"You're still facing amateur work. If you think this is refined, then you're even further behind than I thought."
Lieutenant Dante remained silent, his sharp eyes studying Northern like a hawk tracking prey.
Slowly, he adjusted his sword's position, shifting into a razor-edged stance that unlocked countless attacking angles through precise footwork.
Northern remained unfazed. Though the mental strain taxed him, he kept analyzing Dante's swordplay, forcing all other distractions to the edges of his awareness.
It sounded simple yet the effort wrenched at his mind, demanding relentless focus.
He hovered near his limit, just one misstep from shattering. What would happen then? What would he even perceive? What could he react to?
Koll's presence had faded from immediate perception, but Northern still sensed the faint heat of his lurking form. That subtle, snake-like warmth hinted at schemes unfolding—of course Northern watched for him most of all.
Bairan carved through hordes of decayed soldiers with casual swings, treating the battle like a stroll. Northern wished the Sword King would focus, but doubted anything in this era—perhaps this entire world—could truly command Bairan's seriousness.
Revant shared the same attitude, though he saw things more as annoyances than threats.
Both of them stood far above normal strength. And he was their Master… yet compared to them, he felt almost insignificant.
'Damn... I really need to get stronger.'
Northern slowly separated his fingers. A swirl of dark light coalesced in his palm, solidifying into a thin, gleaming blade.
He swung the Illusioned Hefter downward, splitting the air itself. Then he tilted his head, locking eyes with Lieutenant Dante once more.
"I've decided... I want to show you exactly how wide the gap between us has become."
Lieutenant Dante let out a dry chuckle.
"Amusing. I get why you'd feel superior after copying Raizel's talent. But did you really think you saw everything I could do in that rift? You honestly believe you can beat me?"
Northern gave a careless shrug.
"Honestly? I didn't consider it in the rift. That realization came later. But what difference does it make, Dante? None. Because when my blade rises against you, you'll fall regardless."
Lieutenant Dante's expression darkened.
"Such arrogance from a mere child!"
He shot forward like lightning, colliding with Northern in a cataclysmic impact that sent shockwaves ripping through the air.
Their blades screamed against each other, trembling with pent-up energy before separating — only to meet again in an ear-splitting chorus of steel. The rapid-fire clashes came faster than a racing pulse, drowning out all other sound.
Northern and Dante became blurs of motion, their exchange too swift for eyes to track. They appeared only as fleeting sparks of light amidst the devastation their duel unleashed.
Every movement was precise yet fluid, a lethal dance where separation merely preceded the next crashing reunion. Their deadly waltz needed no music — just the shrieking song of clashing steel.
Dante's sword lashed like a whip yet kept its cold, metallic rigidity, each strike hammering Northern's blade with crushing force.
The impact's weight defied understanding—even harder to grasp was how Dante made his muscles burn with every clash.
Burning Storm's power surged through him, repairing stamina and healing muscle tears almost as fast as Dante's longsword could inflict them. Yet whenever Northern countered, driving forward with brutal attacks, he met what felt like an immovable steel wall.
An invisible pressure bore down on him. With each exchange, the Lieutenant's defense grew more unbreakable, his style transforming into something impenetrable.
Northern had assumed, at the battle's start, that he understood Lieutenant Dante's fighting style. Now, he was slowly realizing how mistaken he had been.
The Lieutenant disengaged abruptly, then lunged again with that same impossible speed, crashing toward Northern like a storm.
Northern met him with a clean diagonal slash, forcing Dante back a step—only for another Dante to descend from above.
Northern ignored the duplicate and pressed his assault, chaining attacks together. Dante batted them aside effortlessly, his eyes narrowing as his reflection failed to land a single cut.
With a final parry, Dante shifted stance. His blade became a whirlwind, each strike scattering cold white light through the air. The luminous trails wove around each other, slowly forming a deadly web meant to ensnare and kill.
Northern matched his speed, his eyes glowing with an eerie pale blue light as they darted back and forth. His hands moved even faster than his eyes—maybe?
He couldn't tell. Focus burned away all irrelevant thoughts.
This trance was both mesmerizing and deadly—to break it meant death. Every strike sent waves of pain through his muscles, though absorbing his own kinetic energy helped dull the ache.
The real damage came from his essence reserves. Northern had emerged from the Limitless Void immediately after waking, leaving no time to create void essence conduit clones. The mental strain of using Omniform to dissect Dante's swordsmanship while processing sensory floods from his surroundings only compounded the toll.
Northern refused to disable the Demon of Emulation and Change though – it was the sole reason he maintained this trance despite the relentless, shrieking onslaught tearing through the air.
The constant data stream into his mind was permanent now, a consequence of his new body and Burning Storm's talent. With time, this would cease to be an issue.
Yet through this brutal exchange, he was learning firsthand just how formidable and unyielding Lieutenant Dante's swordsmanship truly was.
Not that he expected anything less. While Northern rarely concerned himself with government affairs, any man who dared to topple an entire continent had to possess this level of strength...
...if not far greater.
Lieutenant Dante's feet slid across the ground as he launched one devastating strike—cutting through sword patterns with surgical precision to breach Northern's defense for the first time. The impact sent a shockwave ripping outward, hurling Northern backward.
Yet he kept his footing, skidding only meters before stopping.
He doubled over, crimson dripping from his mouth.
Dante watched with icy detachment.
"Finally tasting reality?"
Northern lifted his head slowly, blood smearing his lips and chin. When Dante saw his expression, the Lieutenant's stern face tightened further... a flicker of unease forced down.