Chapter 9: Teaching Good Manners

"This is going to be a lot of fun," James said, swinging his arm from side to side, testing the weight of the sword he held. It was sleek and thinner, but Dante could tell when a weapon was well cared for. James's blade was polished, the edge sharp, and its gray hue too rich to have been crafted in haste, unlike the rushed craftsmanship Dante often saw in his village. "It's not every day I wake up and get the chance to teach a Recruit. Every single day, I wonder when some idiot will show up trying to act bold."

Dante watched him pace back and forth. The white room transformed into a grassy field, but beneath their feet, stone slabs joined together, thickening their foundation. Broken pillars rose around them, though no visible roof formed.

"This is where we test Soldiers for promotion to Corporals, and Corporals for Sergeants," James explained, turning his back to Dante. "It's like my home. I always handle the physical and mastery evaluations. It's always entertaining."

Tecno and Freto saw Crish enter through the door, looking slightly lost. They quickly explained the situation to her. The Officer opened her mouth in disbelief.

"And what did she say about this?"

The two exchanged glances, and Crish's shock quickly turned to indignation.

"You didn't tell her? Dante is fighting James, and you didn't even bother to call her here?"

Officer Rodd waved dismissively at them.

"Don't worry about that," he said, lowering his sword. "I made sure to send her a message myself. Your 'lady' should be here in just a few—"

The door opened, and Dalia entered. The indifference on her face was even worse than usual. She scanned her Officers, then James, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed deeply as she noticed the sword in his hands.

"You must have plenty of spare time for ridiculous bets," she said, moving forward but stopping when she saw Dante's hand slowly open. "Of all the people I thought capable of resisting provocations, Recruit, you were the last. Why did you accept this?"

"Accept?" James laughed. "He's the one who proposed it, Dalia. Your brilliant old recruit simply wanted a fight against the Arms Officer. What's the matter—can't control his own emotions?"

Dalia waited for Dante to turn, but he didn't.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Ma'am," Dante said, turning his face slightly. "He mocked the uniform Crish and Freto made for me."

Tecno shook his head and took a step back. Freto and Crish did the same, the latter pouting furiously at James for insulting her work. Dalia then fixed her gaze on James Rodd, her expression sharpening.

"Did you say that, Rodd?"

The Officer shrugged.

"I might have said a thing or two about it. So what? He can't take criticism without making a scene?" He dragged the sword upward, pointing it at Dante. "And if he can't keep it together with an ally in front of him, imagine when he's up against the Felroz. Bet he'll piss himself in fear. No idea how you passed the Testing Field, but you probably hid while others did the hard work. An old man like you, barely able to defend himself, coming to the Capital just to scrape by and survive in misery. That's how I see your existence."

No one spoke. Tecno shook his head again and sat on one of the loose stones around them.

"I wasn't going to say anything, James. But if you want to keep going with this..."

Dalia shook her head and moved toward the other three.

"Dante," she said, "use the staff. I don't want any abilities used against Officers."

The old man smiled.

A staff appeared in the simulation. He picked it up and twirled it between his fingers. James shed his relaxed posture, adopting a full offensive stance. He bent his knees, pulled one arm back, and raised the sword in front of him, ready for a direct strike.

"A best of five," James declared, Cosmic Energy starting to form around his shoulders. "Whoever wins three times takes it."

The Officer charged forward, closing the distance. His sword lunged in a furious thrust. The blade sliced through the air as Dante shifted his head from side to side. He could see the skill, yes, in James's swordsmanship—strong, steady, focused.

A swordsman had to train endlessly to become one with their blade, dedicating their life to the weapon that shielded them from harm, becoming a single entity.

And observing the speed of James's precise, linear strikes, it was clear he'd done this countless times.

Slow. Far too slow.

Dante stepped back, exhaling. James adjusted his stance, still grinning.

"Looks like you can't even move, old man. What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

The sword came from the side, then from above. The staff moved forward, blocking both strikes. His opponent's strength, fueled by anger, still lacked something. Dante couldn't recall what it was. The blade swung again, right to left. He blocked, ducked under the third strike, and stepped back.

James seized the moment to increase his speed, roaring as he unleashed his attack.

Dante simply sidestepped, evading it. Then he retreated a few more paces.

Weak. He doesn't put intention into his strikes.

Intention. The word his father had once given him.

"You might not have an enemy, Dante, but your strikes must always have intention."

His eyes closed briefly, then opened. James was upon him again, but now, he seemed far slower—much slower than before. All that fury… it was nothing compared to the beatings Dante had endured from his father for two decades.

James had no intention at all.

The staff came forward, blocking the attack from the right, deflecting the one from the left. Dante stomped on James's foot, released one hand from the staff, and delivered a downward punch, sending the Officer stumbling back.

James fell, his jaw trembling, arm shaking. The sword rested on his chest.

"Damn it," he muttered, grabbing the weapon and standing. "So, you like games. You waited for me to drop my guard."

"Actually, I just got tired of listening to all your crap."

Dante twirled the staff between his fingers, spinning it around his body, then rested it behind his right arm and across his back.

"Just so you know, Officer. I hit you, didn't I?" The macabre smile appeared. "That's a point for me."

Officer James snorted and swung his sword to the side.

"Your confidence must've gone up after that hit. Hitting an Officer like that must've filled you with morale, old man."

"I never lost my confidence. But it seems I need to teach you some manners. I'm old, so I detest seeing younger folks being so disrespectful." Dante exaggerated his age a bit. "A generation worse than the others. Can't even hit an old man, can you?"

James snapped. Cosmic Energy surged as he advanced even faster than before. Guided by the Energy, his body reacted quicker, his attacks grew heavier. Dante felt it as he blocked yet another strike and then turned completely to one side, letting the attack miss.

The blade swung upward even faster in a diagonal motion. Seems like he's stuck at this limit.

Dante ducked. James's face turned red. All his attacks were useless. He was being forced to push his body to its maximum without using his ability, and yet, the old man didn't even seem to be trying.

He's yawning? Dante had not a shred of seriousness toward him.

"Why don't you attack, old man?"

The staff blocked the movement, curved to the side, and James felt the cold steel collide with his cheekbone. He froze in place, touching the swelling. It was a direct hit.

"I didn't put any strength into it because it wasn't necessary," Dante said, holding the staff with both hands in front of his body. "You might think that wasn't much. My attack doesn't need to be strong if yours is too weak. You're not even taking me seriously, and you think I'll take you seriously?

Kid, let me tell you honestly, I'm one step away from completely ending this for you."

"What?"

Dante's Cosmic Energy burst forward, and the ground trembled for a few seconds. The old man's smile was sinisterly violent. As he walked toward James, the latter raised his defensive stance immediately.

Dalia and the Officers watched. The first comment came from Tecno, deeply immersed in the fight.

"Looks like James has understood the difference in strength now. Well, at least we won't need to buy a weapon for Dante. He'll win one for free, and of the best quality, too."

His playful tone didn't sit well with Dalia.

"You're being too lenient. Dante can't just challenge a Command Officer, especially James Rodd, because he didn't like a comment. We have a hierarchy because it works, not to be broken."

"As I understand it, James also insulted you."

Dalia didn't care about insults. She didn't care about slander or rumors. None of it mattered as long as the mission was followed and completed. Nothing and no one was above the mission.

Even if a man dishonored her, even if an entire squad mocked her, regardless of whether everyone in the Capital detested her, none of it would matter when they returned with the mission accomplished.

Dante didn't need to defend her, but she heard from his mouth, at that exact moment, what her mind denied.

"What irritated me the most was the fact that an Officer doesn't respect another." The old man struck upward with his staff. The pressure forced James's arm down, and he stumbled back two steps. "How can a man not respect a woman in the same position? Think you're superior? Here you are, being turned into a punching bag by an old man. Does that make you less than me?"

Dante swung his arm, and the staff shook James's balance, making him stumble again.

"Respect is a conduct, not a weapon to point at whoever you want." Dante let James swing his weapon aimlessly. Dalia saw the Officer's face twist in despair.

James Rodd… is going to lose.

"Ma'am, did you really think Dante would lose?" Freto asked.

"No."

She was certain the old man would win effortlessly. What they witnessed in the Training Field was more than enough to indicate that in a one-on-one fight, Dante was unbeatable. She only needed to confirm it.

They watched as Dante forced James to sit down, merely by maneuvering his arm back and forth.

"You're a Weapons Officer," Dante said, judging him. "And you don't even understand how to wield a weapon properly. If I lost to you, I'd be throwing my legacy in the trash."

Crish whistled, impressed.

"He's good with words too."

"Demoralizing the opponent through actions and words is a basic strategy in duels," Dalia explained. "It's time to end this. I don't want any more trouble for any of us."

The door to the Training Field opened. Dalia turned to face the man, and her expression darkened immediately. All the Officers straightened their postures, raising their hands to their chests. Dante turned and mimicked them.

James was the only one on the ground, collapsed and breathing heavily.

The man in black strode in, chewing gum. Even his sparse beard seemed imposing as his jaw moved up and down. His deep-set eyes, surrounded by wrinkles, barely glanced at the trio nearby.

"James."

He continued walking toward the two and ignored Dante entirely.

"What a disgrace." He chuckled mockingly. "I've been looking for you all morning. Got free time?

Good to know. You'll be cleaning the stables for a week to learn not to be an idiot."

This was Commander Sergi Viegal, the Commander of the Ravens. Dante hadn't seen him until this moment, but his reputation was undeniable. Bathed in overwhelming strength, he had led the last assault on the Felroz, gaining territory near the Hydrolo Basin, now a vital reservoir for the Capital, crucial for supplying homes and businesses.

He didn't engage in fights. The rumor was that his strength was so great that even the heavens couldn't rival it.

If he's so strong, why don't we advance deeper into their territories?

It was as if Sergi had read his thoughts. He turned his face, scrutinizing Dante from head to toe, then laughed at James again.

"Arrogant fool." He grabbed James by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "If you'd checked his Cosmic Energy, you'd have understood that with your pathetic superiority complex, you'd never win."

He shoved James back to the ground.

Dante didn't think it appropriate to comment. James had already faced the consequences of his actions. However, Sergi approached Dante and spoke softly, almost in a whisper:

"I hope Officer Dalia's efforts to conceal your ability are worth it. Try not to die out there."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a half-smoked cigar, waved it a few times, and extended it to Dante.

"James Rodd paid the bet he made with you with this." He grabbed Dante's hand as he took the cigar. "Don't mess up in my city, understood?"

"Yes, Commander."

Sergi pushed Dante back and walked away. He passed Dalia and the others, heading for the door.

"Officer Dalia, tomorrow, noon."

And he left.