The night was finally coming to an end. The battle had ceased—for now. Across the battered city, people began to recover, picking themselves up from the destruction left in the wake of war. But out on the northern plain, two of the city's strongest stood facing each other, the tension between them as heavy as the dawn mist.
Rethrus stared at Dante, memories of his first defeat burning in his mind. Dante had beaten him before—completely, without mercy. For someone who'd always left battles unscathed, that loss was a wound deeper than any blade could cut. Now, Dante stood before him, wounded and worn out, the marks of his own titanic struggle still fresh.
Dante, breathing hard, his body aching, kept his stance firm. His thoughts raced. 'Was my instinct right all along? How many lives were lost, how many hopes shattered because of this war?' He needed answers.
"Are you the one who planned all of this?" Dante demanded, voice rough.
Rethrus nodded once.
Dante's eyes widened, a storm of questions swirling behind them. 'How could a kid plan all this? How could he pull it off alone? Is he really the mastermind, or is someone else pulling the strings? And what am I supposed to do with him now?'
"Do you have an accomplice?" Dante pressed.
Rethrus began to summon shadowy arms behind his back. "No," he answered simply.
"Tsk. If that's true, where's the kid?" Dante shot back.
"I don't know," Rethrus replied, readying his staff for battle.
Frustration flared in Dante's eyes. He swung his sword, sending a shockwave toward Rethrus. The younger mage didn't bother dodging; his shadow arms absorbed the blow with ease.
Dante lunged, but his movements were slower now, his strength fading. Rethrus dodged with agility and countered, one of his shadow arms landing a punch. Dante retaliated with a punch of his own, the two exchanging blows before breaking apart, both gasping for breath.
'My first loss... and I don't want another,' Rethrus thought, determination burning in his eyes. 'I will win, even if he's tired and wounded. A win is a win.'
Dante, still stunned by Rethrus's tenacity, thought, 'I know I'm exhausted, but he shouldn't be able to keep up with me. Not like this.'
He paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. 'Maybe that kid's gained more confidence since we first met. Back then, I saw fear in his eyes. Now, he must think he can finally take me down while I'm wounded. But I won't let him win. Not now.'
Rethrus lunged forward, his shadowy arms coiling like serpents. "Umbral Surge!" he shouted, releasing a dark wave of energy. Dante, too exhausted to dodge, raised his claymore to shield himself. The attack slammed into his blade, forcing him back a step, his boots grinding against the cracked earth.
"You know what you've done?" Dante growled, water swirling around his sword. With a roar, he summoned water wolves—translucent, snarling beasts—that charged at Rethrus.
The younger mage didn't flinch. His shadow arms lashed out, tearing through the wolves in bursts of mist. But Dante was already closing in, swinging his claymore with desperate strength. Rethrus crossed his shadowy limbs to block, the force of the strike rattling his bones.
Locked in the clash, Dante's voice cut through the tension. "Tell me—was that kid's life worth the cause you've made?"
Rethrus's eyes narrowed. Before he could answer, Dante's blade surged with water magic, shattering the shadow arms. The claymore arced toward Rethrus's chest, but he twisted away just in time, putting distance between them.
'I'm too slow,' Dante thought, sweat dripping into his eyes.
Rethrus summoned new shadow arms. "What did l do, exactly?" he hissed, his voice cold.
"Piss off!" Dante shouted, swinging again. "Stop acting like you don't know your faults!"
The attack was sluggish, and Rethrus sidestepped it effortlessly. "Am I the one who declared war? Am l the one who slaughtered Merlion's men?"
"No—but you lit the fire! You planned all of this!" Dante spat, his breath ragged. 'I can't believe someone this young orchestrated it all,' he thought, frustration boiling over.
The two continued their relentless battle, Rethrus unleashing wave after wave of dark magic. Dante, battered and exhausted from his earlier fight, could only shield himself and dodge as best he could, his movements growing heavier with each attack.
"Even if I did plan all of it, as if I'm controlling everyone's mind, as if I told them to kill themselves. It's not my fault if your lustful lord was so easy to bait," Rethrus taunted, weaving around Dante's sluggish swings.
Hearing the insult, something snapped inside Dante. Rage surged through his fatigue. With a sudden burst of speed, he closed the distance. Rethrus tried to react, but Dante was too fast. He seized Rethrus by the neck and lifted him off the ground, shadow arms clawing desperately at Dante's grip.
"How dare you speak of my lord like that," Dante growled, his voice shaking with fury.
"You sit in the main city, living your best life, while we have to claw our way to the top. You want to save a kid? There are dozens more in the orphanage. Why only her? You're all hypocrites. As if the king you serve is clean. As if you're pure yourself. You've already killed, and every life lost in this war is on you. So stop talking about my ma—"
A dark blast suddenly erupted above Dante's head. He glanced up just in time to be struck, the force breaking his hold and sending him stumbling back. Shadows swirled around his vision, confusion and pain clouding his senses. Rethrus fell to the ground, gasping for air, but quickly regained his footing and readied his stance.
"You're right," Rethrus said between heavy breaths, steadying his staff as darkness gathered beside him. "I'm not clean, and I don't care if the king isn't either. Saving her might not change anything, but I don't have to justify myself to a murderer like you. If you think I'm wrong, then stop me. If you can't, then lie down."
Dante, wounded and barely standing, lifted his claymore once more. Water magic flickered weakly along the blade. The battlefield was silent, the tension thick as both prepared for what might be their final clash.
Suddenly, a small floating darkness appeared beside Rethrus. It was a dark void hovering silently, and Dante looked at it, confused.
' I know, the moment Kaeli said it could cause destruction like this, I thought to myself that I had to stop. But I wanted to know the truth,' Rethrus thought as he began to cast a small dark nova. 'Now it's already too late, and I'm not going to be scolded by him. I just want to save her.'
He thought about the civilians for a moment. ' I'm pretty sure they're just injured, that's all.'
Caesar—whom they killed. 'Eri and Kaeli killed him, and he was a killer himself.'
The small dark nova was ready to shoot. 'Saving her is the right thing to do.' He prepared to attack.
Dante, watching Rethrus create the attack, muttered, 'Tsk, that kid isn't even guilty of what's happening. He's right—we're both killers here. We should settle this with a fight.'
He saw Rethrus preparing to attack, so he prepared as well and ran towards him.
Rethrus released the small dark nova toward Dante, who dodged it.
'He missed,' Dante thought. He shifted his sword so he could hit Rethrus with the flat of the blade—not to kill him. Now he reached his striking point and prepared to swing.
"Seems like you los—"
Suddenly, he was hit from behind. The force pulled at every fiber of his being, draining his strength and mana, knocking him down completely before he could hit Rethrus.
'It's Void Leap. Before this war, I knew I couldn't hit you with my attacks because of your speed, so I learned this attack beforehand, in my room. It's an attack that uses the pulling characteristics of my magic. Since the floating void is made of darkness, and so is my attack, it pulls it back, thus hitting the enemy. It's a kind of manipulation of the attack, but linear and limited,' Rethrus explained.
He steadied himself and readied for more.
"I know my method isn't pure, but it's better than letting your master destroy someone's future. And don't worry about those kids at the orphanage you mentioned. I'll come back here stronger than you'll ever be and save those kids." Then he walked away, tired.
Dante was still conscious and saw Rethrus walking away, even though he was down. He moved his arms and pointed his palm at Rethrus, opening it as a strong surge of water began to form.
'I will not let you take away my master's happiness,' he thought as he aimed at Rethrus. Suddenly, he remembered his daughter—his beloved daughter, the one he loved more than anything. She had been robbed of a family and a childhood, and she was the only girl he loved, his entire world. Yet, despite all his strength, he couldn't give her the world she deserved. She had only one request, and that thought clouded his mind in that moment.
"Papa, please save her."
The words pierced through the chaos, shaking him to his core. His daughter's plea, filled with hope and desperation, clouded his thoughts and stilled his hand. Everything else faded away—his anger, his exhaustion, the battle itself.
He then closed his palm, canceling the attack—letting Rethrus go.
As the first light crept over the horizon, the battered sky began to soften. The long night was finally ending, and with it, the war that had scarred so many lives. The battlefield, once filled with rage and magic, now lay quiet beneath the gentle glow of morning.
Dante lowered his hand, his heart heavy but resolute. The echoes of his daughter's voice lingered in his mind, guiding him toward mercy and a fragile hope for peace. In that moment, both warriors understood: some battles could only be ended by letting go.
More importantly, he was letting her go.