Bolts of lightning escaped the surface of Dante's blade, crackling with thunderous intensity. The rubble near him steadily soared as though beckoned to rise by an unseen force. His Brand was Thunderclap Severance, granting him the ability to augment himself through lightning.
It was the power that divided him from the greatest of swordmasters. Through his lightning blade, none stood faster than the sixth Paragon. Even the strongest shields falter beneath his power. Only one person could stand against him and halt his sword.
That person was none other than the seventh Paragon of Block 7, Alistair Glass, the strongest of humanity. Her emergence brought the end of his reign as the unstoppable blade of humankind. Naturally, alongside his stubbornness was arrogance.
The reason why he didn't utilized his Brand against Damien was merely because of the fact that he didn't need to do so to execute the Aberrant. Even without the augmentation of Thunderclap Serverance, he was an unrivalled swordmaster.
"Brat! I shouldn't have let that white-haired rascal take you from me. It was because of her that you betrayed my Espada Clan. I will never forget it!" Old Dante roared as he vanished with a flash, while a thunderous roar echoed.
The air rumbled as multiple lightning bolts struck nearby buildings. Francine narrowed her gaze, raising her zweihander and blocking the lightning strike of her former master. In an instant, hundreds of meters of distance were crossed by the sixth Paragon.
She shook her head and muttered under her breath. "Espada Clan and I were never meant to be. It was a shackle that was meant to be broken. Miss Alastair only helped me realize the truth."
"I am not as weak as before, old man. Helpless against your power." A radiant halo materialized over her head, resembling a crown of an empress descending from the heavens. Her Brand was Majesty of the Skies, presenting her with the power to rule over the realm above the world.
In simpler terms, she could wield power equivalent to the entire skies. Those struck by her zweihander would be crushed by the weight of the heavens. It wasn't without its price, however. Once activated, a subtle shift of her personality would occur.
She would look down upon everyone and everything. There were many reasons why she left the Espada Clan in such a devastating manner. But the past had long gone by; there was no need to entertain the shadows of her former self.
Dante felt the resistance of her gigantic blade, prompting him to raise his eyebrows. It has been a while since the two of them fought against one another. Usually, they would steer clear of each other's way.
It was only when he attacked her junior that Francine finally confronted him, intending to strike back in full force. Battles between the divisions of SIGIL weren't abnormal. Whether it'd be principles, ideologies, or pride.
Jaegers weren't drones controlled by the Federal Government. They were metahumans who wielded the power of aether, capable of altering the laws of reality with ease. In simpler terms, they were monsters on a tight leash.
Each Paragon belonging to SIGIL held its own ambitions. Only the sixth Paragon was wholly loyal to SIGIL and the Federation of North America. Even then, the price was the social uplift of the Espada Clan. A small price to pay for a powerful individual on their side.
"I haven't grown weaker these past few years, old man. It's the opposite. I did not forget the taint of my defeat. Don't mistake my silence for weakness." Francine uttered and sliced downward.
Dante's instincts flared, prompting him to vanish under the crackling thunder. The old swordmaster barely dodged the zweihander as it descended and landed on the ground with a thud.
The tip of the gigantic blade bounced back, and what followed was destruction. In an instant, a gargantuan canyon was etched onto the ruined city of Manhattan, creating a great divide that split the borough in half. It was quite a spectacular sight.
The wind surged downward, flooding the empty vacuum the massive fissure left behind. The deep trench howled with intensity, bellowing for rubble and dust to fall upon its abyssal depths.
In the distance, old Dante glanced at the enormous pit beside him and furrowed his eyebrows. His heir had grown stronger since their battle half a decade ago. The more he thought about it, the darker his face became.
If it wasn't for what white-haired brat, the Espada Clan would have a powerful new generation leading the way to the future. The thought alone made his blood boil. He became a blur, dashing like a lightning bolt flashing through the devastated landscape.
Dante's blade crackled with scattered thunderbolts as he threw over ten thousand slashes in a fraction of a millisecond. Francine raised her zweihander, blocking and deflecting each and every attack with utter calm.
The ruined buildings behind her had disintegrated into nothingness, leaving behind the decrepit foundations of the past. Half of the abandoned skylines of Manhattan had disappeared as the two wreaked destruction with each move.
It only lasted a minute, yet the battlefield became no less different than a wasteland. It was as if monstrous giants fought to their deaths, leaving behind ruins in their path. The powerhouses of humanity weren't to be underestimated.
"Don't mistake my strength to be a mere result of my bloodline and swordmanship." Francine shook her head, understanding the thoughts flooding the stubborn mind of her former master. It has always been like this.
As though everything she built for herself was only possible because of the Espada Clan. It was that shackle that limited her potential and strength. It was that chain that Alastair forced her to understand.
Her Brand, Majesty of the Skies, relied on her mental state as a being. The reason why her swordsmanship and power plateaued half a decade ago was due to the self-imposed limitation she brought upon herself.
The Espada Clan held her back, and when she wanted to leave them behind. All of them dared to attack her in anger. She understood their hate as she became the vessel of their dreams. Unfortunately for them, she wasn't an object that could carry it.
That night, when she defeated them. All of her chains were broken, and her strength soared to unparalleled heights. The words of her boss were flawless and correct. That incident deepened her trust in the seemingly arrogant seventh Paragon.
"I built the foundation with my blood. I don't even use the swordsmanship taught by the Espada." She no longer wielded a conventional blade for swordmasters; instead, she used an oversized zweihander. She had long breached the teachings of the Clan.
In her mind, there were no connections between her and the Clan. Other than her last name, which she hadn't changed at the behest of her boss, Miss Alastair. "Old man... Find another heir for the Clan."
Francine sighed, her oppression calming as she shook her head. She walked away from the battlefield, leaving behind her grandfather, who could only watch his last blood depart. The teachings of the Espada were to prioritize their blade, no matter the cost.
And she never abandoned that teaching since she first held her blade.