2 months before.
Somewhere deep in the wilderness, in an open field, a towering shadow moved with frightening force.
In one swing of his massive longsword, he cleaved through a dozen trees as if they were blades of grass.
The shadow was Taouon, once a demon and the Sinner of Sloth, now a dead shadow under Dante's command. He had been ordered to chop down trees to clear the space.
As for Dante,
Cling! Thud! Shhhkk! Clang!
The air rang with steel and sparks. He was sparring with Lustia, another dead shadow he had summoned.
His main foundation was necromancy, but his secondary was spatial mana — a rare combination that made him both feared and unpredictable.
Though he held two mana foundations within him, one was his very own and another was the infinity mana foundation.
Given to him by his dead friend, Lytharis before she died in the hands of the Academy Invasion.
Dante was being pushed hard. He laughed between heavy breaths and shouted,
"Come on, Lustia! Show me your title as the former Sinner of Lust means something!"
Lustia's hollow eyes suddenly burned bright blue. With terrifying speed, she closed in, her movements sharp and precise.
She lashed out with hand-to-hand strikes, weaving them seamlessly with swift dagger attacks, her shadowy form twisting and darting like a predator.
Clash!
Their summoned daggers collided, sparks exploding as they locked blades. The two figures pressed against each other, teeth clenched, the air humming with the weight of their mana.
Dante dug in his heels, countering Lustia's flurry with perfect timing. Every motion was calculated, every clash ringing out across the clearing.
On the sidelines, a figure sat watching silently, her form glowing faintly like a mirage.
"Now, kid!" the voice cut through.
Dante's body ignited with Kilamahi's power. His skin did not turn white this time, but instead glowing lines of fire carved across him like living tattoos, tribal black marks etching themselves across his arms, chest, and face. His very presence burned with pressure.
"You too, Lustia. Commence stage two!"
At his command, Lustia's shadowy body turned violet, her aura dark and heavy. She lunged at him again, their battle escalating into a storm of slashes, kicks, and crushing blows. Their movements blurred, a deadly dance of daggers and fists.
Then —
Thud!
Dante was driven to the ground, his dagger knocked from his hand.
"Gah!" he groaned, coughing as he hit the dirt.
"Damn it…"
Lustia froze, her eyes widening in horror. She dropped her weapons and immediately slid down to her knees before him.
"Forgive me, my liege! I didn't know you wanted to win!!!" she cried, bowing her head.
Dante pushed himself up slowly, rubbing his chest where she had struck. He sighed and shook his head.
"Calm down, Lustia. It was just a spar. From losing, I can learn. But from winning… not that much."
Her glowing eyes softened. She nodded with understanding.
"Thank you for the sparring session, my liege. Please allow my leave. I need to recharge before my liege's next sparring session."
Dante gave a small nod. Lustia's form dissolved into smoke and slid back into his shadow.
"Hey, Taouon!" Dante called.
The massive figure looked back, lowering his blade.
"I think that's enough. I'll take it from here."
Taouon bowed silently before his form faded, returning to Dante's shadow as well.
A voice echoed lightly from the sidelines.
"Not bad, Dante. Still needs improvement, but not bad."
It was Kilamahi, the goddess of war, in her spiritual form, watching with arms folded.
"Not bad, Kila," Dante replied, wiping sweat from his brow. "You're now able to roam freely in the open."
"Heh. Of course. I am the goddess of war, thank you very much."
Dante chuckled before raising a hand. Several undead demon shadows emerged, groaning and snarling as they awaited orders.
He pointed at the logs Taouon had cut down, and the creatures moved at once, dragging and stacking them.
Dante crouched beside the wood, running his hand over the rough surface. He knew there were no nails or screws here.
Instead, he recalled a method from his past life — Kigumi, the old Japanese joinery technique where wood was carved to interlock tightly like puzzle pieces.
Mortise and tenon, dovetail joints, intricate fittings — wood bound to wood without a single nail.
Piece by piece, he cut and carved, fitting the logs together with precise angles and grooves. Slowly, a small shelter took shape, sturdy and seamless.
"It's not much," Dante muttered, stepping back to admire it. "But at least it'll keep me sheltered for a while. Up next is rations and crops."
He reached into his belongings and pulled out two bent pieces of metal, setting them carefully before him.
Kilamahi tilted her head, intrigued.
"What do those things do, kid? They just look like two bent scraps of metal."
Dante smirked knowingly.
"Hehe. You'll see, Kila."
The bent rods began to twitch and shift faintly, pointing in the same direction. Dante's eyes lit up as he followed their alignment.
A river.
"Jackpot," he muttered, a grin spreading across his face.
He followed the bent metals, their tips unwavering, and soon the faint rush of water reached his ears. The running river revealed itself through the trees.
Hours of work followed, sweat mixing with the scent of freshly carved wood, as Dante shaped the land. With the aid of a few summoned shadows, the task became faster.
By the time the sun hung low, it was done — a modest shelter standing proud, a small patch of earth cleared for farming, and a wooden waterwheel resting on the river's edge.
Dante had even carved a narrow channel from the river, guiding the flow toward his shelter before letting it return back to the mainstream.
When the time came for hunting, Dante summoned Lustia once more. She emerged from his shadow, bowed deeply at his command, then unfurled her great demonic wings. With a powerful beat, she rose high into the sky.
"My liege, five wild boars at five o'clock west," Lustia reported through telepathy.
Dante smirked, readying himself as he accepted the signal. But before she could return to his shadow, Lustia froze midair. Her eyes widened, her body trembling as an aura swept over the land like a suffocating fog.
"My liege… retreat," she warned in a shaken voice. "A high demon is at sight… Ancient class."
"Ancient what?!" Dante replied telepathically, confusion sharpening into alertness.
Then the presence made itself known.
A figure emerged from the forest, the shadows seeming to part for her. Her skin was a smooth, deep bronze, her long black hair tinted with grey streaks like storm clouds, and her eyes burned golden like lightning itself.
Her lips were painted with a deep violet, and though her aura spoke of centuries — five hundred years of existence — her appearance was that of a woman in her thirties.
Ingrid Von Balmung.
"Hmmm…? A human in this barren land?" she said, her voice calm, yet resonant with the weight of command.
From above, Lustia hovered tensely, awaiting orders. Dante kept his composure, telepathically instructing her to stay high and monitor. He forced a smirk, feigning nonchalance.
"And who may this beauty of a woman be?" Dante asked, tone half-playful, half-cautious.
"A beauty?" Ingrid arched a brow, her golden eyes narrowing. "Boy, in your eyes I may be one. But to me… that is just another tired pickup line."
Her gaze shifted, scanning the clearing until it landed on Dante's small hut. She tilted her head with faint curiosity.
"You live here, child?"
"Just setting up camp," Dante replied smoothly. "A few days. Maybe a week or half."
"I see…" Ingrid murmured, circling the structure slowly. "From the looks of it, I'm… fascinated by your craft. May I enter, with your permission, lone child?"
Dante hesitated, his mind running through what-if scenarios, but finally gave a slow nod. Ingrid stepped forward and ducked inside.
The interior was simple yet sturdy. Sunlight bled in through the gaps in the roof, brushing across the wooden walls. Ingrid ran her hand over the surface, feeling the texture.
"All wood… neatly polished. Not even a rough cut. Interesting."
She stopped, her eyes catching on the joinery — the interlocking wooden shapes forming a seamless hold. She bent down, tracing the edges with her fingers.
"What is this thing, human?"
Dante smiled faintly, stepping closer.
"Ah. Something I discovered and mastered in my journey,"
he said with a hint of pride.
"A joinery technique called Kigumi. You carve two pieces of wood so they fit tightly and sturdily, locking into each other. No nails, no screws… only precision."
"Fascinating, human," Ingrid said, rising to her feet. She opened her mouth to question Dante further—
Grrrhh!
Her stomach growled loudly, echoing in the small hut.
"Forgive me," she admitted, slightly embarrassed. "I have not eaten in two days."
Dante studied her carefully. She was a demon—an enemy by nature. Trusting her could be foolish. And yet, seeing her like this… he sighed.
"Come on," he said at last. "Take off your armor and sit down at the table. I'll whip up something."
Ingrid tilted her head, confused, but went along with it. "Why would you treat me—a demon—with such kindness, human? And don't expect anything in return."
Dante smirked faintly as he moved to his supplies. He laid out two eggs, a bowl of day-old rice, onions, garlic, chopped chicken, and fresh spring onions.
From his pack he also retrieved salt he had collected during his journey, enough to last him three months.
He pulled out a wok, sparked a fire, and began cooking. His movements were sharp, precise, as though every step was calculated,
Garlic and onions sizzling first, chicken tossed in at the right moment, rice and egg folded perfectly together, spring onions sprinkled like the final brushstroke on a painting.
Ten minutes later, the hut filled with an inviting aroma. Dante set down a steaming plate before her.
Ingrid leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"What is this? It doesn't look fit for royalty… yet it doesn't seem entirely common either."
She inhaled deeply, the warmth of the scent already seeping into her chest.
"Well, you did say you hadn't eaten in two days," Dante replied.
Ingrid picked up the spoon. Slowly, almost cautiously, she scooped a mouthful and took a bite.
Her eyes went wide. The flavors hit her all at once—savory, rich, layered. Her gums tingled painfully, but it was a pain wrapped in pleasure, overwhelming her senses.
"By the Demoness…" she gasped. "It's so delicious! So good!"
She devoured the plate quickly, leaving only an empty dish behind.
"Oh no…" she muttered. "I was hoping for—"
"Seconds?" Dante grinned, already setting down another plate.
Ingrid blinked in shock. "That quickly?!"
"It's an easy dish. Ten minutes at most," he said lightly. "Beauty."
Her lips curled into a faint smirk. "Oh hush, boy. You're making this demoness feel young again."
She dug in again. Then a third plate. A fourth. A fifth. She kept going until the twelfth, finally leaning back with a sigh of pure satisfaction.
Dante chuckled, arms crossed.
"You've got a big appetite, demon."
His voice carried genuine warmth—satisfaction not only that his food had been enjoyed, but that even someone like her could be disarmed by a meal.
Ingrid looked at him with intrigue, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "Human… what is this dish called?"
Dante smiled.
"It's called egg fried rice."
---
Chapter 34 — End.