The four Servants were running toward where their boat—their only immediate means of transport—should have been, only to stop dead in their tracks when they saw a blond man wearing a gas mask blocking their path.
"How's it going?" Dante asked, looking at them.
All four immediately went on the defensive.
Gaheris was the most distressed; in his mind, he couldn't fathom Lancelot being defeated, yet seeing the enemy standing right there, he had no choice but to accept reality.
However, the situation wasn't quite as dire as he had imagined; Lancelot hadn't been defeated, merely incapacitated.
Dante had simply left him behind, realizing that if he kept fighting the Knight of the Lake, this group of four might manage to escape the island.
Facing an enemy of relatively unknown strength, they were unsure of the best course of action—especially since the four Servants didn't fully understand each other's abilities.
Gaheris was the first to step forward, a sword gripped in his single hand.
"Go on ahead; I'll hold him off," he ordered the group, his eyes fixed on the enemy.
"But you won't be able to stop him for long," the little girl said.
"I know. I just want to buy you time to escape," the knight argued.
He was about to say more, but suddenly, Dante launched an attack, unwilling to listen to any more of their blathering.
"Do you think I'm just going to stand here and listen to your plans all day?" Dante said, knife in hand, as he clashed with Gaheris. "You take me for an idiot."
The knight grimaced in pain as he struggled to withstand the enemy's force with only one hand.
"Stand back," a voice called out from behind Gaheris, causing him to step aside.
At that moment, the girl made a series of hand gestures, and a blast of fire rained down on Dante, forcing him to move from his spot. "Let's move," declared the woman in the red uniform, grabbing the girl—who kept casting spell after spell without pause, taking advantage of the fact that she was being carried.
Seeing this, the knight had no choice but to follow.
But Dante, utilizing his great mobility, dodged every spell from the Servant—who had to be of the Caster class.
"Do you think this can stop me?" the assassin asked, fixing his gaze on the girl as he lunged forward at full speed.
Dodging the barrage of fire, ice, and wind hurled at his position, Dante closed in on the trio.
Gaheris stepped into his path but was easily repelled by a kick from Dante.
Just as he was about to reach the two women, the one in the red uniform drove her free hand into the ground and ripped up a chunk of earth in one motion, creating a barrier between the assassin and the pair.
Dante didn't hesitate; he shattered the obstacle with a single blow, only to stop short, raise his knife, and block a strike from the woman in red. She had used far more force than he anticipated, driving the impact home and knocking him backward, forcing him to drop his weapon.
The very next second, several pillars of ice erupted around him, forcing him to retreat and separating him from his knife.
Once the assault subsided, Dante glanced at his wrist—which was slightly reddened—and then at the woman in red's fist; she had sustained only a cut that didn't hinder her hand's mobility.
"I didn't expect the damage and defense against humanoids to be so effective; if I hadn't defended myself with Haki, I might have shattered my entire wrist, considering she struck the joint," the assassin thought, eyeing the three of them.
"How are you?" the knight asked the woman in red.
"It's nothing to worry about," she replied in a near-mechanical tone, as if such an injury were trivial.
Gaheris fixed his gaze on the enemy, weighing his options.
"We can't beat him easily; a 4-on-1 fight is feasible, but—being very optimistic—only one of us would likely survive," he voiced his thoughts.
"So, what's the best option?" asked Hassas, who had appeared nearby, having waited for the perfect moment to strike during the skirmish.
"Stalling for time—having one person stay behind while the others escape," he explained, clearly distressed by the situation. "Then leave it to me," Hassan declared.
"No, the best thing would be to..." he tried to argue but was cut short.
"Do you think you can stop time long enough for us to escape?" Hassan asked him.
The knight opened his mouth, but—recalling the blow the enemy had dealt him and the resulting pain—he closed it again. Deep down, he didn't consider himself a match for someone capable of defeating the strongest knight of the Round Table.
"I don't see myself winning either, but if it's time you want..." Hassan began, as several other Hassans appeared, surrounding Dante. "Time is something I'm certain I can give you."
Dante, who had been looking at the knife that had vanished, saw that he was now surrounded by dozens of Hassans.
"I see; you're 'Hundred Faces,'" the blond man remarked, surveying the scene.
"It is an honor that you recognize me," one of the Hassans said.
"I wonder if you're capable of introducing yourself," another Hassan asked.
"Why should I? Just because I can describe your identity? Assassins have never been bound by honor, and only the strong have the right to make demands of the weak. And, my friend—sharing the same class as you—you are far weaker than I am."
At those words, Dante drew two weapons; they looked like simple tubes, but the moment he made a sharp movement with them, they transformed into extendable batons.
Hassan said nothing in response to the blond man's taunts; only the blue-haired female Hassan turned to look at the three of them.
"Leave quickly," she demanded.
As she spoke, several daggers were hurled at Dante, but he repelled most of them with his batons and simply dodged the rest using *Kami-e*.
The very next second, five Hassans lunged at him, intent on taking him down, but the blond man, moving with speed and precision, dodged the first two and struck the third on the arm, breaking it. He leaped over the fourth one and, at the last moment, spun one of his staffs and drove it into the opponent's chest, shattering the ribcage and damaging the lungs and heart.
The Hassan fell dead, slamming into the ground with enough force to create a small crater, while the other Hassans watched from the darkness, devoid of emotion.
This was largely because most of them lacked faces; had they possessed them, however, they would have gazed upon the scene with horror.
Neither assassin moved; the Hassan remained focused on his actions and his mission—to buy time—while Dante watched in the distance as the three Servants fled toward the beach.
With no intention of letting them escape, he set off in pursuit.
"Stop him," one of the Hassans commanded, prompting four others to lunge at Dante.
"Pests," the blond man declared as he watched them approach, striking one in the face and killing him with a single blow.
As he dodged a Hassan that leapt at him from behind, he used his collapsible batons to block incoming daggers while simultaneously kicking away another sneak attack.
Across the battlefield, Dante could be seen darting back and forth, dodging and striking ceaselessly.
The blond man's eyes darted rapidly as he contorted his body to evade every blow; however, this constant evasion meant he couldn't quite manage to take down some of the surrounding Hassans.
"Tsch," the assassin clicked his tongue, taking a dagger to the shoulder—causing the nearest Hassan to stare in disbelief—only to immediately smash his baton into the attacker's head, crushing the skull in a single blow.
"One down," Dante said, twisting his body to dodge a dagger by a hair's breadth and kicking another Hassan—slamming him into a tree without killing him—before spinning on his heel to deflect a sneak attack with one baton and strike another foe's throat with the second, instantly shattering his neck. "And another."
Several Hassans could be seen lunging in, only to be sent flying back the way they came—some dead, some unharmed, and others gravely wounded.
Yet, Dante never stopped advancing; he might have slowed down, but he never came to a halt.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of a blade reflecting the moonlight.
It was the figure representing the "Hassan of the Hundred Faces." She held the same knife as before, poised to strike, but thanks to his Haki, Dante already knew her move and was ready.
The moment she attacked, Dante struck the knife, knocking it from her grasp and sending it spinning into the air; he immediately thrust his baton toward her heart, intending to kill her. Anticipating this possibility, she was already gripping her dagger in her other hand—unwilling to die without at least drawing blood from the monster—only for her opponent to suddenly stop and step back.
The very next moment, a slash cut clean through the hood, right where Dante had been standing.
"You made it," Dante said, looking toward the source of the attack.
Hassan followed her opponent's gaze, her eyes widening as she saw Lancelot walking forward, both hands upon his sword, Arondight.
The Knight of the Lake walked slowly, gazing at Dante with a look of determination and a gravity never seen before.
"I see you're back on your feet sooner than I expected," Dante remarked, taking several steps back as Lancelot's intervention had brought the fight to a halt. "What drives you? Honor? Or perhaps you seek redemption?"
The strongest knight of the Round Table heard this but did not answer immediately; he simply breathed calmly with his eyes closed.
"Your taunts will not make me waver, assassin," he declared, assuming an attack stance.
"Was I that obvious?" Dante asked mockingly.
Lancelot's body was not yet at full strength, but he was capable of fighting the opponent standing before him.
Without a second thought, he lunged forward, intent on purging an evil from the world.
In response, Dante spun his batons and intercepted the knight's sword.
The weapons clashed with the sound of hard metal striking hard metal.
Lancelot eyed Dante's extended batons, unable to comprehend how weapons with such simple mechanisms could withstand his greatsword.
At that moment, two Assassins perched on nearby tree branches hurled daggers at his neck, forcing him to use his strength to step back and dodge the incoming projectiles.
Yet the Knight of the Lake held his ground; simultaneously, he lunged forward again, his weapon leading the charge.
Dante found himself battling one of history's mightiest knights while being constantly harassed by stealthy Assassins. The blond fighter regretted not bringing more gas canisters, having exhausted his entire supply during the initial clash with the knight.
Several daggers found their mark on his body; for all his keen perception and speed, he possessed only two arms, and defending multiple areas at once was beyond his current capabilities. He tried to knock Lancelot back with a blow, but the knight blocked it without budging, forcing Dante to take several steps back in search of distance and an opportunity to launch an effective attack.
The knight was about to press the attack when Hassan appeared beside him.
"We'll distract him; you take care of killing him," she explained, watching as he once again held his enemy's knife, prompting Lancelot to nod.
Dozens of Hassans attacked Dante simultaneously, overwhelming him. They no longer cared if they injured one another; they had but a single objective: to give the knight the chance to deliver the killing blow to the enemy.
Lancelot raised his sword, and it began to glow with light.
In the distance, Dante saw this and clicked his tongue: "This is bad."
The Knight of the Lake leapt toward Dante; surrounded by enemies, Dante could not move without colliding with the Hassans encircling him, leaving him only one option in the brief time he had: to block.
He tried to halt Lancelot's attack with his staves, but the blade pierced right through them, shattering the weapons.
Arondight not only cut through the enemy's weapons but also pierced the enemy himself.
A clean gash appeared across Dante's body, nearly slicing him in two.
A spray of blood rained down upon the Knight of the Lake, staining his white armor red.
Having done his part, Lancelot looked up in disbelief to see Dante still standing there as if nothing had happened.
Silence fell over the area; for several seconds, no one spoke.
Dante removed his ancient mask and spat out a mouthful of blood.
"That really hurt, you know?" he said to Lancelot, just as a burst of Conqueror's Haki suddenly flooded the island.
The knight barely saw the punch coming; it struck his face and sent him flying, crashing into several trees.
Ignoring his wound, Dante summoned a scythe as his eyes turned blue; black wings sprouted from his back, and his body began to transform.
Lancelot quickly scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his face, and watched as the enemy before him ceased to be human, transforming instead into a force of nature. "I will show you something that everyone fears, without exception," Dante said, his transformation complete as he bent his body, "and that is called death."
Stamping hard on the ground and cracking the earth, he unleashed a slash of energy.
"Δικαστήριο Απόλυτης Επικράτειας: Ανώτατη Δύναμη," Dante exclaimed.
The Knight of the Lake used his sword to block the blow, but he was driven backward, dragging the entire forest behind him along with several of the surrounding Hassans.
Everything went flying—Hassans, trees, and plants—and as he was sent airborne, Lancelot looked up at the dark sky only to see Dante hovering above him, poised to strike.
His sword had been knocked from his grasp by the sheer force of the blow, leaving him with no choice but to accept his fate.
"Crimson Moon," Dante said as he unleashed the strike.
In that instant, the entire island was split in two—as was the Moon-haired figure, whose body was cleanly severed in half.
The island was utterly destroyed by just two of Dante's strikes, leaving behind a desolate wasteland.
Amidst the wreckage, Dante stood gazing at what he had wrought, his form completely transformed.
He walked over to the last remaining Hassan—the blue-haired woman, who still clutched her blade.
"What are you?" she asked.
"The embodiment of death," he replied, reaping her soul with a sweep of his scythe.
And so, in a single night, Dante slew four Servants and destroyed yet another island.