Dante charged forward with everything he had. From inside his shirt, the exoskeleton armor expanded and began vibrating intensely as it took on a crimson-red hue.
It elevated Dante's physical strength to Level 1, almost 4-stars.
His punch shot toward the other Dante, who blocked it by raising his left forearm and tried to counter with a spinning kick.
However, Dante had started with his full strength, and it should've been impossible to recreate the Crimson Lion Armor—or the power it granted.
So, in this exchange of blows, Dante had the advantage, able to defend himself without too many injuries, even leaving a purple bruise on the other Dante's forearm.
"Brutal, huh? I'm really incredible, aren't I? And do you know where you would fit perfectly? Right here!" he said, pointing at his mouth, drooling.
But the other Dante wasn't just arrogant—he was Dante in every aspect. So he, too, was destructive, slightly masochistic, and uncontrollable.
He rushed in, using Dante's own kickboxing style, which terrified him. Not even Dante himself knew where he had learned kickboxing—so how could this other him copy it?
And that truly scared Dante. Was he really the original? His memories were incomplete… a headache began pulsing through his skull.
But he didn't take his eyes off his other self—his other him.
They continued trading blows intensely—one emanating eccentricity, hunger, and intensity, while the other radiated anger, confusion, and curiosity.
"And even so… it seems like you already took Viviane's first time. She must have been beautiful, right?" the other Dante began speaking.
But the moment those words left his mouth, rage surged through Dante. Those words carried a sinister terror. Viviane could distinguish them… and where was she?
As those thoughts connected with a single thread of fury, a current seemed to erupt through his body.
All his meridians tightened, and that single string of mana in his Dantian coursed through his body and concentrated in his fist.
He charged and struck the other Dante head-on.
Using the only drop of mana in his body, he created a crater the size of a small hand.
Boom.
The sound echoed throughout the village.
And when Dante looked at the other him, he was lying down—injured, drooling, joyful, excited, utterly irrational.
But his last words… should never have been spoken.
…
Several people rushed out of Tyler's house, among them Tyler himself and the three former leaders, who were disguised.
They were the fastest to reach the scene. The environment looked normal, but something stood out—Dante.
He was kneeling, sweating, wearing the exoskeleton armor, staring at a small crater with intense hatred.
But among them, only old Hai noticed a strange sign—bizarre, different from the malignant gods—an impurity of human origin.
No! It was something deeper, a strange feeling, something that even left him confused, perplexed.
But one thought came to him: "the one who walks."
He didn't understand the meaning, nor why he thought of it, which only made things stranger.
But someone interrupted his thoughts—it was Dante, asking a question.
"What has been the frequency you've seen me lately? When was the last time?"
His question left everyone confused. They should be asking him what happened, but only old Hai seemed to understand his worry.
"Well, I'd say that in the last few days we've seen you every day, though only once a day. As for the last time, it was when I explained those concepts to you."
Tyler and Tu Sheng nodded before asking:
"Brat, what happened here?"
Dante looked at him, thinking for a few seconds before replying strangely, "We can talk later. It's better that way."
As soon as he said that, silence lingered for a few seconds—until several auras approached.
Around ten individuals between Level 8 and almost Level 2 arrived.
"Did something happen?" asked an elder named Tim, who looked at the crater with curiosity and a hint of surprise.
"Dante, what happened?" A sweet voice called his name, pulling him out of his anger.
Dante, no fool, grabbed Slay—who was wrapped in his clothes—and showed her as if she were the culprit.
The little snake looked at everyone from above, then raised her neck proudly, as though gazing at her subjects.
"Oh, Slay seemed to notice something and began attacking. I got startled for a second and attacked, thinking it was a sneak attack."
Everyone nodded, still suspicious, but Tyler made a hand gesture, and a small rat, Level 1 intermediate, appeared in his palm.
"So the culprit was this little thing?" But as he showed the unlucky rat, Slay started thrashing, trying to bite it.
"Well, well, since there's no real problem, let's return—it's dinner time," said a bearded man with white hair and taoist robes. He felt like a sword—this man was the village's great elder.
"Old Sword is right. We should go back…"