The arena stretched out before Dante, a vast expanse of compacted earth and steel plating, roughly the size of half a football field — about 50 meters long, 30 meters wide. The ground bore the scars of previous battles: deep gouges from blades, scorch marks from essence blasts, and cracked plates where raw power had struck. A faint mist of dust hung in the air, caught in the flickering glow of floodlights positioned high above.
Surrounding the arena rose tier upon tier of seats, packed tight with 5,000 spectators. The roar of the crowd was deafening, yet distant — as if Dante's mind had pushed the noise away, leaving only the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Massive screens floated midair, magnifying the scene for those in the back rows. Every eye was locked onto the center of the arena.
Dante stepped forward from the tunnel entrance, his boots crunching on gravel and scattered metal fragments. The noise seemed to fade, not because the crowd grew quiet, but because in that moment, Dante tuned it out. His mind sharpened, his gaze fixed on the opposite end of the field where Kara emerged — a tall figure cloaked in a long combat coat, her eyes cold as steel, her aura coiled tight like a blade ready to strike.
Dante's usual calm felt heavier now. There was no room for banter, no room for hesitation. He took a slow breath, feeling the familiar weight of tension settle over his shoulders, the hum of his core thrumming in sync with his heartbeat.
A single chime echoed through the arena — the signal that the match was about to begin.
Dante raised his head, meeting Kara's gaze across the field. No words were exchanged. No need. Everything would be said through force, skill, and will.
As the final countdown boomed through the speakers — "Three… Two… One…" — Dante shifted his stance, essence ready to flow, eyes steady, mind clear.
The battle had begun.
This time, Dante intended to strike first. He knew that if he tried to drag this out, Kara would eventually use her electricity to shock him into submission — or worse. But before he could act, Kara lunged, thrusting her rapier forward in a blur of steel.
Her speed was impressive — but nothing compared to Kaela's. Dante easily read the trajectory of the blade and slipped to the side.
But he wasn't here to dodge forever. His plan was clear: strike hard, strike fast, and overwhelm her before she could adapt. He had spent every moment since Kara's previous match studying her, analyzing her movements, cataloging every attack pattern. He had prepared for this.
Rapier thrusts were easier to slip past than the wide arcs of a katana or the unpredictable sweeps of spinning blades. As Kara's first strike missed, Dante prepared to counter. But she was quick — quicker than he expected — pulling her rapier back and launching a second thrust before he could close in.
The attack came faster than his advance, forcing Dante to retreat a step.
'So I can't press forward after slipping her thrusts,' he thought, his mind racing. 'Her recovery between attacks is too fast. She's sacrificed power for speed… barely charging her strikes so she can launch them in rapid succession.'
If that was the case — Dante would take a risk.
Kara continued her relentless assault, withdrawing and thrusting again and again with machine-like precision. She was growing frustrated, her strikes sharper, her patience fraying as she failed to land a hit. Then came the opening.
As she tried to draw back her rapier after another missed thrust, Dante, moving with calculated timing, shot out his left hand and caught the blade mid-motion. His shield component flared, and with his insulated glove, he grasped the weapon without harm.
Kara's eyes widened, startled — caught off guard by the sudden reversal.
Dante didn't hesitate. With his other hand, he drew back his bat and swung down, aiming a brutal strike at Kara's head. The bat carved through the air with a sharp whoosh, infused with breaker essence, promising devastation.
For a heartbeat, Kara froze — her face tensed, eyes wide in shock — then at the last possible second, she unleashed her defense.
"Discharge — max!"
A surge of high-voltage electricity exploded from her rapier, coursing through it and into Dante's arm. He gritted his teeth, a growl of pain tearing from his throat as the shock tore through him. His muscles spasmed, his grip faltered, and the bat's swing lost its deadly force.
'If I fail once, I'll try again,' Dante thought, fighting through the agony.
Before releasing the bat, he timed the drop of the rapier just right. Kara flinched as the weapon was suddenly freed, her stance disrupted for a crucial instant. Dante seized the chance, channeling everything he had left into one last powerful swing.
The bat whistled through the air, aimed squarely at Kara's head.
Somehow — through pure instinct or battle-hardened reflex — Kara managed to withdraw her rapier and raise it in defense even as she stumbled back. Steel met steel with a shriek of metal on metal. But Dante's breaker-infused strike overwhelmed the block, the bat smashing past the blade and grazing Kara's forehead as she barely escaped the full force. A red line bloomed where the tip of the bat's arc kissed her skin.
Dante didn't let up. His body screamed in protest from the electric shock, his nerves still burning, his muscles trembling with residual pain. But he pushed through, charging forward, bat raised for another strike.
Again, Kara lashed out with her rapier, trying to keep him at bay. Again, Dante slipped past the thrust, driving forward. And just as she drew back to strike again — his left hand shot out and seized the rapier a second time.
This time, Kara's disbelief showed clear on her face. Her eyes widened in shock, her voice caught in her throat.
'Once could've been luck… but twice? What the hell is he? Is he even human? Some kind of monster?'
"A freak… an alien…" she muttered under her breath, shaken.
Dante ignored it all, pulling his bat back once more, gathering his strength for the next crushing blow.