Juno knew it wouldn't be easy, but she didn’t expect the strike to hit her so quickly. Five seconds. Maybe not even that. She spun her body, trying to escape the straight angle of Dante's attack, and when she thought she had evaded it, his foot came down like thunder.

  She flew backward, landing on her back on the hard snow. The cold crept up her clothes, invading her skin and intensifying the shock. What happened? How did he hit me so fast?

  Juno lifted her face, blinking to clear the confusion. Dante was staring at her with that calm, almost indifferent look, one that seemed to question more than teach. Beside her, Jix was watching, his penetrating and critical gaze as always.

  "You need more focus," he warned, his voice firm in the cold wind. "Don’t think about what you can do with your ability. Understand how your body reacts."

  I know... No, she didn’t know. The proof came two seconds later.

  Dante moved again, too fast for Juno to follow. The sheathed blade brushed her leg, and in an instant, she lost her balance, falling chest-first to the ground. Air escaped her lungs in a muffled groan, the cold snow burning her cheeks.

  This time, when she lifted her face, the voice she heard was not Dante’s.

  "Is this all you have?" It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation, sharp as glass. The voice sounded old, like a dormant memory. "The girl with the lightning... pitiful."

  Juno blinked rapidly, her breath heavy, and put her hand to her face, as if she could push those words away. Her heart was beating too fast, too hard. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Dante.

  But Dante was there, standing silently, watching her. He lowered his sword and rested the sheathed tip against his foot, then crouched beside her. His touch on her shoulder was light, firm, as if he could calm her with that gesture alone.

  "Control your feelings," his voice was low, but filled with authority. "Anger, fear... Leave them behind while you’re here. They’ll interfere with you. Always."

  She held her breath, feeling the pain rising up her arms, but didn’t complain. Control. It was easy to say. How do you control the fear that paralyzes you? The anger that makes you want to scream?

  "If you let these feelings dominate, you’ll never get close to where you want."

  Dante stood, his shadow stretching over the snow. His voice now firmer, more demanding:

  "Get up."

  Juno closed her eyes for a second. She felt the cold snow under her hands, her heart racing, and something hot burning behind her eyes. Tears wanted to come, but she wouldn’t let them. Not here. Not now.

  She clenched her fists and pushed against the ground. When she got up, her legs were shaking, but they were firm enough to hold her. She wiped the snow off her face and looked at Dante with eyes full of determination.

  "Yes, sir."

  Dante smiled, just a corner of his mouth, but didn’t say anything. For him, that small victory was enough. For Juno, it was only the beginning.

  The blows came like a storm, relentless, cold, merciless. Juno had lost many times in training against Captain Seleri, but this... this was different. It wasn’t just a defeat; it was humiliation. Every time she got up, like an unruly dog, Jix would offer a dry word, a suggestion on how to improve. But the words were dust in the wind. She tried to keep up with Dante, but how do you keep up with lightning?

  He moved with the fluidity of a river and the brutality of thunder. His arms were too fast, his body’s spin perfect, his steps a parade of deadly precision. There was no pattern, no predictability; each attack was a harbinger of the inevitable. When he retreated, he seemed like an animal waiting for the right moment to bite. And the bite always came. The sword found her body as a shadow finds light.

  One hour. Sixty minutes, but for Juno, each second felt like a lifetime of falls. A hundred times or more she kissed the frozen ground, and each time, the snow felt crueller, as if mocking her. The last fall, recent and vivid in her memory, burned more than the others. Dante had advanced from the right, the movement too fast to follow. She recoiled, hopeful she had dodged it, but then saw him spin on his heels. A downward strike, direct and precise.

  He wants to kill me, she thought. She felt the murderous intent not just in his eyes but in her aching bones, her tired muscles, her racing, desperate heart. There was something in that aura, in the way he moved... if she didn’t dodge, if she didn’t act, she would die. Simple as that.

  And then, the strike stopped.

  She didn’t move. She couldn’t even think about moving. It was in that instant, in that moment when she thought she was safe, that he attacked again. A sweep. A simple, almost casual move. But to her, it was the ground collapsing. Juno felt her feet leave the ground. She flew a meter into the air, and as she did, the sword was already reaching out, a silent warning that Dante controlled even the direction of her fall.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  She was thrown. She flew four meters, maybe more, until the final impact. The cold, rusted car interrupted her trajectory. Juno lay there, fallen in the snow, feeling the cold mix with the heat of the pain that radiated through every fiber of her body. The silence was broken by Jix’s deep voice, full of disbelief.

  "Shit, Dante." He took a step forward, but Dante extended his sword, blocking him like a wall of steel. "What’s gotten into you? Increased the strength out of nowhere?"

  Dante didn’t look at him. His eyes were fixed on Juno, as if seeing something beyond her small, battered body.

  "Don’t move," he ordered, his voice low but firm. Snow fell between them, as if the world was holding its breath. "What did you feel just now, girl?"

  She didn’t answer immediately. So much hurt that it was impossible to know where it started or ended. Her head throbbed. Her chest burned. But none of that mattered. What she wanted to understand, what she needed to understand, were his movements. The feint, the turn to the right, the upward strike... It all happened in moments, and it was all her mistake. A failure after another.

  And in that silence, in that cold, Juno realized one thing: Dante wasn’t punishing her. He was teaching. The only lesson that mattered.

  Survival.

  "I felt like I was going to die," Juno’s voice was low, almost a whisper that the storm tried to swallow. There was truth in every word, a confession that weighed more than the cold of the snow. "I felt like it would be the last thing I did. I felt like... I was wrong in everything I did."

  Dante didn’t smile, but his eyes shone with something close to satisfaction. He nodded slowly before clapping, each clap sounding like a muffled thunder.

  "Great, great. That’s exactly what I want to hear." His voice was cold but firm, like a judge announcing a verdict. "You were wrong. You died. That’s how battles go, girl. Losing, you know what it’s like. But now, you know what it’s like to be humiliated."

  He raised his sword, pointing it at her like a teacher facing a reluctant student.

  "Now get up. There’s still a lot to learn before your body disarms."

  Juno closed her eyes for a moment, pulling the cold air into her lungs like it was a last resort. Her legs shook as she put her feet on the ground. The world seemed to spin, but she fought against it. One step, then another. Finally, she lifted her head.

  But her gaze didn’t find Dante. It went beyond him.

  Jix also noticed, using his cane to catch Dante’s attention, who turned his face, intrigued.

  "Well, what a fascinating scene I’m seeing," the voice cut through the storm like a thin blade. Feminine, but laden with almost unbearable sarcasm. The figure emerged from the white mist, walking with the confidence of someone who knew exactly the impact of her arrival. "A man with a sword beating a little girl. What an uplifting spectacle."

  Dante turned completely, throwing the sword over his shoulder. His posture changed, opening up like a book. It wasn’t carelessness, but an invitation.

  "Ah, madam, it’s too cold for you to be wandering around here," he exhaled deeply, releasing a cloud of vapor that mixed with the biting wind. "And, if I may, you don’t look like you’re from here. Those clothes..." He narrowed his eyes. "They’re the same as Two-Face’s."

  The woman responded with a long laugh, almost exaggerated, but never losing the teasing tone.

  "Two-Face." She repeated the nickname as if savoring the words. "It’s the first time I’ve heard anyone call Mogrot that."

  Her appearance was simplistic, almost without detail. Her face was an enigma of neutrality, but Juno felt something different. A presence that, somehow, echoed Dante’s. It wasn’t strength. It wasn’t confidence. It was something more dangerous. It was Arrogance.

  "Is it?" Dante responded with a light laugh, as if an old friend. "He flew out the last time we saw him. It was a bit sad, really. I couldn’t even take his life." He tilted his head, analyzing her. "Did you come to avenge your friend?"

  The woman raised an eyebrow, her smile turning into an almost amused disdain.

  "No, no." She shook her head, making an annoying sound with her mouth. "I came because he said you and this little girl were dangerous. But now that I see you, I think he exaggerated." Her eyes darkened as she analyzed Dante. "Your arm’s bad. You hold that sword like it’s a punishment for it, not a weapon."

  Juno looked at Dante, searching for the flaw the woman had pointed out, but saw nothing wrong. However, something caught her attention. Two swords hung from the woman’s waist, one on top of the other.

  Was she a master like Captain Seleri?

  Dante shrugged, his voice cutting through Juno’s thoughts.

  "Ah, well, I never was much for swords." He looked at the weapon in his hands, as if seeing it for the first time. "It’s different from what I’m used to, but I’ve trained against them my whole life. I know what I’m doing. But you..." His eyes fell to the blades at her waist. "You use those two in the Piassyu-chi style?"

  The woman’s face changed, even if subtly. Her eyebrows raised, surprise hidden behind a mask of false calm.

  "So we have a connoisseur of ancient arts." The provocation in her voice gave way to a reluctant respect. "Who would have thought I’d find someone with such a noble style among the rats of Kappz."

  Dante laughed, shaking his head.

  "Connoisseur, yes. Practitioner, no."

  "Well, that’s what we’ll see," the woman said with a cutting calm, the type of tranquility that precedes violence. Her arm moved with the naturalness of someone who had wielded the blade too many times. Her hand landed on the sword’s hilt, while her forearm rested on the sheath, angled diagonally. "Mogrot wanted something from you. How about your lives?" A smile appeared, slow and venomous. "It would be a spectacle to see such a big man getting beaten by a woman."

  She turned slightly to Juno, waving as if speaking to a child.

  "Ah, girl, don’t worry. I’ll make him pay for every blow he gave you. I hate rough men."

  Juno didn’t answer. Her gaze shifted between the woman and Dante, who sighed deeply, tired. He lowered his sword, resting the tip against his boot. His hands crossed over the hilt, his posture relaxed, but his eyes alert. He seemed so unfocused and yet so present.

  "Juno, your next lesson," Dante’s voice was cold, distant, almost dismissive. He didn’t seem to be speaking to the woman, nor to her, but to the wind. "Always assume your opponent has the advantage."

  Juno’s eyes fixed on him, trying to decipher every word. She couldn’t let any lesson slip away.

  "If you let your emotions be dominated by provocations, you’ll be defeated." He paused, spinning the sword slightly, the sound of the sheath’s metal cutting through the cold air. "If you allow fear to blind you, you’ll be killed." His tone never changed, it was steady, like the cold. "And if you let your enemy infiltrate your heart, you’ll be humiliated."

  The woman raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly.

  "Beautiful words, sir...?" The provocation was there, subtle but sharp as the tip of a knife.

  Dante raised his hand with a casualness so different from before. As if he were so many people at once.

  "Apologies." His voice became lighter, offering a modest nod. "I’m Dante, recruit from Dalia, from the Capital. And from now on, you’ll be the guinea pig for my student."