Two years later.
The same man, now reborn and two years old, lay in bed with a maid.
"Alright, let's break it down. My new name here is Dante Ruthwilfer. My mother named me Dante after I was born. Well—the body was born, but my soul went into it."
Dante got up and crawled across the room, grabbing a book nearby.
"History... There were ten clans. The top ten were Ruthwilfer, Fafner, Killa, and Flora. Ruthwilfer was second, but they rose to first. Took down some unknown clan. I can still see the scratches... it shows the letter 'A'."
The room he lived in was a little run down. But it didn't stop him from reading.
"Tch. Can't believe my mom died by the hands of that father bastard."
He looked at the red, glowing diamond around his neck.
"Mom gave me this pendant before she died. Whatever it is… I'll deal with it later."
He was treated poorly in his early years—neglected, hated, ignored. That continued... until he turned five. That's when he began attending the Ruthwilfer Kindergarten.
"Thank god this world uses the same language I speak in my previous world. Plus, this world rules on two things—swords and magics."
As Dante took his seat, a group of three boys came to confront him.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the bastard blood son himself," the lead boy mocked.
Taka. Arrogant. Son of the Patriarch's second brother.
"Taka, I assume?" Dante asked calmly.
"Heh! This lowlife can speak!" The Ruthwilfer kids around them laughed.
The teacher arrived and immediately noticed Dante in the front row.
"You. Sit at the last. Your presence disturbs me," she said coldly.
"Let me guess," Dante said, "you've gotten old because you can't handle bastard sons?"
"Burned!" one kid whispered with a smirk.
"No. It's just that your kind of filthy dumpster reeks around me," the teacher snapped.
"Sigh... I don't care much about this. If possible, can I be excused?" Dante asked.
The teacher's eyes lit up in delight. "Gladly."
Dante walked straight to the library. No Ruthwilfer child ever came here. They only focused on presence, power, and status. Not knowledge.
"Dante Ruthwilfer," he said to the librarian as he entered.
"Dante, my boy." A woman in her thirties stood up and walked to him. "I see that you were right. I lost the bet."
She handed him a key and a small pouch of gold coins.
"Don't take it too harsh, Lady Eva. A bet is a bet. If the teacher excused me—I win. If not—I lose," Dante said casually.
"This key leads to the second floor of the library," Eva said, smiling faintly. "Though it's nice having at least one person here. It feels... lonely."
Dante continued reading for hours each day, but always made sure his attendance was in check.
"Huh? Necromancy?" he muttered while flipping pages. "Says here I can summon shadow through a dead body if I master the dark arts right. I wonder why…"
Eva, the librarian, was fascinated. A seven-year-old reading advanced material like this—it was unheard of.
---
A year passed.
Weapon Choosing Day arrived at the training ground. It was the first real combat class. Every young Ruthwilfer clan member was allowed to pick a weapon.
The others picked theirs quickly.
Dante, however, was left empty-handed.
"Aww, too bad, Dante. Maybe you should just quit," Taka mocked.
Far above, on the stage, a woman in her forties watched silently.
"Hmm? That young boy is…?" she asked.
Her bodyguard leaned in. "That's the bastard son. Dante."
Diana Ruthwilfer. Elder of the clan. A retired Patriarch before the current head. Her eyes narrowed.
"So this is the bastard I've heard of. He looks… different. I feel like I've seen that look somewhere before."
Dante stared at the weapon rack. At the very bottom, he spotted two wooden daggers and a long, rusted chain.
"Heh. Bingo."
He took them—and began altering them right there, using only his imagination.
"What the hell is he doing?" Taka asked, confused.
Diana leaned forward with interest.
Dante finished and revealed the wooden daggers, now attached to a rusted chain. The chains wrapped tightly around his wrists like makeshift gauntlets.
From her seat, Diana's eyes widened.
Taka, feeling insulted, took it personally.
"Bastard, I challenge you to a duel!" he shouted.
"Young master Taka, this is a training ground," his personal maid warned him.
"So?" Taka scowled.
From the west side of the stage, a man in his fifties observed the scene.
"Hmm. An illegitimate against a candidate heir? This is new."
Diana stepped forward.
"I will be witness to this spar," she declared.
Taka bowed. Dante did not.
"Hm? Interesting…" Diana muttered.
The spar began.
Taka charged first, swinging his wooden blade.
Dante dodged effortlessly.
Taka kept swinging wildly, his attacks fast and angry.
"Fight me, you imbecile!" he shouted.
Dante just smirked.
"Hmph. This bastard child is wasting time, ma'am," the bodyguard said.
"In your eyes, yes," Diana replied. "But mine... I can see what he's doing."
Taka was breathing heavily now. Sweating. His footing became unstable.
Dante had planned this from the start.
Make the enemy tired. Let him waste his stamina. Let fatigue take control. Then strike.
Dante suddenly swung his chained daggers hard.
Whack! Taka tried to block, but each strike cracked his wooden sword.
With one final blow—CRACK!
Taka's sword shattered.
Dante lunged forward, pinning Taka to the ground, dagger aimed right between his eyes.
Taka's eyes snapped shut.
Seconds passed... then he opened them slowly—to see the blade's tip barely an inch from his right eye.
"Admit," Dante whispered grimly, "or be called One-Eyed Taka."
"I... I admit defeat."
---
Chapter 2 — End.