For a long moment, Dante felt entirely weightless, stripped of the agonizing burn of Aesha's holy light and the crushing weight of his failing soul. There were no cheers of the human army here. No smell of ash or burning feathers. Only a cold, absolute stillness.
"Y—-Ster!"
"Young—--!!!"
"YOUNG MASTER!"
Dante jolted upright, gasping violently for air as if pulling oxygen into lungs that had just been entirely remade. His hand flew to his chest, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The ruined battlefield was gone.
In its place was a high, vaulted ceiling made of polished obsidian and dark mahogany.
His room. His room in the high estate, nestled deep within Superbia, the capital nation of the demon continent Xibalvakaan.
"Young master?"
A face leaned over him, her brow furrowed with genuine, deep-seated concern.
Dante ignored her completely. Throwing the heavy silk covers aside, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rushed toward the full-length obsidian mirror standing in the corner of the chamber.
In the glass, young features he hadn't seen in over a decade stared back. His wild, untamed purple hair tumbled past his mid-back, shot through with distinct streaks of stark white framing a face far softer than what he had last seen. His skin was slightly tanned, and his striking eyes—irises ringed with a distinct pattern of black and red, his bottom eyelids marked by two sharp, natural lines—stared back in sheer disbelief.
Slowly, his trembling fingers pressed against his chest.
Its where he was nearly cut in two by the divine blade Aesha. To most demons, even a shallow graze from that weapon was a definitive death sentence, as the immense divine energy woven into the metal by countless prayers and blessings entirely prevented the biological regeneration of demons. Dante hadn't just been grazed; he had been completely impaled.
Yet, as his fingers dug into his stomach, there was nothing but a smooth, unblemished surface beneath his sleeping shirt.
Either this was a psychological illusion on a ridiculous, unfathomable scale... or he had somehow gone back fourteen years. Looking at the size and build of his current body, regression was the only logical conclusion.
Sure that was a bit of a jump, but this world is full of untold mysteries and phenomena
"Young master?" The maid leaned closer, deliberately obscuring his reflection in the glass, a small pout tugging at her lips. "Why are you ignoring me~?"
Dante blinked twice, the fog in his mind clearing as he looked directly at her. This wasn't just any servant.
His personal maid, his confidante, and his fiercely loyal bodyguard...Valentine, Valentine Zepar.
She had died two years into the continental war, shielding him during the Fist King's sudden, brutal assault on the palace. She had died that day alongside his mother.
If she was standing here, alive and breathing, then his mother was too.
For the first time, he truly looked at her. Pale, porcelain skin. Short silver hair tipped faintly with red, cut sharply at her neck. Two distinctly pointed ears. It was all paired with glowing violet eyes, sharp, predatory facial features, and thick eyelashes. She stood only a little shorter than his collarbone.
Instead of offering an explanation, Dante took a step forward and pulled her tightly into his arms.
Valentine froze instantly, her entire body stiffening in absolute confusion.
"Y-Young master? Is something the matter?" she squeaked, her voice suddenly sounding far meeker than before.
"It's nothing," Dante murmured, slowly releasing his grip and exhaling a long, ragged breath. He felt her, he felt that she was real… this wasn't an illusion. "I'm fine."
Glancing back at the mirror, he noted his state of dress. "Valentine."
She immediately straightened her posture, smoothing down her apron. "Yes?"
"Do I have anything planned today?"
Valentine tapped a slender finger against her chin thoughtfully. "Oh! That's right! Lady Hildegard returned from the Gula Kingdom this morning! And Young Master Nero just arrived from the Phenex Territory!"
Hildegard was his mother, and Nero was his half-brother. If Nero had arrived, there was a high probability that his own mother, Helianor had accompanied him as well. But none of that mattered right now. Only one truth echoed in his mind
'Mother is alive.'
Without another word, Dante turned and walked quickly toward his walk-in closet.
"Hey! Don't you need help getting dressed?" Valentine called out after him, raising a neatly pressed set of garments she had prepared earlier.
"I can manage." Dante replied over his shoulder, closing the closet door behind him to secure a moment of absolute privacy.
If this was truly a temporal regression, there was one vital component he needed to verify immediately. He closed his eyes, turning his awareness inward toward his mana circuit.
At the very core of his being, a powerful rotational force generated demonic energy, colliding and compressing the power in endless, highly refined cycles.
Radiance of the Morningstar and Brilliance of Venus.
The bloodline abilities he had inherited from his father's noble lineage. The first, Radiance, constantly generated and collided his internal demonic power against itself, naturally refining its quality and expanding his reserves near-limitlessly over time. The second, Brilliance of Venus, enhanced everything about him—his mind, his talent, his learning speed, and even the efficacy of different spells and defenses, anything he could think of really. Though it wasn't all that powerful at the moment.
Among the Deadly Sin Bloodlines—also known as the 7 royal clans that held absolute control over the demon continent, the Lucifer lineage of the Morningstar was universally feared for its terrifying versatility.
It was an exceptionally potent lineage, the very foundation that had eventually allowed him to reach the absolute peak of the 10th Order—the Mystic Realm—in his past life. Though his overall comprehension of the bloodline had only reached the 5th Class of Comprehension before his death—a level that was considered pitiful compared to other noble prodigies' mastery over their abilities—the sheer power of the bloodline made up for it. Among the seven kingly houses of the continent, the bloodline trait of Lucifer was among the most versatile. It was the sole reason he had managed to survive a direct, three-hour engagement against the Hero, even if he ultimately died at the end.
Opening his eyes, Dante checked his current state. His ultimate power and deep comprehension had naturally regressed alongside his physical body. Right now, his strength sat firmly within the Low stage of the 4th Order—the Master Realm—and his bloodline comprehension had reverted back to basic comprehension.
Still, he wasn't starting from zero. The foundation was intact. And he had knowledge of various spells and techniques, though with his current body, he couldn't perform the more powerful ones he knew.
A few minutes passed as he selected his attire and dressed himself, adjusting his clothes in the closet mirror. He settled on a black long-sleeve shirt, a deep purple coat lined with thick silver fur, and simple black trousers, all brought together by a white leather belt with a circular golden buckle.
He stepped out of the closet with a faint smile. Purple suited him perfectly. In truth, it suited everyone; they simply hadn't realized it yet.
"You're looking quite... stylish, my lord," Valentine remarked, stepping forward automatically to smooth out the creases on his collar.
The faint, familiar scent of her hair drifted toward him, momentarily distracting him. His thoughts veered briefly into dangerous territory, he quickly began distracting himself.
"Valentine," Dante spoke up, keeping his voice even. "Is my father attending the gathering today?"
With a total of fourteen years of life separating him from this exact day—six years spent enduring a brutal war and a literal lifetime of memories blurring the finer details—he couldn't recall every minor domestic schedule from this specific period.
Valentine hesitated, her fingers fidgeting slightly with the fabric of her skirt. "N-No... I believe Lord Samael is still away, fully occupied with the administration and defense of Superbia's vast borders. He won't return to the core estate for some time. I can dispatch a courier to send a formal message if you wish—"
"No. It isn't necessary," Dante interrupted smoothly.
He calculated the timeline in his head. If he had regressed fourteen years, that meant he had a solid eight years of peace before the Holy Empire's crusade would even begin. Eight years to rewrite the future.
His thoughts turned back to his younger half-brother, Nero, whom Valentine had mentioned. Nero was the son of his father's second wife, born only a few months after Dante. Naturally, the proximity in their age and standing caused immediate friction within the household. Nero's mother utterly despised Hildegard, and she had spent years raising her son to view Dante as a direct rival for the succession of the Morningstar lineage. We never did get along in the previous timeline.
Yet, Dante knew for a fact that Nero wasn't a fundamentally evil person. Perhaps, with the benefit of hindsight and eight years of runway, their relationship could be steered down an entirely different path this time around.
-----Two Hours Later-----
'I take it back.'
Seated across the grand dining table, Nero was glaring at Dante like a rabid hound, his knuckles whitening as his hand clenched a heavy, black steel fork with enough raw physical force to deform the metal.