(I have a Patreon if you want to read the next 10 chapters of this fanfiction then go to patreon.com/7_Night )
Two days later, Dante's routine hadn't changed much—training during the day and hanging out with his friends when he could. The mood around him had lightened, but his drive hadn't dulled. He still pushed himself, still honed his skills, and still kept watch on everything around him.
Owen, on the other hand, had finally settled into the rhythm of the school. After the chaos they'd gone through, it was almost surreal seeing him joke around with the other students. He had even started trying his luck with a few of the girls… though with his face still wrapped in bandages, his usual charm wasn't quite working. Despite all his talk, it turned out he wasn't nearly as smooth as he claimed to be.
It was hilarious, honestly.
Still, when it came to training, Owen was doing great. He finally managed to fly without losing balance, hovering and gliding in controlled motion. One of the teachers even commented on how impressive it was—turns out flying with jet-propelled feet isn't nearly as easy as movies make it look. For Owen to reach this point in such a short time showed real progress.
Dante had been training too, of course—but not just physically. He'd been spending most of that time with Laura, and to his surprise, she'd been helping him with swordsmanship. Apparently, unlike Logan—who mostly relied on brute strength and instinct—Laura actually knew how to use a sword. And not just casually. Her technique, control, and understanding of blade combat were far more refined than Logan's.
Thanks to her, Dante's swordsmanship had jumped to a new level. He still had a long way to go, but it was exhilarating. He didn't know when exactly it had started, but somewhere along the way, he'd grown to really enjoy sword fighting—not just for the power it gave him, but the discipline, the flow, the feel of it.
He even thought, "If I ever master this one day, maybe I'll teach other young heroes how to fight with a blade."
It was a ridiculous thought—he knew that. Heroes who used weapons were already a rarity, and those who stuck with traditional ones like swords? Even rarer. Most just relied on raw powers or flashy energy blasts. Eventually, he knew there'd come a point where he wouldn't have anyone left to learn from. At that point, his growth would have to come from within.
But he wasn't there yet.
He was still a student, and every day he was getting better.
He hadn't focused much on unlocking new skills recently—mainly because he didn't even know if he'd be using his demonic powers again. The flames of life, the strength boosts, the constructs… none of it was guaranteed. So for now, he focused on the one thing that would stay with him no matter what: the blade.
Just as he finished another clean series of practice strikes, the sound of the door opening caught his attention.
Logan stepped into the training room, arms crossed, wearing his usual half-grim, half-bored expression.
Training time was over.
We finally spotted the last host," Logan said, arms crossed. "It's time for you two to move."
Dante didn't say a word. He just nodded and started walking toward the jet, Laura falling in step behind him without hesitation. Neither of them said much as they climbed aboard. The engines hummed to life, and they lifted off into the night sky.
Laura glanced at Dante during the flight.
His eyes were sharp, his jaw clenched. That usual fire behind his words was dim—replaced with a quiet, intense focus.
"…Is something wrong?" she asked.
Dante glanced her way and gave her a small smile, trying to play it off. "What are you talking about? There's nothing wrong."
"You're lying," she said plainly—not accusing, just observant. "Tell me what's going on."
He let out a tired sigh. "…I'm just scared."
That made her pause.
Dante continued, not looking at her. "The last host is out there—probably close. Once we deal with him… there's nothing else to delay the conversation. It'll come back to me. Whether I can actually be free… like the other three."
His fingers curled slightly, almost subconsciously, as if gripping something that wasn't there.
"Reed Richards and Doctor Strange came to the school to check me out. Neither of them knew how to help. They said they'd work on it—said they'd figure out a solution. But…"
He looked down at his hands. "What if they don't find one fast enough? What if my time runs out before they even get close?"
He leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling of the jet. "So I've been focusing on training… on the other hosts. Just to keep my mind off it. Pretend I'm not running out of time."
Laura turned her gaze back toward the window, unsure how to respond. She understood fear. She lived in it most of her life. But processing her own emotions was already difficult—helping someone else process theirs was… harder.
Still, she spoke.
"…Everything will be okay," she said quietly. "You said it yourself. You've got the Sorcerer Supreme and the smartest man in the world working on it. If anyone can figure this out… it's them."
Dante didn't answer, but he nodded slowly.
Eventually, they reached their destination: a remote stretch of desert lit only by the moon and stars. The wind was calm, the air cold and still. Their jet landed silently, and they stepped out into the emptiness.
They began walking, following the readings Laura had picked up.
Miles passed. The glow of the jet was long gone, and they were now completely alone.
"…Are you sure we're heading in the right direction?" Dante asked, glancing around uneasily. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
Laura nodded once. "It's close. I can feel it."
And just as she spoke, the earth trembled beneath their feet.
The ground split open ahead of them—rocks cracking, sand flying.
Something was coming.
(The next chapter will be double the normal Word count)