Chapter 13 – Sword Master
Flying through the air, Dante Voss forced down the pain and quickly opened the system.
[Physique: 2,341]
[Strength: 3,057]
[Speed: 3,152]
[Spirit: 2,344]
[slaughter points: 1,400]
After a glance at the slaughter points, he went to the [Ability] page.
With only 1,400-plus attributes he had no chance of turning the tables; the opponent's Steel Fruit was practically unbeatable—adding a few stat points wouldn't secure victory.
He might as well see what powers the next rank of [Swordsmanship] offered.
[Next Rank: Beginner Sword Master]
[Description: Swordsmanship refined, surpassing ordinary swordsmen; initial comprehension of Steel Severing.]
[Upgrade Cost: 1,000 slaughter points.]
"Sword Master?"
Dante Voss's eyes lit up, especially at the word "Steel Severing" in the description.
"Steel is still iron, right?"
The corner of Dante Voss's mouth curled in relief; without hesitation he upgraded [Swordsmanship] straight to [Beginner Sword Master].
[Swordsmanship upgraded to Beginner Sword Master; 1,000 slaughter points consumed.]
Unlike before, what flooded his mind this time wasn't experience but vast insight.
In that instant everything around him felt alive—even inanimate objects breathed with their own unique rhythm.
He now grasped the breath of all things and could sense an opponent's weaknesses.
By striking that breath he could sever the enemy's life, ignoring physical defense.
With 400 slaughter points left, Dante Voss didn't save them; he poured every point into [Physique].
A warm current flowed through his body, easing fatigue and the fresh wounds he'd just received.
The pain and exhaustion faded; in an instant Dante Voss was back at peak fighting strength.
He steadied himself mid-air, dropped to the ground, and found a sword.
Number 9 watched the man he'd punched still barely scathed and now fetching a blade, and sneered:
"Told you—I'm a Steel Fruit user; swords are useless against me!"
Number 9 had met plenty of swordsmen on the seas, but once he unleashed his fruit they'd always lost.
He felt innate superiority over sword-wielders.
Dante Voss smiled back. "Ever seen a sword that can cut steel?"
Number 9 scoffed.
"No sword can cut steel."
With that he charged again; he'd wasted too much time. If he didn't finish Dante Voss now, even victory would earn punishment from Lord Saint Mike.
He had no wish to suffer torment.
Seeing Number 9 rush in, Dante Voss's eyes were calm; he used the Sword Master's perception to feel the "breath" of the steel cloaking his foe.
Time seemed to freeze; the world fell silent, and to Dante Voss's ears only the surrounding breaths whispered.
Under his focused gaze, a faint breath now rose from Number 9's body.
"Found it!"
Dante Voss's eyes flashed as he shot forward to meet him.
In a blink they closed the distance. Number 9 clenched a steel fist and viciously punched at Dante Voss.
Calmly, Dante Voss raised his sword and thrust at the chest.
Number 9 didn't bother blocking—no one could break his defense; no blade could pierce his body.
He already pictured Dante Voss falling to his punch, saw Saint Mike rewarding him with praise.
"Shnk!"
But all illusions shattered as searing pain lanced through him.
Looking down, he saw his supposedly indestructible steel body impaled by a sword.
The humble blade he'd scorned had sliced clean through his proud Steel Fruit.
"Impossible…"
Eyes wide, Number 9 stared at the calm Dante Voss, unable to fathom how it had happened.
Yet his life ebbed fast; his Devil-Fruit form faded and he reverted to flesh.
Pale and powerless, he collapsed with doubt and unwillingness.
[Killed a pirate; obtained 300 slaughter points]
Reading the prompt, Dante Voss slowly withdrew the blade and waited beside the body.
Someone that strong should drop decent loot, he figured.
Sure enough!
Under Dante Voss's eager gaze, Number 9's corpse glowed blue, the light condensing into an orb of energy.
Dante Voss touched it at once; the energy flowed through his fingertip into his body.
[Obtained Blue-grade item: mysterious shadow battle suit]
Dante Voss quickly opened his backpack to check the item's details.
[Item Name: mysterious shadow battle suit]
[Item Description: A wondrous combat suit capable of self-repair; color and style change according to the wearer's will.]
"That's it?"
Dante Voss was a little disappointed.
Sure, auto-repair and style-shift were nice, but it offered no combat boost.
Still, it should outrank white-grade yet fall short of red.
If white meant consumables, blue meant special items, and red meant combat-enhancing abilities.
Whether other tiers existed he didn't know, but only these three had appeared so far.
[White] < [Blue] < [Red]
Closing the system, Dante Voss looked up at the Celestial Dragons above, sweeping his gaze over those lofty gods.
"Anyone else stepping into the ring?"
Drenched in blood and holding a dripping sword, Dante Voss stood amid mountains of corpses—a living hell.
The Celestial Dragons above were shaken; for a moment no one dared speak.
Dante Voss gave a cold laugh and walked toward the building.
He no longer cared what the Celestial Dragons thought; tonight he would escape.
The time wasn't right to fight on: even if he could beat everyone here, the commotion would draw World Government powerhouses—and then he'd be dead.
After battling Number 9 he now knew his level: worth a 100–200 million bounty.
A regional powerhouse, yes, but hardly someone who could bare fangs at the World Government.
By Marine standards he figured he was Rear Admiral level.
Here in Mary Geoise there were plenty of Vice Admirals, to say nothing of Rear Admirals.
CP0 might range from Vice Admiral to Warlord tier.
And the God's Knights could all be Admiral level.
Above them, the Gorosei and Imu were at least Four Emperors tier.
Dante Voss didn't dare imagine it—those were foes far beyond him now. Beside him, Vic's heart chilled when he realized Dante Voss had actually killed Number 9—Saint Mike's showcase Slave for this tournament.
Instead of fulfilling his role, he'd been slain by Dante Voss.
"I'm finished—my promotion's gone!"
Vic felt his future crumble, perhaps even inviting Saint Mike's wrath.
Terror twisted into hate as he glared at Dante Voss.
Only after Dante Voss left did the Celestial Dragons above exhale.
Then it hit them: they'd been cowed by a mere Slave.
"Damn it—execute that Slave! He dared look upon gods!"
"Kill him! My mount was slain—he must die!"
"Send someone to finish him!"
Their wounded pride blazed; only his death could erase their disgrace.
Saint Mike's face was thunderous. He'd planned for Number 9 to win the yearly tournament and earn the envy of fellow Celestial Dragons.
Instead, his costly Slave was dead and his carefully laid contest had handed victory to another—a complete humiliation.
Intolerable!
"Summon Vic!"
Murderous intent flashed in Saint Mike's eyes; he would have Dante Voss killed to wash away this shame.