The lecture hall-turned-training arena still humd with excitent from Dante’s earlier duel. Whispers rolled like a tide across the rows of seats—about his Vanishing Steps, about the raw speed he’d shown, about how he’d humiliated the doubters who thought a Rising Star didn’t belong among seniors.
But Victor Kain wasn’t smiling.
The tall, broad-shouldered senior stood at the far end of the pitch, arms folded, eyes narrowing on Dante like a predator assessing prey. His Titan Na—Steel Tempest—was etched in silver across his sleeve, and his presence carried the weight of storms.
"That’s your footwork," Victor said at last, voice carrying across the hall. "But every striker needs a finisher. Sothing that makes defenders hesitate before they even step to you." He pointed at the ball resting near Dante’s feet. "Show us. Or are you just flash and no bite?"
The crowd stirred.
"He’s bluffing," soone scoffed."No way he’s got a real signature shot already," another muttered."Forget Lionel or Autumn Leaf—he’s just a reserve."
Dante lowered his head, his hoodie’s shadow hiding his eyes. His chest rose once, twice, before crimson sparks licked across his skin, crackling with restrained fury.
Then he looked up.
"I do have one," he said simply.
Silence spread.
He stepped back from the ball, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for battle. Lightning flickered along his right leg, but then... sothing darker stirred. Shadows coiled around the crackling red, forming the outline of a colossal serpent. Its eyes glead briefly in the air, ancient and hungry.
Students gasped. So recoiled in their seats.
"Is that...?""No, it can’t be—""That aura... it feels alive."
Dante exhaled, grounding himself. He whispered the na under his breath:
"Supre Jörmundgandr Shot."
Then he struck.
The sound wasn’t a kick—it was an explosion. The ball tore from his foot like a teor, but halfway through the air it twisted unnaturally, veering off its path as if alive. Crimson lightning elongated into coils, a serpent made of energy wrapping around the ball. It slithered mid-flight, bending through space, curving once, twice, then accelerating instead of slowing.
The air pressure slamd against the students’ faces. The arena’s energy shields trembled, then cracked.
"It’s going to break through—!" soone scread.
The ball hurtled straight toward the stands, a serpent’s roar echoing in the air.
Victor Kain moved.
He slamd his foot into the ground, summoning his Titan aura. Wind exploded around him, forming a swirling wall of cutting gales. The Steel Tempest rose like a cyclone, colliding with the serpent-ball head-on.
The impact rattled the entire hall. The shields flickered, sparks raining from the ceiling. Students clutched their seats, hair whipped by the violent winds. Then, with a deafening boom, the ball burst apart, fragnts of energy dissolving into the air.
Silence.
Victor stood unmoving, arm extended, steam rising from his skin. Slowly, he lowered it, his eyes never leaving Dante.
"That move," he said, voice low, "isn’t training-level. That’s war-level."
No one dared laugh now. Students stared at Dante in disbelief, whispers breaking the silence like cracks in glass.
"He bent the ball midair...""It moved like it was alive!""That wasn’t football—that was a weapon!"
Autumn Leaf’s na was suddenly thrown into the mix.
"Do you think even she could stop that?""He might be the only striker who could challenge her defenses..."
Victor finally approached Dante. Up close, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned sharp.
"You’ve got talent," he admitted. "But that shot..." He leaned in, his voice low enough for Dante alone. "Unrefined, unstable. One day you’ll take soone’s head off with it."
Dante didn’t flinch. He t Victor’s gaze, his own lightning still flickering faintly. "Then I’ll refine it until it only destroys nets, not people."
Victor studied him for a mont longer before stepping back, a storm still in his aura. "We’ll see."
Above them, the instructor finally exhaled and clapped his hands, forcing a smile. "Well! That was... enlightening. Class dismissed!"
The students filed out in a storm of chatter, many glancing back at Dante as though he were so dangerous beast.
Dante, however, stayed rooted for a mont, fists tightening. He could still feel the serpent’s coils in his veins, hungry, uncontrollable.
I need control, he thought. If I can master this again... nobody will stop .
But in the observation chamber high above the hall, hidden from the students, two sets of eyes had been watching the entire ti.
Jason Lockwood, arms folded, gaze sharp as a blade.And in another shadowed corner, the bounty hunters, their smirks growing wide.
"He’s accelerating faster than predicted," the woman whispered.The man chuckled. "Good. The higher he climbs... the harder he falls."
Down below, Dante finally turned and walked toward the exit, lightning still faintly sparking around him. He had shown them the Jörmundgandr. And he knew this was only the beginning.
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