Chapter: "Forged in Blood and Rebellion"
Made By: Eternal_Jokr
A/N:This fanfic is free for criticisms and opinions, say what you think in the comments section and leave your support.
Thank you.
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The morning sun had barely cleared the peaks of Orario's wall, but Hestia's hurried footsteps were already echoing through the alleys of the residential district.
With the blue ribbon tied around her breasts swaying with every movement and her short breath forming small clouds in the cool dawn air, the little Goddess ran with endless energy.
She held a small paper package against her chest, clutching it carefully so the heat of its contents wouldn't be lost to the morning wind. The thin mist still hung over the damp cobblestones, and few souls wandered there at that hour.
Just a few bakers setting up their stalls and sleepy guards on patrol. But for Hestia, there was no time to lose. She had left even before daybreak, and her eagerness to return home was greater than any exhaustion.
As she rounded the last corner of the narrow street, the worn, solemn silhouette of the old abandoned church appeared against the pale blue sky.
The cracked stone columns, partially covered by ivy and wild vines, seemed forgotten by the rest of the world. To most citizens of Orario, it was just a falling-apart ruin, to her it was the sacred sanctuary where her Familia had taken root.
Hestia practically bounded up the stone steps of the entrance, her heart beating fast in her chest.
"Dante~! Dante, I'm back! Look what I got!" she called in her clear, enthusiastic voice, pushing open the heavy carved wooden door with her shoulder, which creaked loudly as it opened.
Fine dust danced in the beams of golden light piercing through the broken stained-glass windows in the roof, illuminating the dusty old pews and the stone altar at the back of the hall.
Hestia took a few quick steps inside, a radiant smile plastered across her face as her large, expressive eyes scanned the wide, quiet room, looking for the tall, stoic figure of her silver-haired guardian.
The echo of her steps faded as a deep, rhythmic hum cut through the silence of the old church. It was the sound of air being sliced by a blade of colossal weight, accompanied by the gentle pulsing of an energy Hestia knew well.
Following the sound to the darkest area at the back of the hall, near the ruins of the ancient altar where sunlight could barely reach, the little Goddess paused.
Dante was in full motion. He was training shirtless, and the scant light filtering through the stone crevices highlighted the firm, defined musculature of his back and chest, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that glistened with effort.
White bandages firmly wrapped his hands and wrists, giving grip to the hilt of the Demon Slayer, the immense, intimidating blade he moved with terrifying fluidity, as if the heavy steel were a natural extension of his own body.
With every perfect arc the sword traced in the gloom, the mystical tattoos on his face, neck, and body pulsed in a vivid, cosmic purple hue.
The magical light of the marks drew glowing outlines on his skin in the darkness of the ruin, casting dancing shadows against the stone columns with every stroke executed.
Dante finished the sequence with a devastating downward slash, stopping the tip of the Demon Slayer a millimeter above the floor without touching the ground or making a single sound.
The mystical marks on his body dimmed in intensity, returning to their usual subtle bluish glow as his breathing stabilized.
Without turning around immediately, he lifted the blade with one hand and rested it on his shoulders.
"You're back early, Hestia" he said, his deep voice resounding softly through the space before his purple eyes met hers in the dark.
Hestia blinked a few times, frozen a few steps away.
The contrast between the young man's imposing physical presence, the hypnotic glow of his tattoos, and the overwhelming presence of that sword left the atmosphere charged with an almost sacred solemnity.
A subtle blush crept up the Goddess's cheeks, but it quickly gave way to her usual warm smile.
"You don't stop for a single second, do you?" she said, taking a few steps forward with the steaming package in her hands. "Look at you, training at this hour...but I'm glad you're awake! I got something wonderful for our breakfast."
Dante rested the immense Demon Slayer against the base of the ancient altar with extreme caution, listening to the weight of the steel echo softly across the stone floor.
The mystical tattoos on his body finally softened, reducing the purple glow to a subtle luminescence until they faded completely beneath his skin.
With a fluid motion, he grabbed a cloth to wipe off the workout sweat and put on his dark tunic, covering his chest and marks.
Approaching Hestia with firm, silent steps, the silver-haired young man observed the small package in the Goddess's hands.
Hestia carefully unwrapped the paper, revealing golden wheat bread, fresh out of the oven, releasing an appetizing steam into the cool air of the ruin.
"I got it at the bakery! The owner gave me an extra one because I got there before everyone else" she said, puffing out her chest with pride, her blue eyes shining with joy. "Just smell this, Dante!"
"Your effort is remarkable, Hestia" Dante said, his deep voice sounding welcoming in the spacious room. "But you didn't need to hurry so much."
He reached into the inside of his cloak for a cloth bundle, pulling out a large, shiny red apple that he had carried since his walk through the market.
The fruit seemed to glisten under the golden light that was beginning to invade the broken stained-glass windows.
"This is for you" he said, holding out the perfect fruit to the little Goddess.
Hestia blinked, caught off guard, and held the apple with both hands. The sweet scent of Demeter's fresh harvest filled the air between them.
"An apple from the Demeter Familia...?" she asked, her eyes widening before she looked at Dante with a touch of curiosity and playful jealousy. "Wait a minute! Were you hanging out with Demeter?!"
"I only accompanied her for a moment during my patrol" Dante replied, keeping a calm expression and a steady purple gaze. "She insisted on giving me this fruit for you, along with a strict message. To make sure you don't skip any meals."
Hestia's face softened instantly. A radiant smile appeared on her lips, and she pressed the apple to her chest as if it were a treasure.
"Demeter really is a sweetheart... and so are you, Dante" she said, her tone overflowing with sincere affection.
The Goddess made herself comfortable on the stone steps of the ancient altar and patted the space beside her, inviting him to sit down.
Dante gave in, sitting down beside his Goddess. There, sharing the warm bread and fresh fruit as the morning light bathed the old church, the little home of the Hestia Familia enjoyed its own unwavering peace.
Hestia took a bite of the apple. The sweet, crystalline juice exploded in her mouth, making her close her eyes for a second and let out a soft sigh of pure satisfaction.
"Mmm! Delicious... Demeter's harvest never disappoints" the little Goddess said, splitting the warm bread in half and handing the larger portion to Dante. "You know, Dante... Seeing you like this, so calm early in the morning, gives me a feeling of peace that's hard to explain."
Dante accepted the bread, feeling the warmth of the food in his hands. He took a measured bite, savoring the simple texture and dedicated craftsmanship of Orario's baker, while watching the golden dust dance in the light beams crossing the church.
"Yesterday morning was quiet" he commented, his tone deep and thoughtful. "Walking through the market and talking with Lady Demeter helped keep my mind sharp. We saw the monster cages prepared for Ganesha's festival."
Hestia tilted her head, staring at her guardian's firm profile. The blue ribbon on her arms swayed gently with the cool breeze blowing through the gaps in the ruin.
"Ah, Monsterphilia..." Hestia let out a faint chuckle, but her expression soon took on a fond solemnity. "I know you find the nature of many of us down here annoying. Some gods forget how fragile mortal life is and turn everything into a game. But I'm not here to play theater, Dante. Having you by my side is the greatest treasure I could ever wish for."
She leaned her shoulder gently against his, looking up at the worn ceiling and old pews that made up the only home they had.
"We may not have a grand mansion like the other Familias, and our table might be humble... But I swear I'll work hard so that we never lack anything. And you... Please, don't overwork yourself. Your life is my most precious possession."
Dante turned his face to look into Hestia's large blue eyes. The purple glow of his pupils softened into deep respect.
"This home is more than enough, Hestia" he said, his voice ringing with the firmness of an ancient promise. "And as long as my blade can be raised, nothing will break the peace of this Familia."
Hestia gently wiped her lips with the back of her hand and placed the apple core on the paper.
The Goddess's expression, previously completely relaxed, took on a more serious nuance, accompanied by a glint of determination and a touch of nervousness in her large blue eyes.
"Dante..." she began, turning her body sideways on the stone step to face him directly. "There's something very important I need to tell you. Something I've been working out over the past few days."
Dante kept his attention fixed on her, his serene gaze silently waiting for her to continue.
"You know... I've been talking a lot with Hephaestus" Hestia said, fidgeting with her hands in her lap with a certain restlessness. "She's been my best friend since our time in Heaven, even back when I had absolutely nothing in this city. And...well, I made a deal with her."
The silver-haired young man merely tilted his head slightly, indicating he was listening attentively.
"I know how special your blade is and how much your fighting style demands from your equipment" the little Goddess explained, her tone steeped in care and sincere concern.
"As strong as you are, the ordinary blacksmiths on the surface don't have the capability to handle the Demon Slayer's steel or create something that keeps up with your pace in the Dungeon. So, I went to Hephaestus and asked for her help... I asked Hephaestus to support us."
She paused briefly, letting out a soft sigh before continuing with an awkward smile.
"Of course, Hephaestus gave me a massive scolding first, saying I'm too stubborn and can't go around taking on debt without planning... but in the end, she agreed to make the deal with me. Except she imposed one condition."
"What condition?" Dante asked, his deep voice resounding softly through the church space.
"She wants to meet you. In person" Hestia revealed, looking him in the eye.
"Hephaestus is extremely strict about who wears or wields the work of her hands. She told me she doesn't work for 'ghosts' and wants to see with her own eyes the warrior in whom I've placed all my faith... and evaluate the sword of unknown origin you carry on your back. She's waiting for us at the great Hephaestus Familia workshop this afternoon."
Dante absorbed the information in silence. He knew the reputation Hephaestus's name carried in Orario, the master goddess of the blacksmith Familia, whose weapons shaped the fates of the city's greatest adventurers. But above all, he saw Hestia's commitment and dedication in seeking the best for her small Familia.
"You went to one of the city's most prominent families and negotiated on my behalf." Dante said, his calm tone carrying a solemn respect. "If the Goddess demands my presence to honor the effort you made, I will meet her."
Hestia broke into a radiant smile, relief visible on her features as she held his hand affectionately.
"Thank you, Dante! I'm sure that once she sees who you really are, she'll understand exactly why I'm so proud of my guardian."
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The early morning brought a different kind of heat to the streets of Orario.
As Dante and Hestia approached the Hephaestus Familia's workplace.
Where they crafted the Familia's weapons and armor, the noise of the market gave way to a metallic, resounding symphony, the rhythmic beating of dozens of hammers against anvils, the hiss of hot steel plunged into water and the thick scent of charcoal and molten metal.
Hestia led the way with brisk steps, though the blue ribbon across her chest and the bells in her hair jingled at a rhythm slightly more agitated than usual.
From time to time, she looked up to catch Dante's calm profile, trying to absorb a bit of the unwavering serenity the warrior projected.
On the young man's back, the colossal Demon Slayer remained wrapped in leather straps and thick cloth, yet its weight and subtle aura still caught the attention of the artisans crossing his path.
They passed through the luxurious storefront, where gleaming weapons and flawless armor were displayed for high-level adventurers for fortunes in valis, and headed toward a restricted area in the back.
The temperature rose considerably as they crossed the stone corridor leading to the personal workshop of the Familia's goddess.
The air there was hot and stifling, tinged by the orange glow of a gigantic forge.
In front of a massive anvil, surrounded by precision tools and ingots of rare ores, stood Hephaestus. The Goddess of the Forge wore practical work clothes made of reinforced leather.
Her fiery ember-red hair was tied up casually, and her iconic eyepatch covered her left eye, leaving only her crimson right eye, sharp and penetrating like a flame, fixed on the piece of metal she was working on.
Upon hearing the heavy iron door creak, she paused her perfect hammering, wiped her forehead with her forearm, and turned around slowly.
"You took your time, Hestia" Hephaestus's voice sounded firm, deep, and full of natural authority.
However, the Goddess's gaze didn't linger on her friend for more than a second.
Hephaestus's uncovered eye immediately locked onto Dante's tall, imposing figure. She sized up every detail; the silver hair, the perfectly balanced posture, the deep purple glow of his pupils and above all, the outline of the colossal blade resting on his back.
Hephaestus rested her forging hammer against the anvil, crossing her arms over her ample chest with an expression of strict professionalism.
"So this is the famous guardian for whom you pledged even what you don't have, Hestia?" asked the goddess of blacksmiths, stepping forward a few paces.
The heat emanating from her presence matched the forge behind her. "He certainly has the posture of someone who knows how to survive hell... but the real question is whether the steel he carries is worthy of the hands that wield it."
Hephaestus stopped a few feet from Dante, her single eye shining with the genuine interest of a master.
"Unwrap the cloth, lad" she ordered, pointing to his back. "Let me see the blade you carry."
Dante didn't answer immediately, with deliberate, calm movements, he reached his hands to the leather straps holding the cloth wrap on his back.
The bronze buckle unlatched with a dry snap, and the young man slid the long wrapping forward, unrolling the thick fabric with the serenity of someone performing a ritual.
When the cloth fell away, the Demon Slayer was revealed.
The sight of the weapon brought silence to the workshop for a moment, broken only by the crackling embers of the forge.
The sword lacked the polished sheen or refined ornaments of common steel traded on the surface; it was a colossal blade of black iron whose matte surface seemed to swallow the orange light emanating from the fire rather than reflect it.
A massive, brutal, and primitive sword, devoid of any ornament other than the pure intent to crush and sever.
With utmost ease, Dante gripped the hilt with a single hand and rested the sword on the large reinforced stone bench in the center of the room.
The impact against the structure made the granite floor shudder under their feet, emitting a deep, heavy thud that reverberated through the foundry walls.
The weight of that piece of hyper-dense iron was almost absurd, a supernatural density that defied physics and seemed to bend gravity itself around it.
Hephaestus frowned. She took two quick steps forward, her uncovered eye sparkling with a mix of disbelief and professional fascination.
The Goddess of the Forge reached out without hesitation and gripped the hilt of the Demon Slayer, tensing her arm to lift it off the bench as she would with any large greatsword.
However, to the surprise of Hestia, who instantly held her breath, the sword barely moved an inch. The black iron required monstrous strength just to be lifted off its support.
Hephaestus let go of the handle, turning her palm to look at her own calloused fingers before returning her gaze to the sword.
"This is made of a material with absolute density..." Hephaestus murmured, her voice heavy with reluctant respect as she walked around the table and touched the flat, cold side of the metal. "There's no magical alloy or weightlessness enchantment here. It's pure, solid steel... concentrated to a point that would make this piece unusable for ninety-nine percent of this city's adventurers. Trying to wield this at the pace of a real battle would shatter anyone's wrists."
She raised her head, staring Dante in the eyes. The red glint of the Goddess's eye reflected the respect of someone who had just recognized the true nature of the man before her.
"And you move it as if it were a light wooden sword..." Hephaestus continued, crossing her arms and letting a smirk slip through. "Only a warrior who possesses extraordinary physical strength and an unwavering determination could transform this anomaly of black iron into a deadly weapon."
Beside them, Hestia puffed out her chest with immense pride, looking at Hephaestus as if to say, 'Didn't I tell you?'
"So, Hephaestus..." Hestia chimed in, her eyes shining with hope. "What do you think of my guardian and his sword?"
Hephaestus let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head, though the excitement of a master blacksmith was unmistakable on her face.
"Steel of this density requires tools that no amateur blacksmith in Orario could offer without ruining their own" Hephaestus declared, turning to the silver-haired young man. "The blade is a monster in itself, Dante. And if you are capable of mastering it... then my Familia will do whatever work is necessary so that none of your equipment fails when you're down there."
Hephaestus remained silent for a few moments, her sharp eye examining every inch of that immense mass of black iron with the hungry look of someone viewing a challenging blank canvas.
"A weapon so raw and pure... wasted merely as dead weight" Hephaestus murmured, running her fingers over the surface that swallowed the light. "It has high density, but the mass distribution is completely primitive. If we open the structure, fuse the core with an Adamantite alloy to stabilize the tension, and etch internal kinetic impact channels..."
She looked up, an ambitious smile growing on her lips.
"I can transform it from a simple crushing block into a true masterpiece. A sword that accumulates the momentum of every strike and discharges it in a wave of pure shock."
Hestia, who was listening intently beside Dante, instantly widened her eyes. She took a step forward, raising her hands in a warning gesture, the blue ribbon swaying sharply.
"Hold on a second, Hephaestus! Rein in that excitement a bit" Hestia intervened, her voice laden with tense urgency. She glanced at Dante before turning her serious gaze back to her friend. "You're forgetting the most important detail. You can't just apply magical runes or conventional energy channels to his sword."
Hephaestus frowned, narrowing her single visible eye.
"Why not? A metal of this quality would accept any structural reinforcement if the alchemy is properly calibrated" the Goddess of the Forge countered, crossing her arms. "Unless the problem isn't the sword..."
"It's not the sword, it's Dante" Hestia explained, taking a deep breath as if weighing every word. "You see... his nature, how can I put it... is anti-magic."
Hephaestus paused. The silence in the workshop grew thick.
"Anti-magic?" Hephaestus repeated, her brow furrowing further as her analytical gaze slowly descended upon Dante.
"Exactly" Hestia continued, gesturing with her hands to emphasize the danger. "Dante's aura and his very essence repel, weaken, and even nullify any kind of magical energy around him. If you try to carve active runic channels, hardening spells, or elemental enchantments onto that sword"
"His anti-magic will reject it instantly. Best-case scenario, the enchantments will simply fade and turn to dust the first time he wields the blade. Worst-case... it'll create an energy clash capable of exploding and bringing your forge down."
Hephaestus stared at the silver-haired young man for several long seconds, taking in the revelation.
For a blacksmith who crafted magic-imbued weapons every day, the idea of a warrior who functioned as a 'void' for magic was heretical at best.
But instead of shrinking back, the smile on the Goddess of the Forge's face broadened even further, transforming into an expression of fascinated challenge.
"A body and a soul that reject magic..." Hephaestus let out a short, low chuckle filled with adrenaline, leaning her hands back on the stone bench right beside the heavy Demon Slayer. "Hestia... you have no idea what you just told me."
She looked straight at Dante, whose purple eyes remained perfectly calm amidst the goddess's intensity.
"If magic is rejected by him, then the answer doesn't lie in adding external enchantments" Hephaestus declared, her voice echoing with the authority of a legendary master. "The weapon must be perfect purely in a physical sense, through the density of the material and the brutality of its design. No magical runes. We'll forge a monster made of pure, insurmountable matter, tailored for a man who doesn't need spells."
Hephaestus slowly circled the bench, her visible eye gleaming with the bright flame of genuinely divine inspiration.
She rested her calloused fists on the stone, staring at the dark mass of black iron like someone unlocking an ancient enigma.
"If common spells and runes are destroyed by your anti-magic, then we won't use any of that" the Goddess of the Forge began, her voice dropping to a low, fascinated tone. "We are going to make the weapon itself be born from you. It won't be a separate instrument... it will be a limb of your own body."
Hestia blinked, tilting her head in confusion. "Born from him? What do you mean, Hephaestus?"
"The catalyst won't be surface-level magic circuits" Hephaestus explained, looking up to face the pair. "It will be blood. More specifically, a fusion between your Goddess's divine blood and your own blood, Dante."
Dante maintained his flawless posture, but his purple pupils narrowed slightly, taking in the weight of the proposal.
"By tempering the black iron with Hestia's Ichor and your essence" the master blacksmith continued, gesturing with renewed excitement, "I will then engrave divine hieroglyphs along the entire length of the blade. The same sacred script we carve onto the backs of adventurers to grant the Falna."
"This way, the sword won't depend on mana to function nor will it reject you; it will be alive, linked directly to your Status. As you evolve, gaining strength, agility, and endurance, the black iron will absorb that growth and become proportionally denser, sharper, and indestructible."
"A living weapon that grows with its wielder..." Hestia murmured, covering her mouth with her hands. She looked at Dante with a mixture of surprise and fascination. "That means it will respond only to him."
"Exactly" Hephaestus confirmed, locking eyes with Dante. "The hieroglyphs engraved into the metal will channel Hestia's blessing without triggering your anti-magic rejection, because your own blood will be infused into the alloy. In anyone else's hands, it will be nothing more than an inert, absurdly heavy mass. But in your hands... the blade will 'breathe'. It will become a living extension of your will and power."
Hestia looked down at her own hands and then at her silver-haired guardian, feeling the solemn depth of that union. It wasn't just forging a sword; it was intertwining her own divine life with the destiny of her sole warrior.
"Dante..." the little Goddess called out, her voice overflowing with deep affection. "Do you agree to this? Do you agree to bind your blood and mine to this Sword?"
Dante stepped forward, approaching the bench. He looked down at the dark surface of the Demon Slayer, feeling the mystical tattoos on his neck pulse in a soft purple hue, as if recognizing the approaching ritual.
Then, he met Hestia's blue eyes.
"A bond sealed by blood..." he said, his deep voice carrying the firmness of an unwavering oath. "If this is the weapon that will allow me to protect our home and cut down any threat that stands in my path... I accept."
Hephaestus struck her hammer against the anvil with force, causing a sharp, crystalline ring to echo throughout the entire workshop, sealing the pact.
"Then it's settled! Prepare yourselves... because the birth of this blade will demand fire, blood, and a tempering such as Orario has never witnessed!"
The heat in the workshop reached an almost unbearable point as soon as Hephaestus fed the great forge with magic coal.
The orange fire transformed into an incandescent, bluish roar, illuminating the sweat dripping down the Forge Goddess's face and reflecting off the black iron of the Demon Slayer.
With the precise movements of someone who had mastered the divine art of fire, Hephaestus used massive tongs of reinforced steel to guide the mass of solid iron straight into the heart of the flame.
The metal, which normally would take days to yield to ordinary heat, began to glow a deep crimson, as though a dormant volcano were awakening inside the blade.
Hephaestus grabbed a container and a small silver ritual blade, turning back to the couple.
"Step closer" the master commanded, her firm voice rising above the crackling fire. "The black iron is at the perfect point. Hestia, you first."
Hestia stepped forward without hesitation. She extended her hand over the carved tempering channel.
With a subtle nick of the silver blade, Hephaestus made a small cut on the Goddess's palm. Drops of sacred Ichor, a radiant, golden blood exuding the fragrance of divine fire, fell into the container, shining with their own light.
Next, Dante extended his right hand, still partially wrapped in his training bandages. Hephaestus made the same cut on the young man's palm.
Dante's blood, thick and shrouded in a subtle purple haze stemming from his anti-magic, met Hestia's Ichor in the channel.
The moment the two essences mixed, a violent reaction occurred; the divine blood and the anti-magical essence didn't repel each other, but fused into a fluid of a crimson hue.
Hephaestus didn't waste a single second. Using the tongs, she pulled the red-hot Demon Slayer from the forge.
Hephaestus asked for Dante's help to lift the sword and rested it on the massive anvil. Dipping into the container filled with the blood mixture, the Goddess began engraving the divine hieroglyphs along the entire body of the blade.
With every stroke of sacred writing carved into the iron, Hephaestus poured the blood along the circuits and delivered a devastating blow with her hammer.
CLANG!
The sound of the hammer strike reverberated through the foundry like caged thunder. The blade responded instantly.
The hieroglyphs, fueled by the shared blood, ignited into a vivid crimson tone.
Instead of Dante's anti-magic dissipating the blessing, the blood infused in the metal served as a perfect bridge; the blade 'drank' the blood, absorbing the Falna deep into its structure.
CLANG! CLANG!
With each rhythmic hammer blow from Hephaestus, the mystical tattoos on Dante's neck pulsed in exact sync with the sword's glow.
He felt a deep pang in his chest, as if an invisible thread were being sewn between his own heart and the metal's soul. Hestia gripped Dante's arm, her blue eyes wide as she watched the divine light intertwine with the raw structure of the metal.
Finally, Hephaestus submerged the entire blade into the sealed quenching trough for heat treatment.
A thick cloud of silver steam rose to the workshop ceiling, accompanied by a low, deep hiss that sounded like the sigh of a beast awakening from a long slumber.
When the steam finally dissipated, Hephaestus asked to remove the sword and rested it on the stone bench.
The Demon Slayer had transformed. The raw mass of black iron remained heavy and intimidating, but it now boasted divine hieroglyphs carved to perfection along its entire length.
The inscriptions didn't glow outrageously, instead, they pulsed softly in a dark red tone, perfectly tuned to the rhythm of Dante's breathing and heartbeat.
Hephaestus wiped the sweat from her forehead with her forearm, a smile of pure pride and exhaustion plastered across her face.
"She is ready" the Goddess of the Forge declared, taking a step back. "A sword that carries your Goddess's blessing, the temper of your blood, and the ability to grow with your Status. Take it, Dante. See how the metal responds to its owner."
Dante took a step forward, his firm, silent footsteps echoing across the warm stone of the workshop.
He extended his right hand, the same hand whose freshly closed ritual cuts still held the mark of his blood, and wrapped his calloused fingers around the leather-and-iron grip.
The moment his hand touched the Demon Slayer's hilt, an electric shiver ran down the young man's spine.
There was no rejection. The haze of his anti-magic didn't dissipate the power contained within the metal, instead, the blood impressed upon the alloy recognized its master like a key finding a perfect lock.
The divine hieroglyphs carved into the black iron ignited in a crimson-red glow, spreading a wave of invigorating warmth through his arms. The mystical tattoos on Dante's neck glowed in response, pulsing at the exact same frequency as the metal.
The blade, which had once felt like a raw, defying mass, now seemed to have its center of gravity perfectly aligned with the warrior's musculature.
The colossal weight was still there, enough to crush and sever reinforced armor like paper, but it no longer felt like an inert burden in his hands. It was a living extension of his own will.
With a single fluid motion, Dante lifted the Demon Slayer off the stone support using just one hand. He executed a subtle arc through the workshop air.
The cut was so clean and precise that the room's dense heat itself seemed sliced in two, emitting a low, rhythmic hum that caused the forge flames to flicker.
Hestia placed her hands over her chest, feeling through their link the soft, warm tremor echoing in her own heart. The blessing in her soul vibrated in perfect harmony with the sword.
"The feeling is... different" Dante admitted, his deep voice resounding as he admired the flow of reddish light coursing through the blade's inscriptions. "It no longer feels like mere inanimate steel. It responds even before my movement begins."
Hephaestus let out a short, satisfied laugh, crossing her arms with the undeniable pride of a master who had just achieved the impossible.
"That's because it finally has a soul, lad" said the Goddess of the Forge, giving Dante's shoulder a firm pat. "A soul made from your blood, your Goddess's blessing, and my finest temper. This blade will grow with you. The stronger you become in the Dungeon, the sharper and more unbreakable it will be."
Dante rested the sword's hilt lightly against his body, bowing his head to Hephaestus in a gesture of sincere respect.
"You have done an exceptional job, Lady Hephaestus" he declared. "I am grateful for your effort and your craft."
Hestia hugged her friend tightly around the hip, an emotional glint in her blue eyes. "Thank you so much, Hephaestus! I knew you were the only one capable of creating something so incredible for my guardian!"
Hephaestus gave the lesser Goddess's head an affectionate pat, smirking slightly. "Just make sure he takes good care of my work... and of you, Hestia. Now go, the day is passing and this workshop needs to cool down a bit."
Before Hephaestus could even finish her farewell, an impetuous, vibrant rush took hold of the small Goddess. Hestia, her heart overflowing with gratitude and joy over the bond that had just been sealed, stepped forward with a radiant smile.
"I can't even explain how happy I am!" she exclaimed, before grabbing Hephaestus's arm and, with surprising effort for her size, pulling the Goddess of the Forge closer, while pulling Dante at the same time.
Hephaestus, caught completely off guard by her friend's infectious energy, had no time to react before being wrapped in a triple hug.
The force of Hestia's pull caused Hephaestus to step forward, momentarily losing her balance and falling toward Dante's chest.
The Forge Goddess's face, usually accustomed to the coldness of metal and the stern discipline of the workshop, bumped gently against the solid, firm muscle of Dante's chest, right below where the Demon Slayer's leather protection began.
She stayed there for a second, her forehead resting against that 'wall' of human warmth and firmness, feeling the strong, calm, rhythmic beats of the guardian's heart echo beneath her ear.
Dante, though caught off guard by the sudden display of affection, reacted with his usual calmness.
He didn't pull back, instead, his broad, strong arms wrapped around both of them protectively, stabilizing Hephaestus so she wouldn't feel uncomfortable.
Hephaestus froze for a brief moment, her eyes slightly wide.
The silence of the workshop, filled only by the distant crackle of the cooling forge, seemed to envelop them.
The blacksmith Goddess's harshness seemed to melt away in the quiet of that unusual moment. She could feel Dante's brute strength, the warmth emanating from him, the very same heat that emanated from the sword they had just forged.
"Hestia, you're impossible..." Hephaestus murmured, her voice coming out muffled against the fabric of Dante's tunic. Despite the complaint, there was no irritation in her tone; there was a rare softness, a glimpse of 'humanity' she seldom allowed others to see.
Hestia, pressed tight to both of them, let out a melodious laugh, feeling like the center of a world that finally seemed to fit together perfectly.
"I know!" laughed the petite Goddess, tightening her hug. "But you needed a little affection too, no need to pretend you didn't like it!"
Hephaestus let out a long sigh, finally relaxing her shoulders against the warrior's imposing frame. She slowly backed away, maintaining her posture, but with a subtle, discreet blush tinting her cheeks.
She adjusted her eyepatch over her left eye, attempting to regain her professional composure, though the glint in her right eye had become considerably sweeter.
"Enough sentimentality" Hephaestus said, averting her eyes for a second to hide the emotional impact. She gave Dante's arm a quick, firm pat. "Get going before I change my mind and make you two hammer iron until dawn."
Dante merely tilted his head in a gesture of respect, a rare and almost imperceptible smirk appearing on his face.
With the Demon Slayer pulsing at a comforting rhythm on his back, he and Hestia turned and walked toward the workshop exit, leaving behind the Goddess of the Forge, who stood still for a long time watching them leave, her hand still feeling the residual warmth of that unexpected moment.
-----
As starlight began to reflect off the columns of the old abandoned church appearing at the end of the street, Hestia slowed her pace.
She looked at the blade strapped to Dante's back and placed her index finger on her chin, looking thoughtful.
"You know, Dante... I was thinking" the Goddess began, delicately knitting her brow. "Now that the sword has my blood, the divine hieroglyphs carved into the iron, and this direct link to your Status... just calling it Demon Slayer doesn't seem so appropriate anymore. It's a unique weapon in the world! It deserves a name that reflects what it has truly become."
Dante paused for a moment under the moonlight. His right hand reached up to the leather-wrapped hilt, feeling the soft, warm vibration of the reddish inscriptions beneath the black iron.
The warrior's purple gaze contemplated the blade for a brief second, searching for the essence of that newly sealed pact.
"No monster, plague, or tyranny will ever dictate our fate again" Dante said, his deep, unwavering voice cutting through the silence of the night. "If the metal now carries the essence of Heaven and the temper of Earth to challenge any authority... then it shall be named Godslayer Bellion."
Hestia froze in that exact second.
The little Goddess's blue eyes widened dramatically. A visible drop of cold sweat trickled down her forehead as all color drained from her face.
She looked at Dante, then at the sword, and then back at Dante, waving her hands in the air in sheer panic.
"G-G-Godslayer?!" Hestia stammered, her voice rising two octaves as she swallowed hard. "What do you mean, Godslayer, Dante?! Do you have any idea how dangerous that name is?! I'm a Goddess! Hephaestus is a Goddess! Half of Orario is ruled by Gods!"
She brought her hands to her burning cheeks, looking desperately up and down the empty street to ensure no one, and no Guild official, was listening.
"If the gods of the major Familias hear you calling your sword Godslayer, they'll think you're declaring war on all of Heaven!" she continued, sweating from pure nervousness and hopping up and down in anxiety. "Please tell me 'Bellion' at least means something peaceful?!"
Dante merely stared at the Goddess with his usual stoic expression, adjusting the leather shoulder strap with utter serenity.
"It means 'rebellion', rebellion against any force that tries to subjugate us" he answered directly, resuming his walk toward the church steps. "Be they monsters...or deities."
Hestia stood frozen for a second on the stone sidewalk, her forehead still covered in nervous sweat as she watched her guardian's imposing figure. Letting out a dramatic sigh, she ran after him, grabbing the hem of his tunic.
"Dante, you're going to give me a heart attack before we even get back to the Dungeon!"
"...."
"Dante, you are impossible."
To be continued...
---END---
Well, your Demon-Slayer is better now, or in this case, your Godslayer, haha.
In short, I didn't want to change it or make a new weapon, so I decided to just "reforge" it.
It has the look of the Dragon-Slayer from Berserk and now features the crimson circuits from the Blades of Athena ① *image here*
Lately, I've been getting pretty disappointed with a lot of the new stories I've been finding. Most of them rely heavily on unedited AI or even let AI dictate the entire pacing of the story, generating things that make no sense.
AI can be good for proofreading, but letting it dictate the pacing is bad. It doesn't know the characters, the plot, or where the story should go, so it ends up turning into a confusing mess full of plot holes and even contradicting stuff written just moments before.
So I end up just waiting for updates on the stories I already read and know are good.
On another note, I'm going to try to update the story more often. I've been really busy lately, and unlike many writers, I only do a basic outline of the general plot, so the ideas just come to me as I write.
That's why I always end up with these extremely detailed, massive chapters. Right after, I spend hours re-reading, tweaking things, and revising, only to do the exact same thing all over again in English. Given that my chapters are always over 5k words, you can imagine how that goes (that 10k one was pure terror) (_ _|||)
So...toss a Coin to Your Witcher