The lecture hall-turned-training arena still hummed with excitement 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 Name—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. Something 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?"
"He’s bluffing," someone 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.
"I do have one," he said simply.
He stepped back from the ball, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for battle. Lightning flickered along his right leg, but then... something darker stirred. Shadows coiled around the crackling red, forming the outline of a colossal serpent. Its eyes gleamed briefly in the air, ancient and hungry.
Students gasped. Some recoiled in their seats.
"Is that...?""No, it can’t be—""That aura... it feels alive."
Dante exhaled, grounding himself. He whispered the name under his breath:
"Supreme Jörmundgandr Shot."
The sound wasn’t a kick—it was an explosion. The ball tore from his foot like a meteor, 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 slammed against the students’ faces. The arena’s energy shields trembled, then cracked.
"It’s going to break through—!" someone screamed.
The ball hurtled straight toward the stands, a serpent’s roar echoing in the air.
He slammed 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, fragments of energy dissolving into the air.
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 name 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. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novᴇlfire.net
"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 someone’s head off with it."
Dante didn’t flinch. He met 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 moment 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 some dangerous beast.
Dante, however, stayed rooted for a moment, 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 me.
But in the observation chamber high above the hall, hidden from the students, two sets of eyes had been watching the entire time.
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.