CHAPTER 122: GODDESS’S JUDGEMENT

Dante awoke to a world drowned in white.

Snow stretched endlessly before him, an eternal wasteland of frozen rivers, jagged glaciers, and skies so pale they looked bleached of color.

The cold bit into his flesh, sharper than any blade, but instead of making him shiver, it filled him with an unnatural calm.

His aura stirred, instinctively igniting, and the familiar rhythm of combat overtook him.

But then... something was wrong.

The longer he breathed, the more his body flickered.

His hands blurred, his legs lost weight, and when he looked down, he saw his form unraveling into faint wisps of frost.

He was fading.

"You..."

The voice cut through the stillness like chimes across ice.

A melodious voice that seemed very furious.

Dante turned sharply, and there she stood —

A woman whose beauty could shatter kingdoms.

Silver hair cascaded like moonlight down her back, strands glittering with snowflakes that never melted.

She wore fur that draped elegantly across her chest and hips, but nothing more, her pale skin luminous in the frozen glow.

In her hands gleamed two swords, forged not of steel, but of living bone, each humming with divine pressure.

Her gaze struck him harder than any blade.

"Who are you?" Dante rasped, though arrogance clung to his tone. "Is this... the afterlife?"

He swept his eyes around the frostbitten expanse.

All Hunters knew of the myth — when the valiant died, their souls would walk the eternal ice forest.

There was no hunger in this place, no war as well.

Only eternal peace in what they loved doing best, Hunting.

The woman’s expression twisted into disdain.

"The afterlife?" she echoed, her voice lilting, mockery dripping from her lips. "You truly think you deserve such a place?"

Dante stiffened.

"Don’t make me laugh." Her silver eyes narrowed, and with one step forward, the frost beneath her heels cracked. "Besides... do you not recognize the goddess you so desperately sought to please?"

His eyes widened.

A name formed in his throat but stuck there, bitter.

Kyone.

The Winter Goddess.

Their people’s eternal deity. The one he prayed to... sacrificed to... bled for.

The one he thought would one day crown him worthy of greatness.

And yet...

His hands clenched.

His aura flared.

And even with realization pounding against his skull, his eyes held no reverence.

If anything, they brimmed with spite.

"If you are truly her... then why—"

"Silence."

The word was not spoken.

It was law.

At once, his throat seized.

His lips parted, but no sound came. His lungs strained, yet no groan escaped.

He clawed at his mouth, his own voice stolen as easily as one plucks a snowflake from the air.

Kyone’s voice deepened, filling the frozen plain like a storm.

"I did not summon you here to explain why I chose Azariah as Patriarch. Nor to entertain your petty grievances. You are nothing to me."

Her steps rang against the frost as she drew closer, every stride melting the air with divine weight.

"I brought you here... because you dared harm him."

Dante’s chest tightened.

’Him?’

Her eyes softened, just for a moment. A flicker of warmth hidden beneath fury.

"My beloved."

Her voice trembled, not with weakness, but with a dangerous tenderness.

Images flashed in her mind: Azel collapsing, his arms ruptured, his blood spilling.

The agony of seeing him hurt — even knowing he would heal gnawed at her maiden heart.

For that...

For that alone, this man would suffer.

"Pick a weapon," Kyone said coldly, lifting her hand.

The frozen ground cracked open with a groan.

From the ice sprouted racks of armaments — spears, axes, shields, bows, swords, all forged of pale bone, each wrapped in the faint shimmer of divine aura.

Her tone was not suggestion.

It was a decree.

"Pick a weapon," she repeated. "And die a warrior’s death."

For a long moment, Dante only glared.

Then, slowly, he strode toward the weapons.

His breath plumed against the cold.

His hands hovered, before finally wrapping around two swords — bone blades curved like fangs.

Aura surged into them, causing faint red light to pulse along their edges.

If he was to die here, it would not be without resistance.

He flicked forward, blurring with speed.

Kyone did not move.

She only watched him, silver eyes tracing his every step.

He was fast.

Fast enough that most would see nothing but streaks of shadow.

Fast enough that in the mortal world, few could react to him at all.

His aura sharpened like a spear, his blades slicing arcs of crimson air as he descended upon her.

The warriors of that time could not be compared to the warriors of now.

For an instant, Dante believed he could win.

And then —

His pupils shrank.

It hit him like a tidal wave.

Murderous intent.

It was so much that it was literally suffocating him.

It covered everything.

The skies.

The plains.

The frost beneath his feet.

It was as though the entire world itself wanted him dead.

He faltered. His blades wavered. His body screamed to retreat.

Dante staggered backward, gasping for breath as if drowning.

His aura flickered, dimmed.

Kyone chuckled, low and cruel.

"What foolish thoughts," she whispered, her laughter rising like a hymn of ice. "You dare compare the warriors of now... to those of old?"

Her hand rose, and from the void, a colossal blade appeared — a bone greatsword as tall as a man, its hilt bound in white fur.

She lifted it with a single hand, the weight of divinity rolling across the frost.

And then she blurred.

White wisps marked her passing as she vanished from sight, reappearing before him in an instant.

Their swords clashed.

The sound was not bone upon bone.

It was thunder.

The shockwave cracked the earth, tearing through glaciers.

Dante was hurled backward, his bones rattling, his arms numb.

Kyone’s voice rang above the howl of the wind.

"Every soul I’ve judged in this place... every warrior I’ve slain here... even they offered me more."

She appeared again, bone swords flashing.

Slash after slash tore across his body.

He blocked.

Parried.

He did everything in his power not to die...

But still, her blade carved through him.

A gash ripped across his shoulder. Another opened along his chest.

Then — his right hand flew from his body, severed clean.

"Is this all?" she taunted, her voice a song of derision. "You thought yourself fit for Patriarch? In reality the only thing you have going for you are your legs, should I cut them off? Fool. Even the weakest of my era would have crushed you beneath their heel."

Dante grit his teeth, blood spraying.

His body blurred again, scattering into afterimages.

He leapt high, his blade whistling downward in a crescent slash, pouring the last of his strength into one final strike.

It never landed.

Kyone didn’t even raise her sword.

The crescent of aura froze midair, shattering into ice crystals that drifted harmlessly around her.

Her silver eyes gleamed with finality.

"I tire of this."

Her blade rose once more.

"I sentence you to a hundred years... with your soul ripped apart."

The frost shuddered.

Dante’s scream never escaped his throat as his body unraveled.

Piece by piece, bone by bone, flesh by flesh — until only his soul remained, writhing in agony.

She had given him a new body just to make it more painful.

His head twisted back, mouth opening in a silent scream as the unimaginable pain consumed him.

Kyone extended her hand.

Snowflakes danced around the severed head, encasing it in ice, shaping it into a grim statue of stone-white frost.

She lowered it among dozens of others, each grim relic staring with hollow eyes.

"Those," she said sweetly, almost playfully, "will be your roommates for now."

Her smile curved into something terrifyingly beautiful.

"They too annoyed me... when I ascended to godhood."

Her laughter chimed across the frozen land, haunting and melodic.

Then, with a single step, she vanished — her body dissolving into silver wisps, returning to the plane of light.

She landed softly, the frost giving way to warmth.

Nyala lay on the bed sleeping, her gentle presence filling the chamber.

Kyone drifted beside her, curling against her warmth, she never thought she would be sleeping next to the Goddess of Light but life was like that wasn’t it?

’I wonder... how Husband will react when he learns of this?’ she thought, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. ’Perhaps I’ll tell him later. Maybe he’ll reward me’

...

[Ding]

[The Goddess of Ice, Kyone, has imprisoned a fraction of Dante’s soul for 100 years.]

"Eh?"