The next day…
Missio and Dante stood before the entrance to the University of Bologna. Missio wore a plain red shirt, black shorts and dark laceless shoes. Dante wore a white shirt, checkered blue trousers and the same shoes as his little brother. Missio gazed at the ancient architecture of the massive gates. The siblings took a step forward, entering the premises of the university. They strolled through campus, their steps echoing on the brick laid paths of the institution.
Missio glanced around, seeing other people taking pictures of themselves around school buildings. Using his X-ray vision, he peeked through the walls of the hall. The sudden sight of dozens of student skeletons made him quickly blink the ability off, returning his gaze forward.
"Where are we going?" Missio asked, awe-struck by a beautiful design of the buildings.
"I called the university director yesterday." Dante replied, gazing around the lively greenery. "I asked them for a spare sparring area to train you."
"And they just… accepted?"
"How much do you doubt my ability as King?"
Missio questioned him no further. After a few minutes, they reached the doors of a gigantic hall. They stepped onto its floors and walked through it. Suddenly, a young man who wore an all-black casual attire rushed upto them.
"Are you Sir Dante?" He hurriedly asked.
"Yes." Dante replied. "Are you, our guide?"
"Y-Yes, sir! Let me show you to the sparring room." The student straightened. "I-I'm the student council president."
"I appreciate that the university let us use the arena. Give my sincerest thanks to the director."
"As you wish sir!"
Missio rolled his eyes at his brother.
'Here he goes again with the cool guy persona…'
The student showed them to the arena. The siblings entered and the president closed the doors behind them while wishing them a good time. Dante peered around the relatively large room which was filled with numerous weapons. Missio gazed at it as well, intrigued by the countless weapons housed in this arena.
"Are these all real?" Missio inquired.
"Yes." Dante went forward. "This is a recreational sparring arena for one of the clubs at the university. It's for the ones who participate in sword dueling. Normally, they would use armor to spar but…"
He browsed through the racks of weapons. Eventually, he found and picked up a longsword from one of the racks.
"I'm a chaos incarnate and you're a transcendent. Our bodies are naturally armored." Dante threw the sword to his little brother. "Catch."
Missio caught the blade – instinctively. He looked at the sheathed weapon for a moment, his hand settling its hilt too naturally.
"We begin your sword training now." Dante unsheathed another longsword.
Missio nodded and drew the blade. As the scabbard flew away, he gripped the blade. He blinked. A sense of… déjà vu washed over him in an instant. It was like a haze. The sword felt natural yet strange to him as if he had held it before long ago. He hadn't felt this with the katana. But just as fast as that feeling came, it also went. Missio grazed the blade, his image reflecting on its surface.
'Why does this feel… familiar…? I'm getting serious déjà vu…'
As he further though about this feeling, Dante voice rang out.
"While I am primarily a hand-to-hand fighter, I also know our family's sword art – Sempiterne Swordsmanship." He took off his ring and tucked it into his pocket.
Missio lifted his head – another wave of déjà vu washed over him in an instant. He hadn't heard that name his entire life but it felt nostalgic to him.
"What?" he blurted.
"It's a sword art created by our ancestor – Romulus Augustus." Dante stated, approaching his brother. "It was primarily made for war but has been passed down in our family ever since."
Missio paused for a moment. He contemplated for a moment before opening his mouth.
"Brother… I'm getting déjà vu… I feel like I've heard that name before even though I know I haven't… It feels strange… even this sword feels too familiar to me…"
Dante froze. His mind flashed back to brother as a baby – the only he had of him as one when their mother had brought him home. His lips couldn't help but curl as he placed his hand on Missio shoulder.
'He'll learn quickly…'
"I dunno about the déjà vu you're getting but…you definitely couldn't have not heard it. It's literally our sword art."
"…Sure." Missio locked eyes with his brother.
"Now, getting back to topic." Dante stepped back. "Do you know Romulus Augustus?"
"Isn't that the guy who's portrait you have in your office?" Missio replied.
"Yeah, he's also in the lobby of the black ops and Special Ops as well." Dante answered.
"I have heard of him from history lessons. I know he is our ancestor and the last true monarch of Rome. Now, I also know he's the creator of Sempiterne Swordsmanship."
"This style was created by him for war." Dante held his sword, locking onto Missio. "A way to cut down as many enemies as possible without losing momentum."
The supreme commander suddenly dashed forward. Missio – impulsively, raised his blade and blocked the strike. Dante's pupils dilated. He backed off.
"That's why it's called everlasting… how did you block that?" Dante asked in a surprised manner.
"Dunno. Just came to me." Missio replied, confused as well.
Dante secretly smiled and continued. "It's probably your instincts from the black ops. Forget it."
Missio nodded, glancing at his brother.
"It had eight forms but I'll teach you three for now."
"Why not all eight?" Missio blurted.
"Foundation is important, bro. The third form is the gateway to the rest but if your trance is broken. Then, you won't ever be able to achieve the rest. So, I'll teach you only three. The rest you'll learn later at another time."
"Alright." Missio entered a stance.
Dante lowered his blade; its tip touched the floor and held him up. He coughed, drawing his brother's attention and spoke.
"The first form is Foundational steps… Form your attack path before you even enter the battle field." Dante relaxed his body and locked eyes with Missio. "Don't take a stance. Be comfortable. Observe your opponent and build a road to their defeat."
Missio's eyes widened. He exited the stance which he had naturally taken after many years of wielding the katana. He relaxed his muscles. His body felt lighter than ever as he looked at Dante. His mind – without thinking, had already built a path in his head.
"Are you ready?" Dante questioned.
Missio didn't respond. Like an eagle, he rushed forward, tracing the road he had built. Dante, caught off-guard, instinctively raised his blade. His sword vibrated violently, recoiling from the raw momentum of the strike as he looked into his little brother's blindingly focused eyes.
'He's already in Form 2…?!'