Dimensional Slash?
The moment Richard saw the words "Son of the Devil" and "Dimensional Slash" appear together, one image surfaced immediately in his mind.
Yamato.
More precisely—Vergil's signature technique.
He didn't hesitate. He opened the detailed description at once.
Just as he suspected.
The reward was indeed the Dimensional Slash associated with Yamato—the spatial cutting technique that defined Vergil's combat style.
So… is the next template Vergil?
The system wouldn't randomly hand out Yamato's signature move. That kind of reward implied structural alignment. If Sephiroth had been his first template, then Vergil wasn't an unreasonable follow-up.
Vergil wasn't a bad option at all.
Especially True Devil Trigger.
Richard couldn't confirm anything yet, but the possibility alone was exciting. Back before transmigrating, he had spent countless hours playing Devil May Cry, repeatedly selecting Vergil to practice "Judgment Cut" timing. He was never one of those flawless combo masters, but that didn't matter.
He liked the style. The precision. The arrogance.
Power.
There was, however, one practical problem.
He didn't have Yamato.
The authentic sword was exceptionally sharp—on par with legendary blades—but it lacked Yamato's inherent spatial separation and dimensional cutting properties. Dimensional Slash wasn't just about sharpness. It was about space itself being severed.
Still, the system had listed it as a reward.
That meant it would provide the functional mechanism necessary to execute it. If it couldn't, then the entire system would be meaningless.
He closed the mission panel and checked his magic.
[Magic: 40/170 — Regeneration: 28 per hour]
After upgrading Iai Slash, both maximum capacity and recovery speed had improved again. Forty points were more than sufficient for a decisive engagement.
He activated Flash and left the forest.
This time, instead of returning directly to the RV, he repositioned onto a large tree overlooking the campsite. From that vantage point, the situation became clear immediately.
Twelve mutant agents.
They were positioned in a square perimeter—three in each direction—surrounding his RV with coordinated spacing.
Beyond them stood fully armed soldiers.
And two familiar figures.
Victor Creed—Sabretooth.
Clarice.
Both wore metallic collars around their necks—power suppression restraints designed specifically for mutants.
Richard's eyes narrowed.
He didn't know how they had been captured. But their presence here told him everything he needed to know.
The department assumed they were his associates.
They intended to use them as leverage.
After a brief pause, he vanished again.
He reappeared directly atop the RV roof.
"It took you three days to find me," he said calmly, glancing around at the assembled agents. "I thought the Mutant Affairs Department was more efficient than the news claims."
Aiden. Bert. The others.
They didn't respond verbally. Their answer came through action.
Though mutants themselves, they held no sympathy for unregistered individuals like him. In their view, rogue mutants were the reason public hostility persisted.
Aiden and Bert moved first.
Fire and ice.
Aiden thrust his palm forward. A dragon-shaped torrent of orange-red flame roared toward Richard. Simultaneously, Bert unleashed a wave of bone-chilling frost from the opposite side.
Extreme heat and extreme cold converged.
Flash.
Richard disappeared instantly.
The opposing elements collided midair.
Boom.
The explosion rocked the campsite. The RV roof tore open under the shockwave. Flames and frost tore through the interior, shredding furniture and splintering wood.
Richard reappeared behind Aiden.
The authentic blade arced toward his neck.
A massive figure interposed instantly.
A white man over two meters tall stepped in front of the strike. His skin hardened and transformed mid-motion, turning into layered stone.
Clang.
The blade struck rock.
Rock-body mutation.
Richard adjusted his wrist.
"Earth-Shaking."
Four consecutive slashes descended like lightning.
The rock-bodied agent didn't move. His mutation had endured anti-tank weapon testing. He believed in it completely.
Chi—chi—chi—chi—
The authentic sword sliced through him cleanly.
Stone parted like cake under a hot knife.
His expression shifted from confidence to disbelief in a fraction of a second. He had survived multiple anti-tank rocket impacts during department testing without structural compromise.
Yet this blade cut through him effortlessly.
As his body split apart, the question remained frozen on his face.
How?
Richard didn't linger.
Flash.
He vanished again.
The rock mutant's sacrifice had bought Aiden just enough time.
Flames erupted once more, engulfing the position Richard had just vacated. The fire rolled like a tidal wave, devouring the air with violent intensity.
Richard reappeared at a new angle, assessing the battlefield in a single glance.
Twelve mutant agents.
Now eleven.
Time limit: one hour.
Reward: Dimensional Slash.
His eyes sharpened.
The hunt had officially begun.
.....
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