The corridor outside the training hall was wrapped in silence as Commander Dhomnac walked away, his heavy, measured steps echoing softly against the stone.
Night had fully settled over the Sanctum. Most trainees had long since retreated to their quarters, leaving the halls dimly lit by the faint glow of lanterns. Dhomnac rolled his shoulder, feeling a slight stiffness—not from injury, but from hours of continuous combat.
The boy lasted much longer today, his lion-like ears twitched.
Dhomnac was not a man to give praise lightly, nor did he train people for amusement. Reality offered no mercies, so neither did he; gentle training only gets young fighters killed. Yet Null was proving to be a strange case.
From his very first day in the hall, the boy had shown something rarer than overwhelming strength or natural talent: he never panicked. Even when thrown to the ground or subjected to crushing pressure, his eyes remained calculating and analytical. It was as if he accepted defeat before the fight even began, using it as data.
'Strange kid,' Dhomnac thought.
A normal trainee shouldn't grow this quickly, let alone a mana-awakened Void human.
Hour by hour, Null had corrected his mistakes, sharpened his instincts, and endured the strain. By the final exchanges, he had even begun reading Dhomnac's feints. The boy's personality was troublesome; overly casual, talked too much, and lacked traditional discipline, but he never complained.
Most trainees broke before reaching that point. Fear. Frustration. Pride. Something always gave way. But that boy? He kept getting up. Again. And again. Annoyingly calm.
"Really strange."
Dhomnac turned a corner and stopped.
A young girl stood beneath the corridor lights, her white hair flowing like silver threads. Her sky-blue eyes held a quiet detachment that effortlessly accompanied her.
"Saintess," Dhomnac said, offering a short nod.
She returned it with a polite bow. "Commander Dhomnac. You pushed him quite hard today."
Dhomnac raised an eyebrow. "You were watching?"
"Only toward the end," Sora smiled faintly.
He studied her for a moment, noticing the concern hidden beneath her calm composure. "He survived."
"That seems to be your standard of success," her lips curved slightly.
"What can I say," Dhomnac crossed his arms, his gaze shifting back toward the hall. "He improved rapidly. He has strange instincts and an odd sort of confidence, but he listens."
Sora's smile warmed. "That's good to hear."
"Are you worried about him?" Dhomnac asked, an unreadable expression crossing his face.
"Should I not be?" Sora tilted her head. "He tends to push himself quietly."
Dhomnac shrugged, though internally he shook his head at how quickly the younger generation's relationships seemed to progress. "He'll survive. Unless he does something stupid."
Sora let out a soft chuckle. "That's not very reassuring."
Dhomnac didn't answer. He stepped past her, but before his footsteps faded down the hall, he added, "He advanced to (F+-rank). During our session."
Sora blinked in surprise. "Already?"
Dhomnac nodded once and continued on his way, leaving her alone in the dimly lit corridor.
Sora looked at the training hall door, a quiet, almost proud smile touching her lips. Without another word, she stepped forward, gently turned the handle, and slipped inside.
...
A thin line of light cut across the floor, followed by quiet, careful footsteps. Null didn't move or turn, but he caught the faint shift in the air—a light, warm presence.
Through blurred vision, a white goddess stepped into view.
"Ah? My imaginary girlfriend?" Null rasped, his voice dry. "If this is a hallucination... it's a very well-lit one."
The footsteps stopped. "Wh-who is your girlfriend?" her voice was calm, though slightly flustered.
Null closed his eyes. "Oh my god. The white goddess is talking to me. Is this for real?"
He let out a breathy, tired chuckle, weakly waving a hand as if dismissing reality entirely. "No, no... This must be a dream. Definitely a dream. Hehe." His arm dropped back to the stone floor.
"Teach, maybe I should thank you for putting me through the ringer," he muttered with a tired grin. "I pass out from exhaustion, and now I'm having the sweetest dream of my life. I finally met my imaginary girlfriend, The White Goddess."
A dangerous silence fell. Sora froze, her composed mind completely stalling.
"I—" She restarted, her ears tinting pink. "That is—you are clearly not—" She cut herself off because he wasn't listening at all.
Null stared dreamily at the ceiling. "Graceful. Radiant. Kind enough to appear before a fallen warrior... truly, my life has peaked."
Sora's composure cracked. "It has not peaked!" she snapped, sharper than intended. Freezing again, she took a breath to steady her tone. "I mean—this is not a dream."
Null smiled faintly. "Ah, even her voice is Gentle and Mellifluous."
"Null-san, I am serious."
"Of course you are," he nodded weakly. "A dream constructed ideal girl would naturally insist on realism for immersion."
Sora stared at him, her calm expression thoroughly struggling to hold. "I am not a dream construct. And I am not your 'ideal girl',"
Null turned his head just enough to look at her. "You don't want to be?"
Sora's face heated up to the point of bursting. "I—"
"That's unfortunate," Null chuckled.
Her breath hitched slightly. "Why is that unfortunate?"
"Because reality just downgraded itself."
Silence stretched. Sora's expression went completely still. "Null-san, you are delirious."
"Highly likely."
"And saying nonsense."
"Am i?"
"Ugh. you should stop talking."
Null closed his eyes again. "But then I would miss this once-in-a-lifetime dream interaction."
Sora pressed her lips together, her fingers tightening at her side. "This is not a dream."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
"That's exactly what a dream would say."
Sora took a slow, deep breath, regaining her grip on her composure. "Fine." She stepped closer and knelt beside him, a soft, cyan shimmer gathering in her palm. "If this is a dream, then this should not feel real."
She placed her hand lightly against his chest, and a gentle, comforting warmth instantly surged through his body as she cast her healing spell.
Null's breath hitched. "Oh. This dream has excellent sensory detail."
Sora's eye twitched. "You— try sitting up."
"In a dream?"
"Yes."
"That seems unnecessary."
"Sit up."
Null sighed, pushing himself upright with deliberate effort. "My dreamy white goddess is very strict."
"I am not your—" She caught herself. "Just sit up."
Null managed to balance himself, blinking as the room settled. "Huh. Motor functions intact." He looked at her again, his vision clearing as he really took her in. "Wait. Sora-san, when did you get here?"
Sora crossed her arms, a hint of annoyance rising in her cheeks. "From the moment you started babbling about your illusory dream."
"And the dream hasn't ended."
"Because it's not a dream."
Null stared at her for a long second. "This is either reality... or the highest quality hallucination I've ever experienced."
Sora let out a quiet, restrained exhale. "This is reality."
Null bought a hand to his chest and exhaled. "Then reality is being unusually kind today."
Sora blinked, caught off guard. She looked away, her voice softening. "You should focus on recovering."
"Right," Null smiled. Then, his gaze sharpened with mischief. "But just to confirm. You're really not my imaginary girlfriend?"
Sora took a breath, steadying herself. "Now listen carefully. I am not your white goddess. I am your white saintess—"
"..."
"..."
A slow, teasing grin spread across Null's face. "Could you please repeat that again, Miss White Saintess?"
Sora flusteredly turned away from him, her cheeks flushed as she muttered under her breath, "Scoundrel."