The corridor outside the training hall lay wrapped in silence.
Commander Dhomnac moved through it with his usual heavy, measured steps—each one echoing softly against the stone floor, steady and unhurried.
The door behind him had only just closed.
Night had settled fully over the Sanctum. Most trainees had already retreated to their quarters, leaving the halls dimly lit by lantern glow and undisturbed quiet.
As he walked, Dhomnac rolled one shoulder.
A faint stiffness lingered.
Not injury.
Just the aftereffect of hours spent in continuous combat.
"…Hmph."
His lion-like ears twitched.
The boy had lasted longer today.
Much longer.
That alone was enough to leave an impression.
Dhomnac was not a man who gave praise lightly.
Nor did he train for amusement.
Every strike.
Every drill.
Every moment of pressure—
Had purpose.
He had seen too many young fighters die from training that was too gentle.
Too polite.
Too safe.
Reality offered none of those mercies.
So neither did he.
His golden eyes narrowed slightly as he continued forward.
That boy…
Null.
From the very first day he had stepped into the training hall, something had stood out.
Not overwhelming strength.
Not natural talent.
Something else.
The boy never panicked.
Not when he was thrown to the ground.
Not when he faced pressure far beyond what a newly mana-born should endure.
That same look always remained in his eyes—
Observing.
Calculating.
Adapting.
Like someone who had already accepted defeat before the fight even began.
Dhomnac disliked that look.
But—
At the same time—
He respected it.
"…strange kid."
Outwardly, his expression remained unchanged.
Stern.
Unreadable.
But within—
He was reviewing.
Again.
And again.
Fragments replayed with precision.
The spear stance.
The corrections.
The instinctive adjustments.
The exact moment hesitation disappeared.
His ear twitched.
"…Ridiculous."
The word slipped out under his breath.
A trainee shouldn't grow that quickly.
Not in a single day.
Not immediately after awakening mana.
And yet—
He had seen it.
Hour by hour.
Mistakes corrected.
Instinct sharpened.
Pressure endured.
By the final exchanges—
The boy had started reading his feints.
Not perfectly.
Not even close.
But the attempt existed.
Dhomnac folded his arms as he walked.
"…And he still talks too much."
A faint exhale followed.
The boy's personality was… troublesome.
Too casual.
Too relaxed.
Too dramatic.
But the foundation was there.
More importantly—
The mindset.
Not once had he complained.
Not when he was thrown.
Not when he collapsed.
Dhomnac's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Really strange."
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.
Dhomnac turned a corner—
And stopped.
Someone was already there.
Waiting.
A young girl stood beneath the corridor lights.
White hair flowing like silver threads.
Eyes the color of a clear sky.
Her presence was gentle—
Calm—
Yet carried a quiet authority that filled the space effortlessly.
The Saintess of Living.
Sora.
Dhomnac gave a short nod.
Respectful.
"Saintess."
She returned it with a small, polite bow.
"Commander Dhomnac."
Her gaze drifted briefly past him—
Toward the training hall door—
Then returned.
"…You pushed him quite hard today."
Dhomnac raised an eyebrow.
"You were watching?"
Sora smiled faintly.
"Only toward the end."
He studied her for a moment.
Calm.
Thoughtful.
Concern, carefully hidden beneath composure.
His ear twitched.
"…He survived."
Sora's lips curved slightly.
"That seems to be your standard of success."
"Correct."
Silence settled briefly between them.
Then—
"…How is he?"
Dhomnac didn't answer immediately.
His gaze shifted toward the training hall door.
When he spoke, his voice was low.
"He improved."
A pause.
"Rapidly."
Sora's eyes softened.
"I thought so."
Dhomnac crossed his arms.
"He has strange instincts."
His gaze sharpened.
"And strange confidence."
A brief pause.
"But he listens."
It almost sounded like approval.
Sora's smile warmed slightly.
"That's good to hear."
Dhomnac looked at her directly.
"…You're worried about him."
Not a question.
A statement.
Sora tilted her head.
"Should I not be?"
Dhomnac shrugged.
"i guess it's natural, He is under your observation."
Internally though, he shook his head.
Younglings these days. Aren't their relationships progressing too fast?
Her gaze drifted once more toward the training hall.
"…He's also someone who tends to push himself quietly."
Her voice remained calm.
But the concern was there.
Subtle.
Unhidden.
Dhomnac grunted.
"He'll survive."
Then added bluntly—
"Unless he does something stupid."
Sora let out a soft chuckle.
"…That's not very reassuring."
Dhomnac said nothing.
Instead, he stepped forward.
Passing her.
But as he did—
He spoke once more.
Without turning.
"…He reached E-rank."
Sora blinked once.
"…Already?"
Dhomnac gave a slight nod.
"During training."
A small silence followed.
Then—
Sora smiled.
Quiet.
Almost proud.
"…I see."
Dhomnac continued down the corridor, his footsteps echoing into the distance.
Behind him—
The Saintess remained still for a moment longer.
Her sky-blue eyes rested on the training hall door.
Then—
Without another word—
She stepped forward.
Gently opening it.
And slipped inside.
...
A thin line of light stretched across the floor.
Soft footsteps followed.
Measured.
Careful.
As if the person entering had no intention of disturbing the silence that filled the hall.
Null didn't move.
Didn't turn.
Didn't react.
But—
He noticed.
Of course he did.
The faint shift in air.
The subtle presence.
Light.
Warm.
In his blurry vision, a figure—a white goddess, perhaps—strode toward him.
"…Ah."
"My imaginary goddess."
His voice came out faint.
Dry.
"…If this is a hallucination…"
A small pause.
"…it's a very well-lit one."
The footsteps stopped a short distance away.
Silence lingered.
Then—
"…Who is your goddess?"
The voice was calm, gentle.
Familiar yet slightly flustered.
Null closed his eyes briefly.
"…Oh my god. The white goddess is talking to me. Is this for real?"
Still lying there, he let out a faint, breathy chuckle.
"…No, no…"
He weakly lifted a hand, as if dismissing reality itself.
"…This must be a dream. Definitely a dream. Hehe."
His arm dropped back to the floor.
Completely unconcerned.
Utterly convinced.
"…Teach, maybe I should thank you for putting me through the ringer."
A small, tired grin formed on his lips.
"…Due to the exhaustion, I lost my consciousness, and now…"
A pause.
"…I'm having the sweetest dream of my life."
Sora blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…I finally met my ideal woman, the white goddess."
Silence.
A very—
Very dangerous silence.
Sora froze.
Completely.
Her mind, usually calm and composed—
Stalled.
"…I—"
She stopped.
Restarted.
"…That is—"
Stopped again.
Her ears faintly tinted pink.
"…You are clearly not—"
She cut herself off.
Because he wasn't listening.
At all.
Null continued, staring dreamily at the ceiling.
"…Graceful…"
"…Radiant…"
"…Kind enough to appear before a fallen warrior…"
Another faint chuckle escaped him.
"…Truly, my life has peaked."
Sora's composure cracked.
"…It has not peaked!"
The words came out sharper than intended.
She immediately realized it.
And froze again.
"…I mean—"
A breath.
"…This is not a dream."
Null smiled faintly.
"…Ah, even the voice is gentle."
"…I am serious."
"…Of course you are."
He nodded weakly.
"…A dream goddess would naturally insist on realism for immersion."
Sora stared at him.
For a full second.
Then two.
Her usual calm expression struggled to hold.
"…I am not a dream construct."
"…Mhm."
"…And I am not your 'ideal woman.'"
A pause.
Null turned his head slightly.
Just enough to look at her.
"You don't want to?"
Sora's face heated to the point of bursting. "I—"
Null continued, tired but amused.
"…That's unfortunate."
Her breath hitched.
Very slightly.
"…Why is that unfortunate?"
"…Because reality just downgraded itself."
A beat.
Silence.
Sora's face went completely still.
Then—
"…You are delirious."
"…Highly likely."
"…And saying nonsense."
"…Consistently."
"…And 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 slightly 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 inhaled.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Composure regained.
"…Fine."
She stepped closer, kneeling beside him.
A soft glow began to gather in her hand.
"…If this is a dream—"
Her voice steadied.
Barely.
"…Then this should not feel real."
Before Null could respond—
She placed her hand lightly against his chest.
Cyan warmth spread instantly.
Gentle.
Comforting.
Real.
Very real.
Sora cast her healing spell.
Null's breath hitched slightly.
"…Oh."
A pause.
"…This dream has excellent sensory detail."
Sora's eye twitched.
"…You—"
She stopped.
Recalibrated.
"…Try sitting up."
"…In a dream?"
"…Yes."
"…That seems unnecessary."
"…Sit up."
A small pause.
Null sighed.
"…My dreamy white goddess is very strict."
"…I am not your—"
She stopped herself, catching her breath.
"…Just sit up."
Null obeyed slowly, with effort.
He managed to push himself upright.
Barely.
But successfully.
"…Huh."
He blinked.
"…Motor functions intact."
Then he looked at her again.
Really looked this time.
Closer now.
Clearer.
A longer pause followed.
"…Wait."
His expression shifted slightly.
"…When did you come?"
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."
Another pause.
Null stared at her.
Then—
"…This is either reality…"
A beat.
"…Or the highest quality hallucination I've ever experienced."
Sora exhaled, a quiet, restrained sound.
"Have you ever even experienced an illusion?"
"…Moreover, this is reality."
Null studied her for another second.
Then—
A small, tired smile formed.
"…Then reality is being unusually kind today."
Sora blinked, caught off guard again.
"…You—"
She stopped.
Then looked away slightly, her voice softer.
"…You should focus on recovering."
Null chuckled softly.
"…Right."
A pause.
"…But just to confirm."
He glanced back at her, intent in his gaze.
"…You're really not my imaginary goddess?"
Sora took a breath, steadying herself.
"Now listen carefully, I am not your white goddess. I am your white saintess—"
"....."
"....."
The training hall fell into silence.
Then it was broken by Null, who wore a teasing grin on his face.
"Could you please repeat that again, Miss Saintess?"
Sora flusteredly turned away from him, her cheeks flushed, while muttering audibly, "Scoundrel."
*****
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