Null looked once more at the towering doors of the Hall of Heroes, ancient, imposing, and large enough to make anyone feel entirely insignificant.
"So," he said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, "just to confirm—I'm here because a legendary figure sacrificed her life and somehow smuggled me into a ritual I wasn't even invited to?"
Sora's expression remained perfectly calm. "That is one way to summarize it."
Null let out a slow breath. "Wow. I feel both deeply honored and mildly concerned."
Right in front of the sealed stone, the air suddenly shimmered like heat rippling above hot asphalt.
"Uh," Null muttered, frowning.
With a final flicker, a translucent old man phased directly through the solid doors, materializing right in front of them. Null jumped back half a step, pointing immediately. "Whoa! Sora, that door just gave birth to a ghost."
Sora calmly folded her hands in front of her. "Null-san, that is not an appropriate way to describe a spiritual entity."
"He literally clipped through the wall," Null stared. "That is exactly what just happened."
The spiritual old man stared at them with tired, deeply unimpressed eyes. He possessed a long, flowing beard and ancient robes woven from glowing ethereal threads that flickered like a candle in a quiet room. His brows knitted together tightly.
"What," he said flatly, "are children doing in this part of the Pantheon?"
Null opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "I feel like I'm being judged by a floating grandfather."
The old man ignored him completely, his gaze fixing squarely on Sora. "This corridor leads exclusively to the Hall of Heroes. Access is restricted to individuals who pass proper clearance protocols and possess authorized identification. Why are children wandering around here unsupervised?
"And more importantly, who exactly permitted you to reach this sector?" He crossed his arms. "Leave before I personally throw you out."
Null quietly leaned toward Sora. "Wow. Did he just woke up and choose hostility?"
The old spirit's eye twitched slightly. Null immediately raised both hands. "Just making an observation."
Internally, Null shook his head. 'This guy looks like he's been working overtime constantly for three centuries.' That was the only explanation he could come up with for this oldy's foul mood.
Sora stepped forward, graceful and entirely composed. She offered a slight bow. "Greetings, Great Elder Karm."
The spirit froze, his irritation vanishing almost instantly. "Hm?" His eyes sharpened. "You know me?"
Sora didn't answer right away. Instead, she raised her hand, summoning the familiar Arcane Communication Sphere with a soft pulse of mana. A translucent panel unfolded in the air, displaying a glowing identification sigil woven from official seals and layered runes.
The old spirit leaned closer, stroking his beard as his eyes widened slightly. "I see... Ah. So you are this generation's Saintess."
His tone shifted immediately, the irritation replaced by quiet recognition. He gave a small nod. "Very well. You are permitted to enter."
Null blinked. "That was surprisingly efficient."
The spirit ignored him again as his translucent form began to blur into drifting particles of pale light. "Proceed," his voice echoed faintly before the fragments absorbed back into the massive antique doors.
Then, the ancient mechanisms awakened. A deep vibration rolled through the floor as the massive doors slowly began to part, gliding smoothly along tracks guided by silent mana currents. A soft golden light spilled outward from within, illuminating the dark corridor.
Sora stepped forward first, calm and certain. Null stood there for a second longer, watching the gap widen.
"Okay," he breathed. "Now this really does feel like the final boss room of history."
Sora glanced back slightly over her shoulder. "Null-san."
"Right," he raised his hands again, stepping forward. "Reverence. I remember."
Together, they crossed the threshold into the Hall of Heroes.
-
Beyond the ancient doors, the Hall of Heroes unfolded, vast and seemingly endless. It felt less like a chamber and more like a sanctuary built from the heavy burden of everything humanity had nearly lost. A solemn, hushed golden radiance drifted from a ceiling so high it disappeared into a veil of luminous dust.
Colossal white pillars rose like silent sentinels, their surfaces etched with shimmering runes.
Between them stretched an ocean of legends immortalized in stone, crystal, and enchanted alloys. Figures of every kind stood in absolute stillness—humans, long-featured elves, broad and unyielding dwarves, and beastkin radiating primal pride. Different in shape and trait. Yet unmistakably bound to the same umbrella of humanity.
Each statue captured a single, final moment: a desperate stand, a discovery, or a sacrifice that had cost everything. At the base of each sat a small pedestal inscribed with names, dates, and achievements.
Null's footsteps slowed to a near stop. "Okay," he murmured, his gaze wandering across the endless rows of carved faces. "This is not a museum. This is a divine bragging hall."
Sora said nothing. She simply reached out and gently took hold of his sleeve, a quiet reminder that she was there. "This way,"
She led him through the endless forest of legends, past warriors who had slain calamities and rulers who had unified continents. Sora didn't stop until they reached a quieter, more secluded section near the outer ring of the hall.
"Here," she said.
Null lifted his eyes. The statue before them was different—pristine, sharp with recent craftsmanship, and untouched by time. A woman stood carved in pale, luminous stone. Her sigil-layered robes flowed gently around her, one hand holding a long staff while the other was raised slightly forward, as if casting a spell to hold back the collapse of the world itself. Her expression was calm, gentle, and entirely resolute.
Null studied the stone features for a long moment. "Sora... so she is Grandmaster Aurelia?"
"Yes," her answer was quiet, and a fleeting shadow of deep, quiet grief crossed her sky-blue eyes.
Null noticed. He turned slightly toward her, his voice softening. "Sora, was she someone you were close to?"
Sora didn't look away from the statue, as if breaking her gaze meant losing her all over again. "Yes," a faint breath escaped her. "She was like a grandmother to me."
The easy, teasing light vanished from Null's expression. "I see."
A heavy, tender silence settled between them before Sora began to speak, her tone detached yet raw, as if reopening an unhealed wound. "At that time... Grandmaster Aurelia was already standing at death's door. She had sustained irreversible injuries in a battle against a Demon of Singular Pandemonium."
The golden light of the hall shifted faintly across the statue's face.
"The damage she suffered that day was beyond recovery," Sora continued, her fingers curling slightly at her side. "No miracle could save her. Her mana circuits had begun to collapse, and her body was in a slow, inevitable descent. Yet instead of retreating quietly into history, she volunteered to become the final catalyst for the Super-Grade Mortal Hero Summoning Ritual. Without her sacrifice, the invocation would have never succeeded."
Null remained silent, the weight of the tragedy settling over the quiet corner of the hall.
He simply listened.
"When the decision was made to perform the ritual," Sora continued softly, "the greatest obstacle was never knowledge. It was power. A Super-Grade invocation requires an impossible amount of mana, enough to run an entire nation dry. So, she volunteered."
The words barely left her lips, her voice weakening. "She offered her life. Her soul. Her very existence as the final catalyst."
An unbearable silence followed, as though the hall itself had fallen into mourning.
"She understood everything," Sora whispered, her hand tightening against the fabric of her dress. "She knew exactly what it meant. She knew she would disappear." A faint tremor slipped into her voice. Her eyes remained on the statue, but they were no longer seeing it. They were fixed somewhere far back in her memory. "And still... she smiled."
That was the part that hurt the most. Not the death, nor the sacrifice, but the smile. It was the quiet kindness of someone walking willingly into oblivion while trying to comfort the people she was leaving behind.
Sora's next words were softer still, as if she were speaking directly to that memory. "She told me not to cry. She placed her hand on my head and said humanity deserved every ounce of miracle that could illuminate its path to surviving the True Darkness."
The great hall grew entirely still. After a long moment, Null finally spoke.
"You know," he quitely said, "if you had told me all of this a few days ago, I wouldn't have known what to feel. Part of me would have been in awe—a legend sacrificing everything to save the world sounds like the kind of story people build temples around. But another part of me would probably have blamed her for tearing me away from my world."
Sora's eyes widened slightly, her lips parting. "Null-san..."
"However," Null exhaled softly, lifting his gaze to the statue. "Now? I'm actually a little glad she did."
Sora blinked. "Why?"
Null leaned forward slightly, resting his hands behind his back, and offered a soft, genuine smile. "Because I met you. And ever since then, I've been experiencing True Emotions more often, something i am incapable of before."
The silence that followed was catastrophic for Sora's brain.
"You..." her voice stuttered, her face turning instantly red. "You... rascal! Stop making such unfair attacks out of nowhere!" She covered part of her face with one hand, utterly flustered.
Null tilted his head innocently. "Unfair? I'm just being honest."
Sora looked like she wanted to argue, but failed completely, managing only an embarrassed glare. The heavy sorrow that had clouded her expression moments earlier was entirely gone, replaced by a sudden, vibrant warmth.
They turned back toward the statue, standing quietly side by side under the golden light of the pantheon. Then, together, they bowed their heads—a silent tribute to the woman who had rewritten the course of their lives.