Silence lingered between them.
Heavy.
Null looked once more at the towering doors of the Hall of Heroes. Ancient. Imposing. The kind of doors that made a person feel very small just standing near them.
"So," he said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, "just to confirm—I'm here because a legendary being sacrificed her life and somehow forced the universe to smuggle me into a ritual I wasn't even invited to?"
Sora's expression remained calm. "That is one way to summarize it."
Null let out a breath. "Wow." A pause. "I feel both honored and mildly concerned."
And then—something strange happened.
Right in front of the sealed doors. The air shimmered. Just slightly. Like heat rippling above stone.
Null frowned. "Uh."
Another shimmer.
Then—a translucent figure suddenly phased directly through the closed doors. Straight through the ancient stone. Appearing right in front of them.
Null jumped half a step back. "WOAH—!" He pointed immediately. "Sora. That door just gave birth to a ghost."
The translucent old man floating in front of them slowly blinked.
Sora calmly folded her hands in front of her. "Null-san. That is not an appropriate way to describe a spiritual being."
Null stared. "He literally clipped through the wall."
"That is exactly what just happened."
The spirit-like old man stared at them with tired, unimpressed eyes. Long beard. Ancient robes made of faintly glowing spiritual threads. A translucent form that flickered slightly like a candle in a quiet room.
His brows slowly knitted together. "What," he said flatly, "are children doing in this part of the Pantheon?"
Null opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "I feel like I'm being judged by a floating grandfather."
The old man ignored him completely. His gaze remained fixed on Sora.
"This corridor leads to the Hall of Heroes. Access is restricted. Only individuals who pass proper clearance protocols and possess authorized identification are permitted beyond this door."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "So I will ask again. Why are children wandering around here unsupervised?"
He crossed his arms. "And more importantly… who exactly permitted you to reach this sector?" His voice sharpened. "Leave. Before I personally throw you out."
Null blinked. Then quietly leaned toward Sora. "Wow." A pause. "He woke up and chose hostility."
The old spirit's eye twitched slightly.
Null immediately raised both hands. "Just making an observation."
Inside, however, 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 old man's foul mood.
Because realistically—the museum staff would never have allowed random visitors to wander this deep into the Pantheon.
Which meant—either this old spirit hadn't checked the entry logs… or he was simply too tired to care.
Just then—Sora stepped forward. Graceful. Composed.
She bowed slightly. "Greetings, Great Elder Karm."
The spirit froze. His irritated expression vanished almost instantly. "Hm?" His eyes sharpened. "You know me?"
Sora did not answer immediately. Instead—she raised her hand. A small prismatic glow appeared in her palm. The familiar Arcane Communication Sphere.
With a soft pulse of mana—a translucent panel unfolded in the air. She rotated the interface and displayed a glowing identification sigil. A digital crest formed from layered runes and official seals.
The old spirit leaned closer. His beard twitched as he stroked it slowly.
"I see…" A moment passed. Then another. His eyes widened slightly. "Ah. So you are this generation's Saintess."
His tone shifted instantly. The irritation faded. Replaced by quiet recognition. He gave a small nod. "Very well." He looked toward both of them. "You are permitted to enter."
Null blinked. "That was surprisingly efficient."
The spirit ignored him again. His form began to blur. Light scattering through his translucent body. "Proceed."
His voice echoed faintly as his figure dissolved into drifting particles of pale light. The fragments flowed backward—absorbed into the massive antique doors.
Then—the ancient mechanisms awakened.
A deep vibration rolled through the stone.
GRRRRRMMMM—
The massive antique doors of the Hall of Heroes slowly began to part. Dustless. Smooth. Ancient mechanisms guided by silent mana currents.
As the opening widened—a soft golden light spilled outward from within. Illuminating the corridor.
Sora stepped forward first. Calm. Certain.
Null stood there for a second longer. Watching the enormous doors open.
"Okay." A breath. "Now this really does feel like the final boss room of history."
Sora glanced back slightly. "Null-san."
"Right." He raised his hands again. "Reverence. I remember."
Then—together—they stepped into the Hall of Heroes.
---
Beyond the ancient doors—the Hall of Heroes unfolded.
Vast. Endless. Not merely a chamber—but a sanctuary built from the burden of everything humanity had nearly lost.
Golden light poured from within, yet it was neither warm nor triumphant. It was solemn. A hushed radiance drifting from a ceiling so high it disappeared into a veil of luminous dust, like a dawn that had never fully broken.
Pillars—colossal and immaculate—rose like silent sentinels, their surfaces etched with flowing runes that shimmered faintly, as though the hall itself was still remembering.
And between them—statues. Thousands. No—far more than that.
An ocean of legends, immortalized in stone, crystal, and enchanted alloys.
Figures of every kind stood in stillness. Humans. Elves, long-featured and graceful, their expressions serene even in silence. Dwarves, broad and unyielding, carved with the weight and permanence of mountains. Beastkin, their hybrid forms radiating primal strength and unbending pride.
And countless other variations—different in shape. Different in trait. Yet unmistakably bound by the same origin.
Humanity. Not divided. Not separate. But evolved.
Each statue held a single moment. A final stand. A discovery. A sacrifice. A victory that cost everything.
At the base of each statue—a small pedestal. Inscribed with names. Dates. Achievements. The echoes of lives that had altered the fate of humanity.
Soft golden light flowed from the dome above, drifting down in thin shafts like divine sunlight through clouds.
Even the air felt different here. Heavier. Reverent. Legacies etched so deeply that even time itself could not erode them.
Null's footsteps slowed. Then nearly stopped.
"Okay." A pause. "This is not a museum." His gaze wandered across the endless rows of carved faces. "This is a divine bragging hall."
Sora said nothing. She only reached out—and gently took hold of his sleeve. Not tugging. Not insisting. Just enough to say she was there.
"This way."
Without waiting for his reaction, she led him across the vast chamber.
He followed.
Together, they walked through that endless forest of legends. Past warriors who had slain calamities. Past rulers who had unified continents. Past saints whose legends had shaped faith itself.
Yet Sora did not stop.
She continued walking—until they reached a quieter section near the outer ring of the hall.
"Here."
Null lifted his eyes.
The statue before them—was different. New. Its surface still pristine. Its edges sharp with recent craftsmanship. Untouched by centuries. Untouched by dust. Untouched by time.
A woman stood there, carved in pale luminous stone. Her robes flowed gently around her, layered with intricate sigils. One hand held a long staff. The other was raised slightly forward—as if casting a spell meant to hold back the collapse of the world itself.
Her expression was calm. Gentle. But resolute. As if she stood before something inevitable—and chose to face it anyway.
Null studied the statue for a long moment.
Then—"Sora." A pause. "So she is Grandmaster Aurelia?"
"Yes." Her answer was quiet. Too quiet.
And for just a moment—sorrow flickered through her eyes. A grief so deep it no longer announced itself loudly. Only settled there. Lived there.
Null noticed. Of course he did.
He turned slightly toward her. "Sora." His voice softened. "Is she someone you're close to?"
Sora didn't answer immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on the statue. As if looking away would mean losing her all over again.
Then—"Yes." A faint breath escaped her. "She is like a grandmother to me."
Null's expression changed. The easy teasing light in him—gone.
"I see."
And this time—he didn't joke.
Silence settled between them. Heavy. Tender.
Then—Sora began to speak. Quietly. Almost absentmindedly. As though the words had lived inside her for so long that speaking them now felt less like telling a story—and more like reopening a wound that had never truly closed.
"At that time…" A small pause. "Grandmaster Aurelia…" Another. "…was already standing at death's door."
Her fingers curled slightly at her side.
"She had sustained irreversible injuries in battle. In a battle against a demon of the Singular Pandemonium."
The golden light of the hall shifted faintly across the statue's face.
The injuries she suffered that day—were beyond recovery. No miracle remained that could save her. Her mana circuits had begun to collapse. And her body had already started its slow, inevitable descent toward death.
Yet instead of retreating quietly into history—she made a decision. A final one.
She volunteered. To become the final catalyst necessary to power the Super-Grade Mortal Hero Summoning Ritual.
Because without her sacrifice—without her will—perhaps the ritual would have never succeeded.
Null said nothing. He simply listened.
"When the decision was made to perform the summoning ritual…" Sora continued softly, "…the greatest obstacle was never knowledge. It was power. A Super-Grade ritual requires an impossible amount of mana. An amount that could run an entire nation dry."
Her eyes lowered.
"So she volunteered." The words barely left her lips. "She offered her life. Her soul. Her very existence… as the final catalyst."
The silence that followed felt unbearable. As though the hall itself had fallen into mourning.
"She understood everything," Sora whispered. "She knew exactly what it meant." Her hand tightened against the fabric of her dress. "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 somewhere else. Far back.
"And still…" Her lips parted softly. "She smiled."
That—was the part that hurt the most.
Not the death. Not the sacrifice. But the smile. The quiet kindness of someone who had walked willingly toward oblivion—and still tried to comfort the people she was leaving behind.
Sora's next words were softer still. Almost like she was speaking to a memory.
"She told me not to cry." A pause. "She placed her hand on my head…" Her breath caught. Just slightly. "…and said humanity deserved every ounce of miracle that could illuminate its path to surviving the coming prophecy of true darkness."
The great hall seemed quieter than before. As if even the echoes had fallen still out of respect.
After a long moment—Null finally spoke.
"You know." He rubbed the back of his neck. "If you had told me all of this a few days ago…" A quiet breath left him. "I wouldn't know what to feel."
Sora glanced up slightly.
Null continued. "Part of me would've been in awe. A legend sacrificing everything to save the world." He gave a small shrug. "Sounds like the kind of story people build temples around."
His expression shifted. "But another part of me… would probably have blamed her."
Sora's eyes widened slightly.
"For tearing me away from my world." His voice remained calm. Honest.
Sora's lips parted. "Null-san…" Her expression grew complicated.
But then—Null exhaled softly. "However." He lifted his gaze toward the statue. "Now?" A small smile appeared. "I'm actually a little glad she did."
Sora blinked. "Why?"
Null leaned forward slightly. Hands resting behind his back. Then—he smiled. Soft. Genuine.
"Because I met you."
Sora froze.
Null continued lightly. "And ever since then… I've been experiencing true emotions more often."
The silence that followed—was catastrophic.
For Sora's brain.
"You…" Her face turned red. "You…" Her voice shuttered. "You rascal!"
The sorrow that had clouded her expression only moments earlier vanished instantly.
"Stop making such unfair attacks out of nowhere!" She covered part of her face with one hand, utterly flustered.
"Unfair?" Null tilted his head innocently. "I'm just being honest."
Sora looked like she wanted to argue. But failed completely. Only managing a very embarrassed glare.
After a moment of romantic melodrama—both of them turned back toward the statue.
They stood quietly. Side by side.
Then—together—they bowed their heads.
A silent tribute.
For the woman who had changed the course of their lives.
---
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