Sora was still avoiding Null's eyes when Illiana suddenly tilted her head, as if remembering something delicious.
"Oh, by the way, Sora-chan."
Sora narrowed her eyes slightly "What."
"I heard," Illiana continued casually, "that you're leaving the Sanctum in three days to visit your family. And that you won't be back until the Atlantis banquet."
There was a brief pause.
"…Yes," Sora answered evenly. "I plan to."
Null blinked.
"…Eh?"
"You are leaving?"
Sora finally glanced at him. Just briefly.
"Yes."
"…For how long?"
"Approximately two weeks."
"That is not a short duration."
"It is a scheduled visit."
Illiana's eyes widened theatrically.
"Oh my, Null-kun. You didn't know?"
Null's gaze shifted back to Sora.
Sora folded her arms.
"I intended to inform you."
"When?" Illiana asked sweetly. "After she boarded the carriage?"
"It simply had not come up."
"We just finished a mission together."
"That was not the appropriate context."
Illiana stared at her.
Null stared at her.
Sora's composure began to thin at the edges.
Null tilted his head slightly.
Illiana leaned toward Null again, lowering her voice like a conspirator.
"You see, Null-kun… Sora isn't very good at expressing personal matters."
"That is inaccurate," Sora replied sharply.
"Oh? Then why is this the first he's hearing about you leaving the country?"
"I am not leaving the country."
Illiana blinked.
"…Technically."
Illiana clasped her hands dramatically.
"Null-kun," she said with conspiratorial delight, "you must understand something."
Sora closed her eyes briefly.
"Illiana."
"She's not just 'Saintess Sora.'"
"Illiana."
"She is an elite noble lady."
Illiana leaned closer to Null, lowering her voice as if revealing a state secret.
"An heiress to a dukedom."
Null's brows lifted.
"Oh really?"
He placed a hand lightly over his chest, adopting an expression of polite awe.
Sora pinched the bridge of her nose.
"It is not a secret," she muttered. "It is simply irrelevant within the Sanctum."
"Irrelevant?" Illiana gasped. "Sora belongs to the Luminous Duchy in the Atlantis Empire."
"Oh?" Null's dark red eyes sharpened with interest. "A duchy."
Sora closed her eyes briefly.
"It is not a matter of importance."
"Not important?" Illiana gasped. "Sora is literally the heiress to one of the most influential territories in the empire."
Null looked at Sora again.
"You are nobility."
"Yes."
"You did not mention this."
"You did not ask."
"That is hardly a defense."
Illiana grinned, delighted at the subtle back-and-forth.
"Yes," Illiana continued eagerly. "Luminous duchy is one of the most influential territories in the entire empire."
She straightened proudly, as though the prestige were her own.
"Her father, Siegfried von Luminous, is one of the most powerful men in the world. Politically, militarily, financially—you name it."
"Oh, and her mother," Illiana continued, undeterred. "One of the most beautiful women in the empire. People say she rivals even Her Holiness in grace."
Sora looked genuinely flustered now.
"That comparison is inappropriate."
"It's true!"
Illiana turned back to Null, eyes shining.
"I visited once, you know."
Null looked intrigued.
"You did?"
"Yes!" she said, almost bouncing. "The Luminous estate is breathtaking. White marble terraces overlooking the sea. Endless gardens glowing at sunset. Crystal chandeliers that look like captured starlight."
Null nodded slowly.
"So she truly is a storybook noble lady."
Sora crossed her arms. "You are making it sound theatrical."
"It is theatrical," Illiana insisted.
Her voice softened slightly.
"When I visited… they welcomed me like family."
There was something different in her tone now.
Less teasing.
More sincere.
"Duke Siegfried himself greeted me at the gates," she said. "And the Duchess—she embraced me as if I'd always belonged there."
She smiled faintly.
"I've never forgotten that."
Null observed her carefully.
"That sounds… warm," he said.
"It was," Illiana admitted quietly.
Then, almost reflexively, she brightened again.
"…My parents value hospitality," Sora said quietly.
Illiana smiled faintly.
"They value you," she corrected.
Null tilted his head thoughtfully.
"So you are not only a Saintess," he said mildly, "but also a ducal heir."
"Yes."
"And you intended to return to this… marble estate overlooking the sea without informing your battlefield assistant."
Illiana's grin widened at that phrasing.
Sora shot Null a look.
"You are not my assistant."
"Ah," he nodded. "My mistake. Your live combat trainee."
Illiana covered her mouth to hide a laugh.
Sora exhaled slowly.
"It was a mid-term break visit. There was no urgency in announcing it."
A brief silence settled between them.
Then Null spoke again.
"So in three days, you leave."
"Yes."
Illiana rocked back on her heels, eyes glinting with fresh mischief.
"Hehe… Null-kun."
Null glanced at her. "Yes?"
She tilted her head, smile turning wickedly sweet.
"Are you going to miss Sora?"
Silence.
Null actually looked caught for once.
"…I beg your pardon?"
Sora's breath stilled.
She did not look at him.
She absolutely did not look at him—
Except she did.
Just slightly.
From the corner of her vision.
Her sky-blue eyes flickered toward him, something quiet and searching hidden beneath her composure. An expectation so subtle even she didn't consciously register it.
Null felt both gazes on him.
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"…That is an abrupt question," he said carefully.
Illiana clasped her hands behind her back, leaning forward.
"It's a simple one."
Another small stretch of silence.
Null neither nodded nor denied.
Instead, he gave a light cough.
"I will," he began smoothly, "experience a temporary reduction in combat-related supervision."
Illiana stared at him.
"That was not the question."
"And therefore," he continued seamlessly, "I will need to recalibrate my training schedule accordingly."
Sora's lashes lowered slightly.
Sora's lashes lowered slightly.
Illiana groaned.
"You are dodging."
"I am adapting."
Sora finally spoke, tone controlled.
"You are capable of independent practice."
"Undoubtedly."
He slipped his hands into his coat pockets again, posture easy.
"But your corrections increase efficiency."
A faint pause.
Illiana's eyes flicked sharply between them.
Sora's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against her sleeve.
"That is… practical reasoning," she replied.
"Of course," Null said mildly.
Illiana narrowed her eyes.
"Ohhh. So that's how we're playing this."
She suddenly pivoted, pointing at Null.
"Careful, Null-kun," she teased. "You're speaking to high nobility."
Null immediately inclined his head toward Sora with exaggerated grace.
"My apologies, Lady Sora of the Radiant Duchy."
Sora's composure cracked.
"Do not call me that."
"It suits you," Illiana chimed in dramatically, clutching her chest. "Radiant noble lady returning to her seaside estate."
"It does not suit me."
"It absolutely does."
Null regarded Sora thoughtfully.
"Lady Sora," he repeated softly.
Her ears flushed again.
"I said do not."
He tilted his head slightly.
"As you wish… Saintess."
Illiana laughed outright.
"You two are impossible."
Sora crossed her arms, attempting to reclaim ground.
"This conversation has strayed into nonsense."
"And yet," Null replied lightly, "you have not left."
Sora remained silent, too embarrassed to retort.
Null's gaze lingered on Sora for half a second longer than necessary.
"Then I will ensure I am sufficiently improved by the time you return."
Sora blinked.
"…Return?"
"Yes."
He said it simply. As if there were no world in which she wouldn't.
Something eased in her shoulders at that.
Illiana saw that too.
"Don't worry, Null-kun," she teased. "Our Lady Radiance always comes back."
"Illiana."
"What? It's true."
A comfortable rhythm slowly replaced the earlier tension.
They spoke of trivial things after that—academy schedules, Sanctum assignments, Illiana's exaggerated complaints about paperwork.
The late afternoon sun dipped lower, painting the courtyard gold.
Eventually, the three parted—
the air was still faintly warm with words none of them had fully said.
****
The western administrative wing of the Sanctum was quieter than the courtyards.
Less sunlight.
More stone.
Footsteps echoed differently here—sharper, more deliberate. The kind of corridor that reminded you every action would be recorded somewhere.
Null stopped before a heavy oak door reinforced with iron bands. A bronze plaque was fixed at eye level:
Commander Dhomnac – Sanctum Field Operations.
He knocked once.
A deep voice answered immediately.
"Enter."
Null stepped inside.
Commander Dhomnac's office was not ornate like the Grand Hall. It was practical. Functional. Maps of border territories covered one wall, each marked with pins and annotations. Weapon racks lined another—spears, axes, a massive two-handed blade mounted above the fireplace like a quiet warning.
Behind a broad stone desk stood the commander himself.
Dhomnac was a beastkin—broad-shouldered, powerfully built, easily a head taller than most men. Faint tawny fur traced along his forearms and the back of his neck, blending into silver hair pulled neatly behind his head. His jaw was square, his features sharp, and a thin scar ran from his left temple down toward his cheekbone.
He looked to be in his forties.
Not aged.
Tempered.
The air around him was heavy—not oppressive, but commanding. The kind of presence forged by decades of battlefields and decisions that had cost lives.
Golden eyes lifted from a stack of reports.
They were assessing eyes.
When he finally turned, golden eyes locked onto Null with the weight of someone who had measured thousands before him.
"Report," Dhomnac said.
No greeting.
Null preferred it that way.
"Combat examination completed. Unexpected escalation to greater demon-class target."
"I read the preliminary notice." Dhomnac walked behind his desk but did not sit. "I want your account."
Null remained standing.
"As you instructed from the beginning of my training," he said evenly, "real battle supersedes controlled simulations."
A faint grunt.
"That it does. Continue."
"Initial encounter involved an F-rank mana beast. Dire Wolf. High aggression. Low intelligence."
"How did it die?"
"Through direct engagement."
"Details."
Null's eyes sharpened slightly as he replayed it.
"It charged without hesitation. I did not yield ground. Closed distance. Severed front leg at joint to destabilize balance. Followed with upward thrust beneath the jaw."
Dhomnac nodded once.
"For your first life-threatening battle, not bad"
"When we began your supernatural training," the commander continued, "you relied too heavily on theory."
"Correct."
"You analyzed everything."
"I still do."
"You froze during your second week."
Null did not deny it.
"Because you tried to calculate multiple outcomes simultaneously," Dhomnac said flatly.
"Yes."
"And now?"
"Now I calculate while moving."
That earned the faintest exhale through Dhomnac's nose.
Progress.
"And the greater demon," the commander pressed.
Null's tone shifted slightly—not prideful, not fearful. Simply factual.
"Mor'gan. B- classification. Overwhelming mana density. Psychological intimidation tactics."
"Did it work?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Intimidation requires internal fear response. I did not provide one."
Dhomnac's golden gaze sharpened.
"You were not afraid."
"I was aware of mortality."
"That is not the same thing."
"No."
A brief pause.
"Explain your tactical contribution,"
Dhomnac said.
Null did not embellish.
"Saintess Sora held primary engagement. Demon relied on regeneration and brute suppression. I observed a pattern in mana circulation along the ribcage during charge wind-up."
"You had time to observe that?"
"Yes."
Dhomnac did not question it further.
"And?"
"I used a poison-coated arrow. Non-lethal by itself. The toxin was designed to disrupt internal mana flow temporarily."
Dhomnac gave a short nod.
"I'm glad that the poison vial i gave you came in handy"
"The arrow created an opening."
"Yes."
"For the Saintess."
"Yes."
"You trusted her to capitalize."
"Yes."
The commander finally sat.
"That is what I wanted to hear."
Null blinked once.
Dhomnac leaned back slightly.
"You followed her instructions correctly, right?."
"Well, for the most part."
Dhomnac narrowed his eyes for a second but nonetheless continued
"You did not panic when facing a greater demon."
"No."
"You did not freeze."
"No."
"You adapted."
"Yes."
The rhythm of Q&A sharpened, almost like sparring.
"What is the greatest difference between training grounds and real battle?" Dhomnac asked.
"Uncertainty."
"Be specific."
"In training, variables are controlled. In real battle, variables multiply beyond prediction—terrain shifts, ally stamina, enemy psychology, emotional interference."
"Emotional interference," Dhomnac repeated.
"Yes."
"And yet you remained composed."
"I compartmentalized."
Dhomnac studied him for several seconds.
"As your instructor from the moment you began supernatural training," the commander said steadily, "my objective has been simple."
Null waited.
"To ensure you became strong enough to survive on your own."
A pause.
"You are approaching that threshold."
Null inclined his head slightly.
"I am honored."
"That was not praise."
"I assumed as much."
Dhomnac's golden eyes hardened just a fraction.
"Understand this. Real battle experience is irreplaceable. Today you learned three things."
Null did not interrupt.
"First — intimidation is a weapon. You denied it fuel."
"Yes."
"Second — coordination multiplies strength. Your poison arrow was not glory-seeking. It was tactical."
"Yes."
"Third — you experienced real-time adaptation."
A quiet beat.
"That," Dhomnac said firmly, "is growth."
The room fell still.
Null answered seriously.
"I will continue improving."
"I expect you to."
"Meet me Tomorrow morning in the training hall. I am going up your training regimen, be ready."
"…Dismissed for now. Go and rest, you earned it."
Null inclined his head respectfully.
"Yes, Commander."
As he turned to leave—
"Null."
He paused.
"You did well."
It was simple.
Direct.
Earned.
Null had a faint smile.
"Thank you, Teach."