The departure gate of the Divine Sanctum lay beyond the inner halls, where polished stone gave way to open archways and wide terraces overlooking the city below.
Sora led the way.
The indigo-sealed mission parchment rested securely in her grasp, its glyphs pulsing faintly as it registered authorization. With each step, the atmosphere subtly changed—the ordered hush of the Mission Hall thinning into open air and distant city sounds.
Null followed half a pace behind her.
Not out of deference.
Out of instinct.
Sunlight spilled across the terrace as they emerged, illuminating the vast expanse of Elpis beyond the Sanctum's elevated grounds. Spired districts stretched toward the horizon, interwoven with floating transit lines and crystalline conduits that carried mana like veins of light through the city.
Sora paused at the edge of the platform.
An ancient transport sigil lay embedded in the stone floor—its surface worn smooth by centuries of use, yet flawlessly maintained. Layered runes traced its circumference in overlapping scripts: spatial anchoring, safety interlocks, emergency recall.
She knelt briefly, pressing her palm to the sigil.
Light answered.
The runes awakened in sequence, their glow deepening from soft gold to steady indigo.
Null watched with quiet interest.
"You always do the activation yourself?" he asked.
She nodded. "High-rank clergy can delegate it, but… I prefer knowing exactly what's been keyed in."
"Cautiousness?" he offered mildly.
"Risk-averse," she corrected without looking up.
He smiled.
As the sigil stabilized, Sora rose to her feet and finally turned to him.
"You're equipped?"
He tapped the ring on his finger. "Weapons, emergency ration bar I was told not to eat unless desperate and other necessities were safely stored in the spatial ring at the courtesy of Commander Dhomnac."
She eyed him. "You ate one already, didn't you."
"…It was labeled 'nutritionally complete,'" he replied evenly. "I had to test the claim."
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Null-san…"
"I'm alive," he said. "Marginally offended, but alive."
That earned him a small huff of laughter—brief, but real.
Her gaze lingered on him then, assessing with the same seriousness she brought to battlefield triage. She noted the steadiness of his stance, the subtle responsiveness of his mana flow, the way his awareness extended outward rather than inward.
He felt it.
Not scrutiny.
Consideration.
"You don't have to keep pace with me," she said. "If things escalate, stay behind my barrier."
"And if they escalate past your barrier?"
She met his eyes. "Then I expect you to follow instructions."
He inclined his head. "Understood."
A pause.
Then, softer: "But if you got injured and unable to move?"
Her breath caught—just slightly.
"That won't happen," she said.
"That wasn't my question."
For a moment, the hum of the activated sigil filled the space between them.
"…Then you're allowed to break formation," she said at last
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Good to know."
The sigil flared brighter.
Sora stepped onto the center ring first, the runes responding instantly to her presence. She glanced back over her shoulder.
Null joined her within the circle.
The sigil activated.
Violet Light surged upward, enveloping them both—not blinding, but all-consuming. Spatial compression folded around them, the terrace dissolving into layered currents of mana and intent.
....
Light unraveled.
Space unfolded with a soft, disorienting lurch, and the pressure around them released all at once.
Sora and Null emerged onto solid ground.
For a brief moment, the world seemed too wide—sound rushing back in layers, colors sharpening, the scent of stone, metal, and living bodies flooding the senses.
They stood within a transit plaza at the foot of the Divine Sanctum's elevated district.
Below it—
The City of Lumeris.
The city stretched outward in a sprawling semicircle, cradled by pale hills and threaded with luminous mana-lines that ran beneath translucent stone streets. Sunlight reflected off alabaster buildings accented with gold-inlaid sigils, while suspended lantern-crystals drifted lazily between towers, regulating ambient mana density.
Unlike the hushed sanctity above, Lumeris breathed with motion.
Merchants called out from open arcades. Couriers in light armor weaved through the crowds. Civilian transports glided along guided rails, while older, ground-bound conveyances shared the streets with them—horses, mana-assisted carts, and the occasional beast of burden bearing sigil-stamped crates.
Sora stepped forward first, allowing the arrival sigil to deactivate behind them.
"Lumeris," she said, as if answering a question he hadn't voiced. "It supports the Sanctum. Logistics, population overflow, trade."
Null took it in quietly. "So this is where divinity touches infrastructure."
She glanced at him. "That's one way to phrase it."
They moved away from the plaza, descending shallow steps that carried them into the main thoroughfare. The air here was warmer, touched with the scent of baked bread, oil, and faint ozone from mana conduits embedded beneath the streets.
Null noticed the way people subtly adjusted when Sora passed.
Not bowing.
Not kneeling.
Just… aware.
A respectful widening of space. Lowered voices. Glances held a fraction longer than necessary.
"You're recognized," he observed.
She nodded. "Only within the inner districts. Outside the city, I'm just another cleric."
He hummed. "Convenient."
"It's intentional. Not many know of my true appearance. They are only aware of my identity as the successor to the holy throne, the saintess."
Null glanced at her again, as if re-evaluating something he'd initially filed away as unimportant.
"…Then why the veil?"
The question was casual, almost offhand.
Sora opened her mouth to answer—
And then he continued, as though the thought had already passed through him and resolved itself.
"Oh."
He leaned back slightly, eyes half-lidding in realization, a faint curve touching his lips.
"I see."
She blinked. "See… what?"
"It's obvious," he said mildly. "You're wearing it because you're too beautiful."
The world stopped.
Sora's breath caught mid-inhale. Heat rushed to her face so fast it felt unreal, like a delayed spell activating all at once. Her ears burned. Her thoughts scattered.
Beet red didn't begin to cover it.
She snapped her head toward him, eyes wide, indignant, flustered, and thoroughly betrayed by her own composure..
""Y-You can't just say things like that!" she hissed. "In public!"
Null blinked. "Was that improper?"
"Yes!"
"…Ah," he nodded. "Cultural miscalculation."
She glared at him, mortified—and far more unsettled than she wanted to admit.
Why?
Why did she lose her composure so easily around him?
This had never happened before.
From her earliest days, praise had followed her like a shadow. Whispers of beauty. Reverent stares. Flowery words from nobles, clerics, knights—some sincere, many calculated. Men who tried to impress her with exaggerated valor, reckless heroics, or honeyed promises they could never fulfill.
None of it had ever mattered.
Not once.
Her walls had been absolute.
Untouched. Unquestioned.
Because her heart and soul—her entire being—had long ago been bound—
To 'That child'.
The one she had sworn to save.
No matter the cost.
Even if it meant sacrificing her own future, her own happiness, her own life.
That vow had been her anchor. Her reason. The axis upon which everything else turned.
So then—
Why?
Why, from the moment she met Null, did her heart begin to misbehave?
Why did her thoughts stumble whenever he spoke?
Why did a single careless remark strike deeper than a thousand rehearsed compliments ever had?
Why did the world seem to fade whenever she Interacts with him, as if her existence unravels momentarily in his presence.
What was this feeling—
This soulful, indescribable emotion that made her chest tighten.
She looked away sharply, gripping the edge of her dress as if grounding herself.
"…Don't say things like that so lightly," she muttered. "It's… irresponsible."
Null studied her for a second longer than necessary.
Then, quietly—without teasing—
"…Got it,"
As they moved deeper into the crowd, the murmurs grew just a shade louder—still polite, still restrained, but unmistakably present.
A pair of merchant girls near a spice stall paused mid-conversation, one tugging the other's sleeve just a fraction too urgently.
"…Who is that?" the first whispered. "I've never seen him before."
"I don't know, but—look at him. Isn't he very beautiful?"
The first girl hesitated, "You mean handsome, sister… he's a boy."
The other coughed lightly, cheeks flushing. "From his build, he's definitely a boy, yes. But look at his features—those eyes, that face. I've never seen someone so… beautiful. Not even among the noble ladies."
"I suppose…" the first girl admitted after a moment, sneaking another glance, "I can't argue with that."
An older woman selling fruit lingered a moment longer than necessary, eyes narrowing in quiet appraisal before clicking her tongue.
"Hah. Youth these days…"
Null exhaled, a long, long sigh—dramatic, resigned, unmistakably self-aware.
He lifted a hand to his temple as if burdened by invisible tragedy.
"Saintess," he said gravely, "it seems you are not alone in bearing the curse of being too beautiful."
Sora stumbled half a step.
"…Excuse me?"
He glanced aside, eyes calm, voice measured. "The stares. The whispers. The unsolicited admiration. Truly, fate is cruel to those blessed with aesthetics."
She turned to him slowly, veil rustling as she faced him fully.
"That," she said flatly, "is the most narcissistic thing I have ever heard you say."
He considered her words, then nodded. "I accept that judgment."
"You accept it?"
"Yes. Self-awareness is important."
"You're enjoying this".
"A little," he admitted without shame. "It's rare to discover a shared hardship."
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. "Would you prefer I pretend not to notice?"
"Yes."
"Even when it's this obvious?"
"Yes."
He smiled.
Not teasing this time.
Just warm.
"…Very well," he said. "I'll suffer in silence."
Her lips parted, then pressed together again. "…You are impossible."
"Thanks for the Compliment".
She huffed, turning away, veil fluttering faintly.
But her steps were lighter now.
And though she refused to look at him again, the faint warmth in her chest stubbornly refused to fade.
They continued walking.
....
Soon,they stopped at a transit junction marked with both arcane glyphs and mundane signage. Sora consulted the mission parchment briefly before folding it away.
"The village is too far for a direct sigil jump," she said. "And the terrain's unstable—mana fractures near the woodland perimeter."
"So we take the scenic route."
"Horse cab," she confirmed.
He arched a brow. "I was expecting something… floaty."
She smiled faintly. "Lumeris prefers reliability."
The horse cab station sat beneath a broad stone awning at the edge of the district, where paved streets gradually gave way to packed earth roads. Several cabs waited in line—sturdy, enclosed carriages reinforced with shock-absorbing runes, each drawn by a pair of well-groomed horses bearing light mana-bridles.
The driver—a middle-aged man with sun-weathered skin and a sharp eye—straightened as Sora approached.
"Destination?" he asked.
"Greythorn Village," Sora replied.
The driver nodded once. "Two hours, if the roads hold."
"They will," she said calmly.
Something in her tone settled the matter.
The driver gestured inside.
The interior of the cab was compact but well-cushioned, faintly enchanted to dampen motion. As the door closed, the outside noise softened to a distant murmur.
The cab lurched forward gently, then picked up speed, rolling out of Lumeris and onto the outer road.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Through the narrow window, the city gradually thinned—stone buildings giving way to terraced farmland, then to open fields where mana-infused crops swayed faintly even without wind.
Null leaned back, observing.
"This feels…" he searched for the word, "…normal."
Sora smiled at that.
"That's by design. Not every threat announces itself with calamity."
"Good," he said. "I'd hate for my first mission with you to start with an apocalypse."
"With me?" she repeated lightly.
He met her gaze. "You're the senior officer."
"And the Saintess."
"And," he added, "the one who didn't let me go alone."
The cab rocked gently as it passed over a rough patch of road.
Sora looked out the window, torn between disbelief and a growing, unwanted smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
The countryside darkened as woodland approached—tall trees lining the road ahead, their roots occasionally glowing faintly where mana pooled beneath the soil.
Greythorn Village lay somewhere beyond that treeline.
The mission awaited.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, Null felt the weight of it—not fear, not hesitation—
Expectation.
The cab rolled on, carrying them forward.