Null's gaze lingered on Seraphel Lysandria longer than etiquette strictly allowed.
Not out of irreverence—out of curiosity.
Elven ears—long, elegant, unmistakable—peeking through pale-gold hair, Unmistakable. Slender, tapered, unhidden by glamour or illusion.
They were real.
'So fantasy species like elves exist in this world'
He exhaled silently, lips twitching.
'Of course elves exist' he amended dryly. 'Considering I'm hosting an omniscient system in my head. Pointed ears are hardly a stretch.'
If anything, the elves were the least strange part of today.
Still… there was something different about her.
Not just the ears.
It was the way she occupied space.
Not dominantly. Not aggressively.
But inevitably—like the world had already decided she belonged at the center and simply informed reality after the fact.
That stirred his curiosity.
Just a little.
Not caution-driven.
Not threat-assessment.
Pure, idle interest.
Alright, he thought. Just a peek.
«Activate. Existential Preception»
[[Existential Perception — Target: Seraphel Lysandria]]
Existence Classification:
• Holy-Type Entity
Designation:
• High Elf (Human Hybrid)
Threat Index:
(Very High — Non-Aggressive / Situational)
Vital Status
• Chronological Age: 312
• Biological Equivalent: Early 20s
• Lifespan Remaining: Indeterminate
Core Attributes:
• Strength: B+
• Defence: S
• Agility: B
• Stamina: SS
• Intelligence: SSS
• Mana Capacity: SSS
• Faith Resonance: SSS (Unique Metric)
Cross-referencing local power frameworks…
Applying Adventurer's Guild equivalency....
• Overall Capability: SSS-Rank
Unique Abilities:
1. Divine Decree - Issues absolute commands that reality itself must obey for a brief duration. Can declare "Let there be light in darkness," "Let the dead speak truth," or "Let evil find no purchase here," forcing the world to comply.
2. Tongue of Angels - Speaks in the pure language of creation itself. Words carry physical weight - blessings become tangible shields, condemnations manifest as burning brands, and prayers reshape reality around their meaning.
3. Habemus Papam: Ascendant — Temporary semi-divine elevation, massively amplifying all holy effects.
4. Divine Intercession - Acts as a direct conduit for pure divine energy, allowing for divine miracles, and temporary suspension of natural laws through direct petition to Divine spirits.
Learned Skills / Spells (Partial):
Divine Providence
Saint Summoning
Holy Baptism
Purgatorial Prison
Litany of Unending Grace
Cathedral of Light
Absolution of the Penitent
Crown of Martyrs
Hymn of Immutable Faith
Holy School of Arts…
…SSS across the board, Null thought.
Figures.
....
Seraphel folded her hands atop the armrest of her throne and regarded Null with a thoughtful tilt of her head.
"So," she said, tone mild, almost conversational, "we must decide where you stand. And more importantly—where you live."
Elder Ozag straightened at once. "Your Holiness—"
She lifted a finger. Not in command. In patience.
"Let us speak plainly," Seraphel continued. "This world is not kind to the unprepared. Monsters roam beyond borders. Politics devour the naive. Even faith, when mishandled, can kill."
Her gaze sharpened slightly as it returned to Null.
"To remain as you are—unawakened, untrained—would be irresponsible. Not just to us."
A beat.
"But to you."
Null considered that, then nodded once. "I had a feeling the tutorial wouldn't stay optional."
Sora glanced at him, puzzled. "Tutorial…?"
"Never mind," he said lightly, then looked back to the Pope. "So what are you proposing?"
"That you take residence here," Seraphel replied. "Within the Divine Sanctum."
Elder Ozag turned toward Null. "The Sanctum is not merely a refuge. It is a crucible. Those who dwell here are shaped by discipline, expectation, and responsibility."
"Oh?" Null said mildly. "I was worried it might be comfortable."
That earned him a sharp look from Ozag—and the faintest glimmer of amusement from Seraphel.
"You understand," Seraphel continued, "that strength in this world is not optional. Survival demands it. Influence requires it. Even mercy depends upon it."
Sora's hands clenched slightly at her sides.
"Normally," Seraphel went on, "otherworlders arrive bearing a Sacred Gift. A blessing. A shortcut, if you will."
Her eyes met Null's again. Calm. Unjudging.
"You did not."
"That means," Elder Ozag said gravely, "you will awaken as a supernatural and gain strength like natives of this world do. Through effort. Discipline. Risk.".
"No cheat codes, then," Null murmured. "Just blood, sweat, and existential dread."
Sora blinked. "…I don't think that last one is part of the process."
"It always is", he replied dryly, as he recalled fictional anime and novels from earth.
Seraphel inclined her head. ""Your training will not be without guidance. Elder Ozag, along with select members of the Divine Church, will oversee your awakening and foundational instruction. The trials will be arduous, be prepared"
"And if I survive all that?" Null asked.
"Then," she said simply, "you will gain sufficient strength to choose your own path in this world."
Null smiled—small, genuine. "Sounds fair."
The Pope studied him for a moment longer, then nodded once, decisively.
"Then it is settled. You will reside within the Sanctum."
"And now," Seraphel added, her tone softening, "enough of grim necessities."
Seraphel turned fully toward her, expression warming in an instant. "My disciple."
Sora looked up sharply. "M-Master?"
"The Atlantis Empire did not inconvenience you, I hope?" Seraphel asked gently. "You were away longer than I expected."
Sora stiffened. "N-No, Master. The Empire was… accommodating."
"I see," Seraphel exhaled a quiet sigh.
She rose from her throne, robes whispering like light across stone.
"Come," she said, extending a hand. "We will speak further—over tea."
Sora's shoulders eased at once.
"Yes, Master."
****
The gazebo overlooked the cloud sea, its open arches framed by drifting white and gold. Sunlight filtered through hanging veils of prayer-thread, casting soft patterns across the marble floor. A teapot rested between them, steam curling lazily upward.
Seraphel took her seat first, unhurried, serene. Sora followed, posture impeccable—at least until her master spoke.
"Sora," Seraphel said lightly as she poured the tea, "what do you think of him?"
Sora stiffened.
"I… don't know," she replied after a moment. "He seems normal. On the surface."
Seraphel glanced up, one elegant brow lifting. "On the surface?"
Sora hesitated. Her fingers tightened around her teacup.
"But?" the Pope prompted gently.
"How do I put it…" Sora looked away, searching the clouds for words that refused to come. Unintentionally, a faint blush crept up her cheeks. "He feels… mysterious."
Seraphel's lips curved.
"Oh?" she said, amusement warming her voice. "What's this, Has my disciple become charmed by that boy?"
"No—! Tha-that's not it," Sora protested immediately, turning far too fast. "I'm just saying he's difficult to read. That's all."
"Hehe." Seraphel covered her smile with her teacup. "I see. I see."
Sora groaned softly. "Master…"
"Still," Seraphel continued, "Hehe. I understand. Even I have to admit that in my long life, I have never encountered a man as beautiful as that boy, let alone someone whose appearance rivals the celestial beauty of my disciple."
Sora froze.
Then combusted.
"Masterrr—! Please stop teasing me!" she cried, face fully aflame now.
Seraphel laughed, a soft, delighted sound that carried easily through the gazebo. "Ara? "Why are you getting so flustered? This is unexpected."
She tapped her chin playfully.
"Did that boy already crack your impeccable composure?"
"That's not—!" Sora covered her face with both hands. "You're being unfair."
Seraphel chuckled again, warm and unhurried."My, my. Isn't this a bit fast?"?" she mused. "I sent you to retrieve a variable, not to have my Saintess undone in a single Interaction."
"…I'm not undone," Sora muttered weakly.
"Mm-hm." Seraphel sipped her tea. "Then I shall look forward to observing this perfectly composed disciple of mine."
Sora peeked through her fingers, mortified.
"…You're enjoying this far too much."
"Of course," Seraphel replied calmly. "Opportunities like this do not come often, especially considering it is my disciple whose heart is fortified by impenetrable walls after that tragic incident."
Sora fell silent, staring into the rippling surface of her tea.
For a moment, Seraphel simply watched her disciple cradle her teacup with both hands, shoulders still faintly tense from embarrassment.
Then her voice softened.
"Sora," she said, almost idly, "did you visit your parents while you were in the Empire?"
Sora stiffened.
Her fingers tightened around the porcelain.
"…No," she answered quietly.
Seraphel closed her eyes and sighed—a long, patient breath, heavy not with disappointment, but with familiarity.
"Oh, Sora…" she murmured. "You really are hopeless in this regard."
Sora's head lowered at once. "Master, I—"
"Mm." Seraphel lifted a hand, stopping her gently. "You are on midterm break from the academy, are you not?"
"…Yes."
"Then why," Seraphel continued, opening her eyes and fixing her with a knowing look, "are you still pretending rest is a luxury you cannot afford?"
Sora said nothing.
Seraphel reached for her own teacup, taking a slow sip before speaking again. "Do you have any idea how many letters Duke Luminous has sent me?"
Sora's shoulders twitched. "…Many?"
"Too many," Seraphel said dryly. "Each one more polite than the last. Each one more worried. He has requested—very respectfully—that I convince a certain stubborn daughter of his to return home at least once."
Sora winced. "Father shouldn't trouble you with that…"
"He is your father," Seraphel replied gently. "Troubling me is well within his rights."
The Pope leaned back against the bench, gaze drifting toward the clouds beyond the Sanctum. "I know why you didn't go," she said. "You want to grow stronger. Quickly. You want answers about that incident. You believe every moment not spent advancing is a moment wasted."
Sora's hands clenched in her lap.
"But," Seraphel continued, her tone now firm, "do not mistake distance for resolve. Do not lose sight of what is important, and do not strain your familial relations. Remember, the love and support of family can be a guiding light, even when circumstances pull us in different directions.""
Sora bowed her head, guilt written plainly across her expression. "…I didn't mean to avoid them."
"I know," Seraphel said softly. "Which is why I am telling you this instead of scolding you."
She leaned forward slightly, meeting Sora's lowered gaze. "You still have a full month before the academy resumes. A month."
Her voice softened again—warm, maternal, and quietly unyielding. "Go home. Rest. Let your parents see you—not as a Saintess burdened by duty or a girl chasing the past, but as their daughter. Alive. Growing. Still theirs."
Sora swallowed, then nodded. "…Understood, Master, i will visit them by the end of break"
Seraphel smiled, satisfied, and reached out to lightly tap Sora's forehead with one finger.
"Good,"