Darkness surrounded me.

The sound of wind echoed faintly, but when I focused on it, it sounded more like dirt falling.

If I concentrated on the sound of dirt, it shifted to something like dripping water.

The noise was so unfamiliar that it created cognitive dissonance, leaving me disoriented.

In truth, the sound wasn’t much, but being kidnapped so suddenly made everything feel more confusing than it really was.

Amid these thoughts, I began to piece together my situation.

The Coward Mode ability should have filtered out the darkness as a threat, yet here I was, surrounded by pitch-black nothingness.

That meant this wasn’t mere darkness—it was void.

This kind of phenomenon doesn’t exist in the world humans inhabit.

Of course, it doesn’t.

For a human to witness such a thing, they’d have to match the speed of the universe's expansion and reach its edge—an impossible feat, given that the universe expands faster than the speed of light.

In short, I was in a space entirely separate from the universe I knew.

The sensation of something soft pressing against my arm and the feeling of something rubbing against my cheek...

This must have been a space created by that crazy Outer God who had kidnapped me and was now happily snuggling up to me.

I looked around.

The void stretched endlessly in all directions. There was no escape.

Outer Gods can create something out of nothing.

But what happens when a human touches that void?

Do they regress to some primordial state? A cliched end befitting a fragile creature?

“Husband, look at me,” she purred.

This infuriating rofan-brained dragon.

Her excessively soft voice caressed my cheek like a velvet stroke, and the smug expression she wore—as though she had conquered the world just because I called her name—was starting to really get on my nerves.

“I’m in a bit of a rush today.”

“Even men who are busy find time to do everything they want,” she retorted.

“No, seriously, today is—”

“Hmph!”

Her previously blissful expression twisted into one of anger as she suddenly stood up, fuming.

“I cannot accept this! You open your heart so easily to that weed, yet why is your standard so unfairly high when it comes to me?”

Hmm.

Now that she mentioned it, even I wasn’t entirely sure why I treated her differently.

Was it just petty jealousy?

No, it felt like there was a deeper reason.

And I realized what it was.

“...I think you’re going to get hurt if I say this,” I began cautiously.

“Speak! If your reason is acceptable, I will listen with a smile.”

Taking a deep breath, I carefully explained.

“Well, first off…”

“...”

“You’re… a bit too clingy.”

“That weed is also—!”

“And it feels like every time we meet, you’re plotting to devour me.”

“...Th-that’s…”

“Fiore stops when I ask her to, but you keep charging ahead.”

“...Ah.”

Her previously confident demeanor started to crumble.

That was the decisive difference.

Fiore, despite being persistent, tried to resolve things through conversation and emotional appeals.

She ultimately managed to persuade me and helped me understand her feelings.

But the Slayer was… a bit forceful.

She was… scary.

As I spoke, I became more certain that this was the root of the issue.

Still, had I been too harsh?

The Slayer now looked like she was about to cry, her face a mix of dejection and disbelief.

She must have believed that just hearing her name would win my heart, but instead, she was confronted with the truth: no matter her power, the heart of another couldn’t be taken by force.

It was a common delusion among those close to omnipotence.

“Perhaps that’s why even the Scribe tried to guide you to stop,” I added gently. “Maybe they knew this would provoke resistance.”

“...They did say such a thing.”

“See? So stop making that sad face.”

I slowly reached out and patted her head.

Her eyes widened, as if shocked by my sudden action.

“H-husband, what is this…?”

“It doesn’t mean I dislike you. I just… wish you’d take things slower. And I’m sorry. It’s probably my fault for acting in ways that upset you. I’ll try to be more mindful in the future.”

Yes.

While I had pointed out her faults, the root cause lay with me, too.

Acknowledging my own shortcomings was the first step in building better communication.

Hearing my words, the Slayer’s expression brightened. Suddenly, she threw her arms around me in a tight embrace.

“As expected of my husband!”

“Uh… ugh.”

This was the first time I’d seen her smile so brightly.

It was… cute.

I quickly turned my gaze elsewhere, pretending not to notice.

 

++++

Hardly anyone used Londan’s library.

The main reason was the danger of reading books containing information about Outer Gods. A single mistake could lead to mental contamination—or worse, death.

Additionally, in an age where knowledge could be a literal death sentence, most people preferred to labor rather than risk their lives pursuing academic pursuits.

As a result, the library was practically abandoned, save for the librarian, who spent most days alone.

But today, the Saint sat at a desk, diligently reading through a mountain of books.

For the Saint, this was technically part of their work. But being in the library brought them immense satisfaction.

Quiet moments spent reading like this were soothing—almost therapeutic.

Thanks to their knowledge of mysticism, they could safely read books about Outer Gods without risking mental contamination, making this library a haven tailored perfectly to them.

It felt like the library existed solely for the Saint’s use.

But when had it started?

Step. Step.

The faint sound of footsteps echoed through the quiet space. Though not loud, it was enough to draw the Saint’s attention.

They glanced discreetly toward the source of the sound.

The figure approaching was dressed more modestly than last time, but the outfit still exuded a distinctly feminine air.

A tight black top paired with a loose coat, and wide-legged pants that clung snugly around the thighs.

The Saint couldn't help but question: was this truly the hunter they knew?

To think that Raydan Tanton was the one who had brought about such a transformation in them—no, her.

The Saint marveled at Tanton’s influence.

Part of the Saint’s unease came from a lingering fear.

Despite their past insults toward the hunter, she had never once retaliated, and her silence was somehow more terrifying.

Though her appearance was softer now, her strength hadn’t diminished.

If anything, the hunter seemed even stronger with each passing day.

Her weapon had changed, and her physical capabilities were improving, as though she were evolving.

The hunter’s strength felt as unknowable as that of an Outer God.

Like a protagonist in a novel, she grew stronger without any clear explanation.

The Saint was flabbergasted by her apparent lack of logic or reason.

“Hm, nothing useful here either,” the hunter muttered before striding toward the Saint.

The Saint watched nervously, silently praying she’d walk elsewhere, but their hope was in vain.

The hunter sat down across from them, prompting a resigned sigh.

Noticing the Saint’s reaction, the hunter casually grabbed one of their books and spoke.

“So, you glare at me like that and now act like the victim?”

“Ahem! It’s just that… it’s rare for anyone other than Sir Tanton to visit this library. It’s hard not to notice.”

“And yet your glare was far from welcoming.”

The Saint coughed awkwardly, trying to feign ignorance, while the hunter remained expressionless.

Looking at the hunter’s impassive face, the Saint felt a sudden surge of frustration and decided to push back.

“…You’re hardly one to talk, hunter.”

“What do you mean?”

Feigning innocence, the hunter tilted her head.

The Saint shook their head in disbelief.

“I mean the way you act around Sir Tanton.”

“It’s for humanity’s sake. That lunatic might be helping humanity now, but with so many Outer Gods whispering around him, who knows how long it’ll last.”

“And forcing yourself on someone who sacrifices so much for others is your idea of helping humanity? That’s a new one.”

The Saint fixed the hunter with a skeptical look.

The hunter frowned but said nothing, prompting the Saint to press further.

“Is that really your only intention?”

“What are you implying?”

“Are you truly approaching Sir Tanton purely out of your so-called pro-humanity motives?”

The Saint felt exasperated.

Even when Tanton wasn’t around, the hunter was still fiercely protective of him.

But when they were together, her choice of clothing alone suggested ulterior motives.

The Saint thought they could guess what those motives were.

And those suspicions were only growing stronger.

Without a word, the hunter stood and smacked the Saint lightly on the back of the head.

“Ugh!”

“Instead of spouting nonsense, recommend a decent book.”

“…Fine. Try looking over there. There should be a book called The History of Hunters. It’s old and worn, so it might be hard to find.”

“Hmm.”

Without further argument, the hunter headed toward the indicated section.

The Saint let out a weary sigh, watching her go.

Still, as the hunter searched for the book, the Saint’s words echoed in her mind.

“…Ulterior motives, huh?”

Muttering to herself, the hunter eventually found the book and opened it.

“…All hunters originate from the heart of the empire?”

She stared at the passage, lost in thought.

If she wanted to uncover more about hunters, she’d need to visit the place mentioned in the book.

The heart of the empire.

It was far from here and would likely be a long journey.

For the first time in a while, the hunter had a reason to leave Londan.