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Chapter 297 ~ Pocket Dragon

Ophis took a step forward, the golden floor beneath her bare feet shimmering like liquid sunlight, rippling gently with each motion.

The air was impossibly still—neither hot nor cold, neither heavy nor light—yet it vibrated with the hum of power. It was not the suffocating pressure of the Dimensional Gap, nor the “noisiness” of Great Red's presence. No… this was ordered power. Power that slumbered with dignity, waiting to be wielded, not flaunted.

She turned her gaze upward again.

The magical weapons floating above them pulsed faintly, as if breathing. Each one different in shape and form—swords with runes etched into their gleaming blades, spears with trailing chains of lightning, staffs topped with ever-burning flames, halberds gleaming with celestial light, and daggers so thin and sharp they nearly disappeared from sight, and many more—with the most powerful exuding aura like she never felt before. 

Yuuji stood a few steps ahead, his hands folded behind his back as he watched Ophis quietly. There was no smugness in his expression—only a calm pride, and perhaps a hint of anticipation. He wondered what she thought of the magical items of Yggdrasil. 

Although he hadn’t “personally” collected these over the years, he had “memories” of it. Memories contained within each magical item, from the World class and Divine, to the common. Each contained memories of his journey in Yggdrasil, memories of his efforts, and his friends. He remembered each and every one. 

They were not mere weapons or magical items. Not to him.

‘Perhaps, this was also how Satoru-san felt about them… And for him, it must’ve been much more real.’

Ophis, still silent, floated gently above the floor and drifted toward a long table near the center of the space. Upon it lay rows of perfectly preserved magical tomes, relics imbued with sorcery from ages past, and crystal spheres that glowed with the light of rainbows.

She hovered over a silver gauntlet with a pulsating core of blood-red mana, then a necklace braided from dragonbone and phoenix feather. Her fingers passed over each item without touching, as if even she—a being of infinity—felt unworthy to disturb them.

“…This is yours?” she asked softly, finally turning to Yuuji.

He nodded. “Yes. It’s a place to hold the things my friends and I had gathered. They were more than just treasures. They’re the symbols of my journey.”

Ophis looked again around the vast, golden realm.

“And… you showed it to me.”

There was a faint shift in her voice—something thoughtful, almost wondering. She didn’t ask why. She already knew. He trusted her.

But why he trusted her… She didn’t know. 

Now that she thought of it, from the moment they met, in his eyes, he seemed like he had known about her.

Yuuji gave a small smile. “I thought it’d be nice to show it off to someone. And also… I thought that if you like it here, you can stay.”

Ophis blinked.

“A place… for me?”

He nodded. “You can stay in the estate too. But if you stay here, I can bring you with me and we can explore together. This dimension also responds to my will. I can shape it freely. If you want solitude, I can give you a quiet garden. Or if you want to fill it with stars, I can carve the night sky for you. It can be whatever you want it to be.”

Ophis turned away, her eyes scanning the golden and endless halls once more.

She remembered the silence of the Dimensional Gap. The cold, the stillness, the eternal drift of nothingness.

This… was not that.

This place had warmth. It held stories, memories, and intent. It felt alive.

“…Then… I want a space. With a garden. And a koi pond. Like earlier.”

Her voice was quiet, almost shy.

Yuuji smiled wider. “Alright.”

With a wave of his hand, the world shifted.

This was the first time he had ever done such a thing. But reality within this dimension changed and shifted according to his will. 

A gentle hill rose in the distance, bordered by sakura trees that were in full bloom. At the top of the hill, a vermillion torii stood guard to a small, secluded garden. A pond nestled in the middle sparkled with starlight reflected off still waters. There, two colorful koi swam lazily under a wooden bridge. Beside the pond, a stone path wound toward a traditional Japanese teahouse, minimalist in design, yet elegant.

And the sky… was painted in twilight—soft hues of purple and indigo with a full moon rising over the horizon.

Ophis slowly floated forward, then stepped down, letting her feet meet the newly-formed grass. It felt warm. Comforting.

She turned her head slightly.

“…This… is mine?”

Yuuji nodded. “Yours. As long as you wish for it.”

She looked back toward the pond, then sat quietly on the wooden veranda of the teahouse, knees tucked in, staring out at the glistening surface of the water.

The silence here was not oppressive. It was the quiet of peace.

And in that moment, the Dragon of Infinity—the incarnation of silence and void—felt something strange bloom within her chest.

Not noise.

But a comfortable, warm stillness.

--------------------------------X--------------------------------

The next morning.

A quiet knock echoed through the stillness of the Occult Research Clubroom.

Heads turned. Rias, seated near the fireplace with a book in hand, slowly looked up. Kiba and Issei paused their conversation. Asia set her teacup down carefully, and even the usually quiet Koneko blinked and turned toward the door.

“Come in,” Rias called, her voice composed but curious.

The door creaked open.

A collective silence fell.

Standing in the doorway was Xenovia Quarta—though she looked like a shadow of her former self.

Her once-pristine white-and-gold exorcist cloak hung tattered and frayed, the threads dirty with soot and blood. Beneath it, her combat body suit bore gashes that exposed pale, bruised skin. Scratches marked her face and arms. Her eyes, usually sharp and unwavering, were now sunken and dark with exhaustion. There was no righteous fire behind them—only quiet pain and fatigue.

She took a shaky step forward.

“Excuse me...”

Her raspy voice cracked mid-sentence, brittle like dry leaves in the wind.

Rias’s breath caught in her throat. She’s alive… But barely.

Asia gasped. “Xenovia-san!”

She rushed to her side with Akeno close behind, both guiding her gently to the couch. Issei quickly stood up to give them space. The couch cushions shifted slightly under Xenovia’s weight as she slumped down, her body finally surrendering its burden.

“I’ll prepare a cup of warm tea,” Akeno said softly.

“...Thank you.” The words left Xenovia’s lips like falling ash.

As Akeno disappeared into the adjacent kitchen, Asia knelt by the couch, calling forth her Twilight Healing. A soft emerald glow bathed Xenovia’s injuries, gently stitching closed shallow cuts and calming inflamed bruises.

Xenovia turned her head slowly to face her, her eyes dull but sincere. “Thank you… Asia-san.”

Asia gave her a bright, warm smile that didn’t falter. “You’re very welcome, Xenovia-san.”

Xenovia’s chest loosened. That warmth—so unlike the cold silence of the last few days—melted a sliver of the tension in her heart.

Akeno soon returned with a steaming pot of tea and a single cup. She poured it delicately and placed it in front of her.

Xenovia stared at the cup for a long moment.

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

The scent... it’s so comforting.

She hadn’t realized how long it had been since something had simply smelled… good.

Finally, she reached out with trembling fingers and lifted the cup. The first sip hit her tongue like a balm to her soul. Warmth spread across her chest, her stomach, her limbs. Her eyes closed, just for a moment, and she allowed herself to breathe.

“It’s delicious… Thank you…”

When the cup emptied, she exhaled a long breath—as though she’d been underwater and had just surfaced.

“I want to see Irina. Is she… doing well?”

Rias nodded gently. “She’s still unconscious, but she’s stable. You can see her. But only after Asia finishes healing you.”

Xenovia nodded and turned back to Asia, who smiled and gave her another soft burst of light. Her skin, still pale, slowly regained some glow.

Rias stood and offered a hand. “Come. I’ll bring you to her.”

Together, they exited the clubroom.

The bedroom beside the Occult Research Club was quiet, dimly lit by the soft light streaming through shoji screens. The smell of fresh linen and faint medicinal herbs lingered in the air.

On the bed lay Irina Shidou—peaceful, still, her chest rising and falling steadily. A pitcher of water and a glass sat neatly on the bedside table, untouched.

Xenovia’s eyes softened.

“Irina…”

She walked slowly to her bedside, each step deliberate, each breath held. Her gaze scanned Irina’s features—unconscious, but serene.

Her throat tightened.

She sat on the edge of the bed and gently took Irina’s hand into hers. It was warm.

Relief bloomed behind her tired eyes.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t strong enough,” she whispered. Her thumb gently brushed the back of Irina’s hand. “You held on even when I couldn’t.”

Rias silently stepped back, giving her space.

Xenovia leaned closer, placing a soft caress on her cheek before brushing away a few strands from her face.

“Be well… Irina.”

She stood slowly, her bones aching with more than fatigue. Her fingers lingered on Irina’s hand for just a moment more before pulling away.

Then she turned to the door.

“I’m ready.”

Rias blinked, surprised at her sudden resolve. “You’re not staying longer?”

Xenovia gave a small shake of her head. “...If I stay longer, I might break.”

They returned to the clubroom. Everyone looked up, not expecting her to return so quickly.

Her eyes—though still tired—held a sliver of steel once more.

“I’d like to ask a favor.”

Rias looked at her with a mix of curiosity and caution. “What is it?”

Xenovia took a breath. Her fingers curled slightly at her side. This is it. No turning back.

“Now that I know the truth… that God is dead… the Church has exiled me.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Asia’s hands flew to her mouth in horror. Kiba froze, his grip on his teacup tightening. Issei looked between them all in disbelief. Even Koneko’s eyes widened.

Rias, calm outwardly but shaken within, spoke, “Were you planning to tell Irina?”

Xenovia shook her head, and shifted her gaze towards the wall, as if she could see Irina’s sleeping figure on the other side.

“No. Not now. Irina’s faith… it’s deeper than mine ever was. If she were to learn this now, in her state…” Her voice faltered. “She might not recover.”

Rias nodded in understanding. “So… what do you plan to do now?”

Xenovia looked up, her voice steady, resolute.

“I want to find that masked man.”

Shock rippled through the room once more.

Rias’s brows knit in confusion. “Why?”

Xenovia’s eyes glinted—just barely—with something unspoken. Something that hadn’t been extinguished yet.

“There’s something I want to ask him…”

“What is it?” Rias asked.

But Xenovia didn’t answer.

Not yet.

Because she wanted him to hear it first.