The room was quiet, the only sounds the faint hum of the city outside and the occasional buzz of flies around the soul-farm on the windowsill. Dominic sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the dim neon glow filtering through the cracked window. His body ached from the fight with the angelic hunter, but the pain was nothing compared to the questions swirling in his mind.
Across the room, Sincerity sat with her back against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest. She hadn't said much since the battle, her usual sharp wit replaced by a heavy silence.
Dominic finally broke it.
"What was that?" he asked, his voice low but steady. "What the angel said about you... about your wings? Was it true?"
Sincerity didn't look at him right away. She stared at the floor, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.
"You're not going to let this go, are you?" she said finally, her tone resigned.
Dominic shook his head. "No. I need to know. That angel knew you. It laughed at you, mocked you. And then there's my dream..."
Her head snapped up at that, her eyes narrowing. "Dream?"
Dominic hesitated, but pressed on. "I saw you. You had three sets of wings—one covering your face, one your feet, and the last keeping you in the air. You were standing at a lectern, apologising, and then a voice declared you guilty. The ground opened up beneath you, and you fell into a pit. Hands... they tore your wings off and dragged you into the dark."
Sincerity's breath hitched, and she turned away, her shoulders trembling.
Dominic leaned forward, his voice softening. "Sincerity, tell me the truth. Who are you? What are you?"
She was silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the window. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
"I was... your guardian angel," she said, her words carrying a weight that made Dominic's chest tighten.
"What?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
She turned to him, her expression raw with emotion. "I was assigned to watch over you, to protect you. That was my purpose, my duty. But I failed."
Dominic stared at her, his mind reeling. "Failed how?"
Her eyes glistened, but she held his gaze. "You were in danger—something I should have been able to prevent. But I hesitated. I doubted myself, and in that moment, I... I lost you."
Dominic's throat tightened as fragments of his past life surfaced. Memories of fleeting warmth, a sense of safety that always seemed to be just out of reach. And then... nothing.
"When I failed," Sincerity continued, her voice breaking, "I was judged. Angels don't get second chances, Dominic. We're expected to be perfect, to uphold the divine will without faltering. I wasn't perfect. It wasn't enough."
She paused, her hands gripping her knees tightly. "They took my wings. Stripped me of everything that made me who I was. And then they cast me into this place—this... purgatory. I've been wandering ever since, trying to make sense of it all."
Dominic felt a strange mixture of anger and sorrow rising within him. "And then you found me," he said quietly. "Why?"
Her gaze softened, and she gave him a faint, bittersweet smile. "Because I had to. Because I just couldn't... let go. When I saw you here, alive, I thought... maybe I could make things right. Maybe I could protect you this time."
Dominic's chest ached at the vulnerability in her voice. He wanted to be angry, to demand why she hadn't told him sooner, but he couldn't bring himself to. She wasn't the confident, teasing companion he'd grown used to. She was something else entirely—something broken yet unyielding.
"And the system?" Dominic asked. "Why does it care so much about us?"
"I don't know," Sincerity admitted. "This place, this... game—it's like a crucible, testing us in ways I don't fully understand. But I know this much: the system doesn't forget. It doesn't forgive. And if it's sending hunters after you, it means you've become something it can't ignore."
Dominic nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling over him. "So, what do we do?"
Sincerity looked at him, her expression fierce despite the tears still glistening in her eyes. "We survive. We fight. And if the system thinks it can break us, we will prove it wrong."
Dominic allowed himself a small, wry smile. "Together, then?"
"Together," she said firmly.
The neon light from the city bathed the room in a faint glow as they sat in silence, the air heavy with unspoken understanding. Whatever lay ahead, Dominic knew one thing for certain: he wasn't facing it alone.
Dominic sat cross-legged on the bed, the glow of the system interface illuminating his face. The aftereffects of the battle still thrummed through his body, but the promise of progress was enough to drive him forward.
Player Status: Ashen_Soul Level: 33 Experience Points: 12,000/50,000Souls Held: 499Unspent Attribute Points: 80
Dominic exhaled, focusing on the list of attributes. The system's battles had made one thing clear: survival required balance.
Updated Attributes: Strength: 20 (+10)Agility: 20 (+8)Vitality: 18 (+8)Intelligence: 15 (+3)Charisma: 8 (+3)Luck: 7 (+3)
As the points settled into place, Dominic felt a subtle but significant change ripple through him. His muscles felt stronger, his thoughts sharper, and a faint sense of heightened awareness tingled at the edge of his mind.
Satisfied, he closed the interface and lay back on the bed.
Sincerity sat beside him, her back against the headboard, her expression distant as she gazed out the window. Dominic glanced at her, her earlier revelations still fresh in his mind.
"You should rest too," he said softly.
She didn't reply immediately, but after a moment, she lay down beside him, her presence both comforting and bittersweet.
Dominic found himself standing in a place that felt both impossibly vast and achingly familiar. The sky above was a swirl of golden light, and beneath his feet stretched a pristine field of clouds.
In the distance, Sincerity stood surrounded by a group of other angels, their radiant forms shimmering like stars. Unlike the confident, sharp-tongued companion Dominic knew, she looked nervous, her wings twitching slightly as the others spoke.
"She's always hovering around her ward," one of the angels said, their voice light and teasing.
"Do you think she loves him?" another asked, their laughter echoing like wind chimes.
Sincerity stiffened, her hands balling into fists. "I'm doing my duty," she said, though her voice trembled slightly.
"Duty," the first angel echoed, their tone dripping with amusement. "You've barely taken your eyes off him since you were assigned. Is it duty, or is it something else?"
Sincerity didn't reply, her wings drooping slightly as doubt flickered across her face.
"I'm not enough," she whispered, more to herself than to the others. "I'm supposed to protect him, but what if I can't? What if I fail?"
Dominic's chest tightened as he watched her. Without thinking, he stepped forward, crossing the distance between them.
"You are enough," he said, his voice soft but firm.
Sincerity turned, her luminous eyes widening in shock. "Dominic?"
He reached out to touch her shoulder, but her expression shifted from surprise to alarm.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, stepping back. "These are my memories, not yours."
The golden sky began to crack, fractures spreading like veins of light. The other angels faded away, their laughter replaced by a deep, resounding hum that filled the air.
"Sincerity—" Dominic began, but before he could finish, the ground beneath him dissolved, and he plummeted into darkness.
Dominic woke with a start, his chest heaving. The faint glow of the city outside cast shifting patterns on the ceiling, and the buzz of flies from the soul-farm broke the silence.
Beside him, Sincerity stirred, her brow furrowing as if sensing his distress.
"Another dream?" she asked groggily, her voice thick with sleep.
Dominic nodded, his hands gripping the blanket tightly. "It was about you again," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your past. Your memories."
Her eyes opened fully, and she turned to him, her expression guarded. "What did you see?"
"You were with other angels," Dominic said. "They were teasing you, saying you... cared too much about me. You doubted yourself, whether you were enough to protect me."
Sincerity's face paled, and she sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. "That was a long time ago," she said quietly.
"It felt so real," Dominic continued. "And you noticed me, Sincerity. You told me I shouldn't be there—that they were your memories."
She didn't respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the window. After a long silence, she spoke. "The bond between a guardian and their ward is strong, Dominic. Maybe... too strong. Sometimes it carries echoes, fragments of things that shouldn't cross over. You shouldn't have been able to see that."
Dominic frowned. "Why now? Why am I seeing these things?"
Sincerity shook her head, her voice tinged with sadness. "I don't know. Maybe the system's pulling at the threads, or maybe... maybe it's because you're the reason I'm still here."
Dominic reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You are enough, Sincerity. Whatever happened, whatever you've been through, you're still here. And I don't think I'd still be standing without you."
She looked at him, her eyes shimmering with unspoken emotion. "You don't know what you're talking about, Dominic."
"I do," he insisted. "And I mean it."
For a moment, the weight of her past seemed to hang between them, unspoken but undeniable. Then she gave him a faint smile, her usual sharpness returning.
"Get some rest," she said, lying back down. "You're going to need it."
Dominic nodded, his mind still racing as he settled back onto the bed. The dreams, the memories, the system—they were all pieces of a puzzle he didn't fully understand. But one thing was certain: Sincerity's past was deeply tied to his, and he was determined to uncover the truth.
The morning light filtered into the room, casting a soft glow on the walls as Dominic sat at the small table near the windowsill. His hands worked methodically, arranging scraps of fruit and bits of grain into several shallow dishes. The soul-farm was growing, and with it, his ability to maintain a steady flow of souls without risking harm to others.
Daily Missions Completed: Drink Water (5 XP) — Completed. Complete 10 Minutes of Physical Training (10 XP) — Completed. Acquire 1 Soul (50 XP) — Completed. Protect the Soul-Farm (1,000 XP) — Completed.
Dominic glanced at the glowing notification before closing the interface. He'd finished his tasks quickly this morning, leaving the rest of the day to focus on expanding the farm. With Elara's tentative approval, he had begun building a second tier of containers, increasing the farm's capacity.
Sincerity sat cross-legged on the bed, watching him work with a faint smile. "You're really committed to this, aren't you?"
Dominic nodded, carefully setting another dish in place. "It's not just for me anymore," he said. "If the farm can help the Order, it's worth the effort. Besides..." He trailed off, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Besides what?" Sincerity prompted, leaning forward slightly.
Dominic hesitated, his hands pausing over the dish. He turned to face her, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I think I'm falling in love with you," he said softly.
Sincerity blinked, her usual sharp demeanour faltering as his words hung in the air. For a moment, she looked at him as though she wasn't sure if she'd heard him correctly.
"Dominic..." she began, her voice quieter than usual.
"I mean it," he said, standing and walking over to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. "I've been through so much since I woke up in this place. I've faced monsters, hunters, and the system itself. But through all of it, you've been there. You've kept me grounded, kept me... sane."
Sincerity looked away, her expression unreadable. "You don't know what you're saying," she said, her voice tinged with sadness.
Dominic reached out, gently taking her hand. "I know exactly what I'm saying. You've been through so much, Sincerity. You've carried so much guilt, so much pain. But I see you—the real you. And I'm not afraid of who you are or what you've done."
She pulled her hand away, her gaze still fixed on the floor. "Dominic, you don't understand. I'm not... I'm not someone you can love. Not in the way you think."
"Why not?" Dominic asked, his voice steady but filled with emotion.
She finally looked at him, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of sorrow and something else—something deeper. "Because loving me won't lead anywhere good," she said. "I'm not the person you think I am. I've failed before, and I'll fail again. I'm not strong enough to protect you."
Dominic shook his head, his expression fierce. "You're wrong. You're more than enough. And I don't need you to protect me—I just need you to be here. With me."
Sincerity's breath hitched, and she looked away again, her walls slipping for just a moment. Then she smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're stubborn, you know that?"
Dominic chuckled softly. "I've been told."
She sighed, leaning back against the wall. "If you're serious about this... don't expect it to be easy. I've got more baggage than you can imagine."
"I'm not going anywhere," Dominic said firmly.
Sincerity looked at him for a long moment, then gave a small nod. "Alright, Dominic. But don't say I didn't warn you."
Dominic smiled, his chest feeling lighter than it had in days. "Fair enough."
As the room fell into a companionable silence, Dominic returned to his work on the soul-farm, a newfound determination driving him forward. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he was ready to face them—together.
Over the next few days, the rhythm of life within the fortress settled into something almost resembling normalcy. Dominic spent his mornings training with the knights, his afternoons expanding the soul-farm and refining his techniques, and his evenings in quiet companionship with Sincerity.
But beneath the routine, something had shifted.
Dominic noticed the small things first: the way Sincerity's sharp comments softened, the way her gaze lingered on him just a moment longer than before, and the subtle warmth in her voice when they spoke. She was still guarded, her walls firmly in place, but cracks had begun to show—glimpses of vulnerability that she rarely allowed herself to reveal.
It was late, the city's neon glow casting faint patterns on the walls of their shared room. Dominic sat at a small table, scribbling notes in a battered notebook he'd acquired from one of the knights. He was documenting his observations on the soul-farm, trying to track the system's responses to his growing operation.
Sincerity lay on her bed, her legs dangling over the edge as she stared at the ceiling. She had been uncharacteristically quiet all evening, her usual sharp wit replaced by a contemplative silence.
Dominic glanced over at her, setting down his pen. "You've been quiet," he said. "Everything okay?"
She didn't answer right away. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. "Do you ever think about what life would've been like if we weren't here?"
Dominic frowned, leaning back in his chair. "You mean if the system hadn't pulled us into this place?"
She nodded.
"All the time," he admitted. "I don't remember much about my old life, but I know it was simpler than this. Less... dangerous."
Sincerity smiled faintly. "I used to think the same thing. Before all this, I thought I had everything figured out. I had a purpose, a place where I belonged."
Her gaze shifted to him, her eyes glimmering with something unreadable. "Then I lost it all. And now, I'm here. With you."
Dominic felt a pang in his chest. "Do you regret it?"
She didn't answer immediately. "Sometimes," she said finally. "But not because of you. It's because... I don't know if I deserve to be here. To have another chance."
Dominic stood, crossing the room to sit beside her on the bed. "You do," he said firmly.
She turned to him, her expression guarded. "How can you say that? After everything I've told you—everything you've seen?"
"Because you're still here," he said. "You could've given up. Walked away. But you didn't. You stayed. That has to mean something."
Sincerity looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his. Then she sighed, shaking her head. "You're too good, Dominic. Too forgiving. You don't even know the half of what I've done."
"Then tell me," he said softly.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, Dominic thought she wouldn't answer. But then she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I loved you," she said. "When I was your guardian, I wasn't supposed to feel anything but duty. But I... I loved you. And that love blinded me. I hesitated when you needed me most, and because of that, you..."
Her voice broke, and she turned away, her shoulders trembling.
Dominic reached out, gently placing a hand on her arm. "Sincerity," he said, his voice steady. "You didn't fail me. Whatever happens, I'm still here. And so are you. That's what matters."
She looked at him again, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You don't understand, Dominic. I was punished for my love—for breaking the rules. And now... I'm terrified of doing it again."
Dominic's chest tightened. "I'm not afraid," he said. "Not of you, not of what you feel, and not of what's to come. If you can't forgive yourself, then let me help you. Let me show you that it's okay to feel—to love."
For a moment, the walls she had so carefully built seemed to crumble. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder, her voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can."
"You can," Dominic said, wrapping his arms around her. "And you don't have to do it alone."
As the days turned into weeks, their relationship deepened. The quiet moments they shared became more frequent, their conversations more open. Sincerity still carried her doubts, but with Dominic's steady presence, she began to let go of the guilt that had haunted her for so long.
Dominic, in turn, found strength in her resilience and courage. She has faced unimaginable loss and still found the will to stand by him. Together, they began to carve out a sense of purpose in a world that seemed determined to tear them apart.
The fortress basement was a stark contrast to the rest of the Order's imposing stronghold. The air was cool and heavy, the walls lined with old stone reinforced by glowing wards that pulsed faintly, casting the space in a dim, golden light. Wooden shelves and crates filled with supplies lined the room, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed in the stillness.
Dominic stood in the centre of the space, flanked by Sincerity and Knight-Captain Aldrin. A table had been cleared for his materials, and several knights hovered nearby, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and scepticism.
"So, this is it," Aldrin said gruffly, his sharp eyes fixed on Dominic. "The operation that turned half the fortress into a battlefield and nearly got us all killed."
Dominic winced but nodded. "That's right. But this time, it's different. With the Order backing the farm, the system seems to have changed its stance. The Knights' mission updated, didn't it?"
Aldrin crossed his arms, his expression unyielding. "It did. Every knight now has the directive to protect the soul-farm. But don't mistake that for approval. The system's fickle, Dominic. It could turn on you again in an instant."
Dominic nodded, glancing at the interface that hovered in his vision. The updated mission list confirmed Aldrin's words.
Knight Objectives: Complete Daily Missions (Varies by Knight)Protect the Soul-Farm (1,000 XP Daily)
"This farm," Aldrin continued, his voice firm, "is your responsibility. If anything goes wrong—if the system reacts again or if this operation compromises the Order—you'll answer for it. Understood?"
"Understood," Dominic said, meeting Aldrin's gaze.
Sincerity smirked faintly from beside him. "No pressure, right?"
Aldrin shot her a withering look before gesturing to the cleared space. "Get to work."
Dominic wasted no time setting up additional containers. With the resources provided by the Order, he had access to larger and more advanced equipment: trays for breeding insects, specialised lighting to accelerate growth, and a filtration system to keep the operation clean.
"This is... impressive," Sincerity admitted as she helped him arrange the trays. "I didn't think you'd get this far."
"Neither did I," Dominic said with a small laugh. "But with the Order's backing, this could really work. If we can scale it up enough, we'll have a reliable source of souls for every knight here."
Sincerity raised an eyebrow. "And what happens when the system decides it doesn't like this again?"
Dominic sighed, pausing in his work. "Then we adapt. That's all we can do."
She nodded, though her expression remained guarded.
As the days passed, the soul-farm began to take shape. What had started as a crude operation in Dominic's room had evolved into a structured, efficient system. Each tray was carefully monitored, and the knights rotated shifts to ensure its protection.
Aldrin observed everything with his usual stern demeanour, occasionally offering gruff advice or pointed criticism. But over time, even he seemed to begrudgingly acknowledge the farm's success.
"The system's been quiet," Aldrin remarked one evening as he inspected the setup. "No updates, no interference. Whatever you're doing, it's working."
Dominic nodded, relief washing over him. "Let's hope it stays that way."
Sincerity leaned against the wall, her arms crossed. "Don't jinx it."
One morning, as Dominic fine-tuned the lighting setup, Elara descended into the basement. She walked slowly, her gaze sweeping over the operation before settling on Dominic.
"This is remarkable," she said, her tone even. "When you proposed this idea, I wasn't sure it would work. But you've exceeded my expectations."
"Thank you," Dominic said, his voice steady but humble.
Elara stepped closer, her expression softening slightly. "The system's new directive—to protect the soul-farm—has unified the Order in a way I haven't seen in years. You've given us more than a resource, Dominic. You've given us a reason to stand together."
Dominic blinked, taken aback by her words. "I... I just wanted to survive."
Elara smiled faintly. "Sometimes survival leads to something greater."
As she turned to leave, Dominic glanced at Sincerity, who gave him a small, approving nod.
Later that evening, as the soul-farm hummed quietly in the background, Dominic and Sincerity sat together in the basement, their work done for the day. The faint light from the wards painted soft patterns on the walls, and the air was calm.
"You've come a long way," Sincerity said, breaking the silence.
"So have you," Dominic replied, his voice warm.
She tilted her head, her gaze meeting his. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"I do," he said. "And I think... this is just the beginning."
For the first time in days, Sincerity smiled—a real, genuine smile.
"Maybe it is," she said softly.
The soft hum of the soul-farm filled the basement as Dominic and Sincerity sat together in the dim light, the atmosphere between them heavier than it had ever been. The faint glow of the wards cast shifting patterns on their faces, but neither seemed to notice.
Dominic turned to Sincerity, his gaze steady yet filled with something deeper—something he could no longer hold back. He reached out, gently taking her hand.
"Sincerity," he said softly.
She looked at him, her sharp features softened by the quiet glow of the room. "What is it?"
For a moment, he didn't answer. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers. The world around them seemed to fade, the hum of the farm dimming until all he could hear was the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat.
And then, without hesitation, he kissed her.
Sincerity froze for a moment, her body tense with surprise. But as the seconds stretched on, the tension melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through them both like fire.
When they finally pulled apart, the air around them felt charged, as though the very fabric of the room had shifted. Dominic leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "I want to be with you forever."
Sincerity's breath hitched, her cheeks flushed. For once, the ever-confident, sharp-tongued woman seemed at a loss for words. She looked at Dominic, her luminous eyes shimmering with a mixture of disbelief and emotion.
"Dominic," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing against her skin. "I mean it," he said. "I don't care what's happened in the past, or what this world throws at us. I want to face it all—with you."
Tears glistened in her eyes, though she quickly blinked them away. "You're insane," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "This world... it breaks people. It doesn't let anyone have it forever."
"Then we'll take it anyway," Dominic replied, his voice firm.
For a moment, she stared at him, her walls crumbling completely. Then, with a shaky laugh, she leaned into him, resting her forehead against his. "You're impossible," she murmured.
"But you're not saying no," Dominic said with a small smile.
"No," she admitted, her voice soft. "I'm not."
They sat there in silence for a while, the weight of the moment settling over them like a warm blanket. The soul-farm continued its quiet work in the background, but for Dominic and Sincerity, the world outside their little corner of the fortress seemed irrelevant.
Finally, Sincerity spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "You've changed me, Dominic. I don't know if it's for the better or worse, but... you've changed me."
Dominic tightened his hold on her hand. "And you've changed me too. For the better. I know it."
She pulled back slightly, her gaze meeting his. "Forever, then?" she asked, a faint, bittersweet smile on her lips.
"Forever," Dominic said, his voice resolute.
The warmth of the moment lingered between them as they sat close, the hum of the soul-farm a distant backdrop to the charged silence. Sincerity had rested her head lightly against Dominic's shoulder, her guard completely down for what felt like the first time since they'd met.
But after a while, she shifted slightly, pulling away just enough to look at him. Her luminous eyes were filled with doubt, her lips trembling as she spoke.
"Dominic," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's something you need to know."
His brow furrowed, concern flashing across his face. "What is it?"
She hesitated, her hands twisting in her lap. When she finally continued, her voice was laced with sorrow. "I can never give you children. Angels... we're infertile. It was part of the punishment for the Nephilim. The... creatures that were born of unions between man and angel. It's forbidden, Dominic. Forever."
The words hung heavily in the air, and Sincerity's gaze dropped, unable to meet his. "I don't want to hurt you," she said meekly. "But I had to tell you. I can't let you think there was... more than what I can give."
Dominic didn't say anything right away. Instead, he gently cupped her face in his hands, guiding her to look at him. His expression was tender, his eyes filled with a quiet resolve.
"I never asked you for children," he said softly. "Only that you'd be mine. Forever."
Sincerity's breath caught, her eyes shimmering with emotion as his words sank in. "Dominic..."
Before she could say anything more, he leaned in and kissed her again. It wasn't the fiery passion of their first kiss, but something softer, deeper—a reassurance that no words could convey.
When they parted, Dominic rested his forehead against hers, his voice low and steady. "You're all I need, Sincerity. Just you. Nothing else matters."
Her lips quivered, and a tear slipped down her cheek as she let out a shaky laugh. "You're ridiculous," she whispered, though there was no malice in her tone.
"And you're stuck with me," Dominic replied with a grin.
She laughed again, this time stronger, and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. "You're impossible," she murmured. "But I think... I think I might love you for it."
Dominic tightened his hold on her, his heart full. "Good," he said softly. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
For a long time, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of their confessions lifting in the quiet warmth of their bond.
The soul-farm hummed quietly in the background, its faint light casting gentle shadows on the walls. But for Dominic and Sincerity, the world outside their little corner of the fortress seemed a distant concern.
Dominic and Sincerity's bond grew stronger with each passing day, their connection no longer hidden but increasingly evident to those around them. The fortress, with its rigid structure and disciplined knights, was no place for distractions—or perceived weaknesses. And yet, the ripple effects of their relationship began to shift the dynamics within the Order of the Penitent Pilgrim.
It started subtly.
Knights who worked the soul-farm with Dominic began to exchange glances whenever Sincerity entered the room. Her sharp remarks, once greeted with rolled eyes or muttered replies, now carried a weight they hadn't before. It was clear she wasn't just a wandering rogue who'd happened upon the fortress; she was something more.
"Is she always with him?" one knight whispered during a rotation.
"She's like his shadow," another replied, shaking his head. "Doesn't he realise how that looks?"
Word spread quickly. By the end of the week, most of the Order had noticed the change: the way Sincerity lingered near Dominic during training, her rare smiles when they spoke, and the way his determination seemed to grow when she was near.
One morning, during a sparring session in the courtyard, Dominic faced a particularly challenging opponent—a broad-shouldered knight with years of experience. The match was brutal, each blow sending shockwaves through the air as wooden practice swords clashed.
Sincerity watched from the side lines, her arms crossed as her sharp eyes followed Dominic's movements.
"You're distracted," Aldrin barked from across the yard, his gruff voice cutting through the noise. "Focus, Dominic. Your opponent won't wait for you to sort out your feelings."
The jab was subtle, but the knights nearby exchanged knowing glances. Dominic's jaw tightened as he deflected a heavy strike, his focus slipping for a moment. The knight's sword came down hard, striking Dominic's shoulder and sending him sprawling.
The watching knights murmured among themselves, but it was Sincerity's reaction that silenced them.
She stepped forward, her movements calm but deliberate. "That's enough," she said, her voice cutting through the chatter like a blade.
The knight who had struck Dominic paused, lowering his sword. Sincerity didn't spare him a glance; her focus was on Dominic, who was already pushing himself to his feet.
"I'm fine," Dominic said, brushing himself off.
"You're not," Sincerity replied, her tone firm.
The other knights watched the exchange with barely concealed interest, their expressions a mixture of amusement and curiosity. Aldrin, however, was less amused.
"This isn't the place for... whatever this is," he said, his sharp gaze flicking between Dominic and Sincerity. "If you want to survive in this world, you'll need to separate your feelings from your duty."
Dominic met Aldrin's gaze, his expression unyielding. "With respect, sir, my feelings don't weaken my duty—they strengthen it."
The yard fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
Aldrin snorted, shaking his head. "We'll see about that."
Later that evening, Elara summoned Dominic and Sincerity to the command chamber. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the wards casting long shadows on the walls.
Elara stood at the far end of the table, her arms crossed as she regarded them with a mixture of concern and authority.
"I've heard the whispers," she said bluntly. "Your relationship isn't a secret anymore, and it's affecting the Order."
Dominic frowned. "Affecting it how?"
"Dividing loyalties," Elara replied. "Some of the knights see your bond as a distraction. Others are beginning to idolize you, Dominic, because they see your resolve as something more than human. Either way, it's creating tension."
Sincerity stepped forward, her tone sharp. "If they have a problem with us, that's their issue."
"It's not that simple," Elara said firmly. "This isn't just about you two. The Order thrives on discipline and unity. Anything that disrupts that balance is a threat."
Dominic sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What do you want us to do, Commander? Pretend this doesn't exist?"
Elara's expression softened slightly. "No. But you need to understand the position you're in. You've become a symbol, Dominic—whether you wanted to or not. If you're going to lead, you need to lead by example. And that means showing the knights that your bond doesn't weaken you—it strengthens the mission."
Dominic exchanged a glance with Sincerity, who nodded slightly.
"We'll prove it," he said. "Whatever it takes."
In the following weeks, Dominic and Sincerity worked harder than ever, their actions speaking louder than the whispers.
Dominic's leadership in the soul-farm operation became more pronounced, coordinating the knights and ensuring everyone understood its importance. Sincerity, meanwhile, began sparring with the knights herself, earning their respect with her skill and sharp wit.
The turning point came during a sudden system event—a massive surge of hostile creatures breaching the city walls. Dominic and Sincerity fought side by side, their teamwork seamless as they protected the knights and the soul-farm. Their bond, far from being a distraction, became a rallying point for the Order, a reminder of what they were fighting for.
By the end of the event, the whispers had quieted. The knights no longer saw Dominic and Sincerity as a liability but as a symbol of resilience and determination.
One evening, as Dominic and Sincerity reviewed the soul-farm's progress, Elara approached them in the basement.
"You've done well," she said, her tone grudging but sincere. "The Order is stronger because of you—both of you."
Dominic smiled faintly. "Does that mean we've proven ourselves?"
Elara smirked. "For now. But don't get comfortable. This world doesn't let anyone rest for long."
Dominic nodded, his gaze meeting Sincerity's. "We'll be ready."