White.
Everything was white.
Then the white dissipated, replaced by the scent of earth, the smell of straw, and the dry aroma of afternoon sunlight baking the stone path.
Esper opened her eyes.
A dirt road, two rows of low thatched roofs, and people drying grain in the distance. Chickens pecked at the roadside, and the wind swept through the wheat fields, creating waves of gold.
She stood at the entrance of the village.
A very ordinary village.
Too ordinary.
Then she glanced down at her hands.
They were small.
Her fingers were shorter, and the width of her palms was wrong. She raised a hand to touch her face; it felt soft, impossibly round.
“What...”
Her voice was wrong too. Two octaves higher, with the undeveloped childishness at the end of her words.
She looked down at her body. She was shorter, thinner, and her clothes had changed into a dark dress, made by a Catori family tailor, that reached just to her knees. On her feet were a pair of small leather shoes, without a single scuff mark on their surface.
She looked about six or seven years old.
“Noelle.”
“Here.”
The familiar voice came from deep within her consciousness, with the same sleepy, sticky quality as usual.
“What's going on?”
“Isn't it like when you entered Zhong's dream?”
“...No, it's different. Back then, I was a bystander. Now... I've entered Eladia's dream entirely?”
“Hmm... that's probably because the Holy Sword the Saintess was holding is more complete. The moment your two swords clashed, the resonance pulled you into her memory space.”
“...I've become small.”
“Yes, I see. Quite cute, actually.”
“Hey!”
“Well, the rules of the memory space probably forced you to adjust to the corresponding age. But your combat skills and awareness should still be there; only your physical functions will be limited.”
Esper clenched her fists. Her strength was indeed much less, but her muscle memory and reaction speed remained.
“So... this is Eladia's dream...”
Sounds came from ahead.
Not just one person's voice, but many. Shouts, laughter, and the dull thud of something hitting flesh.
She ran towards the source of the sound.
Then she saw it.
Seven or eight children were gathered in a circle, the oldest looking about ten years old.
Some held wooden sticks, others clutched stones. They were swinging their weapons at something in the middle of the circle, hitting and shouting as they did so.
“Wow, she's really going to be fine in a second?!”
“I told you! Last time she fell down the stairs, she could walk again in just a few seconds!”
“Cry! Why don't you cry?!”
A small figure was curled up in the center of the circle.
Esper didn't hesitate.
She rushed forward, grabbed the wrist of the boy closest to her, and twisted hard.
The wooden stick flew from his hand, and the boy yelped, squatting down.
“Get lost.”
Though her voice was childish, the oppressive tone made all the surrounding children freeze.
The chubby boy leading them turned around, a head taller than Esper, his face covered in freckles.
“Who are you? What's it to you?”
“Why are you bullying someone?”
Esper spoke coldly, releasing the first boy's wrist and taking a step towards the chubby boy.
“I said, what's it to you...”
Esper punched him in the stomach.
The force was precisely controlled to avoid internal injury but was enough to make him double over in pain.
The chubby boy bent over, his face beet red, making whimpering sounds.
The remaining children froze for two seconds, then scattered.
“If you dare come back, I'll beat you to death!”
Esper shook her hand, shouting at the group.
Then she turned around.
Revealed after the crowd dispersed was a small girl curled up on the ground.
Her sky-blue hair lay scattered on the dirt, covered in dust and grass clippings. She wore a faded old dress, and her knees and elbows were covered in bruises and scrapes.
But those wounds were fading at a visible rate.
Dust and grass clippings were purified at a visible rate, subcutaneous bruises faded, scraped skin regrew, and the sound of dislocated bones gently clicked back into place.
She didn't cry.
She didn't even show any expression.
She just curled up there, looking at the ground with those sky-blue eyes.
Eladia.
Six years old.
A faint holy light involuntarily emanated from within her.
She instinctively reached out, but the next moment, she pulled her hand back due to the holy light's scorching sensation.
“Noelle.”
“I see it. The holy light still restrains you, but because she's so young, the output is very low. I can use a Mana Barrier to shield you from it.”
A thin, pale blue film of light appeared on her skin. The faint stinging sensation disappeared.
Esper knelt down.
At this distance, she could clearly see every detail on the small face. Round cheeks, contours that should have been soft, but appeared stiff from a long lack of expression.
Those sky-blue eyes finally turned from the ground to her.
Empty.
Nothing was there.
Not sadness, not anger, not fear.
Just emptiness, like a mirror reflecting nothing.
As clear as the sky.
Because there was nothing within.
“Are you okay?”
Esper softened her voice as much as possible.
No response.
Eladia merely looked at her, her eyes devoid of any emotion.
“You...”
Then she spoke.
“Are you here to hit me too?”
...
“Hey, did you hear? Something happened in Wheat Ear Village again.”
“What is it? Was that monster child beaten again?”
“Yeah, but this time it seems someone helped her.”
“Who?”
“Some black-haired little girl no one's seen before. She made the blacksmith's kid cry.”
“That kid can't die anyway, why help her?”
“Exactly, she doesn't feel pain anyway.”
“Hmm... how do you know she doesn't feel pain?”
“Because she never cries.”
Rate on N.U.
