Some time passed after the world had been restored.
The forest stood whole again.
Unbroken.
Untouched.
As if the devastation from moments ago had never existed.
The waterfall roared in the distance, its endless cascade returning to its natural rhythm. Mist drifted once more through the clearing, soft and weightless beneath the afternoon light.
And at the center of it all—
Donovan sat upon the same stone.
Still.
Unmoved.
As though nothing of consequence had occurred.
His pale gaze shifted.
Returning to Angelita.
"So," he said calmly, his voice smooth, quiet—devoid of any unnecessary emotion.
"Shall we continue?"
Angelita sat on the ground, her hands lightly pressed against her chest. For a moment, she simply looked at him.
The memory of what she had just witnessed—
That overwhelming display of power—
Still lingered inside her mind.
But this time…
It did not paralyze her.
"…Yes," she said.
Her voice was soft at first—
Then steadier.
She rose to her feet.
The sound of the waterfall echoed gently behind them, blending with the quiet rustling of leaves. The scene was almost peaceful.
Almost.
Donovan stood.
In one smooth motion, he stepped down from the rock and faced her fully.
"Alright," he said.
"Begin."
Angelita inhaled slowly.
Her stance lowered.
Her body aligned.
Focused.
Sharp.
Across from her—
Donovan placed both hands in his pockets.
Relaxed.
Careless.
Or perhaps—
Confident beyond the need for caution.
In the next instant—
She moved.
A sudden burst forward—
Her body cut through the air as she lunged directly toward him, her fist driving forward toward his abdomen with precise intent.
Fast.
Clean.
Direct.
But—
He was already gone.
Not by jumping.
Not by stepping.
His body simply shifted.
A minimal movement—barely visible—yet enough to let the attack pass through empty space.
His hands never left his pockets.
Angelita's eyes widened.
But she didn't stop.
The moment her strike missed—
She adapted.
Her footing shifted sharply.
Her body pulled back—
Then surged forward again from a new angle.
Faster this time.
Closer.
More aggressive.
Her fists clenched tightly as she launched a rapid series of strikes, each one aimed with increasing urgency. Punch after punch cut through the air, her movements accelerating, her rhythm tightening as her instincts took over.
She wasn't hesitating anymore.
She was learning.
Her strikes began to chain together—
Angles shifting.
Timing changing.
Pressure building.
And yet—
None of it touched him.
Donovan moved.
Effortlessly.
Each motion was minimal.
Economical.
Perfect.
He didn't retreat.
He didn't counter.
He simply… wasn't where her attacks landed.
A slight turn of his shoulder.
A subtle lean.
A step no larger than necessary.
Every strike passed him by as though guided away by something unseen.
And through it all—
His hands remained in his pockets.
Angelita's attacks intensified.
Faster.
Sharper.
Relentless.
Her fists blurred as they cut through the space around him, each one carrying more intent than the last.
Still—
Nothing.
The distance between them remained absolute.
Untouchable.
Time stretched.
Seconds became minutes.
And the exchange continued.
A one-sided storm.
Angelita attacked—
Again.
Again.
Again.
Donovan avoided—
Again.
Again.
Again.
Without effort.
Without strain.
Without even a single wasted motion.
Then—
He spoke.
"Attacking… is an art, Angelita."
His voice cut through the rhythm of her strikes.
Calm.
Uninterrupted.
Even as he continued to evade her with flawless precision.
"Not a sequence of random blows."
Another strike missed.
He tilted his head slightly.
"Every movement you make—"
A step.
A shift.
A breath.
"—must have intention."
Her fist passed inches from his face.
He didn't flinch.
"Every position you take—must have meaning."
He moved again.
Barely.
And she missed.
Again.
"Right now…"
A pause.
His gaze settled on her.
"…you're just throwing force into emptiness."
Angelita gritted her teeth.
Her breathing grew heavier.
But she didn't stop.
She couldn't.
Not anymore.
Because now—
She understood.
This wasn't just about hitting him.
This was about learning how to fight.
For real.
Donovan's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Don't fight like a character pretending to be strong," he said quietly.
"Fight like someone who understands what strength actually is."
Another strike.
Another miss.
But this time—
Angelita's movement slowed.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Not from exhaustion—
But from thought.
Her eyes sharpened.
Her breathing steadied.
Her next step—
More controlled.
More deliberate.
The wildness in her attacks began to fade.
Replaced by something new.
Something quieter.
Something… precise.
And for the first time—
Donovan noticed the shift.
A faint, almost imperceptible change.
Small.
But real.
And that—
Was exactly what he was waiting for.
Angelita moved again.
This time—
There was no rush.
No wasted motion.
Her stance settled into something sharper, quieter. Her breathing aligned with her steps, her focus narrowing until the world beyond Donovan seemed to fade.
Then—
She attacked.
Her first strike came clean.
Precise.
Measured.
A direct line toward his center.
Donovan shifted.
Effortless.
The attack missed.
But—
The second came immediately.
Not from the same angle.
Not with the same rhythm.
She adjusted.
Adapted.
Her fists began to move in controlled sequences—each strike linked to the next with intention rather than impulse.
Donovan watched.
Calm.
Observing.
(…Interesting.)
A subtle shift in his gaze.
(Her accuracy… is improving.)
He moved as he always had.
Minimal.
Perfect.
Untouched.
And yet—
Something had changed.
The space around him felt tighter now.
More contested.
More alive.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
The exchange continued without pause—
Angelita advancing.
Donovan evading.
A dance of precision and absence.
Until—
Two hours slipped by.
And finally—
Angelita's body gave in.
She collapsed to her knees.
Her breathing broke.
Heavy.
Uneven.
Sweat clung to her skin, her muscles trembling under the strain of continuous motion.
"…Ugh…" she gasped.
Her fingers pressed into the ground beneath her.
"This isn't working…!"
Her voice shook—
But it didn't break.
"…but I'm not stopping!"
She pushed herself up.
Again.
Unsteady—
But standing.
Donovan watched her.
Quietly.
And for the first time—
There was something different in his gaze.
He wasn't just observing her movements anymore.
He was looking at her.
At what drove them.
And what he saw—
Was clear.
Her eyes.
Her soul.
Burning.
(…Now this…)
A faint, almost imperceptible thought passed through him.
(…this is something worth seeing.)
Angelita stepped forward.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Then—
She attacked again.
Faster than before.
Sharper.
Each punch carried intention.
Each movement was calculated.
Her body flowed forward with controlled aggression, her strikes no longer scattered, but directed—guided by instinct refined through failure.
Donovan moved.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Every strike missed.
But—
She didn't stop.
She pressed forward.
And for the first time—
He began to move back.
Not forced.
Not pressured.
But responding.
Each of her strikes pushed the space between them, inch by inch, step by step.
The distance shifted.
The rhythm changed.
Angelita's eyes sharpened.
(Closer…)
Her next strike—
Faster.
More precise.
And then—
It happened.
Her fist passed—
Close.
Too close.
The edge of her knuckles brushed the side of his face.
A faint ripple moved through his hair.
The air trembled.
For the smallest fraction of a second—
She had reached him.
Donovan's eyes narrowed.
Not in anger—
But in acknowledgment.
Then—
He moved.
Faster than before.
His leg struck out—
A clean, precise motion that broke her balance instantly.
Angelita fell.
The ground met her hard.
And for a moment—
Silence.
Then—
She froze.
Her body tensed.
Her eyes widened.
(I messed up.)
The realization hit her instantly.
Without hesitation—
She lowered her head to the ground.
"I—I'm sorry!" she shouted.
Her voice trembled.
"I made a mistake!"
The clearing went still again.
Donovan stood over her.
Quiet.
Unreadable.
For a moment—
He said nothing.
Then—
He reached up.
And brushed his hair lightly back into place.
A simple motion.
As if nothing of importance had occurred.
Angelita slowly lifted her head.
Careful.
Cautious.
Expecting—
Something.
But what she saw—
Stopped her.
Donovan's hand.
Extended toward her.
Waiting.
Offering.
"…Well done," he said calmly.
His voice carried the same cool tone—
But beneath it—
Something softer lingered.
"You didn't land a hit."
A pause.
"But you reached me."
Angelita's eyes widened.
"…You're learning faster than I expected."
Her expression softened.
Just slightly.
Hesitation replaced fear.
Slowly—
She raised her hand.
And placed it in his.
The moment their hands touched—
Everything changed.
A sensation surged through her.
Not pain.
Not force.
But something vast.
Something immeasurable.
It felt—
Endless.
As if her very existence had been dipped into something far beyond understanding.
Warm.
Boundless.
Free.
For a brief moment—
Her awareness drifted.
Her body remained—
But her mind…
Her soul…
Felt as if it had been lifted into a quiet, infinite space.
Weightless.
Peaceful.
She didn't want it to end.
Then—
It did.
Donovan pulled her up.
Effortlessly.
The moment their hands separated—
The sensation vanished.
Angelita blinked.
Her breath caught slightly.
Reality returned.
"I—I'm sorry…" she murmured softly, looking down.
Donovan said nothing.
Instead—
He placed his hand gently on her head.
A simple gesture.
A light pat.
And yet—
It carried that same strange, comforting presence.
Not overwhelming this time—
But enough.
Enough to steady her.
Enough to quiet the remnants of her doubt.
Angelita slowly looked up at him.
Her eyes softened.
"I…" she began.
But the words didn't come.
Donovan removed his hand.
"Come," he said.
"Training is over for today."
He turned.
Hands returning to his pockets as he began to walk.
"I'll take you home. Like I said."
Angelita remained where she stood for a moment.
Watching him.
Silent.
Then—
A thought surfaced.
(That touch…)
Her breath slowed.
(It felt like… my soul was floating somewhere warm… free…)
A pause.
(…and familiar.)
Her eyes flickered slightly.
(System…?)
Silence.
For a brief moment—
There was no response.
(System… where are you?)
Then—
The voice returned.
— Answer —
— I am here, Angelita-sama. —
Relief passed through her instantly.
(Where have you been?)
A small pause.
Then—
— Answer —
— Forgive me. —
— The Creator instructed me not to interfere or speak during your training. —
Angelita blinked.
Then slowly—
She nodded.
(…I see.)
Of course.
That made sense.
He had been guiding everything.
Watching everything.
(Welcome back,) she thought softly.
— Answer —
— Thank you, Angelita-sama. —
Angelita's gaze lifted.
Toward Donovan.
He had already stopped walking.
Standing at a distance.
Waiting.
Watching.
He knew.
Of course he knew.
The exchange.
The conversation.
Everything.
But this time—
She didn't panic.
She didn't feel exposed.
She simply smiled.
A genuine smile.
Light.
Warm.
Then—
She ran toward him.
"Wait for me, Donovan!" she called out, raising her hand slightly as she caught up to him.
And for the first time—
The distance between them…
Didn't feel so absolute anymore.
Angelita quickened her pace.
Within moments, she was walking beside him.
"Alright—let's go," she said, closing her eyes for a brief second as a bright, excited smile spread across her face.
Donovan gave a small nod.
And continued forward.
She followed.
Close.
The forest stretched around them as they walked—branches swaying gently, leaves whispering with the passing wind. The distant roar of the waterfall gradually faded behind them, its presence dissolving into memory as the path carried them farther away.
Donovan's gaze remained lifted toward the sky.
Unwavering.
As though something far beyond the visible horizon held his attention.
Angelita glanced at him.
Then followed his gaze.
The sky had begun to shift—its blue softening as the sun leaned toward the edge of the world.
She hesitated.
Silence lingered between them.
And for some reason—
It felt heavier than before.
She didn't like it.
(…Say something.)
Her fingers curled slightly.
(Anything.)
"So…" she began, her voice light but edged with nervousness.
"What's it like… being a Creator?"
A small smile remained on her lips.
Donovan didn't look at her.
"Responsibilities," he said.
His tone was calm.
Distant.
"Maintaining balance. Ensuring stability across countless worlds."
A faint pause.
Then—
"And I can tell you're trying to start a conversation."
Another pause.
"…There isn't really a proper script for this."
Angelita blinked.
"…Script?" she repeated, confused.
Donovan finally glanced at her.
For a brief moment—
He lifted his hand and brushed it lightly against the side of his head, as if dismissing the thought.
"Forget that," he said.
Then, after a short pause—
"I'll ask instead."
His gaze settled on her.
"How is the academy?"
Angelita's expression brightened immediately.
"Oh—it's good," she said, a genuine smile forming.
"I even made a friend."
Donovan reached out.
And placed his hand gently on her head.
"Good," he said simply.
The moment his hand touched her—
That same sensation returned.
Warm.
Deep.
Something beyond physical contact.
Angelita's breath softened.
Her body felt lighter, as if gravity itself had loosened its hold on her. Her thoughts drifted slightly, her awareness slipping into that same quiet, endless space she had felt before.
Comforting.
Strangely familiar.
Then—
It ended.
His hand moved away.
And reality returned.
Angelita blinked quickly, trying to steady herself.
(That's… embarrassing…)
Her cheeks warmed faintly.
(But… why does it feel so… comforting?)
Donovan's gaze had already returned to the sky.
(…Good.)
A quiet thought passed through him.
(At least she didn't become like her… in this line.)
They walked in silence again.
But this time—
It wasn't uncomfortable.
After a moment, Donovan spoke.
"Do you want to get there faster?"
Angelita looked ahead, then back at him.
"Oh—yes, that would help," she said.
Donovan nodded slightly.
"I know a shortcut."
A brief pause.
"Place your hands here."
He stopped.
Angelita hesitated for a split second—
Then stepped closer.
Her hands rested lightly against his chest.
And instantly—
She froze.
(…What?)
Her eyes widened slightly.
His body—
Solid.
Not just strong.
But dense.
Like touching something that shouldn't be human.
(Why does he feel like this…?)
Before she could process it—
Donovan's hand moved.
It rested gently against her waist.
Angelita's breath caught.
Her body stiffened instinctively.
"Ready?" he asked calmly.
She nodded.
"…Yes."
Then—
The world disappeared.
No movement.
No transition.
No sense of travel.
Just—
A shift.
"Alright," Donovan said.
"We're here."
Angelita blinked.
She stepped back quickly, looking around in confusion.
"W-what? But we didn't even—"
Her voice cut off.
Her eyes widened.
The forest was gone.
In its place—
Familiar streets.
Houses.
Her home.
Right in front of her.
Her gaze moved rapidly between Donovan and the house.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
"…That's not even surprising anymore…" she muttered under her breath.
Donovan said nothing.
"So," he said calmly, "shall we?"
Angelita cleared her throat.
"…Y-yes."
She stepped forward.
Toward the door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
The door opened.
Mina stood there.
The moment she saw Angelita—
Her expression softened instantly.
"Angelita," she said gently, pulling her into a warm embrace.
"You're late."
Angelita returned the hug.
"…Sorry, Mom."
Mina pulled back slightly, concern flickering in her eyes.
"Is everything alright?"
Angelita scratched the back of her head nervously.
"Well… I was training and—"
She hesitated.
Then stepped aside.
Revealing him.
"…Donovan helped me."
Silence fell.
Instantly.
Mina's eyes met his.
And everything changed.
Her face drained of color.
Her pupils shrank.
Her entire body stiffened—
As if something deep within her had recognized him before her mind could understand.
She didn't speak.
She couldn't.
Then—
A voice.
Cold.
Quiet.
But absolute.
"Why," Donovan said,
"is something like you… here?"
His eyes remained fixed on her.
Unblinking.
"And why… do you exist in a place like this?"
Angelita froze.
Her confusion spiked instantly.
"…What?"
She turned to her mother.
"M-Mom…?"
Mina didn't respond.
Her lips trembled slightly.
Her breathing grew shallow.
Inside her mind—
Only one thought remained.
(…No.)
(Why is he here…?)
(Why now…?)
The air grew heavy.
And for the first time since leaving the forest—
Angelita felt something was… wrong.