A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 461 - 450: Dream Again IV

[Dream of the Defier]

He didn’t get tired often.

That alone set him apart from most of the cadets in the room, who shifted in their seats as the lecture stretched on, some fighting off fatigue, others forcing themselves to stay attentive out of discipline more than interest. Grimm, on the other hand, rarely felt that kind of physical wear. His body simply didn’t respond the same way.

And yet there was something about sitting through a lesson that made him want to yawn.

Not out of exhaustion, but more out of a large creeping disinterest that settled in the longer he stayed still and the longer he was expected to listen instead of act or think on his own terms.

He didn’t yawn, though. Not this time at least, never when she was the one speaking.

His posture, however, remained relaxed, leaning slightly back in his seat, one arm resting loosely while the other shifted just enough to keep him comfortable. His bangs still obscured his eyes, but there was at least a small steadiness in how his head was angled toward the front of the room.

Respect.

It was a rare thing for him.

And the fact that he extended even that much—to simply not be openly dismissive and to not disengage entirely—said more than most would realize.

Even then, he only half-listened.

The lecturers voice carried clearly through the room, soothing and firm at the same time, never needing to rise to command attention. She spoke of Astrothians—their biology, their variations, and the way their bodies differed depending on origin and classification. Their affinity with mana, the way they could use it to strengthen them or sometimes destabilize them.

Grimm followed enough to understand.

("They adapt to use mana in various ways. Not counting the Seven Divine Beasts, they are all ranked accordingly. Stronger ones usually lead while weaker ones get used.")

It wasn’t a complicated system.

His gaze drifted slightly, not away from her, but not entirely fixed either.

Cadets would be sent north.

That part wasn’t explicitly stated in those exact words, but it didn’t need to be. It was implied in this detailed lesson, in the emphasis placed on understanding Astrothians, and also in how she framed certain details.

Preparation for them, eventually deployment due to their expendability.

("They’ll probably send them in waves.")

The thought came easily.

Most of the cadets around him didn’t seem to process it that way. Or if they did, they buried it under something else—duty, loyalty, or pride in the empire. Grimm could almost feel it in the room, that collective belief that what they were doing mattered in a way that justified whatever came next.

("Loyalty is about all they have going for them.")

He leaned back a little further as the lecture began to wrap up, the holographic display dimming slightly as the lecturer finished her final point.

There was a brief pause.

Then movement.

Chairs shifted and soft conversations sparked. Cadets began standing, gathering their things and filing out in loose clusters. The room slowly filled with noise again, the tension of the lesson dissolving.

Grimm stayed where he was.

A few glances came his way as people passed. Not subtle ones.

Some sharp or lingering, he didn’t bother to return them.

It didn’t take long before the room began to empty, the noise thinning until it was mostly just footsteps fading into the hallway beyond.

And then he felt it, that attention.

He didn’t need to look to know she was approaching.

Still, his head tilted slightly as her steps came into view unhurriedly, stopping just a short distance from where he sat.

"Color me surprised," the lecturer began, her tone light, in fact, it almost sounded teasing. One hand rested on her hip as she looked down at him. "You actually deigned to show up today. I was starting to think I’d have to track you down myself or worse, have a very long and very unpleasant conversation with Eziel about your attendance."

Grimm didn’t sit up.

"The old man begged me," he replied, just as plainly as before, though there was a small shift in his tone to sound less dismissive. "He was convinced you’d end up nagging him again if I didn’t. Said he didn’t have the patience for it this time."

A small pause.

"And no one wants to deal with the renowned Annabeth when she’s in that mood," he added, almost as an afterthought.

There was no emphasis on the compliment.

If anything, it sounded like he wasn’t entirely sure he meant it that way.

Her lips curved into a smile anyway.

"Oh? An attempt at flattery?" she said, tilting her head just slightly, studying him. "You’re improving, Grimm. Slowly, but I’ll take what I can get."

The smile lingered, soft, but it was endearing.

"But I suppose I should thank you for sparing Eziel the trouble. Even if your reasoning was less than noble."

Grimm didn’t respond to that.

Annabeth let the silence sit for a moment before shifting slightly, her posture relaxing enough to signal a change in direction.

"At any rate," she continued, her voice smoothing out again, "have you been keeping up with your training? Or is that something else you’ve decided to approach selectively?"

"I’ve been working on my Draconic Resonance," Grimm answered, direct as always. "That part’s useful." A small pause followed. "But the close-quarters combat," he went on, his tone flattening slightly, "I don’t see the point in continuing that."

Annabeth’s expression didn’t change.

"Oh?" she said, not dismissing it or even challenging it outright either. Just inviting him to continue. "And why is that?"

Grimm shifted slightly in his seat, folding his arms loosely.

"Descendants are already beyond most people physically," he said. "Even sorcerers who enhance themselves with magic can’t match that baseline. In a direct confrontation, there’s no situation where I lose purely because of physical ability." 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

He said it without pride or hesitation, to him, it wasn’t a boast.

It was a conclusion he had already reached.

"For me," he added, quieter but no less certain, "it’s redundant."

For a moment, Annabeth simply looked at him with no immediate response or correction.

Just that steady, unreadable gaze.

"Always operate under the assumption that there are people stronger than you," she said, her words familiar. "More skilled and more experienced. People who’ve seen things you haven’t."

A brief pause.

"Remember?"

"I do," Grimm replied, leaning back again, his tone unchanged. "I just don’t think it matters to me."

That earned a slight narrowing of her eyes, however, it was not in irritation, but rather in thought.

"I don’t plan on doing much fighting," he continued, more casually now. "I’m closer to a scholar than anything else. That’s where my interest is."

Annabeth’s expression softened.

"Then pursue that," she said, without hesitation. "Your ambitions should come first. I won’t fault you for that, Grimm. Not now, not ever." There was warmth in her voice, it was one of the rare genuine things here. "But," she added after a moment, her tone shifting just slightly, grounding itself again, "you already know it isn’t that simple. Not here at least."

Grimm exhaled lightly.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Descendants outside the Von Auerswald bloodline serve in the military. It is mandatory with no exceptions."

He recited it like a rule he’d memorized long ago.

"The empire uses what it has," Annabeth said, her voice soothing. "Every asset and advantage. You, me, we’re all part of that system."

And yet she smiled. It was not a cold or bitter smile, just a gentle one.

"But at the very least," she continued, "I’ll make sure you have the tools to reach what you want. You’re still a child, Grimm. No matter what they expect of you."

That word lingered.

Child.

It didn’t fit with him.

Grimm looked at her then—really looked.

Those blue compassionate eyes you could lose yourself in, that warm smile that bloomed onto her face, that expression of care, that familiarity of it.

She was...

Beautiful.

("...Right.")

She had always been like this.

A constant in his life, something steady.

He had almost forgotten.

The realization came without warning.

("This is what she looked like.")

The thought settled in and then—

It slipped, the moment fractured.

Grimm blinked.

And she was gone.

The room remained exactly as it had been—the same desks, the same dim light and the same emptiness—but something had shifted. The scale and feeling of it.

His body felt different, it was heavier and encased.

The familiar weight of armor pressed against him. His frame was no longer that of a young cadet—taller now, broader, obscured entirely beneath black plating. The world felt more distant through it.

His hand lifted slightly, the gauntlet coming into view as he flexed his fingers once.

No one else was there.

No footsteps or voices.

Just silence.

Grimm’s head tilted slightly, as if listening for something that wasn’t there.

Then, without urgency, he spoke.

"Hm," he murmured, the sound low, almost lost in the empty space. "Are you watching, Goddess?"