I Don't Need To Log Out

Arlon opened his eyes slowly.

The world felt soft. Warm. Too warm.

Something smooth ran through his hair in a rhythmic, almost maternal motion. It wasn't the sterile feeling of magic or the cold press of stone. It was skin. Fingers. A hand.

His head was resting on someone's lap.

Agema's lap.

Before he even had time to react, her voice reached him.

"Are you awake now?"

He froze.

Then, almost violently, he raised his head. His body straightened in a panic, and he stood up in one swift motion.

Too swift. His balance faltered for a moment, and the blood rushed to his face like a spell misfiring.

He didn't say anything at first. He couldn't. He was too busy trying not to die of embarrassment.

How long had she been letting him sleep like that?

"How long has it been?" he asked, voice more controlled than he felt.

Agema smiled. Her posture hadn't changed. She sat there, legs folded to the side, hands resting calmly on her lap now that his head wasn't occupying the space.

"Just a few hours."

Only a few? It felt like a lifetime.

His memory returned in fragments—what he had done before collapsing. The way he hugged June.

The way he didn't even hesitate. It had been instinctive. Honest. But now, in retrospect, it burned through him like fire in his veins.

His eyes scanned the space, searching, almost hoping she wasn't—

"She logged out," Agema said before he could ask.

Arlon froze again.

"Ah," she added, her tone light, "she wanted to stay until you woke up, but she was forced to log out."

So, she'd waited. Of course, she did.

He looked at Agema again, almost expecting the teasing tone to kick in.

The smug smirk. A sarcastic comment about how it was about time or how someone finally broke.

That was how it had always been—three months of training and Agema never missed a chance to poke fun at how obviously nothing was going on between them.

And there was really nothing going on back then.

But now?

Nothing.

Even though what Arlon did was not different than accepting he had feelings for June.

No teasing. No smugness. Just that same serene expression, like what happened hadn't even registered.

Of course, he had hugged Agema first; all three of them knew by now that he didn't think of Agema that way.

So, Arlon wondered why Agema didn't mock him when there was something to mock.

And that was when Arlon realized—

This was the real torture.

He knew her well enough to tell. The silence wasn't indifference. It was intentional. Carefully maintained.

And the worst part was that Agema was probably reading his mind.

Even though she always played it off, probably to make sure Arlon and June didn't find it weird being around her, she was an ascended existence.

Even if this version of her was just a piece of her soul, it was still her. And she could read their minds.

She could hear everything.

She just didn't say anything.

And that made it so much worse.

His thoughts spiraled for a moment until one landed, heavy and real.

He looked at her.

"I met you," he said.

Agema's expression softened even more.

"I know," she said. "I could see it all."

That caught him off guard. He hadn't thought it would be possible.

The version of her he met in that space was the main soul, the real Agema. This version—the one in Trion—was a part of her.

And he thought that even though the main body could observe the Agema on Trion, it wouldn't work the same way when she tried to observe the main body.

But apparently, he was wrong.

"We aren't fighting each other," Agema answered his unasked question. "I know I am a part of her, just like your doppelganger. So, of course, I can see through her eyes."

"Then you know where I was," Arlon said, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, I do," she replied.

There was no hesitation in her voice. No confusion, no doubt.

"You said you had a few guesses about why I go there," he continued. "I know you can't tell me everything. But… can you tell me if I should be worried?"

For a moment, she didn't respond.

Her honey-colored eyes—the ones that always held something more than what they showed—met his with a quiet clarity.

Then, slowly, she shook her head.

"I wouldn't worry about it much."

That was it.

Not a yes. Not a no.

It was Agema's way of reassuring him without saying anything specific. He knew it. She always spoke like that when she wanted him to stop thinking too deeply.

And oddly, it worked.

He trusted her. Enough to let the weight of those thoughts fade.

Besides, it didn't matter now.

That was the last time.

He wouldn't go there again—not from Trion.

He had reached level 300.

The Tower had been his only real chance to push beyond that. To get close to 350. And even if another opportunity came, he wasn't sure he'd take it.

Now, he had to focus on Asef.

That was the next fight.

And unlike the Tower, this one wasn't about climbing. It was about survival.

He didn't know Asef's level. Didn't know what he was capable of. All he knew was that the fight could go either way.

If he won, he would return to Earth.

And if he lost—well, he'd still return. Just not the same way.

There would be no more black spaces. Not for the foreseeable future.

He sat down again, his shoulders relaxing just slightly.

He changed the topic, skipping the part where he told her some excuse about what happened with June.

He could try something like I was alone in the Tower for so long that I didn't know what I was doing when I came back.

But he would be caught red-handed. Agema could see through his lies easily.

So, Arlon decided not to try that.

He knew this was the right call since he saw a brief movement from Agema's lips; she was probably smiling inside.

"I'm level 300," he said.

"Yes, you are. Congratulations. I knew my disciple could do it." Agema answered with her usual demanour.

"So, can you tell me when I will ascend?"

Hearing the question, Agema started laughing.