A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 462 - 451: Curiosity of a Goddess

[Location: Realm of Iofiel]

It came without warning.

One moment, Grimm stood within the clarity of memory, so structured and contained it was, almost obedient in how recollections should be. The next, that structure gave way, dissolving into something that was less bound. The world shifted beneath him without resistance, and he found himself once again standing within that familiar place.

The ground stretched out in a vast expanse, covered in flowers that did not belong to any world he knew. Their glow was almost restrained but constant—petals emitting a small radiance. Above, the sky was endless, scattered with distant stars that felt closer than they should have been, as if the distance between things here did not obey the same rules.

It was silent, but not empty.

It was familiar, but not his.

Grimm stood still for a moment, letting that familiar air settle into him. There was no tension in his posture.

Then the voice came.

"It seems the power I used did have a lingering effect."

It reached him gently, that voice—soft, even, carrying a warmth that did not demand attention but earned it anyway. It was a voice that could quiet a room without effort, one that could sit in someone’s mind long after it had stopped speaking. There was something almost indulgent about it, like a sweetness that lingered just a moment too long.

Grimm turned, unhurried.

"Yes," he replied after a brief pause, his tone as neutral as ever, though quieter than usual. "It would seem that what should have remained fragmented has instead become much more immediate. Dreams no longer feel like distortions." His hidden gaze settled on her fully now. "They carry the same clarity as fresh memories."

He folded his gauntleted arms across his chest.

"But as you mentioned before," he continued, his voice lowering slightly as if thinking through the words as he spoke them, "this is less about creating something new and more about pulling what already exists closer to the surface. Things I had no reason to revisit are now readily accessible."

His gaze lingered on her.

("Eziel... Annabeth...")

The names passed through his mind without sound.

("I can recall their expressions in full. The way they spoke. The pauses between their words, even the smaller details I would have otherwise ignored.")

That was the strange part.

Not that he remembered—but how clearly, it did not feel like a simple recollection.

Grimm exhaled quietly beneath his helmet before continuing, his tone flattening again as he returned to the present.

"I assume you’ve been observing," he said. "Considering this is the result of your power. It would be inefficient not to."

Before him stood Iofiel.

Radiant did not quite capture it.

Her presence did more than simply draw the eye. Light seemed to gather around her, settling along the outline of her form. Her wings, though still, carried a small motion to them, like they existed slightly out of sync with the rest of her.

She placed a delicate hand over her chest, the gesture smooth and seemingly practiced, though not insincere.

"I apologize," she said softly, her voice carrying that same gentle warmth. "It was not my intention to intrude upon something so personal. I understand that one’s past is not always meant to be observed, especially not by another."

Her gaze held his.

"Unlike many of my kind, I do not take such things lightly. Mortals are entitled to their privacy. Their memories, their thoughts, and their experiences—those are not things to be taken without consideration."

A small pause followed, just enough to let the sentiment settle.

"It is only natural," she added, a small lift to her tone, "for a radiant Goddess such as myself to exercise restraint in such matters."

There it was.

That slight shift that was barely concealed.

Grimm did not react outwardly.

"I don’t particularly care," he said plainly, his voice cutting cleanly through the softness of hers. "Whether you watched or not makes little difference to me. They are just memories. Nothing more."

His gaze drifted for a brief moment, not away from her entirely.

"The past has no relevance beyond what use it can offer. Once something has already occurred, it holds no inherent value. It cannot be altered or improved. It simply exists." His arms remained folded. "So whether you saw it or not is irrelevant."

There was a pause.

Then, more directly:

"How long will this persist?"

Iofiel’s expression shifted, just slightly—not into discomfort, but into a more thoughtful expression.

"I cannot say for certain," she admitted, her wings giving the smallest of twitches behind her, subtle enough to almost be missed. "Your condition is unusual. As you know, being tied to a dragon alters the way your existence interacts with external influences. Effects that would fade for others may linger for you or evolve into something else entirely." Her gaze softened just a fraction. "An estimate would be unreliable."

Grimm’s head tilted a fraction.

"Not as absolute as you present yourself, then," he said, the smallest edge of dry amusement threading through his otherwise flat tone.

For just a moment—barely a moment—something ignited in her expression. A small tension, it was a restrained reaction.

But it was gone just as quickly.

Instead, she shifted the topic.

"I must admit," she continued, her tone returning to that softness, though now carrying a hint of curiosity beneath it, "I find myself somewhat surprised." Her eyes remained on him. "When you first appeared, you carried yourself as someone entirely detached. Indifferent even. As though nothing held your interest beyond momentary curiosity."

A slight step closer followed.

"And yet when you revisited those memories, there was something else." A pause. "It was quite close to contentment."

Her gaze searched his helmet.

"You may present yourself as uncaring," she said gently, "but what I saw suggests otherwise. There was something sentimental there. I’m right aren’t I?"

"That is not your concern," Grimm replied, just as bluntly as before, though this time there was a small delay before the words came—as if he had considered responding differently and chose not to.

Iofiel’s lips curved.

Not into something wide or overt, but enough to be noticeable.

("He’s irritated even if only slightly.")

The thought remained unspoken, but her expression carried it.

("Good. That’s what you get for speaking to me like that earlier.")

There was a trace of satisfaction there, quickly masked beneath her usual composure.

After all, she was a radiant Goddess.

"Well, it is at least reassuring to see that you have some measure of bite to you, Goddess," Grimm admitted after a brief pause, his tone carrying a trace of approval. His helmet tilted ever so slightly to the side as if reassessing her. "If nothing else, that alone ensures that interacting with you will not become as painfully dull as most other exchanges tend to."

There was no exaggeration in his words. If anything, they came across as a verdict he had already decided on.

Iofiel’s expression did not falter.

"I haven’t the faintest idea what you could possibly be referring to," she replied innocently. Her wings gave an almost playful lift behind her, a motion that mimicked a shrug without breaking her posture. "You seem to be attributing intent where there is none. I assure you, I am merely as I am."

There was something almost too innocent about that answer.

Grimm watched her for a moment longer than necessary.

("So she’ll deny it outright...") His arms slowly unfolded from across his chest. ("But there’s pettiness at least. A Goddess displaying something like that...") There was no judgment in the thought. If anything, there was the faintest hint of interest. ("That makes her slightly more interesting.")

His head straightened again.

"Well," he said, dismissing the matter with a small, almost absent motion of his hand, "if that is how you prefer to present it, then I will not press the issue further. It would be a waste of time to argue over something so minor."

A pause, then his tone shifted.

"Though, if I may offer a suggestion," he added, "if you possess that kind of spirit, even in small ways, it might serve you better to apply it to something of actual use rather than hiding it behind a composed front."

Iofiel tilted her head at that.

"Hm?" she uttered softly, the single sound carrying both curiosity and mild confusion, though not entirely genuine. "I’m not certain I follow. You speak as though I am restraining something when in truth, I am simply behaving as one would expect."

Grimm exhaled lightly.

"No matter," he said, waving it off as if the clarification no longer interested him. "It’s not particularly important. Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not changes very little."

He shifted his stance slightly, grounding himself again in the present moment.

"I assume you brought me here for a reason," he continued, his tone returning to its usual level. "You do not strike me as someone who would go out of their way to pull another into a space like this without purpose." A brief pause, then he said more bluntly, "Or was this simply an indulgence? A moment of curiosity on your part?"

Iofiel’s gaze remained steady on him, her expression serene as ever, though the smallest trace of a firmer emotion settled beneath it.

"A Goddess such as myself does not concern herself with idle indulgence," she said, her voice carrying dignity, each word firm. "I do not act without reason, nor do I involve myself in matters without intent. What you perceive as casual is anything but."

Her wings stilled completely now, the earlier movement gone.

"I brought you here," she continued, "because there are matters that require your attention. Matters that extend beyond your immediate interests whether you choose to acknowledge them or not."

Grimm did not interrupt.

"Then speak," he said simply, his tone neither impatient nor eager. "If there is something of importance, I see no reason to delay it with unnecessary preamble."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Iofiel spoke again, and this time, there was no softness behind her words, even if her tone remained calm.

"You would do well to listen carefully," she said, her gaze sharpening ever so slightly, the pressure of her presence becoming more apparent without any visible change in posture. "Because what I am about to tell you concerns something far beyond the scope of your current understanding and far beyond something you can simply dismiss as ’uninteresting.’"

A brief pause.

"It concerns the avatar of The Abhorrent."