Hannah stared as the boy threw himself at the wolf over and over again. These last few hours must be some form of a twisted feverish nightmare. What else could she call it?

  Watching someone ripped apart, again and again.

  Trying his best to dodge it, even just slightly, even as its claws sank into his chest.

  “Heal him.”

  That was all the demigod said, whenever his disciple was clearly about to die, and Hannah rushed to obey.

  Other than that, Dominic only watched.

  The boy—Calvin—picked himself up and launched himself at the monster again. It swatted him out of the air with a crack that left him broken and twitching, unable to rise, but still trying to.

  “Heal him.”

  “Please, I have no idea what he’s supposed to gain from this exercise, especially when he’s without any form of a base.”

  Dominic didn’t answer her, unmoved.

  Calvin didn’t stop. He only fought on, again and again and again, like a puppet stuck in a loop.

  “How is he supposed to kill an S-Ranked dungeon minion? At least if he was level 40, a C-ranked dungeon diver, and tried this, then… Sure, with some desperation and a copious amount of tries, he might be able to at least get a hit in, but at F-rank?”

  Trying to hit it even as it cut him in half, as the monster dodged all his attacks without effort.

  “Heal him.”

  Scratching at it futilely with his fading strength as it bit down.

  “Heal him.”

  Futilely adjusting the angle of his attack, with exactly the same result every time he hurled his body against the untouchable beast.

  “He can’t even see the monster when it uses its specialization to appear behind him… he can’t dodge it, or attack back, or do anything at all. How is he supposed to win? How is this supposed to help him learn? To grow?”

  “Heal him.”

  Hannah swallowed her instincts for protection and hid her tears. She couldn’t imagine how he wasn’t breaking down from the sheer pain of being almost killed so many times. Her healing repaired the damage, but no power could make it never happen.

  Calvin threw himself at the monster with relentless aggression, seemingly unbothered by the amount of damage he was being subjected to in return. How did he not flinch, even knowing he was about to be crushed or slashed again without the slightest hope of victory?

  He had absolute trust in his master. The demigod who simply told her to heal him again and again and again.

  And that’s what she did.

  Hannah watched for the thousandth time. No, that was only the number she’d managed to count till. This was definitely well past the thousandth time. It was likely the ten-thousandth, or maybe twenty-thousandth.

  She had lost count long ago as the boy was once again cut open—just as deeply as every single time before—almost in half. She could see his internal organs nearly spilling onto the cave floor. By now, she had begun dissociating, emotionally detaching from the whole thing.

  She should have just healed him. That was how it should have gone. That was how the process was supposed to be.

  Even now, she could feel the god’s eyes drift towards her, clearly telling her to heal the boy, just without any words.

  And yet. And yet. And yet.

  She couldn’t do it. She could not manage to raise her hands and just heal him. Not because she was tired, or exhausted, or because she’d strained herself too much. No, it was because this was wrong.

  Something about this attempt was the final straw. She could no longer just watch from the sidelines. She had protested before, yes, many times, but she had never truly opposed this insanity, this chaos—whatever in the Goddess’s name this was.

  And so, for the first time since she’d entered this dungeon—for the first time in a long, long, time, really—she chose to truly defy an authority figure.

  She leapt at Calvin, healing him before cradling him gently in her hands, not letting him get up again. The boy seemed surprised at her intervention, blinking blankly at her. Ignoring his reaction, however, she turned toward Dominic.

  She didn’t know what expression was on her face—despair, frustration, or perhaps ice-cold rage.

  "Is this fun for you?" she demanded, staring at the expressionless god. "Is that what this is? Taking a kid and torturing him again and again and again—this is fun for you? Clearly, you don’t care about this boy, or you wouldn’t put him through this. What kind of insane maniac are you?"

  Her voice trembled. "If you truly wanted to train him—if you truly wanted to—to—" She stuttered, sheer rage rendering her unable to form a coherent sentence.

  This man was a God. He had given them so much gold without the blink of an eye, and was able to even alter this dungeon’s functioning, somehow. She was not quite dumb enough to not know how whatever was happening here was not normal dungeon behavior. Not a single other monster spawning, and the monster attacking Calvin, pausing for long enough whenever she needed to heal the boy?

  Yes, clearly there were many things this man could do. Things he did not, for reasons she could not comprehend.

  Surely, he could find another method—one that didn’t involve his disciple being carved open or tortured brutally. But no. Instead, he threw him at this S-class monster, letting him suffer without even the slightest assistance beyond healing him.

  Couldn’t he give the boy a dagger? A sword? Armor? Anything that might help him?

  Apparently not, since he hadn’t.

  At that moment, Hannah didn’t care what her resistance meant. She wasn’t an offensively capable person. This god could probably end her without any effort at all. If he grew truly angry… Only the goddess knew what he would do to her, considering he was already so cruel to his own supposed disciple.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  And yet.

  And yet.

  She couldn’t just stand still any longer.

  Most of her life, she had stood on the sidelines, arguing that it was better not to intervene, that she shouldn’t take the risk. After all, the few times she had, it hadn’t made any difference, no?

  And that had been fine when it was just a matter of looking away for a moment—for a few moments. But this? If she still didn’t interfere after watching the kid suffer for this long, if she still didn’t stop this insanity…

  Then forget being a saintess—she could no longer call herself human.

  Surprisingly, it was Calvin who replied to her, not Dominic. The boy’s expression changed to one of faint surprise as he murmured, "No. I'm fine. Don’t worry about it. My master knows what he’s doing."

  Hannah’s rage didn’t diminish. If anything, the boy’s consideration only fueled it.

  "Look at him!" she seethed. "This kind boy—why are you misleading him? What are you even doing, demigod?"

  Dominic simply sighed. "Do not speak of matters you don’t understand, Saintess. This is a unique form of training. If my disciple doesn’t mind, then why do you?"

  At this, the demigod glanced at Calvin, one eyebrow raised. Hannah almost thought he wanted his disciple to object—to say something, anything.

  But Calvin remained silent, simply standing up, clearly ready to face the monsters again.

  Hannah couldn’t allow that.

  So instead of arguing with the stone wall that was Dominic—that insane demigod—she grabbed Calvin by the shoulders and turned him around.

  "Calvin, I don’t know what drives you like this. I don’t know why you’re so desperate, why you’re indulging in this madness. But please—stop. Trust me, this isn’t training. He’s torturing you for fun, or maybe he just doesn’t care. You have to listen to me. You can’t let this go on. I, we could instead—"

  She paused, realizing she had no solution to offer. Would Dominic even let them leave if Calvin stopped his training?

  But she couldn’t do nothing.

  "At least let me buff you," she said. True, she was a healer, but she was decent with light buffs. With those, maybe the boy could evade better—especially with her new temporary status and abilities.

  "The man you call ‘master’ is clearly some twisted, cruel god." And she meant it. Even if it condemned her to hell, even if it was blasphemy, even if it meant she’d enrage the man and suffer a thousand hells—this was the truth. What kind of god would do this to a boy they’d taken as a disciple?

  "If your master wanted to help you, with his power, it would be effortless. But he’s not. Please understand, Calvin. You must—you must—"

  "What must he?" Dominic interrupted, making her turn. "Tell me, Hannah. What must he do?"

  "You must resist," she finally said, locking eyes with Calvin. The words might have tasted bitter in any other situation—after all, she had never resisted before. It was hypocritical, coming from her.

  But right here, right now, it was needed.

  "Say something, Calvin," she begged, desperation bleeding into her voice.

  The boy turned to her, his gaze momentarily cold—ready to dismiss her concern, her care. But then he wavered, seeing the tears in her eyes.

  Finally, he looked at the cave wall and mumbled, "But I can’t. The fact that I’m failing isn’t a reflection of my master’s cruelty. It’s just my own weakness. If I could do better—"

  "You idiot!" she nearly screamed. "You have no weapon, no strength, no experience, no skill! What do you mean ‘do better’? Do you even hear yourself? You—you—"

  Her stuttering rant, as disjointed as it was, seemed to have some effect. Calvin’s lips twitched—almost amused.

  Then he turned to his master and for a long moment, hesitated. However, taking one more glance at her face, he finally asked, his tone beyond polite, "Master… is what Hannah said true? Is it just my lack of talent, as I thought? Or… should I be… getting more help?" He hesitated, clearly unwilling to be disrespectful, but pressed on. "Even if she’s wrong, please tell us, so she can be free of misunderstandings."

  Dominic studied them both for a long moment. Then he smiled.

  "Well," he said, "she’s not correct."

  Hannah’s heart sank.

  But then he continued, "This is a unique training method. Giving you weapons or armor would weaken your foundation, Calvin. However—" He paused as Hannah stared at him in despair, certain her words had changed nothing.

  "—it’s also true you’ve been training relentlessly. We could take a break." He shrugged. "Sometimes, a little rest is needed before a breakthrough."

  Calvin wilted slightly. "I don’t need a break. I can do this. I’m your disciple, Master—a demigod’s student. I should be able to do this."

  It wasn’t Dominic who answered.

  It was Hannah.

  "Calvin," she said, "even now, your master sounds insane to me. Expecting an unranked boy with nothing to survive this for a ‘stronger foundation’ is madness. But he’s offering you a break—so why don’t you take it? Do you not see you’re burning yourself out? Your movements aren’t improving—they’re getting worse, more sluggish!"

  She glanced at Dominic, catching his faintly satisfied expression—as if he’d wanted her to speak up, wanted Calvin to confront him rather than blindly obey.

  "Clearly," she continued, "your master wants you to ask—for help, for support, for a break, even just for an explanation."

  Dominic nodded. "The boy worships me, and perhaps that’s not wrong. I am a god, one with experience. But that doesn’t make me infallible." He grimaced. "I admit, this training is… harsh by human standards."

  "Harsh?" Hannah echoed, incredulous.

  Dominic sighed. "I know what you mean, Hannah. This isn’t easy. But it’s necessary. The path he’s chosen—the one I am leading him down—requires immense power. An unsteady foundation dooms the entire structure."

  His gaze darkened. "The number of gods I’ve seen die in ways that would make this training seem pleasant, even heavenly, by comparison… that’s why this is needed. But just because I can’t give him a weapon doesn’t mean I want to torture him. But, I’ve waited, because I don’t want blind obedience. I want him to question me. To ask for breaks. To be more than a follower—a disciple. A friend."

  He arched a brow at Calvin. "And really, Calvin? It took Hannah crying and almost 25,000 attempts before you finally asked me anything? I knew we were alike, but God, you’re as stubborn and dense as I was. Honestly, if Hannah hadn’t cracked… In a few hundred more attempts, I would have personally stopped you and asked you take a break."

  Calvin sputtered. "M-Master! You never told me I could take breaks!"

  Dominic snorted. "And you never asked. Did you really think I’d refuse? I know we don’t know each other well yet, but good god. True, if you’d asked after the first hundred tries—hell, even fifty tries—I’d have allowed it but maybe felt slightly disappointed. Maybe sat you down and have a honest conversation about the long journey ahead of you, and we could work on it. But twenty thousand? Are you trying to break your own mind?"

  As they bickered, Hannah stared blankly, exhaustion replacing her earlier fury. But deep in her heart, a quiet satisfaction lingered.

  For once, her resisting had led to something good, it seemed.

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