Chapter 112: No Candidates Were Recommended to Him
The unnerving silence in the room made Ethan Cross apprehensive, wondering if he had said the wrong thing.
Leo Fane, standing beside him, saw his discomfort and came to his rescue. "Marshal, Ethan is just worried about you. He also thinks you and Miss Wexler would be a great match, that’s all..."
’He wasn’t the first person to ask me this today.’ Cillian recalled His Majesty’s earlier inquiry.
Cillian Forrest lowered his gaze. Ethan Cross saw the tension in his posture ease slightly and knew the Marshal wasn’t truly angry, nor did he blame them for meddling. Only then did Ethan himself relax.
"Marshal, your Spiritual Sea needs a Healer-class," Leo Fane said, speaking up again.
Cillian Forrest raised a hand, signaling them to stop. "I have my own plans regarding this matter."
At that, Ethan Cross and Leo Fane immediately fell silent. They exchanged a look but said nothing more.
But the same thought surfaced in both their minds: ’The Marshal has no intention of getting matched.’
’Why?’
Once they were outside, they couldn’t hold it in any longer. Ethan Cross was filled with disbelief. "Why? The Marshal obviously treats Miss Wexler differently. Why won’t he apply for a match?"
"Miss Wexler is the highest-Level Healer-class in the history of the Empire! It’s practically impossible for anyone to ever surpass her Level."
In contrast to Ethan’s agitation, Leo Fane was much calmer. "Perhaps the Marshal really does have his own plans."
Meanwhile, back in the room, Cillian Forrest leaned back in his chair, no longer in the mood to deal with the pile of work before him.
He thought back to what His Majesty and Ethan Cross had said.
’Why not get matched?’
To be precise, he *had* submitted an application. But... it was different from everyone else’s.
He had never submitted an application before, so no one else knew that because his Level was too high, he wasn’t part of the general pool of applicants.
Instead, a special channel existed just for him, one where he could see all the available Healer-classes.
The Light Brain didn’t just push suitable candidates to the Healer-classes; it also pushed potential matches to him.
Only when a mutual match was pushed would the Healer-class be able to see his application.
All the Healer-class data had been entered into the system, and the Light Brain was supposed to calculate and push the optimal match to him.
No one knew that ever since submitting his application, he had opened the matching page countless times.
He longed to see the "Mutual Match" indicator light up.
But as of yet, the system hadn’t pushed a single suitable Healer-class to him.
Not even Sophie Wexler.
In other words, according to the Light Brain’s calculations, there was currently no one whose Level was a match for his. Not even the 3S-Level Sophie Wexler.
Everyone knew Cillian Forrest’s Level was 3S, but no one knew just how immense his spiritual power truly was.
His spiritual power had already reached 3S *before* his second awakening. No one knew its extent after the subsequent growth.
People knew his Level was 3S only because that was the highest official classification, not because his power stopped there.
That’s why they assumed that Sophie Wexler, having also reached 3S, could soothe his Spiritual Sea and help him purge the toxins.
The reality, however, was that the Light Brain had not recommended a match.
He knew the state of his own Spiritual Sea. Its depths were riddled with wounds, and the Starbug toxin was completely entwined with his spiritual power. Each time a Disorder Period swept through, his Spiritual Sea suffered catastrophic damage.
The day his Spiritual Sea could no longer withstand the strain would be the day his life came to an end.
He had hidden this fact so well that no one else knew.
The detectable state of his Spiritual Sea had remained consistent for so long that everyone had grown accustomed to it. They assumed it wasn’t a major issue for him—certainly not a life-threatening one.
But they didn’t know that the fatal wound wasn’t on the periphery, but the trauma at the very core of his Spiritual Sea.
A secret no one knew... and yet, an ordinary doctor from a satellite planet had spoken the truth.
Cillian let out a soft chuckle at the thought.
’I wonder if he based his prognosis on my injuries at the time, or if what he could detect on the periphery was already a fatal wound in his eyes.’
’Either way, his conclusion was correct.’
’I really don’t have long to live.’
’If the problem at the core of my Spiritual Sea can’t be resolved, death is inevitable.’
’So, since the core toxins and trauma in my Spiritual Sea can neither be purged nor healed, why should someone who can’t even control his own fate be matched with Sophie Wexler?’
’Why subject her to a partner who is facing certain death?’
Cillian Forrest lowered his gaze, concealing the complex emotions in his eyes.
Then he sat up straight, pushed all the military documents aside, and opened a different file.
.
Meanwhile, Sophie Wexler was looking at the list of candidates pushed to her by the matching system, and her head was starting to ache.
’There are so many.’
She took one look and closed the interface. ’It’s not like I’m actually planning to get matched, so it doesn’t matter if I look or not.’
What she needed to figure out now was how to avoid getting matched at all.
Just as Benjamin Wyatt had said, even if she didn’t want to, someone would eventually force her to match. ’Who can I ask for help? Who can solve this problem for me?’
’Who do I even know here?’
’General York?’
’He’s the commander of the Seventh Legion, but he’s always stationed on Karath. I don’t know if he could help me on the Capital Planet.’
’Besides General York, who else is there on the Capital Planet?’
’Leo Fane? Ethan Cross?’
’Or maybe...’
Just as she was thinking, the doorbell rang.
When she opened the door, she found Cillian Forrest standing outside. Sophie Wexler’s eyes lit up. ’Speak of the devil.’
"Come in, quickly," Sophie Wexler said, greeting him with great enthusiasm.
Cillian Forrest stepped inside.
Sophie Wexler hurried to pour him a glass of water. ’I’m about to ask him for a favor, after all. I should be a little more hospitable.’
After handing the glass to Cillian, she noticed the file in his hand.
’I can’t just blurt out my request,’ she thought. ’I should start with some small talk first.’
So she casually pointed to the file in Cillian’s hand. "What’s that? You brought something with you."
"It’s about you," Cillian said.
Sophie looked up, surprised. She had just been trying to make small talk; she hadn’t expected it to actually be about her.
"About me?"
Cillian nodded. "Mm," he grunted, handing her the file. "Take a look."
Sophie took it, sat down beside Cillian, and opened the file.
A second later, her expression froze. "This is...?"
The file in her hands... no, to be precise, they were personal profiles.
"They’re candidate profiles," Cillian replied. "These are all carefully vetted, reliable options."
The information was far more detailed than what was on the matching system. It included age, Level, appearance, occupation, hobbies, temperament, and even family background—complete with family history, members, and their areas of influence. The sheer scope of it made Sophie feel like she was conducting a government security clearance check.
There were far fewer people than the system had pushed, however. Cillian had clearly hand-picked each one.
"Take a look. See if you like anyone. You can get to know them ahead of time, and then interact with them more later. It should make your choice easier."
Sophie: "???"