381 - Childhood Friend of the Zenith

**My Childhood Friend, The World's Strongest Warrior - Chapter 382: The Northern Rabbit** "I know." I had to hold my breath the moment my father spoke. I had somewhat anticipated his reaction. If my mother were alive, the only person who might know of her whereabouts would naturally be my father. I looked into his eyes and asked, "Where is she? Where is Mother?" I needed to know where my mother was. Not simply because I missed her—that would be too ordinary a reason. I was gradually realizing that my mother was intricately involved in everything happening around me. From the beast residing within me to the mystery of my mother's identity, known as the Second Calamity. She was even referred to as the Master of Ten Thousand Worlds. And most importantly... "The sacred sword." Before the sacred sword departed, the voice that embraced me was undoubtedly my mother's. How could I forget it? Even if I wanted to, the echo of that voice lingered stubbornly in my mind. My mother had instructed me to embrace the sacred sword within me. Following her words, I hold the sacred sword's energy within my body. Perhaps my mother knows a way to reunite with the sword. That was my belief. To uncover the truth behind everything, I needed to meet my mother directly. "If you know, please tell me." "…" My father did not react but watched me intently. I wondered why he was so unresponsive. But then, looking closely at his eyes, I could tell. 'It's not indifference.' His eyes were subtly trembling. I waited in anticipation until he finally spoke, breaking the short silence. "Why do you want to know?" At his question, I couldn’t help but frown—something rare in front of my father. Why would I want to know? His question flipped something inside me. "Is it so strange for a child to want to know where their mother is?" "…" "It's not just simple curiosity. I need to know, now more than ever." How long has it been? To think I'd raise my voice like this in front of my father. It was the first time since I reincarnated. In my past life, such moments were rare to count. Yet, this was one of those times. It was something I hadn’t known even at the moment my heart burst and I died. If my mother was alive somewhere. Moreover, if she was somehow connected to my current life. Even if she wasn't, it was something I needed to know. "If you know, you can tell me, can’t you?" Even with my words, my father stood firm. His silence was immensely frustrating. "Patriarch…" "If you learn where your mother is, what do you intend to do?" His sudden question caught me off guard, but I answered immediately. "I'll find her." "Where your mother is?" "Yes." There was no lie in my response. That was the point of asking, and my father likely guessed as much. "That place is not somewhere you can go just because you wish to." "Why not? Is it because it's the Demon Realm?" "…" "If not, is it because I need to become the successor first? Or could it be…?" My father's once-unreadable eyes were clear and vivid today. "Is it because Mother is the Calamity?" "…!" At the utterance of those words. A surge of heat erupted from my father's body. Despite the urge to step back, I stood my ground. Usually, it wouldn't matter, but right now, I didn't want to back down. In that spreading heat, my father's gaze was incredibly sharp. Was he scowling? Or could he be angry? I was unfamiliar with my father's expression, so I couldn't decipher it. "How do you know about that?" His reaction was to the claim that Mother was the Calamity? If so, it implied my father was aware of the Calamity's existence and that my mother was the Calamity. "I heard it…" Thud! As I was about to answer, a heavy presence from my father weighed down on me. I felt a sinking sensation in my chest. "From whom. Who dared tell you such a thing?" '...This isn't good.' My father's anger was palpable as the heat intensified. Was he angry because I heard it somewhere? "Right now, isn’t that the point." "No, it's crucial. So, tell me." "…" He had a look demanding an answer. Facing his gaze, I reluctantly spoke. "I heard it from the World Tree, known as the Master." "…" Hearing this made his eyes tremble. The World Tree had mentioned it before. That my father and mother had visited it. This meant he was aware of the World Tree's existence. My words seemed truthful, given his unsettling reaction. "How… How do you know that? Don't tell me…" My father's large hand gripped my shoulder tightly. "Did you go there?" "If you mean the place where the World Tree resides, then yes." I meant the world of illusions where the secluded World Tree was. With each word, my father's expression darkened. Why? Why did he look so distressed? As questions ran through my mind, he spoke. "The reason you surpassed the limits. Was that also influenced by that place?" He wanted to know if my early attainment of enlightenment was due to the Demon Realm. "It wasn’t without influence." After all, I did receive help. Thanks to the time spent there, I could reach enlightenment much faster. Yet, the more I spoke, the worse my father’s expression became. "That's not a place one can visit lightly. How did you end up there?" "…It just turned out that way." "How long… How long were you there?" He seemed to know that time there differed from here. I turned my thoughts to my father’s question. How long had it been? I didn’t keep track of each passing day, so I wasn’t certain. I might've counted for about three to four years at first. After that, it seemed pointless, and I stopped paying attention. "I haven't been there for too long." My father didn't seem convinced by my answer. What exactly made him wear such a severe expression? ‘It would be the same upon return anyway.’ Even in a false world, hunger and thirst are still felt. If needed, I could kill beasts to fill my stomach. If thirsty, I could quench it with their blood. If the beasts’ toxins became too overwhelming, I could cleanse myself as best as possible, enduring the pain if necessary. As long as I didn’t die, there were no issues. As a result, I reached enlightenment. Moreover, with the insights gained there, I crossed over to the present world. So what was the problem? I couldn’t understand my father’s reaction. Nevertheless, this wasn’t the time to dwell on it. “The Patriarch was also supposed to have gone there with Mother, correct?” “She mentioned that?” My father's reference to the World Tree was oddly striking. “Yes.” “She has a tendency to speak carelessly.” His voice carried such intense anger that I flinched. Even though the World Tree had once ruled Central Plains, my father spoke disdainfully. “Is the reason you won’t tell me because Mother is indeed a calamity upon the world?” “If that is the case, what would you do?” “Even if that’s true, it changes nothing. I need to know.” “...” My father stared at me piercingly upon hearing my answer. It seemed like he was finally going to speak when— “I forbid it.” “…!” I clenched my teeth at his reply. Even now, was he still going to refuse? “Why…? I believe I have a right to know as much.” Was he silent because he was also under some kind of restriction? It didn’t seem likely. No matter how, my instincts were never wrong during times like these. Just as my expression tried to twist into frustration— “How many regrets have you known in life?” My father suddenly spoke incomprehensibly. “…Regrets?” His unexpected question gave me pause. Regrets? How many regrets have I known? “I’ve had plenty.” I laughed ironically as I spoke. What was the point in saying it out loud? Regrets were as constant as my life. I’ve experienced more than I could ever count and will likely continue to do so. But why would my father ask such a thing? “I, as this household’s head… no, I haven’t lived a life full of regrets.” What a story. A life with few regrets. It was enviable. Whether he knew my thoughts or not, my father continued. “I lived avoiding regrets as best as I could. I thought lingering attachments were meaningless. But do you know what one of my few regrets is?” A regret of my father's. “…I wouldn’t know.” Naturally, I had no idea. Carefully, I answered, and my father spoke as if he had been waiting. “That regret lies with you and your mother.” “…!” His words cut sharply into my heart. I never expected him to say that. A regret involving me and my mother. How could he say such a thing to my face? “Now, that’s…!” I was about to lose my temper when— “That day. I shouldn’t have taken you to your mother.” My father’s words stopped me dead. It was unexpected. The day he mentioned referred to the day my mother was swallowed by the demonic realm and vanished. “That’s…” “I shouldn’t have let her go, nor should I have accepted the request to take you to her. That’s my regret.” I was about to respond when his words enveloped me in a sense of alienation. “…What do you mean, at her request?” And why not let her leave? It sounded as if Mother had chosen to leave. "The reason I took you there that day was at Mother's behest?" My father didn’t respond, but I could tell by his silence that he was confirming it. ‘What a ridiculous notion.’ The memory was still sharp. Often, it would resurface in my mind. A winter night. My hands and ears were red from the cold. As my mind went numb with shock, my mother’s hand touched my cheek while my father looked down at me. Behind them, I vividly remembered a portal to the unknown demonic realm and my mother’s tears. That moment marked the beginning of the chaos in my life—how could I ever forget? I had always assumed my father had taken me there. ‘Was it really Mother who wanted to see me?’ This was a story I had no inkling of. “I should’ve refused her last wish to see you.” The moonlight casting shadows made my father’s expression hard to read. If what he said was true. “Why are you only telling me this now?” It was far too late. I lived believing my mother’s fate was due to this wretched household and my father’s choices. I feared him for forcing me to witness the end. As if to say— Even if I reject this burden, that’s what would happen to me too. But now, it seemed that wasn’t the case. “…It’s far too late.” It’s already too late, regardless of the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me? If nothing else, you should have told me this beforehand.” “Do you think knowing would’ve changed anything?” “...” At his question, I couldn’t answer affirmatively. I knew now that it wouldn’t make any difference. But still. "Did you want my resentment to break me down, Father?" In my past life, it did. I collapsed under the weight of it all, wretchedly falling apart. Did my father truly not anticipate that I would crumble in such a way? Once I spoke, a myriad of emotions mixed in my words. My father let out several deep breaths. Somehow, those breaths felt unbearably heavy. "No matter who a person is, when faced with circumstances beyond their endurance..." He spoke as if in tandem with his breathing. "...they inevitably seek someone to blame." His words, uttered so frankly, stirred my thoughts. "If you must have someone to blame, isn't it better to resent an incompetent father than a world you cannot confront?" "…" It stung. Somewhere deep within me, it was an agonizing sting. This wasn't what I wanted to hear. All I wished for was to learn where Mother was. Now, I didn’t want to know such things. “…It’s contradictory.” "Indeed." "Even if, by some chance, your reluctance was out of consideration, it was still wrong to leave me to fall apart." I was to blame for not overcoming it and beginning to fall apart, but it was my father who allowed it to happen, watching without offering a hand. “You wouldn’t say you hoped I’d continue blaming you for this, would you?” I was swept up in the wind, feeling the surge of emotions that had accumulated throughout my life. Where had they been hiding, only to surface now? I thought I had managed to live well enough without minding them. Yet part of me wondered. If my father had tried to lift me up as I fell— Would I have turned out differently? There’s no way to know; it’s a hypothetical scenario. And if it were possible, I didn’t want it to be true. Because if it were true, the person I became without enduring such trials would feel unbearably pitiful. So please. "Yes." I hoped my father wouldn’t look at me with eyes like that. "That’s another regret of mine." I wished he’d view me with those perpetually cold, detached eyes. "Even knowing I shouldn’t have done it, it’s my sin not to reach out to you." I hoped he wouldn’t look at me with those bitter eyes. "I’m sorry." "…" "And that’s why, more than ever, I cannot send you to your mother. One regret is enough." My father’s unexpected apology shattered something within me that I had barely been holding together. If he had just made excuses that he couldn’t help it or had no time to worry about me, it might have been easier to accept. But he made no such excuses. And that’s what made it all the more unbearable. I immediately concealed my face with trembling hands. It wasn't because of tears, ugly as they might be. It was because I couldn’t bear to look my father in the eye. If only he hadn’t apologized, it could have been easier. How did it come to this? ‘…Ah.’ I shouldn’t have received such an apology from my father. Even if I had once feared and resented him. He should not have apologized to me. Was it because I might have done something wrong until now? Or was it simply because he was my father? No. It wasn't for such trivial reasons. It was a more fundamental reason. At the very least. At the very least. A father shouldn’t apologize to the child who killed him. The memory from that winter night, when I sent my mother away, rose unbidden—one I had stuffed into a corner of my mind, unable to forget. —“You did well.” The words of praise from my father, congratulating me for attaining enlightenment. The image of my father during his final moments overlapped in my mind. Yes, my father’s last moment. In my previous life, my father had been the only one, aside from Weisel, to wound the Heavenly Demon. Before long, he met his death. Everyone in the Central Plains assumed the Heavenly Demon was the one who killed my father. But the truth was different. The Heavenly Demon didn’t kill him. My father was killed not by the Heavenly Demon, but— By me.