‘Son, I can see something called a Status Window. In other words, it's called a Status, which quantifies your strength and shows it numerically.’
This was a common phrase among the mentally ill, saying that they could see things that others couldn't. My father, on the other hand, took it to an extreme; he would frequently mention my stats and level, and then subject me to harsher training.
'How come your spear proficiency is only Beginner Level 7?! You should have been at least Level 9 by now, according to my plans! Have you been neglecting your training?'
'No, regardless of my level or skill, how can I train with hands like this...'
‘I don't want to hear excuses! Bring out your spear right now!’
Even when I showed my palm that was swollen and bruised like it had been beaten with a sword, my father's anger didn't abate.
I thought he was crazy again at the time, but now his delusion has become reality right in front of my eyes — a pane of glass, or rather, black letters etched on a transparent plate that looked like ice.
The appearance matched exactly what my father had described when he taught me about the Status Window.
Upon seeing it, I muttered the word that my father had often mentioned, "Status."
[Name: Han Yujin]
[Level: 42]
[Strength: 66]
[Agility: 68]
[Skill: 72]
[Stamina: 62]
[Qi: 67]
"............."
I wish nothing had appeared. How good would it have been if I had seen something for just a moment in my yearning for my father?
However, no matter how long I waited, the Status Window wouldn't disappear. Even when I slapped myself to wake up, it only hurt me.
"Huh! Are you okay?!"
"Yes, I'm fine. I just feel like I'd rather die, though."
"Heyy…," Malok, not realising the true meaning of my words, gently placed a hand on my shoulder to comfort me.
Everything my father said was correct, and it could only mean one thing — the Demon Lord would be resurrected at the Academy in the coming years.
‘...And I have to stop it.’
I'm not sure if that's possible, but as long as I'm the only one who knows about the Demon Lord's resurrection, I have no choice but to stop it.
I wish I could explain this to someone more capable than me so they could do it instead, but there's no way to describe it.
My late father was from another world, and before he died, he prophesied that an ancient evil would be resurrected soon, and I would have to stop it.
Expecting someone else to believe in the words I've never believed in was just being naïve.
‘But how can I stop it?’
Although my father might have told me roughly when the Demon Lord would be resurrected, I never heard about the actual process of his resurrection.
All I've heard is that there is a descendant of the Hero in the academy, and when his blood is sacrificed on the altar, the Demon Lord shall be born.
'Does the Demon Lord also resurrect like the Devil?'
Even if it's not the exact same method, they might be resurrected in a similar way, but there's still no confirmed story.
Damn... If I knew this would happen, I should've asked my father to explain his delusions a bit more.
Although I never expected I would regret this much, it's all in the past. My father is gone, and the guidebook has been burned.
"The ashes. What would you do with them?"
When I looked up at Malok's words, I realised that both my father and the guidebook had been completely consumed by flames, leaving only gristle and bones behind.
If I remember correctly, my father said that the remaining bones should be ground into powder.
I felt a little bit of resistance to grinding the bones of my father's body with my hands, but I couldn't stop now after coming this far.
After grinding the remaining bones into powder, I prepared the urn that had a protective magic cast on it and put them inside.
Seeing the mound of ashes piled up in the urn, the realization that I was truly saying goodbye to my father hit me, and an indescribable mix of emotions surged within me.
"Now, it's time to go. But what should I do with these ashes?"
"I've prepared a proper place for them, where I've been watching for a while."
"Watching for a while? You are more filial than I thought."
Honestly, I prepared a resting place for the ashes in advance because I wanted to get away from my father as soon as possible. but I didn't bother tarnishing my reputation here.
With the urn in hand, I approached the predetermined burial site and placed the urn, protected by a protective spell, into a box before interring it in the grave — a tombstone stood at the grave, and its inscription read:
[Han-nam. The shield-bearing swordsman who loved pink-haired women and held a lenient view on women's notions of virtue, rests here].
While the content was the complete opposite of reality, there was no one else who would come here but me, so I'm sure my father would forgive me.
"..........Father, I'll be on my way then."
There was no need for more words. If my father were still alive, he probably would have told me to go to the academy at a time like this.
I bowed my head briefly towards the grave, and then turned my back to leave for home; at home, he kept his favorite weapons, as well as various memorizations and money.
'Speaking of which, there was something called an ‘inventory.'’
Father often shouted about his 'inventory' and stored items in this space, but I always believed it was some kind of magic trick. But looking back on it now, it was ridiculous. It was impossible for a crazy person to think of such an elaborate trick.
Yet I had never realized even the possibility that he was referring to something real. I simply concluded that my father was mad, and that prevented me from understanding even the most evident things.
Having packed away all my belongings, including weapons and the memorization, into the inventory, I took one last look around the home I had spent my entire life in.
The house had an unpleasant smell, as it had only been inhabited by two men and a chicken. It wasn't a place fit for living in any way.
If I leave, I'll probably never come back here again. Farewell, my childhood nightmare.
━━━◇◆◇━━━
"Four seats in third class."
The ticket agent glanced at my face with disdain, clicked his tongue, and slammed the train ticket down on the counter with a loud thud.
I tried to press my shades down to hide my face, but apparently he could see it from where he was sitting.
"500 Jennies."
Although the person in front of me also bought the same number of seats, I ended up paying 100 Jennies more than they did. While it was tempting to slap that audacious face which thought this was perfectly normal, it was almost time to board the train and I didn't want to get into an argument over this.
I threw the money on the counter as roughly as a ticket agent did, took my ticket, and made my way to the train.
'...I got the ticket but should I go back and give that cheeky face a piece of my mind?'
In the Sayan continent, particularly in the Arimus Kingdom, it wasn't uncommon for Asians like me and my father to be treated this way. Actually, even demanding a bit more money or giving them a stern look were on the mild side.
It was said that in the eastern part of the country where barbarians raided, if a mixed-race child was born, they would often kill the baby on the spot.
‘Yeah, I guess it's relatively better here…’
The barbarians, called Mongols, who had settled in the eastern steppes, frequently crossed the border to pillage the people in the eastern regions; they slaughtered people like pigs in slaughterhouse and countless women were abducted or violated, resulting in many of them bearing the children of the barbarians against their will.
This hatred had spread, and before long, not just in the Arimus Kingdom, but all over the continent, people despised the barbarians.
'Mother... In my past life, I would always hear 'Nihao' from those damn dogs whenever I went overseas. But here, I am mistaken for a Mongolian bastard? The pitiful lives of Asians...'
My father used to complain like that often, and while I didn't fully understand his meaning, I could generally get the gist of what he was saying.
With the ticket in hand, I entered the train, opened the door and entered my assigned compartment; I was the only one in the compartment since I had purchased all the seats in case there was an argument with another passenger.
Now that I was out of sight, I tossed my hat onto the opposite seat. and closed the door. There was no need to be cautious anymore.
‘……It's my first time taking a train.’
I hadn't used convenient modes of transportation like trains during my training journeys with my father, where we wandered from place to place to improve my physical fitness.
At most, I learned to ride horses and, if anything, the idea of riding in a carriage was something I could only dream about, let alone riding a train.
Being on a train was a new experience, and it made my heart race a bit. I was so excited that I could momentarily forget that the end of this journey would be the land where the Demon Lord was buried.
A few moments later, with a vibration under my seat, the train began to move, and for the first time in my life, I felt comfortable.
The ever-changing landscapes, the slight ache in my thighs, and the comforting feeling of relaxation—while I closed my eyes for a brief moment, time flew by, and it was suddenly night.
Even as night fell, the beauty of the journey didn't fade. When I turned my head to the left, I was greeted by the sight of a moon peeking through the clouds, casting a gentle blue light on the fields.
And as I turned my head to the right, a translucent quest window appeared, reminding me that an assassin was on the way.
"......Huh?"
[Sudden Quest Triggered!]
[Escaped Assassin]
[An assassin who failed to assassinate the scion of a certain family is approaching this compartment. It's up to you whether to ignore or subdue him. You cannot assume, however, that he will pass by this room, since it is a good place to hide.]
[Success Reward: Mask of the Recluse]
[Failure Penalty: ???]
".....Mother."
I just can't get through the day quietly.
(End of Chapter. . . . . . . .)
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