The towering gates of the Varien Tribe rose before me.
Massive stone walls stretched toward the heavens.
Ancient watchtowers overlooked the surrounding wilderness, their banners fluttering proudly in the morning wind.
Even after twenty years...
The tribe remained every bit as imposing as I remembered.
Slowly, I approached the entrance.
My clothes were soaked with blood.
Some of it was mine.
Most of it belonged to others.
My hair hung in tangled strands, and exhaustion weighed heavily upon every step.
Dark circles surrounded my eyes.
Ananya remained unconscious on my back.
Rajiv slept quietly in my arms, his tiny fingers still wrapped around the strange white egg as though it were the only thing left in his world.
To anyone watching...
I probably looked worse than a beggar.
The guards immediately became alert.
Weapons were drawn.
One of the younger guards stepped forward.
"Stop."
His voice was firm.
"State your identity."
Another guard frowned as he looked me over.
"How did someone in that condition even reach the tribe?"
I remained silent.
I had neither the strength...
Nor the desire...
To answer.
My thoughts were still trapped within the burning ruins of Vera.
Then—
An older guard suddenly froze.
His eyes narrowed.
He took one hesitant step forward.
Then another.
Disbelief slowly spread across his weathered face.
"No..."
His voice trembled.
"It can't be..."
He stared at me for several long moments before recognition finally dawned.
His eyes widened.
"You..."
"...Young Master Smith?"
Without another word, the old guard immediately dropped to one knee.
His fist struck his chest with a loud thud.
The younger guards stared in confusion.
The old captain raised his voice.
"We welcome Young Master Smith home!"
The words echoed across the entrance.
Every guard's expression changed.
Realization spread through them like wildfire.
Without hesitation, they all knelt.
"We welcome Young Master Smith home!"
Normally...
I would have laughed.
Normally...
I would have teased them for making such a fuss.
Today...
I felt nothing.
The old captain slowly raised his head.
The moment he saw the blood covering my body...
Then Ananya...
Then the sleeping Rajiv...
Concern immediately filled his eyes.
"Young Master..."
His voice became noticeably softer.
"What happened?"
I slowly lifted my head.
Only one word left my lips.
"Move."
The old captain blinked.
"...Young Master?"
"Move."
My voice was hoarse.
Cold.
"Now."
The urgency behind those single words sent a chill through everyone present.
The old captain reacted immediately.
"Open the gates!"
The massive stone gates slowly creaked open.
Without another word, I walked inside.
The old captain hurried beside me.
"Should I summon the healers?"
"Yes."
I answered without slowing my pace.
"Send your fastest messenger."
"I want an audience with Lord Cris Varien."
The captain hesitated.
"...Immediately?"
I stopped walking.
Closed my eyes for a brief moment.
Then spoke quietly.
"It concerns Young Master Varinder."
The captain's face lost all color.
He no longer asked questions.
"It will be done immediately."
Several hours later...
I sat inside the Grand Hall.
The largest and most important hall within the Varien Tribe.
Silence filled the chamber.
At the far end sat Lord Cris Varien.
Twenty years had stolen the black from his hair.
Deep wrinkles lined his face.
Yet his back remained perfectly straight.
His eyes...
Were still those of the man who had once led countless warriors into battle.
To his right sat Varinder's younger brother.
The man who had inherited the position Varinder willingly abandoned.
Standing beside Lord Cris...
Was my own father.
The sight made my chest tighten.
Because for twenty years...
That place beside Varinder...
Had belonged to me.
Now...
It stood empty.
My vision blurred.
The entire hall remained silent.
Every elder present sensed that something terrible had happened.
Lord Cris studied me quietly.
His sharp eyes slowly moved across the blood staining my clothes.
Then toward the unconscious Ananya.
Then finally toward the sleeping child in my arms.
Concern gradually replaced his calm expression.
"Vicky."
His voice was steady.
Gentle.
Almost fatherly.
"What happened?"
The simple question nearly shattered my composure.
I opened my mouth.
No words came.
How...
How was I supposed to tell a father...
That his son would never return?
How was I supposed to destroy the hope he had carried for twenty years?
My hands trembled.
Yet I forced myself to remain calm.
I first turned toward the chief healer.
"Check Ananya immediately."
The old healer bowed.
"As you command."
Then I looked down at Rajiv.
The little boy had finally fallen asleep.
Even in his dreams...
His tiny hands refused to release the white egg.
He still didn't know.
He still believed his father would come home.
I looked toward the servants.
"Take them."
"Let them rest."
Several servants carefully lifted Ananya.
Another gently carried Rajiv away.
As they turned...
The little boy murmured in his sleep.
"...Father..."
The single word pierced every heart inside the hall.
The doors slowly closed behind them.
Silence returned.
Everyone looked toward me.
Waiting.
I slowly clenched my fists.
Varinder had entrusted this duty to me.
No matter how painful it was...
I had to fulfill it.
Taking a deep breath...
I began.
I spoke of everything.
Of the day Varinder walked away from this tribe.
Of the dream called Vera.
Of the empty valley that slowly became a home.
Of the companions who followed him without hesitation.
Of Devika.
Of Rajiv and Ananya.
Of twenty years spent protecting countless lives.
Then...
My voice became heavier.
I spoke of the Oracle Class.
The prophecy.
The poison.
The betrayal.
The attack.
The destruction of Vera.
The final battle.
And finally...
Varinder's last goodbye to his son.
By the time I finished...
The Grand Hall had become deathly silent.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Even breathing seemed too loud.
Lord Cris remained seated.
Completely motionless.
His face showed no expression.
For a terrifying moment...
I wondered if he hadn't heard me.
Then...
His right hand trembled.
Only slightly.
But everyone noticed.
Slowly...
His eyes lowered.
His lips moved.
No sound came out.
He swallowed.
Tried again.
"My..."
His voice cracked.
He closed his eyes briefly before forcing the words out.
"My son..."
Tears slowly gathered within his aged eyes.
"...did he suffer?"
The question shattered what little composure I still possessed.
Tears streamed freely down my face.
I slowly shook my head.
"No."
A small smile appeared through my tears.
"No, Lord Cris."
"Varinder died exactly as he lived."
The old chief slowly raised his head.
I continued.
"He spent his final moments protecting the people he loved."
"He spent his final moments thinking about his family."
My voice broke.
"And even with poison destroying his body..."
"...his last thoughts were never about himself."
"They were about his children."
Silence.
Then...
A weak laugh escaped Lord Cris's lips.
It was not the laugh of a mighty chief.
Nor the laugh of a powerful cultivator.
It was simply...
The laugh of a father trying not to break.
"Of course..."
His shoulders trembled.
"Of course that stubborn fool would choose everyone else before himself."
A single tear rolled down his wrinkled face.
Then another.
Then another.
No one dared interrupt.
No elder spoke.
No warrior moved.
Because this was no longer the grief of the Chief of the Varien Tribe.
It was the grief of an old father...
Who had spent twenty years waiting for his son to return home.
Only to learn...
That he never would.
The Grand Hall remained utterly silent.
The only sound that echoed beneath its high ceiling...
Was the quiet sob of a father mourning the son he would never embrace again.