Peak Between Two: Mushoku Tensei

- Third-Person Perspective -

Their footsteps echoed along the cobblestone street leading to the inn. Night was creeping in, and the glow of oil lamps lining the road cast faint silhouettes of the three figures walking side by side.

Rujired observed Luciel from behind. Something about him was unsettling. The boy was too calm, too mature for his age. The way he handled the situation earlier... Rujired couldn't decide whether it was admirable or simply tragic.

Beside him, Aisha glanced at her older brother with a hesitant expression. Finally, the young girl spoke.

"Onii-chan... does it hurt?"

Luciel let out a small laugh, his tone light, almost like a breeze trying to erase the worry in the air.

"Hahaha... Not really. Besides, Father didn't hit me that hard. I've gotten used to physical training, so it's nothing."

A lie.

Luciel knew very well that a swordsman's punch wasn't something to be taken lightly. The pain still throbbed in his body, but he endured it. If he admitted it hurt, what would happen? Aisha would worry even more. Norn might cry. And Rujired... that man would only grow more doubtful of his decision.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Aisha bit her lip, her eyes glistening under the dim light. On the other side, Norn looked down, nervously gripping the hem of her clothes. And Rujired? There was no need to ask. The way he looked at Luciel—his sharp eyes filled with disbelief—made it clear that he wasn't fooled by the lie.

The night continued to pass. Only the sound of their footsteps accompanied the silence hanging in the air.

Inside a dimly lit tavern, amidst the clinking of glasses and the faint murmur of adventurers' conversations, Paul hung his head low. His hand gripped a half-empty wooden mug filled with alcohol, but the bitterness on his tongue was nothing compared to the bitterness creeping into his heart.

He truly regretted it.

Seriously, what had he done?

Berating an eight-year-old for not searching for Zenith? Accusing him of enjoying his journey? Luciel—his own son—who had fought tooth and nail to survive while protecting his sisters, only to stand before him with the hope of reuniting as a family. And what did Paul do? He shattered that moment with his foolish anger.

Deep down... he already knew.

Luciel wasn't at fault.

It was all just an excuse. A justification to mask the burning jealousy inside him.

Because in reality, Paul was the one left behind.

He should have moved faster, found his family first. But instead, it was his youngest son who had made progress. A child who survived on the Demon Continent—a land even veteran adventurers feared to tread—and now returned with his head held high.

Meanwhile, Paul?

He could only stare at his own reflection in the dusty mirror behind the bar. A face worn and disheveled. Eyes filled with exhaustion and guilt.

"I... failed."

The words were barely audible, just a whisper slipping through his heavy breath.

"Ugh~..."

Paul's chest tightened. The pain didn't come from any physical wound, but from something deeper. Like hundreds of needles stabbing directly into his heart, tearing apart the last remnants of his pride.

Around the table, his comrades from the Fedoa Region's Search Group remained silent. No one knew what to say.

But then, someone arrived—an hour after the chaos had unfolded.

Someone who had walked through hell on the Demon Continent alongside Luciel.

Rujired Supard.

The tall man approached, his presence making the air feel heavier. He was different from the last time Paul saw him.

Now, his head was shaved—not by choice, but to avoid trouble caused by the green hair of the Supard race, which was seen as a curse. A headband covered his forehead, concealing another distinct trait of his people.

Without a word, Rujired sat beside Paul.

That was all.

No reprimand. No words of sympathy.

Amid the scent of alcohol and lingering regret, the two men sat side by side.

Silently, Rujired raised his hand slightly.

"Can I get some water?"

The bartender, accustomed to dealing with drunk customers, simply nodded and prepared the order. Soon, a glass of clear water was placed on the wooden table, already stained with drink spills.

Paul shifted his head slightly, his weary eyes finally registering the man sitting next to him. His sluggish mind struggled to catch up, dulled by alcohol and the suffocating weight of guilt.

"Who are you?"

His voice was low, almost a growl. There was a faint trace of threat in his tone—not because he was actually ready to fight, but because his mind was still in a haze.

He had seen this man before, but at the time—his attention had been solely on Luciel.

Rujired turned, his sharp eyes meeting Paul's with a steady gaze.

"I... am Luciel's traveling companion."

For a moment, the Supard man hesitated, as if considering how to continue.

"My name is Rujired."

His voice was stiff. It was obvious—he hadn't spoken normally with others for a long time, especially with someone outside his small circle of trust.

Paul let out a quiet snort. "I see."

He took a breath, then tilted his head slightly, staring at the empty glass in his hand.

"What do you want?" he muttered, his voice heavy and exhausted. "Are you here to laugh at me? Or to lecture me about what a terrible father I am?"

The sarcasm in his tone didn't escape Rujired. But he didn't react. No frown, no offense taken, no sign of being bothered at all.

Instead, he simply took a sip of water from his glass, then finally spoke:

"You're wrong."

Paul narrowed his eyes.

"Listen…" Rujired continued, his voice deep and firm. "I'm not good at talking about human relationships. But there's one thing you need to know."

He gently set his glass down on the table, then looked Paul straight in the eye.

"Luciel, Norn, and Aisha… they didn't have an easy journey. I want you to hear their story."

Silence hung in the air.

"Before they met me, before I decided to join them and bring them back…" Rujired exhaled slowly. "Those children had already gone through hell on the Demon Continent. And it was all because of that teleportation tragedy."

His voice carried no accusation or anger. Just a cold statement—a bitter fact he wanted to convey.

Paul didn't respond immediately. His fingers tapped lightly against the table's surface, his mind still processing the Supard's words.

But one thing was clear—his drunken haze was starting to fade.

And now, he had to listen to what this man had to say.

Rujired took a slow breath. Then, in a deep and straightforward voice, he began.

"Luciel…"

Just that one name was enough to make Paul tense up.

"Do you have any idea how big of a role that boy played in their journey?"

Paul remained silent, but the corner of his mouth twisted slightly. No, he didn't know. He had never even asked.

Rujired continued, his heavy voice painting a vivid picture of the struggles they faced on the Demon Continent.

"That continent… is not a place for ordinary humans. The land is barren, filled with stones and sand that swallow your feet. During the day, the sun scorches without mercy. At night, the air is as cold as a blade slicing through your skin. And that's just the beginning."

Paul stared blankly at the table. In his mind, he could picture it—a vast, lifeless wasteland, a blood-red sky like an open wound, and the extreme temperatures that slowly drained life away.

"But the weather wasn't the only enemy," Rujired went on. "There was something even more dangerous. Monsters. Swarms of creatures unlike anything you'd find on this continent. There, you could die simply by stepping into the wrong place at the wrong time. And under those conditions…"

He fixed his gaze on Paul.

"Luciel was the one who led them to survive."

Paul's brow furrowed. His eyes shifted uneasily, but he didn't interrupt.

"Do you know the survival rate there?" Rujired continued, his tone still even, but carrying an underlying tension. "If you're in a large group, maybe around forty percent. But for someone trapped alone in the middle of all that? Less than five percent."

Paul unconsciously clenched his fist.

"Luciel, Norn, and Aisha…" Rujired let out a slow breath, his gaze drifting for a moment before refocusing on the man in front of him. "They were just children. Children lost in a land that knows no mercy."

Paul couldn't take it anymore. He lifted his head, his expression filled with restrained guilt.

"But they survived."

Rujired nodded. "Yes. And it was all because of Luciel."

For a moment, there was only silence. But the tension in the air thickened, pressing against Paul's chest until it was hard to breathe.

"Do you know what's the most terrifying thing on the Demon Continent, Paul?" Rujired's voice returned, lower this time—almost a whisper.

Paul swallowed but didn't answer.

"Not the monsters. Not the weather."

The Supard narrowed his eyes.

"The most dangerous thing there… is people."

Paul stiffened.

"In a place like that, the strong prey on the weak. Morality doesn't exist. And Luciel, along with his two little sisters, were nothing but lambs among a pack of starving wolves."

In an instant, an image flashed through Paul's mind.

Three small children walking through a foreign city, surrounded by eyes filled with ill intent. Their stomachs empty, their bodies dirty, and danger lurking at every corner—waiting to strike at any moment.

As a father, Paul knew very well what could happen to unprotected children in a world like that.

And yet, Luciel—his son—had managed to protect his sisters and bring them back safely.

Paul couldn't speak.

Not just because of guilt, but because of something else.

Something that felt like… a mixture of pride and sorrow.