Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 45: Why? 6 (Flashback)

Chapter 45: Why? 6 (Flashback)

Alex sat stiffly before the console, his fingers curled into trembling fists against his knees. His mother’s voice—soft yet heavy with the weight of the past—continued to spill from the speakers, weaving together the truth.

"It took your father two months to regain consciousness, Alex," she said, her tone carrying the quiet pain of someone who had lived through every agonizing second. "Even after all that time, he was only forty percent healed."

Alex’s breath came out unsteady. He could still remember that time—those endless, suffocating weeks of silence.

His father had vanished without a trace.

No one spoke of it. No one answered his questions. Warriors of the clan carried on their duties with forced normalcy, but the tension was palpable, a lingering unease in every whispered conversation, in every stolen glance between elders.

Alex had asked his mother over and over again. He had pestered the clan members, demanding answers. But even they had no knowledge about his dad whereabouts.

"When he finally woke up," his mother continued, "he told me what had happened. He spoke of the world he had entered—Eloria, as its inhabitants called it."

Eloria.

The word alone sent a chill down Alex’s spine.

"It was unlike anything we had ever seen, Alex," she said, her voice tinged with something unreadable. "That world has been saturated with mana for over a thousand years. The density in the atmosphere alone... it was overwhelming. The air itself pulsed with energy, thick enough that even standing still, one could feel its influence in their bones."

Alex exhaled slowly, his mind painting the image of a world so rich in mana that every breath filled the lungs with raw power.

But his mother wasn’t finished.

"The people there were stronger. So much stronger," she murmured. "Legend-rank entities—those we worship as paragons, as the highest tier of power—are nothing more than elites there. Slightly above average in authority. Their world operates on an entirely different scale. Most of their population are Grandmasters."

Alex’s stomach twisted.

"Even their children," she whispered, "reach that level within a few years."

A shiver ran through him.

If what she said was true, then the gap between their world and Eloria was almost unfathomable.

"When your father first arrived, he thought it was a blessing. The air was brimming with mana, and their knowledge of magic was so advanced that it surpassed everything we’d ever developed. Even our best mages are no more than elemental manipulators compared to them. Here, magic is costly—every spell, and invocation devours mana like an insatiable beast. But in Eloria... it flows like a river, never-ending."

Alex’s fingers tightened against his palms, his nails digging into his skin.

"He thought we had found our escape," his mother admitted, her voice growing softer, tinged with something fragile. "He thought we had found a new home."

A bitter silence followed.

Then, her following words shattered the illusion.

"But it was a lie."

Alex swallowed hard.

"The world was at war."

The words rang through the chamber, sharp and unforgiving.

"Eloria was ruled by Demi-God rank entities. They weren’t just powerful individuals—they were rulers. Kings. Emperors. Each governing vast territories, locked in an endless struggle for dominance. Power is everything in that world, and war is the only constant."

Her voice grew distant as if she were reliving when she heard these words from his father’s lips.

"But that wasn’t the worst part."

Alex’s body tensed.

"They knew."

His breath caught.

"They knew your father wasn’t from their world."

His mother let the words settle, allowing their weight to sink into his bones.

"It wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t a stroke of bad luck. They had experienced this before."

The air in the room felt heavier, pressing down on him.

"They’ve conquered other worlds before for resources. Worlds just like ours. And they weren’t about to let another land full of unknown resources slip through."

Alex’s heartbeat pounded in his ears.

"They have a system," she continued. "A system that registers every living being the moment they are born. Every citizen and creature—had all been marked, tracked, bound to Eloria’s records. Even those who try to hide... the system will find them."

A slow, sinking dread spread through his chest.

"Your father realized too late after spending a month over their," she whispered.

A shadow seemed to pass over the screen, the memories reflecting in her distant gaze.

"He ran, Alex. He ran as fast as he could, straight back to the hidden portal, hoping to escape before they could act. But they were already on his tail after spending weeks in the world."

The hum of the monitors seemed to stretch, amplifying the silence.

"He was ambushed."

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

"Two Mystic-rank beings. One a warrior, the other a mage. Beings who would have been the supreme ruler if they descended into our world. They didn’t know who he was—not at first—but they knew he didn’t belong."

Alex’s hands were shaking now.

"He killed the mage first," she said, her tone carrying no triumph, only exhaustion. "She underestimated him, thinking he was no more than a normal Legend-rank warrior who was beneath them. But even then, he had to burn through one of our most powerful Grandmaster-rank artifacts just to land the killing blow."

Alex clenched his jaw. The cost of survival. The weight of desperation.

"But the warrior seeing this decided to take the fight seriously. And he didn’t underestimate your father like the mage did after seeing how he killed her."

It was a battle like no other, a struggle that a single slip-up meant death.

A fight against an enemy who stood at the peak of mortal strength.

"Your father only survived because of his total mastery over Limit Break and the Divine Art left by the Thunder God," his mother finished. "Without them, he wouldn’t have returned at all."

Alex exhaled shakily, his entire body rigid with tension.

The truth pressed down on him, suffocating in its sheer gravity.

His father had fought for his life and bled for it.

And even then, he had barely survived.

The screen flickered again, the hum intensifying for a brief moment before his mother’s , calm and unyielding voice returned.

"And that, Alex," she said, her tone carrying a finality that sent ice through his veins, "was only the beginning."

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