Chapter 77.5: The Lonely Road [Rudeus POV]
The inn room was too quiet.
I'd rented it for two people. Paid for two beds. Ordered meals for two. But when morning came, only one person remained.
The other bed sat empty, sheets still rumpled from where she'd slept beside me just hours before. Evidence of her presence lingered, a few red hairs on the pillow, the faint scent of her shampoo, the memory of warmth that had made me believe, for one night, that everything would be alright.
She'd left a note, just five words written in her careful, still-learning handwriting.
I'll make myself stronger.
No explanation, no goodbye, no promise to return, just five words and an empty bed.
I sat on the floor with my back against the wall, staring at that note until the letters blurred together. My hands trembled slightly, not from cold, but from the adrenaline crash that came after panic and desperation had burned themselves out.
She was gone, and the reality of it landed fully.
Eris Boreas Greyrat, the girl I'd grown up with, trained with, and traveled with across this world. The girl who'd held my hand through nightmare after nightmare, who'd pressed herself against me in the carriage after Orsted, when we'd both been too scared to be alone. The girl who'd given herself to me last night with a desperation that should have warned me, now gone without a word.
"Of course she left," I muttered to the empty room. "Why would she stay? What do you have to offer her, Rudeus? You're weak. Pathetic. You couldn't even stand up to Orsted without dying."
The self-loathing was familiar. I'd spent my previous life drowning in it, and apparently I'd brought that particular skill with me into this new existence.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since yesterday. The innkeeper would probably send someone up soon to check on me, ask if everything was alright, if I needed anything.
I needed everything and nothing, both at once.
Standing took more effort than it should have. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else, moving through motions disconnected from any real purpose.
I stumbled to the washbasin and splashed water on my face, forcing myself to look in the mirror.
thirteen years old, with brown hair and mismatched eyes, a reminder of the Demon Eye I'd gained through circumstances I still didn't fully understand.
A body that had been reborn into this world as my second chance, though I wondered what that chance was worth now.
"Second chance at what?" I asked my reflection, my voice bitter and hollow. "Being abandoned, or proving you're still worthless?"
My reflection didn't answer, because it never did.
The streets of the city, and I couldn't even remember which city this was anymore, bustled with life, with people going about their business, merchants calling out their wares, and children running through the crowds, laughing.
Normal people living normal lives, completely unaware that a coward walked among them.
I'd sent a letter to Paul before leaving the previous town, keeping it brief and formal.
Eris has gone to train. I'm continuing the search for Mother. Will update when I have news.
I hadn't mentioned the night before she left. Hadn't mentioned the way she'd looked at me with eyes that held too many emotions to name. Hadn't mentioned waking up alone with nothing but a note.
Some humiliations were too private to share, even with family.
Especially with family.
Paul would have advice. Probably something crude about women being unpredictable, or an awkward attempt at support that would land exactly wrong.
But the truth was, I didn't want support. I wanted to stop feeling like there was nothing left worth fighting for.
I found myself at a tavern, not because I particularly wanted a drink, but because sitting in the inn room was driving me mad.
The barkeep was a middle-aged woman with kind eyes who looked at me with the expression people reserved for kicked puppies.
"Rough day, honey?" she asked while pouring me water. I hadn't asked for alcohol. Apparently, I looked too pathetic even for that.
"Rough year," I replied.
"Only a year? At your age, that's practically a lifetime." She patted my hand caringly. "But you're young. Whatever it is, you'll bounce back."
I wanted to believe her. Wanted to think that thirteen was young enough to recover from anything.
But I'd lived more than thirteen years. Had the memories of a thirty-something failure who'd died alone, despised by his own family, having accomplished nothing with his wasted life.
And now, in this second chance, I was repeating the same patterns.
"Yeah," I said, because she was trying to be kind and deserved better than my self-pity. "I'll bounce back."
She smiled and moved on to other customers, leaving me alone with my water and my thoughts.
Neither provided much comfort.
That night, I slept in fits and starts, broken by dreams that felt more real than they should.
In one dream, I saw Claude, not as I'd last seen him, focused and exact in the aftermath of the operation, but vibrant and confident. He stood before crowds who hung on his every word, commanded respect from warriors and merchants alike, and built something meaningful while I sat in taverns feeling sorry for myself.
The contrast was hard to sit with.
We were about the same age. But while Claude had become a leader, a force that shaped the world around him, I remained...
What? A magic tutor? An adventurer? Someone whose greatest accomplishment was not dying when a god decided to kill him?
The dream shifted, and I found myself in a white space. Endless. Featureless. Familiar in a way that made my skin crawl.
"You look troubled, Rudeus."
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. I turned, already knowing what I would see.
A figure. Human-shaped but indistinct. Features that my mind couldn't quite focus on, like trying to remember someone's face from a dream.
The Human God.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Simply to talk." The figure moved closer, though distance seemed meaningless in this space. "She left, didn't she? Without saying what you needed to hear."
There was no point denying it. "How do you know about—"
"I've been watching over you, Rudeus." The Human God's voice was measured, patient. "I was there when you were born into this world. I was there at the crossroads after Orsted. I've watched you carry more than most people your age understand how to carry."
Something in that sat wrong. Too carefully positioned.
"What do you want from me?"
"Nothing dramatic. Not yet." The figure stilled. "I can see where your mother is. I know the path that doesn't get everyone killed on the way there. I've watched enough attempts to know which ones succeed." A pause. "I'm offering the one thing you can't build on your own: the information you're missing."
"And in exchange?"
"When the time comes, I'll ask for something small. A direction. A choice that might have been yours anyway." The white space shifted, the dream quality pressing in at the edges. "That's how it works with me. I don't take. I suggest. What you do with the suggestion is always yours."
"That's what you'd say whether it was true or not."
"Yes," the Human God agreed, without hesitation. "It is."
Everything he said was calibrated. I could feel the calibration.
And the worst part was that the offer itself was genuine. That was the mechanism. Not false promises. A real path to Zenith, contingent on nothing yet, in exchange for a debt that would be named later.
"I need to think about it," I said finally.
"Of course. Take all the time you need." The white space began to fade, dream logic pulling me toward waking. "I'll be here when you're ready, Rudeus. I'll always be here."
I woke with sweat cooling on my skin and every nerve on edge.
The Human God. The being Orsted hated with fury that transcended normal emotion. The entity Claude had warned me about, though he could never say exactly why.
And I'd just had a conversation with it. Him. Whatever.
Worse, I'd been tempted. For a moment there, listening to promises of power and purpose, I'd actually considered accepting.
"You're an idiot," I told myself, though the words carried no heat.
I'd heard an offer I knew was dangerous, and I'd still weighed it. That was the part I couldn't sit with.
But knowing it was pathetic didn't make it feel any less real.
I lay in bed as dawn light crept through the window, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions and doubts.
Claude was reorganizing Arbalest after a significant operation. Moving forward with the work and the decisions that followed from it. Making difficult choices and living with the consequences.
Eris was training somewhere, pushing herself to become stronger. Dedicating herself to growth with the single-minded determination that had always defined her.
Ruijerd was out there rehabilitating the Superd reputation. Fighting centuries of prejudice through patient demonstration that his people weren't monsters.
And me? I was lying in bed, wallowing in self-pity while a suspicious god offered to make everything better.
"Get up," I muttered, forcing my legs to swing over the side of the bed. "Get up and do something. Anything."
My mother was still out there. Somewhere on the Begaritt Continent, trapped in crystal according to Roxy's visions. Waiting for rescue that might never come if I stayed paralyzed by depression.
I had a purpose.
Even if Eris was gone. Even if I felt inadequate compared to Claude. Even if the Human God was whispering temptations designed to exploit my weakness.
I could still choose to move forward.
Two days later, I received a letter.
The messenger found me at another inn, where I'd been moving from town to town without much direction, telling myself I was gathering supplies and information for the journey to Begaritt.
Really, I was running from the empty space where Eris used to be.
The letter was from Paul, written in his characteristically blunt style.
Rudeus,
Claude's moving to Fittoa to serve as Head Knight, a reconstruction project with big responsibility. He's taking that Water God's granddaughter with him, some kind of training arrangement.
I'm staying in Milishion for now. Coordination work. Refugee support. Boring but necessary.
Your mother is still out there, and when you're ready to look for her seriously, not just wandering aimlessly because you're hurt, let me know. We'll organize a proper expedition.
Stop moping. You're better than this.
Paul
I read it three times, each pass making my face burn hotter.
He knew. Somehow, he knew exactly what I'd been doing. Wandering aimlessly. Running from pain. Avoiding the hard work of actually moving forward.
And Claude... going to Fittoa. Taking on leadership responsibility. Working with Isolte to grow stronger together.
While I sat in inn rooms feeling sorry for myself.
The comparison stung. But maybe that was what I needed. A reminder that the world wouldn't wait for me to sort out my feelings.
People were suffering. My mother was trapped. Work needed doing.
And I could either keep running from my inadequacy, or I could start building toward something better.
Even if it was hard. Even if it hurt. Even if I had to do it alone.
I pulled out paper and ink, composing a response.
Dad,
You're right. I've been wasting time.
I'm heading to Fittoa. Figure I can help with reconstruction while preparing for the Begaritt expedition. Claude and I can coordinate.
And Dad? Thanks for being blunt. I needed it.
Rudeus
It wasn't much. Just words on paper.
But it was a start.
I sealed the letter and handed it to the messenger, along with coin for its delivery.
Then I gathered my things, checked out of the inn, and started north toward Fittoa.
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