The Extra's Reincarnation-Chapter 91: High Peak Mountains (3)

My eyes widened. Every five years? For how long?

"For as long as we can remember, she would appear, cast her powerful magic, and then disappear again, without a word."

"It was only recently that we discovered the truth about her secret visits. We had always wondered how the barrier remained so stable, despite the volatile nature of the abyssal gate. But it wasn’t until the sixth year, when she didn’t return..."

His voice trailed off, and a heavy silence filled the room. It was this year, the year she hadn’t come.

More importantly, she must’ve done the spell while she was pregnant with me as well.

"Her spell, was a masterpiece of sealing magic. She wove together over a hundred different techniques, creating a barrier so strong that it not only contained the abyssal energy, but also prevented it from leaking into the surrounding mountains."

He looked at me, his eyes filled with gratitude and admiration.

"Your mother, Julian, is a true hero. She saved our village, and perhaps even the world, with her selfless dedication."

As the stories flowed, I noticed a shift in the villagers’ demeanor. Their gazes, which had been filled with curiosity and excitement, now held a newfound respect. They looked at me as if seeing me for the first time, their eyes wide with realization.

"To think, all this time, Erica had a child," one man murmured, shaking his head in wonder. "And here you are, among us."

The elderly woman who had spoken earlier reached out and patted my hand gently. "You must understand, young Julian, that your mother is more than just a hero to us. She is our guardian, our protector. And you, as her son, deserve nothing less than our utmost respect and admiration."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. I felt a warmth spread through my chest, a mixture of pride and embarrassment at their words.

"Very true! We may not have known of your existence until now, but please know that you will always have a home here in Summit Village."

Their kindness was overwhelming, I wouldn’t have ever thought I’d be shown the same unconditional love here, just like in Nefta village.

But then, as conversations often do, the topic shifted.

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A young woman, her eyes bright with curiosity, asked the question I had been dreading.

"And what of your father, Julian? Is he as remarkable as your mother?"

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to me expectantly. I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat.

***

With the question of Julian’s father remaining. The villagers leaned in, eager to hear about the man who had captured their beloved Erica’s heart.

But Julian’s face remained expressionless. He couldn’t let any kind of reaction show on his face.

"I don’t have one,"

"…!"

A collective gasp echoed through the room, followed by a tense silence.

The villagers exchanged glances, shocked to hear those words come out of the boy’s mouth.

A child like him surely was made from love and care, right?

Even for Erica, she couldn’t have possibly chosen just any man out of the street, but the news itself was rather unexpected.

"No father?" one man repeated, his brow furrowed in confusion. "But surely..."

"How could this be?" another woman interjected.

"Our Erica, our golden child, taken advantage of by some... some scoundrel?"

The room suddenly got louder and eventually erupted into a ear-splitting of angry voices.

Each villager expressing their outrage at the thought of their beloved Erica being wronged.

"A deadbeat, no doubt!"

"To think someone would abandon Erica and her child!"

"The nerve of that man, whoever he is!"

Julian watched the scene unfold, he didn’t know what to do in this kind of situation, He wasn’t even sure of what to feel.

However, he knew it was best to just wait patiently.

And as the outburst began to calm down, he finally spoke.

"Please, there’s no need for such anger. I don’t care about who my father was or wasn’t."

"…!"

The villagers fell silent, their eyes wide with surprise at the maturity in Julian’s words.

"Whether I have a father or not doesn’t define who I am, my mother has given me more love than I could ever need. I don’t feel like I’m missing anything."

The words that he had spoken exceeded any kind of expectation they had for him as a child. It was as if they were witnessing a miniature adult standing before them, a child forced to grow up too fast, robbed of his innocence by the absence of a father figure.

Sob…sob…sob…

Tears welled up in the eyes of several villagers.

They looked at Julian, at his small frame, his resolute expression, his carefully chosen words, and they saw a reflection of their own children, their own grandchildren.

They saw the potential for joy, for laughter, for carefree innocence that had been denied to him.

"Oh, Julian," one woman sobbed, reaching out to gently touch his cheek. "You poor child."

Others murmured their agreement as their hearts ached for the boy who had been forced to bear such a heavy burden.

They had initially been angry, outraged at the thought of their beloved Erica being wronged.

But now, their anger was replaced by a sadness, a deep empathy for the child who had been denied the love of a father.

"It’s not fair," another villager lamented, shaking her head. "It’s just not fair."

Julian’s brows furrowed, a wave of confusion washing over him. He had spoken his truth, his feelings about his absent father. He hadn’t meant to evoke such a strong reaction, such overwhelming sadness.

-Why are they crying? Did I say something wrong?

He looked around the room, at the tear-streaked faces, the expressions of pity and concern.

He felt a strange disconnect, a sense of being misunderstood. He hadn’t meant to garner their sympathy, hadn’t intended to paint himself as a victim.

He had simply stated a fact: he didn’t have a father.

And while he acknowledged the void, the unanswered questions that lingered in his heart, he had also expressed his gratitude for the love he did have, the unshakable support of his mother.

But it seemed his words had rubbed differently onto the villagers, into a narrative of hardship and deprivation.

He was suddenly the "poor child," the victim of a deadbeat father and nothing more.

It was a label he didn’t want, a burden he didn’t need.

He was Julian Godford, first and foremost, Erica’s son, a boy with dreams and ambitions, a boy who was determined to make his own way in the world, regardless of his past, regardless of his lineage.

***

Meanwhile, in the quiet solitude of Percival’s home, Erica sat across from the elder, a steaming cup of herbal tea warming her hands. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken words, a shared understanding of the weight they both carried.

"It’s been a long time, Erica," Percival said softly, his gaze filled with concern. "Where have you been all these years?"

Erica took a slow sip of her tea, the warmth spreading through her like a comforting embrace. "I’ve traveled," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of weariness. "Seen many things, met many people. But in the end, I found my way back home."

"Home?" Percival echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. "But Summit Village... it’s not..."

He stopped himself, realizing the implication of his words. Erica’s home was no longer here, amongst the familiar faces and the comforting traditions of her childhood. Her home was wherever her son was, wherever her heart led her.

"Julian is my home now," Erica said, her voice firm, her eyes shining with a mother’s love.

Percival nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes.

He had known Erica since she was a child, had witnessed her growth, her struggles, her unwavering determination. And he knew that her love for her son would always be her guiding light.

"And what of... his father?" Percival asked cautiously, treading carefully on sensitive ground.

Erica’s hand tightened around her cup, her knuckles turning white. A flicker of pain crossed her face, quickly masked by a stoic composure.

"That swordsman," Percival continued, his voice barely a whisper, "the one you spoke of all those years ago... is he...?"

Erica’s gaze met his, her eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions – sadness, disappointment, anger. But her expression remained unchanged, her face a mask of serenity.

A maid, even one with extraordinary magical abilities, could not afford to let her emotions betray her, not in a world where vulnerability was often exploited, where weakness could be a fatal flaw.

With a slow, deliberate nod, Erica confirmed Percival’s unspoken question.

The father of her child, the man who had captured her heart all those years ago, was indeed the swordsman she had spoken of, the one who had left her with a broken heart and a precious gift – her son, Julian.

"…"

A heavy silence settled between them, the unspoken questions lingering in the air.

Percival, with his years of wisdom and empathy, knew better than to pry further. Erica’s past was her own and doing anymore just to poke it will make matters worse.