The bald man's dull gaze lingered on the muddy strand of dark hair while red veins covering his eyes pulsed to fight the dryness brought on by his unblinking stare. Meanwhile, the thick patch of the darkness beneath his eyes battled unspoken exhaustion. The trembling of his limbs was now dead and the hammering in his chest had stopped, just like his-

The icy chill had now dissipated to be replaced by a warmth that was no longer pleasant. A warmth that would never be found in his d-

The unflinching man breathed deeply but the action no longer caused his breath to hitch. His heart didn’t race and his legs didn’t go weak; they were once again steady and firm. Yet his daughter remained d-

The unblinking [Shishya] finally closed his eyes but no thick tears raced down his aged face anymore; the dried tracts remained the only sign of their passing. With the fall of the heavy eyelids, the red eyes no longer remained dry and their pulsing decreased. A pulse his daughter no long-

The aged man picked himself from the mud floor but his firm knees and steady legs failed him. He fell face first. With a light sound of bone cracking, his nose bled to paint his white robes red. However, the man felt no pain. Was there even pain? He neither knew nor cared for the answer. What he cared for was his de-

The man breathed again as he cared not for the blood pooling on his face. Thus, he coughed as the red liquid raced up his nose and into his lungs. He continued to cough, yet forced his flesh to breathe through the blood, causing him to cough again. These were the breathes that his daughter would never-

His heart didn’t race, his pulse wasn’t fast and his flesh was no longer frigid to the bone. Nonetheless, the man suffocated and his broken heart continued to shatter while the unshed acidic tears simmered within his eyes. These were the tears for his daughter that was de-

The man pushed himself off the floor and the broken glass bangles fell off his clothes to tinkle on the ground. The sound of it would have been pretty once upon a time, however now it was just a reminder of the unbearable cries of his wife. Her heart-wrenching sobs lingered in his ears and so did her demand to bring back her daughter who was d-

The [Shishya] picked up the long strand of black hair- no. It wasn’t just hair. It was the Remnant of his daughter. The aged man clenched his fist, but the Remnant was so thin and light that it may as well be nonexistent; just like his d-

His firm knees and steady legs took an unstable step forward before they took another shaking step. One miserable step at a time, the bald man treacherously walked up to his workspace. However, it proved too much for his calm heart as he collapsed in his chair. As his nose stopped bleeding, the man laid the Remnant down with his un-shaking hands. His dry eyes moved up as his hollow gaze passed over the glass jars containing concoctions, Remnants and ingredients. All of which had been meant for his d-

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“…why?” A firm whisper escaped his steady lips. “…[Concoctor] path still existed…” He didn’t understand. Why had she become so lost? Why had she given up hope? She had known about it. Then why had she forgotten it? His heart didn’t threaten to burst out of his chest as he failed to understand. He hadn’t asked much. He had wanted to give her a bright future. He had wanted to save her from the suffering of searching for her path. He had wanted to give her the entire world. Then why has she k-

His blood didn’t race and his eyes didn’t pour as he failed to understand the loss. She had been here just a few days ago. She had been a disappointment but she had been here. She had been secluded and quiet but she had been here. She had grown thin and gaunt but she had been here. She hadn’t lost her hair but she had been here. She hadn’t been d-

His wife’s sobbing shrieks didn’t haunt his ears as he stared at the Remnant. The ashram had dispatched their trackers but it had been too late. The face of the Acharya while handing over the Remnant hadn’t been sorrowful. It had apologetic. It hadn’t shocked him. Perhaps he had even expected it. Perhaps it was something that happened every year. Perhaps they suppressed the news every year. Perhaps his daughter wouldn’t have ki-

An unbearable weight didn't crush his heart, and his flesh didn't grow burning hot as his hollow gaze remained fixated on the Remnant of his only child born in his late age after much difficulty. He didn't bang his fist until they bled. He didn't let out a guttural scream that tore his throat. He certainly didn't breakdown into sobs at his daughter's d-

She had been a failure but she had been his daughter. His only child. For all her faults, he had loved her. But now she was dead. Gone. She had killed herself. She had been ripped apart by beasts. Her flesh had been devoured until the only thing left had been her Remnant. She had been a disappointment and a let-down but she had been his only daughter.

And now she was dead because she couldn’t endure her failure. The bald [Shishya] did not scream in unbearable anguish.

Ting.

[Your level has been decreased. 1 Attribute point deducted from the most recently manipulated Attribute.]

Ting.

[Skill Level exceeds the Class Level. Skill Level has been adjusted.]

Ting.

[Skill Level lost. Skill [Focus Lv.20] has been levelled down to [Focus Lv.19]]