CHAPTER 339: A BIT SHAKEN

"Wait, wait, are you telling me he just attacked his own dad?"

"No way—"

"I mean... it was the dad that attacked first."

"He still overreacted! They’re his parents!"

"That’s not how you treat your parents, no matter what they did! That’s messed up."

"He’s too arrogant now. The fame’s gotten to his head."

"Yeah... the power too."

"You’d think someone like him would have more restraint..."

"But seriously though, what kind of person tries to kill their dad in broad daylight?!"

More voices clashed.

"He was right to retaliate."

"No, he wasn’t!"

"He’s become too cold."

"He should’ve just walked away!"

Harry heard all of it.

The sneers. The gasps. The laughter. The accusations. The attempted justifications. The moral arguments that tossed his name around like it belonged to a stranger.

He sighed.

The air around him grew colder. His expression hardened, a single deep frown settling across his face.

All these people knew nothing.

They didn’t know what had happened years ago.

They didn’t know what he’d been through.

They didn’t know what kind of people his parents truly were, and how they had maltreated him just because he had no talent.

But still... they judged him.

Though hearing them throw blames and critics at him annoyed him, he wasn’t surprised. After all, that was how people were.

Harry’s exhaled, and then, his figure blurred, vanishing into thin air.

Those watching blinked.

One moment, he was there, and the next, he had vanished without a trace.

"Did he just—?"

"He vanished..."

"I didn’t even see him move—"

"Man’s like a ghost..."

The murmurs rose again.

But Harry was already gone.

*

Harry’s body reappeared in a far away forest, and he exhaled, clenching his fists.

He took a slow step forward, his feet sinking slightly into the soft, leafy soil beneath him.

Towering trees surrounded him on all sides, their thick trunks rising like pillars into the sky.

The forest was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the branches and the distant chirping of birds.

It was a large, dense forest—untouched by man, filled with aged trees, damp moss, and the quiet scent of earth.

It was isolated, peaceful.

Yet not even that was enough to calm him.

His chest kept rising and falling rapidly, each breath shallow and hot.

His hoodie clung slightly to his body, damp with sweat—not from the physical strain of movement, but from the burning heat of his anger.

His hands were clenched tightly, so tightly the veins along his knuckles bulged. His jaw was stiff, his teeth gnashing against each other as he forced himself to breathe slower.

His frown deepened.

’You can’t be letting them rile you up,’ he thought, but even in his mind, the words sounded weak.

He took another breath, and another... but no matter how many times he tried to calm himself, that shaking, buzzing feeling wouldn’t leave his chest.

Because deep down, no matter how much he denied it—

They had gotten to him.

His parents.

Their sudden appearance, their gall to act like they still had some place in his life—it shook him.

He hated that it shook him.

He wasn’t supposed to care. Not anymore.

Not after everything.

Not after all those years.

He took a few steps forward, walking slowly through the underbrush, his eyes narrowed and face still tense.

Yet no matter how much he walked, no matter how much he told himself to forget about it... the conversation replayed in his mind again and again. Their faces. His father’s rage. His mother’s tears.

The disbelief in their eyes when he turned them away.

The way his father had lunged at him. The way the crowd had murmured.

He hissed and clenched his fists tighter.

The wind whistled between the trees, brushing through the thick canopy above and causing the light to shift around him.

’I shouldn’t be this bothered,’ he told himself. ’I shouldn’t.’

But he was.

Because in truth, a part of him had always wondered what he’d do if they ever showed up again.

A part of him had always pictured screaming at them.

Asking them why.

Why they had abandoned him.

Why they had ignored him all those years, treated him like a stranger once it was clear he’d never awaken a proper talent.

Why they had acted like he didn’t exist the moment his mana test came back broken.

Why they had never, ever looked for him.

That had been the most painful part of it all.

Even after he left the house—after he moved out with barely anything to his name—he had still hoped, deep down, that one day... one day, maybe they’d come looking for him.

Maybe they’d knock on his door and apologize.

Maybe they’d show up in front of his school.

Maybe they’d try to reach out in some way.

But they never did.

Not once.

Months had passed. Time moved forward. And they never bothered to check up on him until now.

He knew that even now, the only reason they bothered looking for him was after hearing the news of Tv about his performance in the tournament.

If not for that, they wouldn’t have cared whether he was alive or dead.

The world around him was still quiet.

He stopped walking.

His eyes closed for a moment.

And a tired sigh slipped past his lips.

What annoyed him the most... what frustrated him down to the core... was that even now—even after everything they had done—a small part of him still wanted to go back.

Still wanted to forgive them.

Still wanted to pretend that maybe things could return to how they were.

His brows furrowed, a bitter expression overtaking his face.

Because he remembered.

He remembered the good times.

He remembered being a kid, laughing in the living room with them during holidays. Eating dinners together at the table. Playing outside in the garden while his mother clapped and his father smiled proudly from the porch.

He remembered the birthdays, and holidays they spent together.

He remembered his mother’s lullabies when he couldn’t sleep.

He remembered his father lifting him high into the air and calling him "champ."

Until they discovered his mana core foundation was broken, and everything changed.