Childhood Friend of the Zenith Novel MTL - Chapter 1033

Chapter 1033

Wuuung—!!

His fingers locked in place. They trembled, slick with a cold sweat, unable to complete the thrust into his own throat.

No movement. Was it hesitation? He didn’t believe so.

In that moment, he truly wished for death.

He had meant to deliver one clean, final blow.

‘This…’

His hand was rigid. As if petrified into stone, it refused to obey.

It felt, instead, as though another’s grip had closed around it, holding it immobile.

Understanding dawned, and his pupils shook violently.

He could not die.

His mother’s warning had become a dreadful truth. He was forbidden from taking his own life.

He understood it now.

It was strange, in a way. How many times had his mind fractured, shattered by torment?

He had endured through countless screams and desperate cries.

It was a life built by his own hands, and yet—

‘If I wished it, I could have died.’

Death had always felt both distant and near.

How many had he killed with these hands? To end up like them would not have been unexpected.

And yet, had he ever truly been afraid of death?

‘Never.’

Oddly, the idea of his own death seemed colorless.

Not fear, nor even indifference.

‘Disinterest.’

Death itself had always felt remote.

It was more that he had never truly contemplated it.

Because he had never genuinely wanted to die.

But why?

How could that be?

Was it due to some powerful will? Ridiculous. He was certain that wasn’t the case.

He had broken down more times than he could remember.

He had collapsed endlessly, over and over.

He had thought, thousands upon thousands of times, that he did not want to get back up.

And yet, each time, a hand had lifted him.

Or perhaps, he had risen not for himself, but for another.

Paejon had once said:

‘Disciple. You treat your body recklessly, as if pain and death mean nothing to you.’

Back then, he had taken it only as a comment on his brutal fighting style.

And surely, that was all Paejon had intended.

‘…And yet now,’

It sounded different.

‘It is as if I acted that way because I could not even conceive of death.’

Because he was so far removed from it.

Because the thought never occurred to him.

Because he had never accepted his own mortality, his actions had been wildly reckless.

Had he believed it didn’t matter, thinking it was his own choice—when in truth, something else had always permitted him to cross that line?

‘…I feel sick.’

His stomach twisted.

He wanted to clamp a hand over his mouth.

Was it Turtle who had said it? Or perhaps Shin Noya?

That he was bound by fate, trapped inside a cage of karma forged by the world.

That from the very start, his destiny had been predetermined, and his so-called choices may never have been his own.

Those words crawled under his skin, burrowing deep into his core.

As the realization solidified, a cold chill raced down his spine.

‘I…’

What am I?

“Son.” “…!”

His mother’s voice snapped him back. He forced his ragged breathing to steady.

“Hoo… Hoo…”

His breath misted in the air. His turbulent energy churned, heating him from within.

“Son…” “…I am fine.”

He wasn’t. He wasn’t fine at all. But he had to endure.

“…So, is this why I had to consume the Divine Fruit?”

That wretched fate the world had forced upon him.

Was this act necessary to break its chains?

To that question, his mother replied:

“Yes. It was necessary.” “Why?” “I cannot tell you. Not yet.” “…Hah. After coming all this way?” “…I’m sorry…” “…When, then? When will I finally know?”

Even after reaching Mount Marryeong, she still withheld the truth.

So when would he finally hear it?

Her answer, in this cursed place—

“In time… In time, you will know.”

Her voice was pleading, almost desperate.

In time?

‘…There was another Divine Tree.’

Aside from the one at Mount Hua, one more existed.

A lesser-known, ancient tree guarded by a forgotten general.

Only by reaching that place would he learn the truth?

Then.

“What can you tell me now…?”

Here, at Mount Marryeong—what knowledge could he gain?

Was there anything he could uncover after coming this far?

He asked, his voice heavy with urgency.

And his mother spoke:

“You asked earlier. About that child, didn’t you?” “…!”

His throat went dry as he swallowed.

The Divine Sword.

The girl who called his mother her mother, appearing here and there, drifting like a ghost.

She went by Yarang—but he felt otherwise.

‘She’s the Divine Sword.’

Her appearance aside—every fiber of his being screamed it.

Every instinct, every sense declared she was the Divine Sword.

He had wondered why she, of all people, moved under his mother’s command.

And now—

His mother was finally going to answer.

As he waited, tense and breathless—

“You are correct.” “…!”

The answer he had sought, the confirmation he hoped for—his mother affirmed it.

Clench—!

His fists tightened at her words.

It was as he had suspected, but hearing it from his mother’s lips felt entirely different.

“H-How… how…”

The words wouldn’t form properly.

He wanted to ask how she could be here. Yet his voice failed, crumbling into pieces.

Fortunately, his mother understood. She spoke softly, her tone hushed.

“…Because she is a pitiful child.”

“…”

“I could have left it alone. But knowing her memories… and knowing how precious she was to you, I chose to interfere—just a little.”

“How… do you mean?”

Interference could only go so far. The fact that the Divine Sword was here defied all logic.

“Don’t you remember? I once told you to embrace her.”

“What… Ah?”

It hadn’t connected at first, but then it surfaced—from the battle at the Divine Dragon Hall.

When he fought Cheonma.

At that time—when Wi Seol-ah’s body expelled the Divine Sword.

The one who had unleashed a demonic aura and shielded him from Cheonma had undeniably been the Divine Sword.

And afterward—when the fading soul had been absorbed into him, just as his mother instructed.

‘Could it be…’

Was it then?

Had the soul he absorbed at his mother’s bidding flowed here—

And taken the name ‘Yarang’?

His heart hammered. From the moment she confirmed Yarang was the Divine Sword.

‘The Divine Sword?’

Was it truly her?

The eyes behind that mask, the ones that had met his—just the memory made his heart race.

At that moment—

Swish.

His mother, still in her spiritual form, turned her gaze toward something in the distance.

Following her look, he turned his head.

Across the lake, standing motionless and watching them—was Cheonma.

As if sensing their attention, Cheonma looked back.

A blank expression.

Those vivid amethyst eyes, so bright, yet completely unfocused.

The difference in those eyes from his past life struck him—a sharp reminder that this life and the last were not the same.

But then—

“I know what you’re hoping for, my son.”

His mother’s gaze returned to him, and she spoke again:

“But, I’m afraid what you’re hoping for… it isn’t there.”

“…What?”

“Though she may be the same soul you once held close… she will not remember you.”

“What do you mean…?”

“Forgetfulness is both a punishment and a mercy. There are things we can only do when we remember nothing. That was true for me… and it is true for her.”

His mother’s eyes flicked briefly toward Cheonma before settling on him once more.

“And it will be true for you as well.”

“I… don’t understand.”

“If a soul remains but the memories are gone—do you know what remains?”

“I don’t.”

“What remains… is emotion.”

His mother drifted closer to him.

“A soul holds only the emotions it once carried. Imagine… living with feelings stripped of all context, longing for something you cannot even name.”

“…”

To exist with only emotion, without memory?

He had never once considered such a state.

“It’s hollow. It’s sorrowful. To yearn for what you cannot know is a curse. So, remember this well—”

Her hand touched his cheek.

“Forgetfulness may seem like a punishment, but it is also a mercy. And to strip even the emotions from that forgetfulness… to bear all the burdens alone—”

She paused, her voice growing heavy.

“That… is the gravest sentence of all.”

“Mother, why are you telling me this now…?”

He wondered—was this connected to the Divine Sword’s lost memories?

Or—

“Just… a little meddling. A small act of compassion for a poor child. Someday, when you learn what you should never have known—remember my words.”

His mother’s hand gently brushed his hair as she said it.

Cryptic. And incomprehensible.

Then—

“I’m sorry I still cannot tell you everything. But know this—some things must remain unknown for you to reach what you desire.”

That phrase again.

Some things must remain unknown.

He frowned deeply, recalling her earlier words.

To achieve it, you must not know.

His mother had once said she wanted him to find happiness.

Was this—connected to that wish?

“…Mother. You spoke of the Divine Fruit.”

At his words, her expression shifted, and she finally addressed it:

“Yes.”

“The Divine Trees… once you find them all, and reach the last of them—only then will you find what you seek.”

One tree from Yahwol.

One tree from here—Mount Marryeong.

And one more.

Was it truly that by gathering them all—the Divine Fruit could be his?

But—

‘If it’s all the Divine Trees…’

Did that mean even the one at the Mount Hua Sect was included?

As the thought flashed through his mind—

“And… if your mother could ask you one thing—”

A pale hand softly traced his cheek.

“Never. Never seek me out.”

His eyes widened at the sudden warning.

It felt eerily similar to what she had told him before—when she had shielded him from the Blood Demon.

“Not now. Not yet. So—find me later.”

“Mother, wait—!”

There was still more to say.

He still needed to ask about Noya.

As the thought surged and he opened his mouth to speak—

Suddenly—

“Ugh…!”

His mother’s form shuddered violently, as if struck by lightning.

And then—

Thud.

She collapsed.

“Mother…?”

He rushed forward, catching her as she fell.

Her body, still and cold—suddenly stirred faintly.

“Ah…”

A weak sound escaped her lips, and she turned her face toward him.

“…G-Gwiin?”

At the unexpected word, his face hardened.

It was the voice of a spirit.