I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space - Chapter 205

Chapter 205: Silence is Not Forgiveness
For several seconds, silence stretched between them. Father and daughter simply stared at one another, neither willing to give ground. Aurora’s lips pressed together, her brows faintly furrowed, while Yograj’s face remained set, the weight of experience etched in every line.

Finally, after what felt like minutes, Yograj broke the silence with a weary wave of his hand. “Alright. You can go and take some rest now.”

He turned away, shaking his head as he walked off, his heavy boots thudding against the deck. His back looked broader than ever, but also strangely tired. His mind whirled with doubt and resignation. How was he supposed to teach her the things she needed to survive if she refused to understand?

If it had been anyone else, he would’ve beaten the lesson into them. That’s how he had always trained his men break them, rebuild them, make pain meaningless. But with her? His own daughter? His chest feels tangled. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not when their bond was so fragile, still new, still delicate. If he pushed too hard, she might turn away from him completely.

He sighed, running a hand through his long dark hair. She was immortal, yes, but that only meant the dangers she would face might be even worse. Still, if she refused, he would have to protect her himself. That was enough, for now.

Aurora watched his retreating figure, her pink eyes narrowing slightly, then slowly curling into a smile. At last, she was free of his endless lectures.

“Finally,” she muttered under her breath, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Relief washed over her features as she stretched her arms. Training was pointless. Fighting was pointless. Why couldn’t people just live in peace, civilized, happy, without all this obsession with strength and pain?

She shook her head, amused at how seriously he took it all.

As she turned away, her gaze drifted across the deck and landed on Levy.

He was still swinging the wooden sword Razeal had given him. His body trembled violently with each motion, sweat pouring down his temples, his chest heaving as if he might collapse at any moment. His tongue nearly lolled out, his face red and strained. Every swing looked like it might be his last, yet he forced his arms to keep moving.

Aurora froze, then chuckled lightly.

Oh, this was the man she had slapped when she first arrived, Aurora remembered. She couldn’t help but chuckle as she looked at him now exhausted, drained, and so worn out he almost looked like he might drop dead if forced into more training.

She covered her mouth to hide her giggles, her eyes glinting mischievously. She raised her brows at him, up and down, deliberately teasing. Her look said everything without words: See? My training was easy. Already done. I got away. And look at you still stuck suffering under him.

Her gaze flicked to Razeal, who stood nearby, holding his shadow sword casually, his sharp black eyes watching Levy like a hawk. The contrast was almost comical. One teacher was strict and merciless, the other soft and overly gentle.

Aurora tilted her head, smirking, as if to say, Look at the difference between your master and mine.

Levy glanced back at her and he understood instantly. His lips twitched, caught somewhere between despair and frustration. He wanted to cry. Why was her father so soft with her, while his own “teacher” was a merciless psychopath?

Razeal hadn’t let him stop once. Not a single break. And with the shadow sword in his hand, it wasn’t an idle threat. Levy could easily imagine Razeal cutting off an arm and saying, Keep training. I’ll reattach it later if you pass.

The mental image made his hands shake harder, but it also made him grip the wooden sword tighter and swing faster. He had no choice.

Aurora almost wanted to laugh at his expression, her shoulders trembling as she turned away, clearly entertained. She slid gracefully across the deck, her skirts brushing against the wood, and settled down beside Maria, the aqua-haired noble girl who sat with her usual composed poise.

Levy wanted to groan, to shout, to beg for mercy. Instead, he clenched his teeth, his arms burning as though they were on fire.

Razeal’s gaze softened just slightly. He smirked faintly at Levy’s determination but kept his shadow sword at the ready, tapping it lightly against his shoulder. The silent reminder was enough to keep Levy swinging.

Minutes crawled by, feeling like hours. Finally, when Levy’s arms were little more than jelly and his wooden sword barely lifted above his knees, Razeal spoke.

“Alright. You can go too.”

Levy froze mid-swing, his eyes going wide in disbelief. He stared at Razeal as though he hadn’t heard right.

“Go,” Razeal repeated calmly, reaching out to pat him firmly on the back.

Levy almost collapsed forward at the force, but relief flooded him so fast he could barely breathe. He dropped the wooden sword…

Razeal nodded faintly to himself. Not bad. For a first day, that was good enough.

Levy dragged himself to the table, his arms dangling like wet noodles, his tongue hanging out as if he were on the verge of collapse. With a heavy sigh, he dropped into a seat and let his head slump forward onto the cool round table. His cheek pressed against the wood as he breathed in short, shallow bursts.

Across from him, Aurora was already seated, her chin propped delicately on her hand. She tilted her head at him, her pink eyes sparkling mischievously. Seeing him look so utterly destroyed was amusing to her and she didn’t bother to hide it. A soft laugh slipped from her lips, the kind that made Levy feel like someone was laughing at him rather than with him.

Maria, sitting quietly beside Aurora, didn’t laugh, though her eyes flickered down at Levy with the faintest trace of disapproval. She didn’t say anything, but the way she lifted her cup of water with elegant precision, the way she looked at him as though he were an animal crawling on the table rather than a person that silence spoke louder than words.

Levy groaned, feeling the judgment radiating from both sides. “…Ugh. Cruel world,” he muttered into the table.

A little further off, Razeal walked across the deck, leaving this small group behind. His steps were unhurried, his expression calm, his long shadow stretching under the golden hues of the sinking sun. He moved to where Yograj sat at the far edge of the ship’s railing, the old man’s frame silhouetted against the endless expanse of sea.

Yograj didn’t notice him at first. His elbows rested on his knees, his large hands folded loosely together, his sharp eyes staring far across the horizon as though trying to find something beyond the line where sky met ocean. His broad shoulders slumped slightly, a rare show of weariness.

Razeal settled down beside him, leaving just enough space that their shoulders didn’t touch. He didn’t say anything. The sound of the waves crashing softly against the ship’s hull filled the silence between them, and the wind tugged at their hair and clothes.

Time passed slowly, the two of them simply sitting side by side, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

Finally, Razeal broke it. His voice was light, calm, almost too casual.

“So… why did you lie about that story?”

Yograj didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightened, and his gaze remained fixed on the vast ocean. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.

Razeal tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes narrowing as if to press the question further. “I mean… even an idiot could tell how idiotic it was.”

Yograj exhaled slowly, a sound caught somewhere between a sigh and a grunt. “I didn’t lie. Not everything, at least. That was exactly how it happened.” His tone was flat, almost defensive, but it lacked conviction.

Razeal let the wind brush against his face, his eyes closing briefly. “You left a part out.”

Yograj’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“If you went straight from Atlantis to the eternal hold,” Razeal continued, his voice calm but firm, “then how was she born in between that time?” He didn’t open his eyes, his words cutting through the air like a blade.

Silence again.

Razeal opened his eyes slowly, glancing sideways. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “She didn’t ask you How or where you met her mother. She seems to already know… but she doesn’t ask. And you don’t tell. Both of you are just… avoiding it. Smart, maybe. Living only in the present, without digging into the past.”

Yograj’s shoulders shifted, a small movement that betrayed the tension coiling within him. For a long time, he said nothing. Then, finally, his voice came, rough and low.

“She and I… we’re not asking questions we don’t want answers to.” His eyes narrowed as he stared at the rolling waves. “Some truths just hold you back. Sometimes, silence is the smartest choice.”

Razeal raised a brow, listening without interrupting.

“I honestly don’t even know what to say about it,” Yograj admitted at last. His voice carried regret, but also a strange detachment, like someone recounting a wound that never truly healed. “I didn’t want to hide it from her. But I didn’t want to tell her either. So I left it unspoken… Let her guess what she will, let her imagine her own answers. Maybe that’s better than giving her the truth.”

“The truth being,” Razeal said evenly, “you didn’t even know much about her mother. It just… happened.” His tone was quiet but sharp, probing.

Yograj didn’t said anything. His silence said more than words.

Razeal continued, his gaze steady. “You went into eternal hold thirty years ago. She’s twenty-nine. Which means it happened just before. A few days. A week, maybe. Nothing more. You didn’t even know. She was just… born of chance.”

The old man didn’t argue. His eyes lowered, shadowed by the weight of memories he’d tried to bury.

After what felt like an eternity, Yograj’s voice came again, rough with something heavier now. “I wish… I wish I had found someone worthy to be her mother. Someone I could’ve chosen. Someone who cared. But it was just a fleeting thing. A mistake. Not love or intent.. Which was nothing but chance.”

His hands clenched briefly on his knees before loosening again. “I wasn’t even aware it had happened. Not until you told me. Not until I saw her myself. Even then, I doubted you… until I sensed the divine boon in her body. Until I felt my blood running in her veins.”

Regret coated every word, though his face remained stoic.

Yograj’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the dark waters below. “That woman… she was kind enough to give birth to her. But she didn’t take responsibility. She left her… in a forest hut. Alone. A newborn. As if she thought the child would just die quietly on her own.”

The old man’s jaw tightened, but his face stayed impassive. “She abandoned her. My daughter. Left her to fate.”

Razeal’s eyes closed briefly, the wind brushing against his face. He let the silence drag before speaking, his voice quiet. “She told you?”

Yograj shook his head slowly. His shoulders sagged with the motion. “No. She never complained. It’s as if… she doesn’t even feel sadness about it. She’s alive today only because she was born immortal. If not” he drew in a sharp breath, his voice dipping into something heavier, “I might never have known I even had a daughter. She would have been dead long before I could realize she existed.”

A flicker of pain crossed his features, quick but undeniable. His broad hands tightened over the railing, veins pressing against weathered skin.

Razeal watched him silently. For all his usual detachment, he could hear the fracture in the man’s composure.

“I don’t even understand why Aurora agreed to come with me now,” Yograj whispered. “I thought she would hate me. She should hate me. But we’ve been… going on fine. Too fine. She hasn’t shown me anger, not once. Not a word of resentment. It’s as if it never happened to her.”

Razeal’s gaze lingered on him, his eyes sharp, his tone quiet but cutting. “Maybe she just wants your presence. Maybe she just wants to know what it’s like to have a father, even if it’s late. So she’s holding back. Swallowing her dissatisfaction. Pretending for your sake.”

The words landed like stones. Yograj finally turned his head to look at Razeal, his eyes tired but unsettled.

“No,” he said firmly. “That’s worse. If she cursed me, screamed, even struck me.. I would accept it. I deserve it. I am the reason she carries those memories. But this silence…” He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “This isn’t forgiveness. It’s pretending. And that isn’t healing. That is poison.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing heavily. “She’s holding it in. And I can see it. She’s faking it, pretending to be fine, but I know she isn’t. That isn’t good. It’ll eat her alive eventually.”

For the first time, his voice cracked faintly, the edges of sorrow slipping through. He looked down at his hands, staring at the scars as if they might tell him the answers he couldn’t face.

Razeal leaned back slightly, letting the wind brush through his hair. After a pause, he asked the question that had lingered at the back of his mind from the start. “So. Do you hate that woman?”

Yograj’s head lifted slowly. His expression, surprisingly, was calm. “No. It’s not her fault. She was kind enough to at least give her birth. She carried her for nine months. That is something. More than I did. I don’t deserve to hate her.” His voice grew quieter. “If anything, it was my fault. I should have found a worthy mother for her. It was my responsibility, and I never took it.”

The sea wind whistled between the gaps in the railing, filling the silence.

“I never even wanted to have a child,” he admitted, his eyes distant. “You know why, don’t you?”

Razeal gave only a low hum in response, offering neither agreement nor denial.

“Maybe if I had controlled myself that day,” Yograj continued, voice roughened by the confession, “I wouldn’t have condemned my daughter to such a fate. Her past was painful. Her future will be worse. Even her present she lives now as if she’s afraid to look back, and even more afraid to look forward. She carries it all in silence. And I” his voice broke off before returning softer, “I don’t know how to handle that. I just want to give her everything she lost because of me.”

His gaze shifted, and Razeal followed it. Aurora sat some distance away at the round table. Maria and Levy were beside her, but even among them she looked isolated. Her eyes were lowered, her hands tracing absent circles around the sunflower-shaped hairpin she always carried. Her presence was like a shadow, her silence heavier than words could be.

Yograj’s lips pressed together, his eyes softening as he watched her.

“I think you should talk to her,” Razeal said finally, his tone quiet but steady. “Spend more time with her. You don’t have much time left.”

Yograj chuckled weakly, though there was no humor in it. “If I had known I had a daughter… I would’ve bent my knees without hesitation. What would pride matter? I wasted so much time.” His voice lowered to a whisper, almost lost to the sea. “But fate… it seems fate had other plans. If I wasn’t thrown into eternal hold, and if you hadn’t come to pull me out, I might never have known her at all.”

The admission hung heavy in the air.

Razeal leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly, though his lips curled into the faintest smile. Fate, huh? I wonder what it wanted to lead you both toward. But alas… His smile deepened, cold and knowing. I have a bad relationship with fate. How could I ever let it act as it pleases? How dare it try? He said in his head

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Fhewww finally completed 12k-13k words a day.. really exhausting.. i swear

Thanks for reading guy

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