Mushoku Tensei: Life and Strife.

Paul’s POV

…

It happened on Laurel's 10^th birthday.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself in the middle of a grassy plain. Everything in the Fittoa region had vanished. He was bewildered. Totally bewildered.

What the hell had happened? Where was Buena Village now? Where were Zenith and Lilia? The Citadel of Roa had disappeared, too. Did that mean even Rudeus was gone?

This couldn't be happening. At some point, he'd fallen to his knees in shock and anguish. The words "they were wiped out by a teleport trap" echoed inside his mind.

It was a phrase he'd heard more than once back in his adventuring days, when he was still exploring labyrinths. Teleportation traps were the one thing you had to watch out for, because even veterans would end up dead more often than not.

But why had this happened here? To them?

"Daddy… aren't we home yet?"

Norn's voice snapped him back to reality. Her small hand was clutching at his sleeve. Without saying a word, he hugged her close.

"What's wrong, Daddy?"

That's right. He was her dad. This girl still didn't understand what had happened. But she wasn't worried, because she had him with her. He was her father. He was a father now, damn it! He couldn't show any weakness. He had to stay calm and confident. Everything was going to be all right.

Fittoa had disappeared, and the only person left by his side was Norn. He did everything he could to search for his family.

…

A month passed since Paul started searching for his family.

As it turned out, a large number of Fittoans had been teleported to the Milis continent, and they went around rescuing every last one of them.

Some had already been sold off as slaves, and forcibly liberating someone else's "property" was against the law in Millis. But the thought of someone selling Zenith or Lilia into slavery made him so furious that he never hesitated to break that law.

Paul stuck stubbornly to a policy of rescuing everyone they found.

Freeing the slaves took more effort, of course. They paid for their freedom where they could. When that wasn't an option, they had Zenith's family put the pressure on. And when that didn't work, they looked for chances to snatch them from their owners.

Paul used everything he had—the Greyrat name, his connection to Zenith's family, and his reputation as a former adventurer—to find ways around the obstacles in their path.

But no matter how hard they worked, no matter how thoroughly he searched, he couldn't seem to find any information about his family.

…

Six months have passed.

He had found Laurel. Or rather, Laurel’s letter had found him.

…

Old man, I’m with Geese. Alright, Paul, listen up. I don't care about how hard it has been on you or how shitty you're feeling right now, but your family is fucking sturdier than you think. Hell, they survived all the craps you've pulled, so they'll handle themselves just fine. Alright? So no drinking.

I know it feels horrible, but NOW IS NOT THE TIME. Find Kishirika, the Demon Emperress. Rumors have it that she had revived. So find her and ask for her help to find everyone. At the least confirm whether they are dead or not before getting drunk.

You still have Norn. What are you going to tell your wife when she comes back seeing your pathetic state? If I'm not wrong, then I should be able to find Lilia and Aisha. Hopefully.

Whatever the case, wait your ass so I can at least get there, damn it. If I find you still drunk on your ass, I swear I will kick you to the curb, Paul!

PS: Before the incident, I was a bit worried about all the monsters, so I had given some a few magic barriers. The caterpillar can sense my mana, so use that to track them down.

…

With nothing more than a letter, a heavy box filled with Asuran gold, and a caterpillar, Paul had led his men to track down the victims. It was a surprise that the caterpillar could join the fight using magic, but things worked out nonetheless.

The Etos, Chloe, Laws, Bonnie, Lane, Marion, Monty…some were gone, but many had survived. Every single time I learned of another dead acquaintance, my blood ran ice cold. At times like this, I had wondered.

Had Laurel not been here with him, how many more would have died?

…

A year and a half had passed since “The Displacement Incident.”

These days, alcohol was the only thing that kept him going. He started drinking in the morning, and he kept right on going into the night. He was literally never sober.  He knew he should stop himself.

But whenever the booze wore off, the exact same thoughts always popped into his head.  He'd tell himself that his family was dead.  He'd think about the ways in which they might have died.  He'd wonder what had happened to their corpses. He couldn't think about anything else.

Could you really blame him? Even that absurdly talented son of his, Rudeus, had vanished without a trace. He didn't want to believe it. He really didn't. But in all probability, Rudeus was dead.

They had all probably died sometime in the last eighteen months—with tears running down their faces, waiting for him to rescue them.

Every time he pictured it, he thought he might go crazy.

What the hell was he doing here, anyway? Why had he wasted all this time helping a bunch of strangers? He should have headed straight to the most dangerous parts of the world from the very start. He could have managed, somehow, even if he was on his own.

He made the wrong choice, and now he'd lost his family.  The people he cared for most had been stolen from him, and he could never get them back. He didn't want to believe that, of course.

So he drank. When he was drunk, at least, he could feel something like happiness.

“Heh.”

Paul suddenly chuckled as he spun his mug. Come to think of it, Laurel did say he’d kick him to the curb if he ever found out Paul was drinking. Did that boy know this was going to happen as well?

“Laurel…”

It had been an entire year since Laurel had gone missing.  In this situation, his sudden disappearance could only be explained in one word. Death. As Paul drank his beer, he stared at the person next to him.

“Get me a non-alcoholic drink.”

The tiny Laurel sat right next to him as he spoke to the bartender. He looked exactly as the day Paul had last seen him. It was probably a mirage, an illusion.  Of course, that kind of request was obviously just going to annoy the bartender.

“Why are you even in a bar, you one-eyed bastard?”

The bartender growled in annoyance. Right, the real Laurel wouldn’t even bother to go so far from home.

“I’m underage, okay?”

Laurel said innocently. To that Paul said to himself.

“Bullshit.”

Paul muttered, staring at a young boy with brown hair and brown eyes. It was obviously a mirage. But seeing Laurel so happy and lively, Paul couldn’t help but cry.

“I wish you were really here.”

Laurel, his son, the son who Paul had owed the most apologies to, the son who had done everything he could for this useless old drunkard of a father.

Laurel was dead. And it was Paul’s fault.

“And what’s up with you? I thought I’d said I kicked you to the curb—wait, what the? Are you crying? Hey?! No, wait. What did I even do?”

In front of the confused mirage of Laurel, Paul had bailed out crying.

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