Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins-Chapter 71: The Song of a Son

After the explosive cheers of Rin’s victory slowly faded, the festival organizers moved to prepare for the final cultural performance of the closing ceremony.

There were fireworks to be launched.

Noble sponsors to be acknowledged.

And one final act.

Me.

I stood behind the large stage curtain, hidden from view.

Distant voices called for the next segment. Layla’s voice rang through the crystal amplifier, calm and professional.

"To conclude our festival’s final night... we present a special musical performance. A tribute, composed and sung by one of our own students. Please welcome—Ashen Crimson."

A pause.

No claps. Just silence.

And then whispers.

Yes. That Ashen.

The cold one.

The stall runner.

The warrior who kept to himself.

I stepped onto the stage, alone.

The light above dimmed.

A single spotlight followed me as I walked to center stage, where a crystal orb floated mid-air—a sound amplifier, enchanted to carry every note, every breath.

Before me, the entire academy.

Nobles. Royalty. Faculty. Students. Citizens.

And among them, my team.

Masha, silent and observing.

Seraphina, arms crossed, her usual smirk gone.

Layla, biting her lip, worried.

Lucielle, hands clasped, whispering something no doubt embarrassing.

Selene Crimson—my so-called mother—seated with teary eyes already.

But she wasn’t who I was thinking of.

No.

My thoughts drifted to another woman.

The one who raised me in a different world. In another life.

She was never royalty.

She had no title.

Only tired hands and aching legs. A cracked voice. A kind heart.

My mother from Earth.

And this song... was for her.

I closed my eyes.

There was no music playing.

No orchestra.

Only silence.

And then... I began.

My voice didn’t rise from my throat.

It echoed from my heart.

"Hold my hand, Ma, teach me once more, Lift me like you used to before. Wipe my face with your soft old shawl, This world feels dirty, I’m feeling small. A aa I ee U uu Ay ai O au An ah..."

My voice quivered at first, raw and untrained. But I didn’t care. This wasn’t a performance.

It was a confession.

The orb amplified the emotion, not just the sound. With each line, my soul poured out.

"When life stares hard with ruthless eyes, I miss the anger you’d disguise. Even your scolding came so light— Like flowers blooming in the night. Why, oh why, can’t the world be like you? So warm, so fierce, so pure, so true..."

Gasps echoed from the front row.

Selene covered her lips.

Evelyn closed her eyes.

Lucielle was already weeping, mascara streaking down her cheeks.

The hall had gone utterly still, every heartbeat echoing louder than the amplified voice.

"My head’s on fire, Ma, since the dawn, Place your hand, and the pain is gone. ’Did you eat?’ or ’Why so late?’ No one here asks. No one waits... A aa I ee U uu Ay ai O au An ah..."

I saw even the royal guards—stoic, trained, unshakable—shift uncomfortably, some bowing their heads.

I sang not with musical finesse but with aching truth.

Each word a wound reopened.

"Diamond," you said, or "my shining stone," Why did you raise me with love alone? Through your eyes, this world looked fair, But now no one sees me with care. If they could see me like you see, Would you still scold them all for me?"

My hands trembled at the microphone orb.

I remembered holding her hands as she lay on her hospital bed. That final goodbye. The silence that followed.

"I want to complain, they push me around, They laugh, they taunt, they break me down. Ma, please hide me, call me close— My heart feels cold, my soul exposed. A aa I ee U uu Ay ai O au An ah..."

In the crowd, a woman fainted into her husband’s arms, overcome with emotion.

A child wept openly in the arms of her older brother.

The courtyard was no longer a festival. It was a temple. A place of mourning and healing.

"From your eyes, let the world be shown, Where I’m not scared, not left alone. Would you still scold them, make them see— What your love truly means to me? Ma, this heart is bruised and black... Please, oh Ma... just take me back. A aa I ee U uu Ay ai O au An ah..."

I let the final note fade into stillness.

Silence reigned.

Not even a whisper.

Not even breath.

And then, slowly, like the tide returning to shore...

Applause.

Soft at first.

Then thunderous.

I opened my eyes.

The entire audience was on their feet.

Not clapping out of politeness.

But because they had been shaken.

Moved.

They clapped with tears in their eyes.

I saw the Fire Queen Lilith close her eyes and bow her head.

Queen Althea wiped her cheeks.

Layla looked away, unable to meet my gaze.

Sasha? She was openly sobbing into Seraphina’s shoulder. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Even the Vampire King dabbed his eyes with a velvet cloth, pretending it was dust.

But the one that hit hardest...

Was Selene.

She wasn’t just crying.

She was weeping.

Mouthing the words as I sang them.

Because for all her power, for all her dignity, she heard every word and felt every line.

And maybe, for the first time, she realized...

That I was someone else, someone from another world, carrying a grief no magic could mend.

But the woman I sang to... she wasn’t here.

She never would be.

I bowed.

Only once.

Then left the stage, vanishing behind the curtain.

My heart pounded.

But it wasn’t from nerves.

It was from release.

For the first time in two lifetimes, I had truly said goodbye.

And I knew...

Somewhere, somehow, she had heard me.

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Author’s Note:

This Chapter was deeply personal.

While Ashen’s journey is filled with battles, power, and ambition, sometimes the quietest moments carry the loudest echoes. "The Song of a Son" wasn’t about skills or status—it was about love, loss, and memory. If it moved you, even a little, then it did its job.

We all carry someone with us. Someone we miss. Someone we’d give anything to speak to one more time. This song was Ashen’s way of speaking to his.

Thank you for reading this far. If you’ve felt connected to this story, please consider leaving a comment, sharing it with friends, or supporting it however you can. Every bit of encouragement helps this story grow and reach more hearts.

Stay with me—Ashen’s story is only just beginning.

With gratitude,–ur_awsm_writter