All its actions, whether playing, sleeping, or driving away invaders, revolve around this core.
It is familiar with every texture of the Holy Tree, remembers every dappled shadow cast by sunlight through the leaves, and listens to the gentle sound of each dewdrop sliding off a leaf. Its world is just that giant tree and the few inches of land beneath it.
Now, the core is gone, and meaning seems to have been drained away.
It possesses great power, enough to walk through most of the continent with ease, yet this power cannot tell it where to step next at this moment.
To be precise, the Demigod Squirrel's current plight is not like that of a pitiful child abandoned by its parents.
The rupture of emotional dependence is not the core; the core is the sudden termination of its "mission."
It's more akin to a thirty-five-year-old excellent employee suddenly optimized out by the company.
