Chapter 62: Tale of the Chuunibyou hero ( 1 ).

Sandor’s POV

…

Sandor was walking back to his house; however, he had to stop at the sight. The stick outside the house was gone, and the door was wide open. Sandor’s alarm bells rang louder.

Purposely leaving the door open… Sandor was an experienced warrior, so he sensed when he was in a trap. This was a perfectly crafted dead end—with any normal person running in to check the situation.  It was a location begging for a surprise attack.

His extensive fighting experience brought him visions of enemies blowing him up the moment he entered…  But no, that would’ve been too obvious. Or was it because they were confident that he had to enter?

“How about you show yourself already?”

He said, putting on a show as if he knew where the enemies were. Did information get lea—No. No way. Not from the Witch, of all people. Then did it get leaked from him or Auber, then? He put on a brash voice and said it.

“I know you’re there.”

Sandor was used to surprise attacks. He hadn’t sensed anything, but he figured he ought to expect as much from someone who’d come to kill him. He waited. There was no response. Foolish of them, when he’d already found them out.

Sandor snorted, then walked forward with a light step, like he was going for a nice walk. Thus Sandor entered the house, casting his gaze about to catch the moment the attack came.

“...”

Nothing. No. Rather, seeing the state the house was in, Sandor could guess what had happened. Signs of dragging, but from inside out. Fallen things like someone had dropped them carelessly. And the missing patient. All of this pointed to one answer.

The VIP had escaped.

Sandor dashed out in search with his staff. He had been careless. He thought it would’ve been fine to leave the patient alone and told Auber to escort Chaos without him, but he never expected the patient to simply wake up and leave.

“…I really did think someone was there,”

Sandor said to himself. As he remembered the one-man show earlier, he went a little pink.

…

It took a few hours for Sandor to find a clue. It happened by pure coincidence. When running around asking about him, Sandor was told by a crying lady that a boy tried to save her and ended up tangled with a bunch of thugs.

After running about a little longer, He finally founded them.

“Tch. Consider yourself lucky, you brat.”

“Pft. Next time we meet, I’ll take that cloak you like so much along with your head, Cleaner.”

“Ha! As if you could even walk up to me. Boys, we’re heading to Windport.”

Saying that, the man and his thugs left. Taking the chance, Sandor went to the boy.

“Hey, are you—"

“PUT YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”

The boy hissed in anger as he swatted Sandor’s hand away. The speed of the hand was so fast that Sandor barely reacted in time.

“I don't need your pity."

He said, trying to stand with his own two legs. But having his left leg buckling all over, the boy leaned on the house from his right. Sandor stared at the boy as the boy tried his best to move around.

The boy was emotionally unstable. Considering what had just transpired, only bad things would happen to the boy if Sandor left him alone. But the boy wasn’t really in a state to be persuaded. So Sandor tried to knock him out.

Right before Sandor moved, the boy had been able to react. But reacting was all the boy could do. His physical body had limited him, and so the boy couldn’t move away and tried to block with his hand but lost balance and got knocked out cold.

Obviously, Sandor hadn’t gone all out. But still, it wasn’t at the level where some random kid could block the strike. And this kid looked like he was ten or something. Where did this kid come from?

For a moment, Sandor thought he was the Witch’s illegitimate kid or something… Then again, she wasn’t that the type to be interested in such affairs; it could be just a kid she found interesting… Made sense considering his talent.

And so, Sandor had picked the kid up and brought him home.

…

Laurel woke up in the same room once more. This time, the boy was a lot calmer. A quieter one.

“You woke up.”

“...”

“The name’s Sandor. And you?”

“...”

“A quiet one, eh?”

“... Why did you save me?”

“Do I need a reason to help a kid?”

“... Thanks.”

The boy said with a voice that sounded like a whisper as he tried to get up once more. Seeing that, Sandor tried to put him back to bed.

“Stay down. Your wounds haven’t recovered yet.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I made an enemy of someone I shouldn’t have. I don’t want you to be dragged into—"

“Is it the person who made you like that?”

“... Yes.”

“... Have you heard of the Peacock Swordsman?”

“?”

“Auber, the Peacock Swordsman. He’s a North Emperor. I don’t know who you offend but—"

“Kalman.”

“...?!”

“Kalman III. He was the one who left me like this.”

“...”

“I’m grateful for your hospitality, but I don’t want to drag you into my calamity.”

“... Wait. Uh. Um… Do you want to learn from me?”

“?”

“I’m well versed in North Style swordsmanship. I know a few tricks to help you move around just fine in your current state. Of course, I might not be as good as your other North Style teacher…”

“Pardon? I only had a teacher in Water Style though."

“... Did no one teach you North Style?”

“I mean, my father was an Advance swordsman, so… Not really?”

It was at that moment that Sandor had realized what kind of heaven-sent monstrous talent he had picked up.

“You shall learn this secret art from me.”

Sandor said, pulling out from his bosom a scroll and handing it to Laurel. Laurel stared at the title of the secret art and stared back at Sandor. Laurel stared back down and up again before opening his mouth.

“Grandma’s secret tofu recipe???”

“... My son named it, so technically it’s my mother’s, but let’s not be bothered with the details.”

“... Seeing the blue screen popping out, it seems that I have finally gone mad.”