Sir Hero, It’s Time to Train!

Christian anxiously scanned below, hoping he had been mistaken about what he had seen.

‘It was definitely around here…’

His gaze filled with the image of a person he had fleetingly seen, now taking over his mind.

‘Bloody hell!’

A sharp pain throbbed in one corner of his heart. The Arsenal found its place near his heart, and though it no longer existed, the wound seemed etched on his soul.

— Yes, keep dreaming. Your despair will become a nightmare and appear before you once more.

The voice echoed in his mind, causing Christian to clutch his forehead in severe pain.

‘I’m sure it’s that bastard…’

He had only brushed past people. It might have been a mistake. At this time, many things might have changed for him as well. So perhaps he had…

“There’s no way I misjudged!”

Christian gritted his teeth, enhanced his sight, and began scanning the presence of all living creatures within a radius of dozens of meters through a surge of waves.

‘I will find him…’

It was nearly madness. Receiving information from so many living beings at once could overload his brain, causing unforeseen problems.

‘Definitely…!’

However, Christian did not care. It was not the time for leisure.

“August Varian! You’re here, aren’t you?!”

The fiend was present in this peaceful era, at this very location.

*

Grinning with exposed white teeth, Christian stepped back for the first time with an enemy before him. The fiend, despite being on death’s door, stood confidently as if victorious.

“Yes, keep dreaming. Your despair will become a nightmare and appear before you once more.”

Her mouth and entire body were drenched in blood, with it unclear whether she was swallowing or spitting it out. Her eyes, though red and filled with mania, did not lose their ferocity.

Even with only one arm and leg remaining, she stood precariously, her presence unyielding.

Christian felt fear toward an enemy for the first time. The wound in his left chest, which almost ripped out his heart, bound him as a brand.

‘I mustn’t…’

He couldn’t run away. If he retreated now, he would never move forward again. But his body acted contrary to his will.

‘Don’t retreat! Move forward! Hurry, behead that fiend!’

Grinding his teeth to the point of breaking, Christian tried to step forward despite having retreated. However, his feet refused to move easily.

Such was the extent to which the fear she instilled became shackles for Christian, tightly binding him.

“Nightmarish nonsense. Just shut up and die quickly.”

Shwack—!

With the sharp sound of air being pierced, August Varian’s head slowly tumbled to the ground. Startled by the sudden situation, Christian flinched.

But soon, as the headless body fell forward, the person standing behind it revealed herself. Seeing the woman wiping blood off her sword, Christian felt his energy drain away.

“Master.”

It was indeed his Master, Aira Worden. Her hair disheveled, her breath ragged, her appearance felt unfamiliar to him.

Upon confirming her face, Christian relaxed and sat right back down on the ground. Approaching him, master Aira quietly patted his head.

“You did well, Christian.”

“I’m sorry. I apologize. Because of my inadequacy, others…”

Behind Christian lay countless corpses. It quickly became apparent to Master Aira what had transpired here.

Yet, she never blamed Christian nor scolded him.

She merely looked into his eyes, extracting a handkerchief he once gifted her for her birthday, and gently wiped the blood off his face.

“It’s not your fault, Christian. And don’t let this keep you down. That would only insult those who sacrificed themselves for you.”

“Master…”

“Now, let’s go. It’s not over yet. You still need to exact your revenge personally, don’t you?”

Aira Master smiled warmly, extending a hand to Christian. Despite being rough and scarred, her hand felt as warm and gentle as ever when Christian grasped it.

With such a hand, Christian found the courage to rise again, even after falling.

‘I’m sorry.’

Standing up, Christian momentarily looked back, silently apologizing to the fallen. From that audacious battlefield, Christian had to taste defeat for the first time.

The Southern Continent’s Allied Assault Team had been exterminated by a single dragonkin. Only one survivor remained.

That day, Christian survived, paying with the lives of dozens.

The scar from his first defeat, just like the fiend’s words, was deeply engraved in Christian’s heart, becoming an endless nightmare.

*

‘Where are you? Where the hell are you hiding, August Varian?’

The crowd was vast in the night market, with many having mana. Within such a crowd, it would be nearly impossible to find someone deliberately masking their presence.

Christian needed to find the trace of August Varian within the throng, a trace existing in his memory.

Yet, that task was formidable, even for Christian himself. As his cognitive abilities were pushed to their limits, his headache worsened significantly.

Finally, reaching the brink of his endurance, Christian faltered, nosebleeding.

“Christian!”

“Ah…”

At that moment, as Christian slumped, Aira roughly caught his shoulder. The familiar voice startled him into focus, turning his unfocused eyes towards the side.

“Hey, snap out of it. What the heck… Aaah?! Your nose, nose, nose!”

“N… Nose… huh?”

Christian, touched his nose startled by Aira’s commotion. The sensation was peculiar.

“Hey, your nose is bleeding!”

“Oh…”

“What’s going on with you?!”

Aira hastily pulled out a handkerchief, pinching Christian’s nose tight. He let out a short yelp, but her hands were relentless.

“You disappeared suddenly, and now you’re here bleeding?!”

“The nosebleed is because…”

“Because of what?! Spit it out!”

“Well…”

Christian struggled to figure out how to explain. Noticing his unusual demeanor, Aira sighed, pouting slightly.

“If you can’t tell, then don’t. It’s not the first time you’ve kept secrets from me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Aira realized he kept many things from her. She just didn’t ask until he was ready to speak.

Thinking this was another of those instances, she nevertheless couldn’t help but wish he’d share his troubles with her given his visible anxiety.

“Okay, the nosebleed stopped.”

“Thanks.”

With a small laugh, Christian expressed his gratitude, but Aira’s expression quickly turned sour.

“Why are you laughing?”

It reminded Christian of when Master had wiped his blood, just like now. Experiencing an event identical to the past life invoked a nostalgic laughter.

He still felt a strong bond with Aira.

“Nothing, it just amuses me that it’s happening the same way due to an old memory.”

Trying to brush it off, Christian soon candidly shared his thoughts. Aira tilted her head, puzzled by his words.

“Old memory?”

“Nothing you would recall, though.”

“Did something like that happen between us when we were kids?”

Though their relations had cooled around the age of ten, they once got along well prior to then.

The memory of Christian having a nosebleed would’ve been memorable, yet it eluded her.

“Yeah. It’s really old, so maybe that’s why.”

“Why do you remember it then?”

“Well, I am known for having a good memory.”

“Mmm, remembering such unnecessary details…”

Grumbling, Aira slid the bloodstained handkerchief into the breast pocket of Christian’s uniform. A silent demand insinuated—clean it well.

“Let’s go home, Aira.”

“Mm? But why do you bend over like that?”

Aira seemed startled as Christian suddenly squatted with his back to her. Looking back at her, Christian explained.

“To offer you a ride, what else?”

“What the… what?! What are you saying?!”

“Why are you barefooted, running around like this? Your feet got hurt.”

“That, that’s your fault! You suddenly jumped onto the roof, what was I supposed to do then?!”

“Didn’t I tell you to wait?”

“How could I wait there?! I might’ve lost my way around!”

“… Ah, you were never good with directions.”

Aira’s poor sense of direction was something even in their past life. Had she not been strong, she might have met her end in strange ways.

Recalling it, Christian chuckled.

“Ugh!”

Thinking he was ridiculing her, Aira attempted a futile kick at the squatting Christian.

Alas, dirtied from hurriedly removing her shoes, she withdrew her foot with embarrassment.

“How about I carry you in my arms instead, if you don’t want a piggyback ride?”

“I’d rather die than that!”

“Then just piggyback. How else do you plan to walk back in that state?”

“Urgh…”

Aira hesitated but indeed, it was unthinkable to walk back barefoot. With reluctant resolve, she cautiously climbed onto Christian’s back.

“….”

“If you say I’m heavy, I’ll kill you.”

“…”

“If you complain, I’ll strangle you, so behave.”

Her determined voice from behind ensured every avenue was blocked preemptively.

“Why?”

“Nothing, let’s go.”

“Y-yeah.”

Carefully rising, Christian quietly turned to look at Aira.

‘Did I feel this way when Master carried me?’

Master would often carry a thoroughly exhausted Christian like this. Back then, being carried meant forgetting the anguish and sorrow, feeling genuinely comforted.

Christian hoped Aira might find a similar solace feeling their shared warmth as they rested.

‘August Varian… If you’re in the capital, I will find you.’

On his way back to Marquis Ferdida’s estate, Christian vowed silently. In this life, he would shoulder the burdens Master had once borne.