Leon’s tone was completely flat, as if he were stating something as obvious as “so I can eat dinner.” “Huh?” Shayla’s eyes widened, her lips parted slightly as she let out a short, nasal snort.
Even she was hearing Leon say something like this for the first time.
…By the way, what’s an Ultraman?
Leon picked up his chopsticks and stirred the egg wash.
The metal chopsticks striking the porcelain bowl produced a steady, crisp clinking sound.
Without looking at Shayla, he calmly added a seemingly objective analysis: “This is the preferred option.
First, it’s strong enough, meaning the bottom limit is already very high, and the upper limit is practically endless.
Moreover, it usually possesses strong conceptual traits.” “Kamen Rider could also be considered for similar reasons.” “As for piloting a giant robot, that’s not out of the question either…
but it absolutely has to be a single-pilot model.
Personally, I’m quite averse to the Super Sentai-style teams.
Those typically require a five-person squad, which not only reduces individual combat efficiency but also incurs massive interpersonal communication costs.” He paused before continuing.
“So, three-person teams like GaoGaiGar and Genesis of Aquarion are also out.” “…” “Of course, if it were a fantasy system with a clear progression of realms where one could simply train to get stronger, that would be even better, but that would also mean a much more brutal world ecology…” Shayla watched Leon seriously analyze the pros and cons of things she had never heard of anywhere else, and felt her brain short-circuiting.
Is this guy serious?
Is his head really okay?
That was her first thought.
If a normal person said this, they would probably be joking, or suffering from Chuunibyou.
But Leon was different.
He spoke eloquently while preparing dinner, his face showing no hint of a joke.
The expression he wore, treating the absurd as a matter of course, instead generated a strange sense of persuasiveness and attraction, drawing Shayla’s attention and spirit in completely.
Is something wrong with my head too?
Shaking her head vigorously, Shayla reached out to poke the forehead of the cooking Leon, but his movements were so unnervingly fast that she couldn’t hit him even with all her strength.
She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t make a beautiful girl play the role of the straight man!” “Never mind those ridiculously high requirements I don’t even understand.
How can you be so sure this world has all that messy stuff, and what makes you think you’re the one who’ll be chosen?” Without stopping his stirring, Leon looked at the egg mixture in the bowl, his voice steady and certain: “Because I am the chosen one.” This was no arrogance, let alone a joke.
Leon was completely serious.
For Leon, a transmigrator, this was a logical loop essential for survival.
If there were no supernatural elements in this world, it would mean his transmigration was a lie, and that his current breathing, thinking, and the soul and memories from another world were all just delusions and hallucinations caused by lesions in his cerebral cortex, a complete denial of his past life.
That would mean he had been trapped in this world all along, on this ordinary, common, miracle-less planet.
Leon absolutely, absolutely, absolutely refused to accept such a fact.
He firmly believed this world was extraordinary.
Only then could his transmigration be logically sound, and his past life would not be a fleeting, ephemeral phantom.
Therefore…
This world has the supernatural.
Leon was absolutely and utterly convinced.
Shayla looked at him, the retort she’d prepared getting stuck in her throat as her cheeks inexplicably warmed.
When Leon had said those words, his usually impassive, handsome face had taken on a sense of resolve under the light that made it impossible for her to look away.
The girl reached out and poked his stomach.
It was firm, the muscle lines palpable beneath her touch.
She understood now.
Only with such near-obsessive conviction in his role as a chosen one could Leon, as an orphan, have lived such a disciplined life.
Ah…
I’m falling for him a little.
The smile on Shayla’s face grew even wider.
Leon turned on the gas stove, the flame licking the bottom of the pan as he spoke.
“You should be heading home now.” “No way!” Shayla immediately followed his train of thought.
“Preparing a dinner for Young Miss Shayla…
The mission reward is generous!” This was indeed the most efficient way to communicate with Leon.
He nodded slightly.
“As long as you don’t find the chicken breast hard to swallow.” “What’s that supposed to mean?
I’m always controlling my diet for my figure, you know!
Don’t look down on me!” Leon paused, a look of pity crossing his face.
No wonder her chest is still so small at eighteen.
– The meal was finished quickly.
Though Shayla kept talking about keeping her figure, she still wore a pained expression as she faced the boiled chicken breast, which had barely a few grains of salt on it.
Only the bowl of steamed egg, its surface smooth without a single bubble and cooked to perfection, was scraped completely clean.
In the end, she still generously gave Leon a few hundred yuan.
After seeing off the noisy Young Miss, the room fell back into dead silence.
Leon cleaned up the mess with extreme efficiency, washed up, and walked straight to the sagging old sofa in the living room to sit down.
The sky had completely darkened by now.
He hadn’t turned on the main light, leaving only the old tungsten bulb overhead.
The filament emitted a faint buzzing current, casting a circle of dim, murky yellow light that barely illuminated a corner of the coffee table.
Leon sat there quietly, the boundary between light and shadow slicing right across his body, splitting him into bright and dark halves: one half bathed in yellow light, the other submerged in deep shadow.
He liked this kind of environment.
The gloom and silence, and the heavy security door that could shut out the bustle of the outside world like a tide, reduced sensory interference to a minimum and allowed his thinking to reach peak efficiency.
This was a form of meditation, and also a form of self-control.
For Leon, physical training was certainly the foundation for carrying power, but the mental training component within it perhaps held even greater significance.
Without the control and will to match, even the strongest power is nothing more than an unleashed beast.
Therefore, even if the world’s mysterious veil had never been lifted for him, Leon was always prepared.
The reason he could persist in this almost asceticly disciplined life for ten years, day after day, was not just for the sake of logical consistency, but for the sake of unknown possibilities.
Since he had miraculously traveled to this world, the gears of fate could naturally start turning at any time.
So as long as he was still alive, as long as he was still breathing, his preparation could never stop.
Perhaps, it would happen in the next instant?
Ding— A crisp notification sound that only Leon could hear rang out in the depths of his mind without any warning.
On the half of his face submerged in shadow, Leon’s eyelashes trembled slightly, and then he opened his eyes.
Only to see a line of pale blue, translucent text materialized in the void, covering the image of the old coffee table.
[System Charging Complete.] [“Strongest Hero System” has been activated.] [Claim Novice Gift Pack?]