"Sage old man... can I ask you something?"
"Hmm... who the heck are you anyway?"
"My name is not important... because the question I’m asking sage old man, is a question that only you can truly answer."
"Hmm... then let me hear it." The elder’s small ego instantly inflated upon hearing the last part.
At least there was still a young man in this generation who could appreciate the profound vision of a wise sage.
Urek leaned in closer, whispering directly into his ear.
"Which one is better sage old man: tits or ass?"
"Of course it’s as—FUCK! What kind of question is that?!"
The elder’s roar reverberated through the entire courtyard, forcing every single disciple to abruptly freeze and turn their heads.
"Continue training! Don’t let minor distractions pollute your ears!"
His booming, sage-like voice echoed out, commanding the stunned students to resume their drills immediately.
’Fucking rascal... I almost slipped!’ He fiercely glared at the crimson-haired youth.
"Why are you looking at me like that, sage old man?"
"Rascal, what exactly brings you here? And who the heck are you?" He swatted away the sudden, unholy distractions in his mind...
Well, it wasn’t a lie that he loved...never mind.
"Oh, my apologies. I’m just a simple young man who wishes to become a hero, sage old man." Urek puffed his chest just to show some decent intro.
"Heh? You, a hero? You shitty rascal... you’re already trying to corrupt a wise sage like me with your degenerate nonsense."
"But you literally said you love as—"
"Shh!! Fuck this, that was just muscle memo--! Hell, no! Fucking rascal!!"
"Pfft..." Urek tightly clamped his hand over his mouth, his laughter right on the verge of exploding.
"My bad, pfft.. sage old man. It’s just too funny."
"I think it would be best to feed you to my pet, rascal."
"Ahem... nothing happened. Yes, absolutely nothing." Urek immediately stood up straight, adopting a highly disciplined posture while staring blankly at the sky.
Even though he genuinely wanted to keep playing around, the reality was that this shitty old man was a freaking monster.
Not to mention his pet. A literal, legendary dragon!
There was no need for any introduction here, because this elder was none other than the grandfather of the freaking protagonist.
"Heh, rascal... now tell me, why are you really here?" the sage old man asked, quickly recovering his composure.
For once in his long life, he had been successfully teased by a mere youngster.
"Sage old man, I’m here because I received a personal invitation from your granddaughter, the Goddess."
"Hmm... that crybaby actually invited someone? That’s a novelty. Well, I suppose it’s better than dealing with that spoiled piece of shit." He barely mumbled the final sentence under his breath, yet Urek caught it perfectly.
Well... the current hero truly was an incredibly spoiled brat.
It was entirely the fault of his late father, who had coddled the boy to high heaven, forcing the old grandfather to clean up the kid’s catastrophic messes every single time.
Though the old man didn’t claim to be an absolute saint himself, the hero was simply a lost cause.
That was precisely why the elder didn’t care for him much.
The boy wasn’t just spoiled; he was a colossal, big-headed fool...completely unworthy of the title of Savior, yet chosen by destiny regardless.
A true shit for him to believe...but he was lucky that his blood was thicker than he expected.
"Yes, sage old man. I have no idea when your granddaughter will arrive, but it’s not a bad choice to get here early."
"Well, that’s fair logic. It’s never a bad idea to get outside and smell some fresh..." A long pause stretched between them as a knowing smile crept back onto the old man’s face.
"Fresh...?"
"Air, of course..."
"Haha... I thought you were about to say as—uppff!"
Before Urek could utter the treacherous word, the old man clamped a powerful hand over his face and began dragging him forward, wearing a deceptively pleasant grin.
"Now, easy there, young man... Before you meet that crybaby, how about you try a little spar against one of my battle-hardened disciples to see where you stand?"
’Dammit—’ Urek’s train of thought was instantly snapped.
The raw power radiating from the elder was simply too monstrous for a Tier 1 like him to resist.
"Jalen! Step forward!" the old man barked.
"We need to evaluate your combat proficiency to see if you are truly prepared to face the brutal reality of the outside world!"
"Yes, Master!" A lean, athletic young man standing roughly 6’0" immediately stepped forward, confidently hefting a wooden training sword.
A distinct spark of smugness coated his features as he strode into the center of the yard, his absolute self-assurance practically radiating outward to the spectators.
The surrounding crowd quickly backed away, forming a wide, circular arena to give the combatants plenty of room to move freely.
"Rascal, show me the extent of your strength... You already know what happens if you fail." The old man casually floated up into the air, establishing himself as the overhead referee for this entirely unplanned match.
’Shit... what a complete drag. There are always these exact novel tropes where if the main character gets defeated by a random extra, he won’t be allowed to meet the heroines, blah, blah...’ Urek grumbled internally, staring at the side character who was about to unwittingly play his part in fulfilling the author’s mandatory word count.
It was truly tedious work.
"Go, Jalen! Show us what you’ve got!"
"You’ve been training rigorously since you were a toddler!"
"You were literally swinging a blade at two years old! You’ve got this in the bag, man!"
"Obliterate that random extra!"
The crowd shouted with fervor, already tasting the thrill of victory and the coveted recognition of the old sage.
Win the battle and you are free to follow the hero.
That was the underlying ultimatum the sage had laid down.