The Anomaly's Path-Chapter 61: The Art of Being Stubborn

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I shifted in my sleep, pulling the thin blanket over my head in a desperate attempt to block out the noise.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I groaned and pressed my face deeper into the pillow Roran had called "perfectly comfortable" last night. The man had clearly never slept on anything that wasn’t made of rocks and disappointment.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Tch." I threw the blanket off and sat up, rubbing my eyes. The room was dim, early morning light filtering through a dusty window that hadn’t been cleaned in what looked like years. Dust motes floated lazily in the pale yellow beams.

Roran didn’t move.

Of course he didn’t. He was sprawled on his cot like a corpse, one arm dangling off the side, mouth open wide enough to catch flies. He’d slept through the entire night without stirring once, and apparently, he planned to sleep through the apocalypse too.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Alright, alright, I’m coming!"

I stumbled to my feet, nearly tripped over a pile of clothes Roran had apparently decided was an appropriate storage solution, and finally yanked the door open.

Mia stood there with her arms crossed and her foot tapping in a rhythm that matched the banging I’d just endured. Her amber eyes blazed with the kind of fire that made me instantly review every decision I’d made since arriving in this village.

I blinked at her. "Mia? What are you—"

"Breakfast." Her voice was flat. "Elder Marta sent me to get you. She said, and I quote, ’That poor boy needs a proper meal after whatever disaster he got himself into last night.’"

I opened my mouth to respond, but she held up a hand.

"I don’t want to hear it. Just get dressed and come eat." Her eyes flicked past me to Roran’s still-snoring form. Her eye twitched. "And bring him too. If he’s still breathing."

Before I could say another word, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the doorway in my underwear like an idiot.

I stared after her for a moment. Then a slow smile spread across my face.

"You know what?" I muttered. "She’s an angel. A genuine, life-saving angel."

"You’re smiling," Roran’s voice came from behind me, thick with sleep. "That’s creepy this early."

I turned to find him sitting up, rubbing his eyes. "She’s something else."

"She’s terrifying." He stretched, his back popping audibly. "That girl looks at you like she’s calculating how many organs you have and which ones she could sell on the black market."

"...You’re not wrong."

The walk to the orphanage was quiet.

Morning light filtered through the trees, painting the village in shades of gold and green. A few villagers were already moving about their day—an old woman hanging laundry, a young man leading a goat, children running past with sticks they were pretending were swords.

Roran walked beside me with his hands in his pockets, looking like a man with nowhere to be and nothing to care about. But I caught him watching the children with something soft in his eyes.

Just for a moment. Then it was gone.

The orphanage kitchen was warm and smelled like fresh bread and something that might have been porridge.

Elder Marta stood by the fire, stirring a large pot with the kind of steady patience that came from decades of practice. When she saw us, her wrinkled face split into a genuine smile.

"Ah, there you are! Sit down, sit down. You must be starving."

We sat at the long wooden table. Within minutes, bowls appeared in front of us—steaming porridge topped with berries, thick slices of bread with butter, cups of something hot that tasted like herbs and honey.

The children were already eating at the far end. Lily spotted me immediately and pointed her spoon.

"The handsome demon lord is back!"

Tobin nodded sagely. "I told you he wasn’t dead."

Sera just watched me with those strange golden eyes, saying nothing but somehow making her opinion known anyway.

I sighed and focused on my food. The porridge was good—really good. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the first spoonful hit my tongue.

Roran, meanwhile, was eating like he hadn’t seen food in a month. Porridge dripped down his chin. Crumbs covered his shirt. He made sounds—actual sounds—of enjoyment that were somewhere between satisfaction and pure animal pleasure.

"Have you considered that you might be eating like a wild animal?" I said quietly.

He looked up, a piece of bread hanging from his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, then flashed me that stupid grin.

"Nope."

I shook my head and went back to my breakfast.

After the meal, I helped clear the table while Roran sat outside on a log, soaking up the morning sun like a lazy cat. When I finished, I walked out and sat down next to him.

For a while, neither of us spoke. Village sounds drifted around us—children laughing, someone chopping wood, the distant cluck of chickens.

Then—

"Will you train me?"

The words came out before I could stop them. Probably too soon. Probably abrupt. But they were out now.

I knew it was sudden. I’d only known him for a day, only watched him lose at cards and eat like a starving animal.

But after spending the last week in this village, after that monster nearly tore me apart in the jungle, after realizing how completely screwed I was in this era with no System and no Path and no one to teach me anything—I couldn’t afford to wait.

When I first heard there was a swordsman here, a real one, the first thought that popped into my head was opportunity. The chance to learn something, to get stronger, to not be the same helpless idiot who washed up on a riverbank half-dead.

I didn’t know what this trial wanted from me.

I still didn’t.

However... I knew one thing: I needed strength.

That was the whole reason I came here in the first place. I wanted to get stronger, to survive, to stop running.

So if there was even a chance to learn from someone who actually knew what they were doing, I was going to take it.

And Roran?

He was the real deal.

I could feel it. The way he moved, the way his eyes sharpened when he stopped pretending to be a lazy drunk, the way he noticed everything even when he looked like he wasn’t paying attention. He was strong.

I didn’t know his rank or his Path—hell, I didn’t even know if this world had the same rankings anymore—but I knew strength when I saw it.

Besides, I was curious.

How did people in this era learn? What techniques did they have that got lost to time? What if they had something better than what I knew? The thought made my pulse quicken just a little.

Maybe it was worth the risk to ask.

Maybe—

"No."

Roran’s voice cut through my thoughts like a blade.

I blinked. "No!? What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no." He leaned back against the log, crossing his arms behind his head. "I’m not training anyone. Not you. Not anyone. I’m not a teacher. I never was and never will be."

"But you’re a swordsman. A strong one at that. Everyone says so."

"Everyone talks too much." He closed his eyes, letting the sun warm his face. "I don’t train people. I barely train myself. I’m too old, too lazy, and too set in my ways to be anyone’s teacher."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Mia’s voice cut through from behind us.

"He’s not wrong about the lazy part." She was leaning against the orphanage doorway, arms crossed, watching us with that sharp look of hers. "I’ve never seen him do anything productive in his entire life."

Roran pointed a lazy finger in her direction without opening his eyes. "See? Even the child agrees with me."

I looked at Mia, hoping for some support, but she just shrugged and walked back inside. The message was clear: this was between me and Roran.

"Look," I said, trying a different approach. "I’m not asking for charity. I can pay. I can work. I’ll do whatever you need. I just—"

"Kid." Roran opened his eyes and looked at me with something almost like seriousness. "It’s not about payment. It’s about... I don’t know how to explain it."

He scratched his stubble, searching for words. "I’m not teacher material. I never was. The last time I tried to teach someone, it ended badly. Really badly."

His voice was quiet when he said that. Quieter than I’d heard it all morning.

I looked at him. Behind the lazy grin and the messy appearance, there was something else. Something old and tired and hurt. I’d seen that look before—in the mirror, back when I first woke up in Leo’s body.

"I’m not asking you to be a teacher," I said quietly. "I’m asking you to help me get stronger. I want to survive. There’s a difference."

He was quiet for a long moment. Something flickered in his eyes—memory, maybe, or pain? Then he let out a long breath and looked away.

"The answer’s still no."

I sighed and leaned back. "Fine. But I’m not giving up. I’ll ask again tomorrow."

"Suit yourself." He closed his eyes again. "But I’m not changing my mind."

I sat there for a while longer, watching the children play. Lily had caught Tobin and was declaring herself the champion of something. Sera was rolling her eyes, but she was smiling too.

Roran didn’t move. He looked like he might have fallen asleep, but I caught him watching the kids through half-lidded eyes. There was something soft in his expression, just for a moment, before it was gone.

I stood up and stretched. "I’m going to go train."

No response.

"On my own."

Nothing.

"Since no one’s going to teach me."

He cracked one eye open. "...You want a medal for figuring that out?"

I snorted and walked away, heading toward the edge of the village where I’d first stumbled in a week ago. The morning sun was warm on my face, and somewhere behind me, I heard Roran let out a long, slow breath.

I didn’t look back.