My Second Chance In Life In Another World

CHAPTER 15: GET BACK

The next day, after deciding to keep a close watch on Chris's house, I woke up early and had a light breakfast. While my mother was busy with chores, I managed to slip out of the house unnoticed. My heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and dread as I made my way to Chris's home, determined to find a way to help her.

As I walked through the village, I overheard a group of women chatting with a merchant who was peddling his goods. He mentioned that a knight was coming to the village today because a murderer was rumored to be hiding here. For a moment, my mind wandered to the knight’s arrival, thinking about how knights in this world served as royal guards, keeping the peace, much like the police in my previous life. Some were sent to the battlefield, others to clear dungeons, and a few, like the one in the rumor, were tasked with apprehending criminals.

However, I quickly pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on my task—keeping an eye on Chris’s house. I hurried along the familiar path and soon reached my destination. I found my usual spot behind a large oak tree in their backyard. The tree's thick trunk provided ample cover, hiding me from view while allowing me to observe the house.

I settled down, leaning against the rough bark, and began my silent vigil. An hour passed, and everything seemed quiet. The morning sun had risen high in the sky, casting long shadows over the yard. But something felt off. A sense of unease crept over me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The air was too still, too quiet, as if the house itself was holding its breath.

Suddenly, Uncle Philip’s angry voice shattered the silence. His shout was loud and filled with rage, echoing through the still air.

“He’s at it again,” I muttered to myself, my heart sinking. I remained hidden behind the tree, gripping the hilt of my wooden sword tightly. A part of me wanted to charge in and confront him, but memories of our last encounter held me back. I knew I couldn’t just storm in recklessly. Not again. Not after what happened last time.

Even though I stayed hidden, I strained to hear what was happening inside. Uncle Philip's voice was the only one I could make out clearly from this distance. It was harsh, filled with bitterness and anger, a stark contrast to the man I once knew. His shouting continued for what felt like an eternity, the tension building with each passing second.

Then, Aunt Lyshia’s voice rang out, sharp and desperate. She was casting a spell. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the incantation—"Wind Slice." It was a powerful spell, one that could cause serious harm. I knew Aunt Lyshia was skilled in wind magic, having mastered several intermediate spells, and she was also proficient in advanced fire magic. But she wasn't the type to use her magic unless absolutely necessary. For her to resort to this meant something had gone terribly wrong.

A cold knot of fear twisted in my stomach as I crept closer to the house, moving towards the broken window I had shattered during my last visit. The window was still only covered by a thin curtain, and as I drew nearer, I could hear more clearly what was being said inside.

My heart nearly stopped when I realized what was happening. Uncle Philip was demanding something from Chris—her wand. The very wand I had given her on her 8th birthday. My chest tightened with a mix of emotions: anger, fear, and an overwhelming sense of guilt. Chris treasured that wand, and now she was being hurt because of it. Because of me.

I wanted to burst in and stop him right then and there, but fear rooted me to the spot. Memories of our last encounter, where I had been powerless against him, haunted me. But then I heard Chris’s voice, small and frightened, but filled with determination as she refused to give up the wand. My heart broke as I listened to her struggle.

“Will, please help me!” she cried out, her voice tinged with desperation, a plea filled with the hope that I could somehow save her.

That was it. Her words broke through the paralyzing fear that held me back. I couldn’t just stand by any longer. Without thinking, I leapt through the curtain, tearing it apart with a swift slash of my wooden sword. Light flooded the dimly lit room as I landed inside, my sword gripped tightly in my right hand. I forced a smile onto my face, hoping to reassure Chris.

“Chris, I’m here to help you as you wish,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I tried to project confidence, to show her that everything would be okay, even though I wasn’t entirely sure myself.

Chris’s eyes welled up with tears, but she managed a shaky smile. She looked so relieved, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Seeing her like that fueled my resolve.

Uncle Philip, however, was far from pleased. His eyes narrowed as he glared at me, his expression twisted with anger and contempt. “You again? Always barging in and acting like a hero. Aren’t you getting tired of it?” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

I met his gaze, refusing to back down. “And you’re here again, doing villainy stuff,” I shot back, trying to keep my tone light, though I knew my words would only provoke him further.

Uncle Philip’s expression darkened, and I could see the rage simmering beneath the surface. “Running your mouth again, I see. Maybe you didn’t learn from what I did to you last time,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. His hand tightened around the hilt of his wooden sword, and I knew he was about to strike.

Before he could make a move, I turned and dashed out of the house, leading him towards the backyard. I could hear him cursing behind me as he gave chase.

“Quit running around, you little brat!” he bellowed, his footsteps heavy as he pursued me.

I skidded to a stop in the backyard, turning to face him. My chest heaved as I caught my breath, but I kept my stance firm, gripping my sword tightly. This was it. I couldn’t run anymore.

Uncle Philip stormed towards me, a cruel smile on his face. “Tired of escaping? Are you that scared to fight me after all your big talk?” he taunted, his voice laced with mockery.

I shook my head, meeting his gaze with determination. “I didn’t try to escape,” I said, my voice steady. “I lured you out here. And you fell for it.”

He let out a harsh laugh, disbelief written across his face. “You and your nonsense,” he scoffed. “I’m going to beat some sense into you, boy. I’ll show you what real violence is, and maybe then you’ll think twice before going against me.”

I swallowed hard, but I didn’t let my fear show. “I’m not here to fight you for my own satisfaction,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m here to get back the Uncle Philip I know and love. The one who isn’t controlled by alcohol and anger. I will beat you, not just for me, but for Chris, for Aunt Lyshia, and for the man you used to be.”

For a moment, something flickered in Uncle Philip’s eyes—regret, sorrow, maybe even guilt—but it was quickly replaced by a sneer. “You think you can save me, boy?” he spat. “You’re nothing but a child playing hero.”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. This was no longer just a fight—it was a battle for the future, for Chris, for their family, and for the man Uncle Philip used to be. I couldn’t afford to lose.

With my resolve hardened, I braced myself, readying my wooden sword. The air was thick with tension, and I knew this would be our final showdown. I had to end this now, or the situation would never change.