Mushoku Tensei: Reincarnated as a Beast Race

Running in flight over the rubble of Milishion, Rygar had an idea.

The sacred capital had tried to induce him into madness and loss of control in some way.

The moment the blow struck him, he had felt nothing—since his senses had been sealed almost simultaneously.

But now, with his perception of time slowed due to his eyes' ability and his mind reorganizing amid the chaos, he could analyze the situation clearly.

The origin of that magical effect that tried to hit him was, most likely, an ability of the blade that had pierced his chest.

The red energy that invaded his mind had flowed exactly from that point. Even without feeling pain, even without tactile or clear vision at the moment, the deduction was easy.

If Milis wanted to throw him out of control… why not play their game?

They seemed to have no knowledge at all of his mind‑protection magic: Mental Block.

After all, that was an Emperor‑level spell that shielded his mind against external influences. But, looking from another angle, how on earth would they know?

The warriors of Milis could have perceived this if any of them had a Demon Eye of Magic Power, but, of course, the kingdom's religious repulsion toward such gifts prevented them from having such users.

It was truly unfortunate for them.

Still, that worked in his favor. He could pretend to be affected, pretend the dagger had worked.

To do that, he needed to act quickly. The attack had happened only moments ago.

Being seen as a monstrous creature, it wouldn't be hard to convince them that the magic's effects were manifesting late in his unusual body.

As he ran with a staggering, erratic gait over the rubble, Rygar forced his Touki to its maximum to recover his senses.

He felt the constraints imposed by the strange magic beginning to yield under the brute force of his mana.

Behind him, Galgard finally caught up. Warriors blocked the path ahead of him, and he could see mages positioning themselves, preparing enchantments.

Even deprived of his senses, he was not deprived of his mana.

And strangely, he began to perceive the presences around him more accurately, as if his own mana were offering him a new form of perception.

Like a hidden sense that had always been there, now unleashed in its fullness.

At that moment, he finally unlocked his next sense: touch.

That was the second most important, right after vision—perhaps even more essential, if not for his Demon Eye.

Touch was what allowed him to feel his body, his movements, his balance, pain, air resistance, contact with the ground.

Without it, his combat ability was drastically reduced.

With it back, his Touki began to flow more precisely, no longer like an uncontrolled torrent, but like a calm, steady river.

Usually, this would be the moment he would turn against his enemies and use magic to massacre dozens of warriors, perhaps even try to eliminate Galgard.

Such a move would put them on alert again. He had a chance to kill them all at once and end the battle with one move, and he wasn't going to let it slip away.

As soon as he recovered his sense of touch, and the healing circles finished closing the hole in his chest, he stopped running.

And he roared.

The roar reverberated like thunder through the destroyed streets. The soldiers of Milis were stunned, hesitating for a moment.

But they were not novices. They were war veterans. They realized the Beast God was trying to resist the magic that had sealed his senses.

Still, he still seemed affected to some degree.

What they didn't expect was what came next.

Rygar attacked the nearest warrior like a wild beast. His run resembled more that of a creature than of a warrior.

Although, in a way, it had always been so. But now, there was something different. Something more erratic, more brutal. He seemed… uncontrolled.

Then he abruptly halted his charge, as if fighting against himself, spun his body, looked around, and fled again, emitting a low, guttural growl.

It was at that moment that the same voice that had warned them of Rygar's sealed senses echoed among the warriors:

"The dagger that pierced the Beast God has an effect that induces rage and emotional uncontrolledness! He is still being affected! We must kill him before he recovers all his senses!"

This time, the voice's origin was clearly seen by all.

It was an elderly man wearing priestly robes. He did not wear armor, but ran with as much energy as the paladins. In his hand, he wielded a heavy mace.

His figure stood out among all around.

He was Cardinal Mance, loyal to the current Pope, and one of the few who knew all the plans devised to defeat the Beast God.

As Mance had declared, Rygar became increasingly aggressive during the fight. He still used magic and his swords, but in a primitive, fierce manner.

He relied almost exclusively on his strength to hunt down his enemies.

And even so, even uncontrolled, he was still winning. He had already killed many of them before being caught.

No one could stop him. None of the paladins, clerics, or mages.

At least now, they were free from the refined tactics, elaborate magics, and complex tricks he used to crush them with cruelty.

But the fight grew ever more brutal.

With each passing second, Rygar lost himself more in rage. With each strike, his style became more savage.

The wounds on his body increased, even though his Regeneration Magic dealt with them moments later.

It was only a matter of time.

Time until he made a mistake that would cost him his life. Or at least that's what it seemed like...

---

POV: Galgard Nash Venick

The Pope had other plans to deal with Rygar.

Of course… it was obvious.

And he didn't inform me of those plans so I wouldn't compromise them with my reactions.

It made perfect sense.

Every move meticulously prepared, every strategy calculated beyond my understanding.

But, for some reason, some idiotic pride made me feel discontent for a moment.

Even with everything pointing otherwise, even with all logic screaming inside me, I still harbored a spark of hope.

Hope that I and my knights could kill him alone, with honor, with swords raised and hearts firm.

But there was no more time for that.

That Howling Magic he used after being caught in the trap… it was like death incarnate. An invisible, powerful, devastating wave.

It killed everyone near him at that moment, except me, thanks to my armor.

But that was probably his final card as well. His most dangerous trump had already been played. Now, he must be vulnerable.

I couldn't waste this chance because of pride. He had to fall now.

Someone had stabbed him deep in the chest, directly in the heart region. A lethal strike for any living creature, no matter how strong.

And, as was said, his senses were completely sealed. Diabolical tactics, but effective. And yet… he fled.

He resisted. Somehow, he resisted all that.

It was impressive, almost absurd. But, as it turned out, the Pope's tactics didn't stop there.

The assassin's dagger carried an even more perverse effect: it induced uncontrollable and irrational fury in whoever was wounded by it.

It was the perfect punishment for the Beast God, whose keen mind and combat tactics were the greatest threats we faced.

Rygar, even without his senses, even without mental clarity, was still killing my men. He remained unstoppable. Not invincible… but undeniably powerful.

I began to think, against my will, that perhaps Milis had committed a monumental sin.

Something so grave that the heavens decided to punish this land with the coming of such calamity. How else to explain the presence of a creature like him at our gates?

But those thoughts were quickly buried. There was no time for doubts or guilt.

He was nearly dead. Almost.

And then I saw it: a balista bolt—a bolt clearly imbued with powerful enchantments—pierced the Beast God's back.

The impact was swift and brutal. His body was pinned in place as the bolt drove into the ground before him, trapping him like a cornered animal.

A collective sigh of relief seemed to pass among the soldiers around. We were all close to him. So certain of his defeat.

Everyone advanced to kill him. After all, who wouldn't want the glory of slaying the Beast God personally?

He would pose no more threat. Right?

But then I felt it.

A shiver, a dry, sudden chill running down my spine. A bad premonition, a voiceless voice inside my mind screaming to retreat.

It was too late.

A smile formed on the Beast God's lips. Slow. But it was there. An insidious cunning where only madness should have been.

And then he opened his mouth.

An insane heat filled the surroundings. The air became dense, unbreathable. A reddish flare illuminated Milishion.

I recoiled. Instantly. As if my feet knew before I did what was about to come.

Before I could utter an order, before anyone could react, the reality before us was consumed.

All I saw after that… was fire.

---

Rygar used Dragon Breath.

It was a King‑level magic, created and perfected by himself after facing Blue Dragons, Kingdragons, and Red Dragons.

It was not just a powerful fire technique, it was the culmination of his innate gift with the element.

And allied with such refined mana control and barriers that it allowed him to make it almost invisible until the moment of activation.

The small ball of fire appeared from his mouth, wrapped in layers of barrier and contained to the extreme, and then it unleashed, expelling a continuous jet of pure destruction—a beam of fire as dense as molten lava.

It was as if the air became flammable, and the world, fuel. A devastating, long, blazing, and unstoppable magic.

Everything succumbed to the fire.

Amidst the destruction, Rygar felt his senses return completely.

It was like being hit by an avalanche of sensations: hearing the cries of despair clearly, smelling the burning flesh, tasting the blood trickling from his lips.

He didn't know exactly what he had destroyed in the first seconds, but he had broken the Sensory Deprivation Barrier that had affected him until then. And that made him smile.

The ground around him was engulfed in flames. The very air trembled.

Then, Rygar turned his eyes to the balista bolt lodged in his back and shattered it effortlessly, before redirecting the Dragon Breath at his enemies.

They were all nearby. All within reach. And all doomed.

Wherever the breath passed, a wave of fire spread, followed by incandescent explosions and heat waves that destroyed bodies before cries could even form.

Buildings, walls, armor, and flesh were reduced to ashes and lava.

Still, Rygar maintained his consciousness.

With the help of his Demon Eyes, he precisely avoided the underground sections containing the civilians of Milis; fortunately, they were very deep and distant beneath the ground.

And, obviously, he also avoided his Legion allies, sparing his companions from the hell consuming Milishion.

When the breath reached the lake surrounding the city, an immense column of vapor rose into the sky, obscuring the sunlight.

The water, once crystalline, yielded easily to the colossal heat, evaporating in seconds.

Rygar then began to ascend. His body levitated, propelled by Gravity Magic, like a deity rising to the heavens with a fiery trail below him.

It was when he saw: Galgard, attempting to escape.

Rygar aimed. And the breath reached him.

The flames engulfed Galgard in a spiral of death.

The ground beneath his feet liquefied into lava, houses and foundations were torn away like leaves in a gale. There was no scream. No sign of survival.

Flying ever higher, Rygar kept the Dragon Breath active above him for a few more seconds. Just to be certain.

Then, with a sharp tilt of his head, he turned—and the breath followed his intention.

Another blazing line was drawn across Milishion. A line of destruction.

A scorching scar ripping through the sacred city like it were made of toy blocks. The impact was so great that entire foundations collapsed.

And finally, Rygar aimed at the White Palace.

The barriers didn't matter. The protective spells, the sacred walls, the ancient enchantments, or the hidden artifacts—all were obliterated in an instant. The defenses simply dissolved under the force of the Dragon Breath.

Of course, before striking the site, Rygar used his Demon Eyes to ensure no allies were nearby.

The sacred palace, once the pride of Milis, collapsed in seconds. White walls were ripped from the earth like twigs.

The columns buckled under the explosive force. The dome ignited as if built of thatch.

Within moments, nothing remained. Only smoke, embers, and a flaming crater.

The surrounding lake bubbled. Smoke rose like an offering to a god of destruction.

The line of destruction that leveled the Palace stretched beyond the city's limits.

The vast plains around were cut by the breath, leaving a blazing scar on the world, visible even from a distance.

And then, the breath ceased.

The magic was finally over, and silence fell like a heavy shroud over the survivors.

Few lower­level magics caused large­scale destruction.

A King ­level Stone Bullet is still only a Stone Bullet, even if amplified to the extreme.

Its only improvement is usually in penetration power, durability, and speed. That held true for almost every form of magic.

But Dragon Breath was different.

It was a magic originally designed for large­scale destruction. It was King level, and fueled with mana at an even higher level.

And the result was there: much of Milishion had vanished from the map. Only a fiery scar remained.

Rygar surveyed the landscape with his magical eyes. He identified his allies. Located the Legion members still alive, who were the vast majority.

He ensured that none of his had been hit. And he saw the few remaining soldiers of Milis, now surrendered, dropping weapons and kneeling. There was no logic in continuing the fight.

The Iron Legion collected the swords, bound the survivors, and brought order to the chaos.

The battle was ending.

It was then that Rygar's Sixth Sense alerted him, pulsating violently within him.

He turned his eyes to the ruins of the White Palace.

From there, he felt it.

A monumental cluster of mana. Something vast and abnormal.

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