Mushoku Tensei: Sword, Magic Hats, and Romance!

Allen stared silently at the sword tip hovering just a finger's width from his eye.

Paul, eyes narrowed, held his sword with both hands. Shoulders lowered, body tilted, legs firmly planted in a horse stance—he stood poised to thrust, directly in front of Allen.

On the ground, the two men's shadows were perfectly still.

"I won! Father won—mmph!"

From afar, Rudeus had just leapt into the air in celebration when Zenith yanked him down mid-takeoff, covering his mouth in one motion.

She exhaled nervously and glanced down at him.

"Rudy, don't shout and distract your father!"

Rudeus blinked in confusion, feigning innocence.

"Huh? But Father already won, didn't he? He even pulled back—if he hadn't, he could've driven that sword right through the kid's head!"

Lilia gasped softly at that moment. She absentmindedly rubbed the sweat from her palm and turned to Rudeus, whispering:

"Young Master, look again—Sir Paul's actually at a disadvantage. His surprise attack was seen through... That opening exchange was brilliant. That boy doesn't look very old, but his swordsmanship is remarkable."

Seen through? What does that mean?

Rudeus quickly turned his head toward the courtyard.

The wind carried a strange sound—like metal scraping against metal, a constant shrrk, shrrk.

His eyes widened as he took in the scene.

The sun had dipped a little lower, shifting the angle of the shadows.

From the shaded area cast by Paul's shoulder, a glint of light emerged between the two figures.

It was a slim, coldly gleaming blade, extending from the hand of that disheveled-haired lunatic, piercing directly into the guard of Paul's sword—wedged precisely into the triangular hollow at the base of the hilt.

The blade trembled slightly, and the contact point emitted a fine-grained grinding sound.

It wasn't that Paul had withdrawn—his advance had been blocked by that blade.

The duel was not yet decided.

---

Paul braced against the hilt, applying more force, while Allen wordlessly wrapped his arm in fighting aura, countering the thrust with raw strength.

Paul chuckled.

"Sword God Style—[Wrist Drop]. Realized you couldn't dodge my Sword God-style blitz, and in an instant, you responded with a counter-thrust aimed at my wrist. Forced me to parry with the hilt. A perfect example of turning defense into offense."

Allen followed the line of Paul's sword to his face.

"Sword God-style blitz? I thought it was North God Style."

Paul narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Oh? You calling that a sneak attack?"

"Hardly—"

He had just uttered a word when, at the edge of his vision, Paul's right leg came streaking toward his chest, trailing an afterimage. Allen's pupils shrank. In a flash, his wrist twisted, bringing the blade into a new angle while maintaining the guard against Paul's sheath. Simultaneously, he stepped forward and sideways—his chest now shielded behind the back of his own blade.

The blade between them, reinforced by their opposing strength, formed a solid wall of steel.

In the next instant—

Paul's foot hovered just short of the blade.

Then he crouched and leapt back, sheathing his sword mid-air and landing several meters away.

Allen turned the blade and stepped back into his previous stance—the same middle-guard opening position, as if he had never moved.

He looked at the grinning Paul and clicked his tongue. Then, spitting out the words he hadn't had a chance to say earlier:

"...Wasn't that right? From start to finish, full of little tricks. Even that high guard at the beginning—it was just a feint. If I'd mistaken it for a downward slash and misjudged under pressure, that follow-up thrust would've already sealed the match."

Paul, who always badmouthed the North God Style, was in fact clearly well-versed in it. No wonder—he used to be on the same team as Ghislaine, and even managed to bed her during her beastfolk heat, didn't he?

Or was that when Elinalise walked in on them? And then it turned into some sort of... group match?

Fangs of the Black Wolf had only three female members. The last one was Zenith—now Paul's wife. That North God-style trickery was etched into his instincts, not just in swordplay... but also in his timing with women. Cunning to the core.

Paul chuckled lewdly, no trace of the earlier fury from battle. Clearly, that anger had been a deliberate feint to mask the leg strike.

"Not bad. That textbook Water God-style guard stance—perfect sense for bloodlust detection. You're a proper Water God-style swordsman. In that case..."

Allen didn't reply. His gaze remained fixed on Paul's sword hand.

But unexpectedly, Paul made an announcement:

"You're hired. Of course, there's a seven-day trial period. Come, I'll show you to your room."

With that, he turned on his heel and headed for the house.

Allen blinked and sheathed his blade.

That's it? We're done? I'm not even warmed up yet! Damn—if I'd known, I would've gone full North God or Sword God-style and clashed for real. That was unsatisfying as hell—and—

Allen glanced toward the house where Paul's first and second wives were celebrating his return like a hero. Rudeus caught his gaze, quickly turned away, and stiffly walked back inside.

It had begun abruptly and ended half-heartedly. Rudeus's home tutor position had fallen into Allen's lap... far too smoothly.

Allen stood there pondering for a moment, then a faint smile curled at his lips. He turned and headed toward Zenith, who was motioning him over.

He strode forward, scattering the lingering dust in the air.

[Participation Rating for Major Mushoku Tensei Event Increased.]

[Current Phase: Childhood. Cumulative Participation Score: 35 Points.]

[Pending Real-Time Mission: Earn Rudeus's Favor.]

[Rudeus: Countdown — 79:13:21]

The mission interface blinked back into view.

...

"You're Allen, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Zenith led him to a bedroom door, opened it, and gestured inside.

"You don't look very old. Mind if I ask your age?"

Allen glanced at the familiar layout of the room and smiled.

It was the one Roxy had once stayed in.

"Nine years and four months."

Zenith paused, surprised. She turned to look at him.

"...Really? You look much taller than others your age... You're already an adventurer at that age? That's impressive."

Not as impressive as your precious son—taking girls on tours across the Demon Continent at ten.

Allen looked up at Zenith, who was a head taller than him. Her expression was sincere, her blinking lashes soft and gentle, exuding feminine warmth and empathy.

She looked just like the archetypal tragic wife.

Paul, oh Paul... You really are a bastard.

"You flatter me, ma'am. Kids from poor families grow up fast."

Zenith smiled and pointed toward the end of the hallway.

"Paul asked me to tell you—after you've settled in, head to the study to find him. I've got dinner to prepare."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Allen smiled and watched her leave, then pulled the map, compass, and other items from his swordfighter tunic pocket and set them on the desk alongside his blade. He stepped out, turned to the opposite hallway—

—and saw a small head quickly retreat into a doorway, followed by a loud slam as the door shut.