Though Allen appeared to be watching Lilia's martial display, his attention remained focused inward—on the embryonic Dragon Battle Aura core nestled within his abdomen. In his "sight," wisps of smoky vapor drifted across the furrowed surface of the core, gradually revealing a small magic sigil on one side.
It resembled a delicate tree, faintly aglow with a soft blue light.
Instinct surged up like a rising tide—he knew that if he so much as willed the sigil to activate, an intermediate healing spell would trigger instantly.
A healing sigil. One that could only affect the caster—it couldn't be projected externally. In other words, activating it would essentially grant his physical body a self-regenerating buff—a pseudo-undying flesh? Would this remove the physical constraints typical of the North God Style's real-combat practitioners?
Wait, there's a catch—it draws from his own mana. And regrettably, his current mana pool was still a mystery; who knew how long it could sustain an intermediate healing spell? He had been careless. Realistically, a basic healing spell—requiring much less mana—would've been a better fit for now. Plus, the real problem was how slowly his mana regenerated. No doubt the skill had a long cooldown.
Still... if the Dragon Battle Aura reduces mana loss in spell conversion, could its buff stack with the healing sigil's effects? After all, battle aura was mana in essence. So in theory, yes. But wouldn't that also consume his Dragon Battle Aura? And given how little of it he had left, wouldn't casting healing spells compromise its purity?
Only one way to find out...
Just as he was about to try, a pair of small hands waved in front of his face.
Allen blinked, snapping back to reality.
Now wasn't the time.
He turned his gaze toward Lilia.
Yesterday, while they traveled, his mind had been preoccupied with rehearsing how to introduce himself to Rudy and Lilia. Unsurprisingly, he ended up dreaming about them that night. Unfortunately, the dream versions were their two-dimensional anime selves—flat, stylized, lacking any tactile presence.
But now, Lilia—the real Lilia—stood before him.
Reality hit differently.
His eyes locked onto her face.
In his vision, the once-blurry features of the blue-haired, cool-tempered loli began to sharpen:
She looked young, yes—but unlike the softly drawn, middle-school-style anime version from his past life, this Lilia had a face so finely sculpted it defied the look of a child still growing.
Her lips were a little thin, yet appeared soft. Her narrow nostrils sat above a petite nose with a slight upward tilt, casting a natural shadow under the firelight. Her half-lidded eyes matched the blue of her hair exactly.
Wind danced through the flames, causing her eyes to shimmer—like ripples across a tranquil lake of dark sapphire.
And within those ripples—an even blend of worry and nervous tension.
"You… you're not saying anything. Do you still have lingering injuries? Are you… feeling unwell?"
Allen blinked again, shook his head lightly. His thoughts were spinning.
Three-dimensional Lilia was leagues more stunning than her two-dimensional anime counterpart.
A true feast for the eyes and soul.
Unwell?
Unwell ✖
Too well ✓
Lilia caught him staring and instinctively touched her face.
"You don't look hurt… but then why are you staring like that? Is there something on my face?"
Still mentally comparing the anime version to the real one before him, Allen casually replied:
"Nothing at all. Your face is… fine. Too fine, honestly. It's way more detailed, more… real than the version I dreamed about last night. Beautiful—on every level."
The words fell like stones into the silence.
The fire crackled, licking at the logs.
The forest night, deep and quiet, absorbed the moment.
Lilia said nothing. Allen waited, blinked… and then realized, with mounting horror, what he had just said out loud.
He stared at her lake-blue eyes, now frozen in stunned silence.
She'd stopped touching her face. Her previously half-lidded eyes had widened completely, shimmering with unspoken ripples.
They stared at each other. A silence hung between them like heavy mist.
Crack.
A log split under the heat.
A breeze slipped past them both.
Carrying nonexistent dust into the air.
[+6]
Affection Rising—Keep Going! Win Rudeus's Favor!
Rudeus Countdown: 91:54:02
Allen froze.
No—he fritzed. The moment he realized he'd just flirted hard with a stranger, his brain stalled. And as if summoned by fate to fan the flames, his system decided now was the perfect time to chime in.
That counts as flirting?
…Yeah. It did.
This world of Mushoku Tensei lacked top-tier flirting tacticians. Culture here was primitive—a charming sort of medieval dumbness.
Romantic dialogue between men and women was less poetic metaphor, more straight-up caveman.
Simple, crude—but devastatingly effective.
Praising her like that—that was textbook seduction in this world.
Lilia stared at Allen a moment longer, then blinked slowly, half-lost in thought. One side of her mouth twitched, and she looked away—
Toward the severed boar's head near the fire. Its crimson, glassy eye glared judgmentally at Allen, as if disgusted by his antics.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to look serious again, turning her attention back to Allen.
He, meanwhile, was plucking a few strands of his own hair, scrutinizing them for any signs of yellow.
The fidgeting—so awkward and childlike—actually softened her view of him.
Is he annoyed I didn't respond how he wanted?
Up close, he still looks young—probably just tall for his age. Can't be that I'm short… right? Ugh. But his sword skills were so sharp.
A prodigy? Lately, it seems I keep meeting geniuses—first Rudeus, now this one. And both talk like sly little grown-ups, always flirting...
He's never met me before. How could he have dreamed about me?
Maybe he thinks we're the same age and wants to impress me?
She removed her mage's hat and adopted a schoolteacher's tone.
"Flattering someone isn't quite done like that. Don't let my height fool you—I'm old enough to be your mother. Saying cute things like that won't work on me."
Allen, noticing his hair was still brown, shifted his gaze to the fluffy cowlick bobbing atop her head.
"Flattery? Uh… right. Got it. Blue Mama!"
Lilia's mouth dropped open. Allen, realizing what he just called her, slapped a hand over his mouth.
Her face darkened, part mortified, part furious.
"I don't age because I'm a demon."
She plucked a strand of her hair and held it toward the fire. Under the orange glow, the tip shimmered faintly green. She leaned closer, eyes narrowing.
"See? Green at the ends. I'm a member of the infamous Superd race. If you call me 'Mama' again to mock my appearance, I'll get mad. I might even eat you."
Allen let go of his hair, blinking as her face came inches from his.
Her eyes were serious, lashes trembling slightly in the firelight.
"Then—"
"Eat me. Right now."
Lilia froze.
Just as those words left his lips, Allen infused his fingertip with Battle Aura and flicked the air in front of her forehead.
The burst of wind swept aside her bangs, revealing a smooth, markless brow beneath.
As she stood there stunned, Allen pointed toward her forehead and tapped the air again.
"No red sensory eye. Gods don't lie."
"Demon, blue hair, short stature. You're Migurd, not Superd."
(End of Chapter)