Year 412 of the Dragon Calendar.
The year Rudeus ascended to Water Saint-tier in magic, and the second year since Roxy had settled in Buena Village as his home tutor.
South foothills of the Red Dragon Mountains, north of the Fittoa Region.
Under the moonlight, the forest lay deep and still, its silhouettes flickering in shades of silver. The mountain wind swept down from the ridges of the Red Dragon Range, threading through the branches, slipping into the orange glow of a campfire, brushing across a boyish face still touched with youth.
The flames shimmered in his dark gray eyes, flickering like ghost-light.
A charred stick in the fire snapped with a sharp crack. The boy blinked, looked down at the map of the Asura Kingdom in his hands.
—Near the center of the map, the northern border of the Fittoa Region was circled in red ink. Within the circle, a location was written:
Buena Village.
The map's owner rested his chin in one hand. He didn't look very old, but there was a quiet steadiness in his expression. His sharp, upward-slanted brows lent his youthful face a hint of determination.
Just one more day of walking... and I'll finally meet Rudeus.
His name was Allen. A transmigrator.
Before dying and awakening in this other world, he had been working overtime, conducting road condition tests for an autonomous driving system at a smart vehicle startup. Having taken part in every stage of the project's early development, Allen had full confidence in the system's safety.
So, naturally, he pulled out his phone during downtime to catch up on Mushoku Tensei: Side Chapters.
Maybe the system sensed his deep devotion to reincarnation stories from his furrowed brows and bleary eyes. Or maybe it simply took pity on an overworked wage slave.
The speedometer needle suddenly leapt—zero to a hundred in under three seconds—then came a dramatic drift around a curve...
And straight into a heavy-duty truck that had been parked just out of view.
By the time someone found him, his phone was embedded right between his eyebrows, his eyes wide open in indignation. It was not a peaceful death.
He died at the age of twenty-five.
Since reincarnating into the world of Mushoku Tensei, nine years had passed.
Coincidentally, this world bore the same name as the novel he'd been reading before his death.
Of course, it wasn't English—the "Human Language" of Mushoku Tensei just happened to sound phonetically similar. Thankfully, its grammar structure was close enough to English that Allen hadn't struggled to learn it. In fact, he picked it up quickly.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, exasperated.
Damn shame. I was only four when Rudeus was born—too young to travel all the way to Buena Village to witness the first major 'plot event' of this world.
No sooner had he finished muttering than a string of smoky characters materialized in front of his face—hazy at first, then solidifying midair.
After much experimentation, Allen had confirmed these words weren't projected onto his retinas, but rather directly observed by his soul. No one else could see them.
[Mushoku Tensei Transmigration Guide]
[Host must participate in major plot events within the Mushoku Tensei world. Amid the tide of the Jobless Era, carve a lasting presence into the eyes of main and supporting characters alike.]
[Based on the developmental arc of Rudeus Greyrat (Childhood → Tutoring Years → Adolescence → Adulthood), achieve a participation score of 60 out of 100 at each stage to pass. Failure to meet the quota in time will result in disqualification as a transmigrator, with consequences unknown—but likely to include rejection and erasure from time and space.]
Allen stared at the system panel, his lips twitching.
When he first realized he'd been reincarnated as a baby, he was thrilled. Sure, his previous death had been a little tragic, but being born again—especially not in an orphanage, but with the chance to "re-spec" his stats—was a huge stroke of luck.
And who wouldn't want a mom?
More importantly, being reborn in a fantasy world meant never having to wake up early with dark circles under his eyes just to clock in again. Right?
But while his infant vision was still underdeveloped, back when he couldn't even make out his mother's face, he'd already seen this world's rebirth midwife: the System.
The word "erasure" on that panel? Bolded. Underlined. In bright red font.
Truly heartwarming.
Allen shook off the thought and glanced down at the next line of text:
[Current Stage: Childhood. Cumulative Participation Score: 2 points.]
[Available Development Paths]:
[Path of the Magician (Abandoned): Received Laplace's Mana Factor. Increased mana pool, improved mana affinity, doubled magic comprehension.]
[Boons: Beautiful green hair.]
[Cost: Body cannot channel battle aura.]
[Path of the Swordsman (Selected): Received the embryonic core of Dragon God Orsted's Dragon-Saint Battle Aura. Reduced mana consumption when converting to aura. Increased aura affinity, doubled swordsmanship comprehension.]
[Boons: Strong, sturdy physique.]
[Cost: Mana regeneration speed matches Orsted's.]
[Current Swordsmanship Proficiency Levels (based on average across all sword schools in the Mushoku Tensei world; updated automatically when host surpasses the average of the next tier by within 10%)]:
[Sword God Style: Intermediate]
[Water God Style: Advanced]
[North God Style: Intermediate]
Over the past nine years, Allen had stared at this panel thousands of times. Still, every time he saw "beautiful green hair" and "strong, sturdy physique", a particular image would pop into his mind:
The System, dressed like a river goddess from some folklore, rising from murky waters—dragging a punky green-haired trap in one hand and a muscle-bound black-skinned bara in the other.
"Tell me, dear host… which of these did you drop?"
Allen always found himself utterly at a loss.
Why did he choose the Path of the Swordsman and abandon the Laplace route—forsaking the chance to become a Rudeus 2.0?
First: in the world of Mushoku Tensei, swordsmen are objectively stronger. And in the light novel genre, "sword" usually refers to a wide range of cold weapons—single-edged blades, double-edged swords, etc. Allen had a soft spot for close-quarters, flesh-splitting swordplay.
Second: Dragon God Orsted's Dragon-Saint Aura was just too good to pass up. This man was a top-tier powerhouse in the canon. There was no logical reason to pick the Laplace path instead.
Totally not because of that "beautiful green hair."
According to the source material, Roxy is leaving Buena Village this year. I lost a few months on the road—hopefully I'm not too late to meet her.
Allen had made the decision to head for Buena Village back in the winter of Year 411. Since he'd missed the birth of Rudeus—one of the world's key early events—he absolutely had to be there for Rudeus's first meeting with Roxy.
He was still young, yes, but to escape his current environment and score points by participating in major events, he had prepared thoroughly.
But fate had other plans. A series of mishaps had left him wandering in the lower Red Dragon Mountains for months. It wasn't until late spring of Year 412 that he finally neared Buena Village.
If I miss this chance too, I'll have to rely on Sylphy, Rudeus, and his family to rack up any childhood score at all… Not ideal. Roxy's far too important to the story.
Allen waved his hand, dispersing the smoky characters in the air. He combed out the knotted strands of hair near his temple.
Then, gripping the hilt of his sword, he stood.
The campfire's glow lit his form—though only nine years old, he already stood at 160 cm. His well-proportioned build filled out his battered swordsman's outfit, worn but upright.
He wasn't interested in admiring the "boon" his system had given him. Narrowing his eyes, he turned toward the darkness at his side.
Outside the firelight, thick shadows twisted in the wind.
Four figures stepped out from the gloom, into the fire's edge.