Year 412 of the Armored Dragon Calendar.
This was the year Rudeus advanced to the rank of Saint-level Water Mage, the second year Roxy had stayed in Buena Village, serving as Rudeus' tutor.
Southern foothills of the Red Dragon Mountains, northern Fittoa Territory.
Under the cloak of night, the deep forest shimmered under the moonlight. A chill wind blew down from the shadowed ridges of the Red Dragon Mountains, threading its way through gaps in the branches, slipping into the orange glow of a campfire nestled in the woods, and brushing across a youthful, still somewhat boyish face.
The campfire's glow danced in his dark gray eyes, flickering like a wavering illusion.
Suddenly, a burning stick cracked and snapped apart with a sharp pop. The boy blinked, glancing down at the map of the Kingdom of Asura held in his hands.
—In the center of his gaze, the northern edge of the Fittoa Territory was circled in crimson ink. Inside the circle, four characters had been written in Chinese:
Buena Village.
The map's owner rested his chin on his hand. Though he looked young, his expression was steady and mature. Sharp, angled brows gave his face a hint of steel.
"Just about one more day's walk and I'll meet Rudeus."
His name was Allen, a transmigrator.
Back in his old world, just before his untimely death, he had been pulling an all-nighter—running road tests for the autonomous driving system of a tech-forward automotive company. Having been deeply involved from the early development stages, Allen had strong confidence in the system's safety.
So, like any other overworked engineer, he'd pulled out his phone to sneak a break and watch some more of Mushoku Tensei: Extra Chapters.
Perhaps the car's AI, sensing from his furrowed brows just how passionate he was about reincarnation stories, decided to show some sympathy for his suffering.
The speedometer's needle suddenly shot up—0 to 100 km/h in under three seconds—as the vehicle drifted stylishly into a turn—
—and slammed straight into a heavy-duty truck that had been quietly waiting by the roadside.
By the time anyone found him, his phone was embedded in his forehead, his eyes wide open in rage and disbelief. He had not died peacefully.
He was twenty-five.
He reincarnated into the world of Mushoku Tensei, reborn as an infant. It had now been nine years in this new world.
Coincidentally, the name of this world was exactly the same as in the story from his past life.
Of course, it wasn't written in Chinese, but rather a homophonic "Human Language" native to this world. Thanks to its grammar resembling Chinese inverted sentence structure, Allen found it remarkably easy to learn, unhindered by interference from his mother tongue.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, a look of resignation on his face.
"It's a shame. Rudeus was born when I was only four. There was no way I could travel all the way to Buena Village to witness the first major 'event' of Mushoku Tensei's main storyline."
As soon as the words left his mouth, lines of smoky, translucent text suddenly materialized in front of his face, hanging in the air. Allen had confirmed through many experiments that these words weren't appearing on his retina, but were instead a kind of phantom hallucination—observable only by his soul, invisible to anyone else.
[Mushoku Tensei Reincarnation System Guide][The host must participate in key "major events" within the world of Mushoku Tensei. Leave your mark in the tide of the Mushoku era—in the eyes of protagonists and side characters alike.]
[Following Rudeus Greyrat's main story arc (Childhood – Tutor Phase – Adolescence – Adulthood), achieve a minimum Participation Rating of 60/100 at each stage to pass. Failure to meet this threshold by the deadline will result in the loss of the Reincarnation Guide's blessing. Consequences unknown—but likely include total erasure from spacetime.]
Allen twitched as he stared at the system panel.
When he first realized he'd been reincarnated, he had been thrilled. Sure, dying back on Earth had been pretty brutal—but starting life over in a fantasy world, especially as an orphan (a classic perk), was a massive stroke of luck.
Come on, having a mom again—how could that not be a win?
And more importantly, a new life in another world meant no more dragging himself to work every day with bloodshot eyes, right?
But even before his newborn eyes had fully developed enough to clearly see his mother's face, Allen's soul had already been greeted by this world's divine "system"—a strange presence that presented itself as a guide.
The word "erasure" was even displayed in bold, underlined, red font—in SimSun.
How heartwarming.
Allen shook off his thoughts and continued reading the floating text:
[Current Stage: Childhood][Total Participation Score: 2 Points]
[Available Growth Paths:]
[Path of the Mage (Abandoned): Received the magic factor of Demon God Laplace. Increased mana capacity, high magic affinity, doubled magic comprehension.][Blessing: Possess a head of wondrous green hair. Cost: Body cannot wield battle aura.]
[Path of the Swordsman (Selected): Received the nascent battle aura of Dragon God Orsted. Reduced mana cost for converting aura, high aura affinity, doubled swordsmanship comprehension.][Blessing: Possess a strong, well-built body. Cost: Mana recovery rate equal to Orsted's (painfully slow).]
[Current Sword Style Levels (measured against average swordsmanship of all swordsmen within the Mushoku world's hierarchy; upon surpassing the next rank's average by 10% margin, system will automatically update):][Sword God Style: Intermediate][Water God Style: Advanced][North God Style: Intermediate]
Over the past nine years, Allen had read this system panel thousands of times. Yet every time his eyes landed on phrases like "wondrous green hair" and "strong, well-built body," an involuntary image surfaced in his mind:
A goddess of reincarnation rising from the murky, viscous river of fate—grasping a gaudy green-haired pretty boy in one hand, and a muscular, dark-skinned macho man in the other.
She smiles sweetly and asks, "Dear host, which one did you drop?"
Allen could only feel helpless.
As for why he'd chosen the swordsman path and given up on becoming the second coming of Rudeus by taking Laplace's magic factor—
Well...
For one thing, swordsmen were simply stronger in the world of Mushoku Tensei. And in Japanese light novels, the term "sword" generally referred to all kinds of cold weapons—single-edged blades, double-edged swords, you name it. From a personal preference, Allen leaned toward the kind of swordsmanship where every strike landed with weight and steel.
Secondly, there was the irresistible allure of the Dragon God's Battle Aura. After all, the "Dragon Boss" was one of the strongest powerhouses to ever show up in the main story. Choosing Laplace's magic factor instead just didn't make sense.
Not that it had anything to do with the so-called "wondrous green hair" clouding his judgment.
"According to the original story, Roxy is supposed to leave Buena Village this year. I've already been delayed for months... Hopefully I can still catch her in time."
Allen had made the decision to travel to Buena Village in the winter of Year 411. Since he had missed the major event of Rudeus' birth, he absolutely couldn't afford to miss the encounter between Rudeus and Roxy. He may have still been young, but to escape the environment he was born into and participate in the world-shaking events of Mushoku Tensei, he had made careful preparations.
Still, a few unexpected detours had left him wandering the lower slopes of the Red Dragon Mountains for several months. It wasn't until late spring of Year 412 that he finally made it to the outskirts of Buena Village.
"If I miss this chance too, I'll have to rely on Sylphy, Rudeus, and his family to salvage my score for the childhood phase… risky. Roxy is far too crucial to the Mushoku timeline."
With a wave of his hand, Allen dispersed the smoky characters hanging before his eyes. He brushed aside the tangled strands of hair that had knotted near his forehead.
Then he stood, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
The firelight illuminated his figure. Though only nine years old, he already stood at 160 centimeters tall. His well-proportioned frame filled out the worn, battle-scarred swordsman's uniform, giving it a sharp and upright silhouette.
He paid no attention to the "blessing" the system had bestowed on his body. Instead, he narrowed his eyes, tilting his head toward the shadows beside him.
Beyond the reach of the firelight, the thick darkness stirred with the wind.
From within that darkness, four figures stepped into view, crossing the threshold into the fire's glow.