In the Mushoku Tensei world, atop a hill located on the Crimson Dragon's Maw in the King Red Dragon Mountain Range, a hand suddenly broke through the surface of the earth, clawing its way out and scattering dirt everywhere.
Within just a few minutes, the arm cleared away the surrounding soil, and a boy of around thirteen or fourteen with dazzling golden hair slowly emerged from the dirt.
"It's been a while, hasn't it? This world… I wonder how Father, Mother, my two sisters, Rudy, and Lilia are all doing now," Wood murmured, breathing in the fresh mountain air.
He instinctively brushed at the dirt clinging to his body but froze when he realized something odd—his entire body felt unnervingly exposed.
Looking down, it quickly became apparent why: he was completely naked.
It wasn't too surprising. After all, who knew how long he'd been "dead"? His clothes must have long since decayed. It was natural that he'd reawaken as bare as the day he was born.
Standing before his gravestone, Wood felt a wave of complicated emotions. The grave marker was likely erected by his mother, Zenith, and the rest of his family. Judging by how well-maintained it was, they must have visited frequently to pay their respects.
"Roarrrrr!"
Being in the King Dragon Mountain Range, it wasn't unusual for flying dragons to inhabit the area. Thanks to the Dragon God's blessing, Zenith and the others were usually able to visit the grave without being attacked.
But now that Wood had unexpectedly "returned from the dead," the dragons circling above sensed the presence of an intruder—specifically, a human—and roared in anger as they dove toward him.
"You're really noisy, you know. Interrupting someone's reminiscing is incredibly rude," Wood said, irritation flickering in his voice.
The roaring dragons broke Wood's reflective mood. Sensing their attack trajectories with his Observation Haki, Wood leaped effortlessly into the air, dodging the first dragon's jaws, and landed deftly on its back.
His right fist clenched tightly, coated in the metallic sheen of Armament Haki. The next moment, the dragon that had been so fierce moments earlier had its head smashed in, its massive skull deforming under the sheer force of Wood's punch.
With a boom, the dragon's body shot backward at supersonic speed, crashing into the ground and leaving a massive crater in its wake.
Instead of being intimidated by the fall of their comrade, the other dragons circling above grew angrier, interpreting Wood's actions as a provocation.
"Looks like I'll need to warm up a bit before I find myself some clothes," Wood said, cracking his neck.
The air filled with deafening roars as the dragons launched themselves at Wood all at once. But instead of fear, Wood's lips curved into a battle-hungry smile.
"If it were the me from before, this might've been troublesome.
But now… this will make for a perfect warm-up."
"Did you hear? Something big happened at the Red Dragon Mountain Range yesterday. They say the dragons there went berserk!"
"Of course I heard! Rumor has it that it was because an intruder entered their territory."
"No, no, you've got it wrong. I heard it was because a meteor fell near the mountain range, causing the dragons to panic.
But think about it—these are dragons we're talking about, not slimes. If it was an intruder, can you imagine how strong they'd have to be to cause an entire flock of dragons to panic?"
In a small town near the Crimson Dragon's Maw, rumors of yesterday's events had been spreading like wildfire. The incident had become the hottest topic in town, from the local taverns to the adventurer guilds.
After all, flying dragons weren't ordinary creatures. Even S-rank adventurers often struggled to face one without some kind of aerial advantage.
But yesterday, something had happened in the Red Dragon Mountain Range that caused a massive disturbance, forcing a large number of dragons to flee their habitat in panic.
Witnesses claimed that the normally prideful and aggressive dragons left the mountain range in a state of sheer terror, as though fleeing for their lives.
The mystery of what had transpired in the mountain range left everyone buzzing with speculation.
While the townsfolk debated the incident, a boy with golden hair, roughly thirteen or fourteen years old, casually pushed open the tavern door and strolled up to the counter.
"Barkeep, I'll have a feast—plenty of food and the best wine you've got. Keep the change," the boy said nonchalantly, tossing three gold coins onto the counter.
Though his attire wasn't particularly fancy, and the sword at his waist looked like a standard weapon you could find in any town shop, the boy's carefree demeanor and generosity drew immediate attention.
Because of his youthful appearance, it was rare to see someone like him in a tavern. Moreover, the bulging coin pouch at his waist soon became the focus of several sharp eyes.
"Hey, kid," a burly man sneered as he approached. "This is a place for adults to drink. Little brats like you shouldn't be here pretending to act all grown-up. Why don't you go find a juice stand instead?"
"Boss," his lanky companion chimed in with a smirk, "doesn't that pouch at his waist look familiar? Didn't you say you lost a coin pouch just like that a while back?"
"You're right," the burly man said, snapping his fingers. "Now that I think about it, I did lose a pouch full of gold coins a few days ago.
Hey, kid, fess up. Did you pick up my pouch? You'd better hand it over if you know what's good for you."
This remote town, far from the nearby kingdoms, was essentially a lawless zone. Despite having an adventurer guild and a town mayor, incidents like this were a daily occurrence.
The two men were infamous local A-rank adventurers known as the "Foul Jackals." The leader, a wiry man nicknamed "Jack," was the brains of the duo, while his bulky partner, "Wolf," served as the muscle.
Their nickname, "Foul," stemmed from their notorious reputation for underhanded tactics and despicable behavior.
Though the Jackals were thugs, their A-rank strength meant few dared challenge them.
Wood's youthful appearance, paired with his obvious wealth, made him an easy target—a naive noble on a journey, ripe for the taking.
From the sound of his jingling coin pouch, the Jackals were certain it was packed to the brim with gold coins. And they weren't about to let such a lucrative opportunity slip away.
A skeletal hand grabbed the outstretched arm of Jack, the wiry leader of the infamous "Foul Jackals." Wood's face remained cold and expressionless as he stared into the man's startled eyes.
"If this pouch of coins belongs to you," Wood said in an even tone, "then surely you can tell me exactly how many coins are inside."
Jack's face froze at the unexpected question, and the room fell silent. Those watching shook their heads, casting pitying looks toward the boy.
Up until now, there had been some skepticism about Wood's naivety. But his words erased all doubt—he really was just a clueless kid.
The Jackals weren't here to reclaim lost property; they were here to rob him blind. Everyone in the room understood that much. Who cared how many coins were in the pouch?
Predictably, Jack smirked mockingly. "I lost it yesterday, kid. Who knows how much you've already spent?
But don't worry, once I take it back and count it, we'll know for sure!"
With a sneer, Jack flexed his arm, attempting to wrench it free from Wood's iron grip to snatch the pouch.
But something wasn't right. No matter how much strength he used, Wood's hand didn't budge—it was like trying to move an iron vice.
"Big bro, why are you wasting time talking to this brat?" grumbled Wolf, the hulking second half of the duo. "If we say the pouch is ours, then it's ours! Why bother explaining anything?"
Unable to bear Jack's posturing any longer, Wolf stepped forward. One hand reached for the pouch at Wood's waist, while the other leg swung a powerful kick toward the boy's stomach.
"Don't—" Jack began, a flicker of alarm crossing his face. Something about this boy was wrong. But before he could finish his warning, a hot splash of blood sprayed across his face.
"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"
The scream belonged to Wolf. His massive frame, easily over 200 pounds, was now missing close to 30. His arm and leg—once reaching for Wood—lay severed on the ground, and he was left writhing in agony.
The tavern fell silent.
Everyone—Jack, the onlookers, even the bartender—stared in disbelief at the scene unfolding before them.
What had just happened?
The result was so far from what anyone had expected that it was almost incomprehensible.
They had all assumed the golden-haired boy was an easy mark, a sheep waiting to be fleeced.
But now, it was clear: this wasn't a sheep. This was a dragon.
The boy had openly flaunted his wealth not out of inexperience but because he had the strength to back it up.
No one even saw how Wolf had lost his arm and leg. The only clue was the blood-stained blade embedded in the wooden floor next to Wood.
"Hey, barkeep," Wood called out, his tone calm but carrying an edge that made the man flinch. "Why are you just standing there? I'm starving—get me some food. Or do you think I didn't pay enough?"
The bartender, frozen in shock, finally snapped out of his stupor. He hurriedly replied, "Enough, enough! I'll have the kitchen prepare our best dishes and finest wine right away!"
Moments earlier, the bartender had viewed Wood as nothing more than an easy mark—a wealthy but naive kid he could overcharge.
But now, staring at the bloodied mess that used to be Wolf, he wouldn't dare try anything underhanded. He even planned to personally oversee the kitchen to ensure no one cut corners and risked angering the boy.
Money was no longer his concern. His top priority was avoiding the wrath of this seemingly unassuming but clearly dangerous youth.
With the bartender gone, Wood turned his attention back to the Jackals. His piercing gaze landed on Jack, who was frozen in place.
"Look, I don't know where your money went, but it's obvious this pouch isn't yours," Wood said, his tone matter-of-fact. "The few hundred gold coins in here? I earned them by hauling several dragon carcasses to the adventurer guild and selling them."
Wood tightened his grip on Jack's wrist, eliciting a pained grunt. Then, with a casual motion and a sharp crack, he broke the man's arm before tossing him aside like garbage.
Jack screamed as he hit the ground, clutching his broken arm.
To everyone's surprise, the wiry adventurer quickly scrambled to his feet. But instead of retaliating, he hoisted the incapacitated Wolf onto his back and fled the tavern without looking back.
Though the brothers were infamous for their arrogance, they weren't stupid. Their success in the region came not just from their strength but also from their ability to recognize when they were outmatched.
From Wood's movements alone, they could tell he wasn't just strong—he was on an entirely different level.
They hadn't lost because they were careless or underestimated him. They had lost because they never stood a chance.
To Wood, they were nothing more than insignificant insects.
Challenging someone like him would be suicidal. The fact that they were still alive was a miracle, and they had no intention of squandering it by picking another fight.
"The Jackals," someone murmured, breaking the silence, "just backed down like that?
I mean, sure, they're infamous, but they're A-rank adventurers. And they just... ran away?"
The disbelief in the room was palpable. For as long as anyone could remember, the Jackals had terrorized the town with impunity.
Yet today, they had been completely humbled—by a boy who couldn't have been more than fourteen years old.
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