Allen stared at the sword tip hovering a finger's breadth from his eye, silent.
Paul narrowed his eyes, gripping his sword with both hands. Shoulders sunk, body leaned forward, he stood before Allen in a horse stance, frozen in a thrusting posture.
On the ground, their shadows were motionless.
"He won! Father won... mph!"
In the distance, Rudeus had just jumped up to celebrate when Zenith yanked him back down, simultaneously clamping a hand over his mouth.
She gasped nervously, looking down at Rudeus.
"Rudeus, don't shout and disturb your father!"
Rudeus feigned innocent surprise.
"Huh? But Father already won. He even stopped his blade. Otherwise, that kid's head would have been skewered!"
Lilia let out a gasp of amazement. Unconsciously wiping the sweat from her palms, she turned to Rudeus and whispered.
"Young Master, look again... Actually, the Master is at a disadvantage. His preemptive strike was seen through... What a brilliant opening gambit... That boy looks so young, yet his swordsmanship is so outstanding..."
Seen through?... What does that mean?
Rudeus hurriedly turned his head back to the courtyard.
The wind carried a strange sound. Like... the grinding screech of metal against metal.
He stared at the posture of the two figures in the courtyard, his eyes widening.
The sun had sunk lower, shifting the angle of light and shadow.
In the shadow cast by Paul's shoulder, a glint of light emerged from between their bodies.
It was a thin blade, shining cold, extending from the hand of the slicked-back-hair pervert. It had thrust straight into the guard of Paul's sword, wedged perfectly into the hollow gap of the inverted triangle design.
The blade trembled slightly, emitting a fine friction sound where it pressed against the guard.
Paul hadn't stopped his attack voluntarily; he had been blocked.
The winner was undecided.
Paul pushed against his hilt, applying constant forward pressure. Allen silently wrapped his arm in Touki, exerting force to halt the thrust.
Paul smiled.
"Sword God Style — Wrist Drop (Kote-otoshi). You realized you couldn't dodge my Sword God Style rush, so you reacted instantly. You aimed a Wrist Drop at my wrist, forcing me to block with my guard. A beautiful defense through offense."
Allen looked past Paul's blade at his face.
"Sword God Style rush? Not North God Style?"
Paul narrowed his eyes dangerously.
"Oh? Are you implying I was sneak-attacking?"
"Isn't—"
Before Allen could finish the word "it," a blurred right leg stamped toward his chest from the edge of his vision. Allen's pupils constricted. His wrist twisted instantly, leveraging the blade still locked against Paul's guard. He flipped the edge outward while stepping sideways, hiding his chest behind the spine of his own blade.
The blade connected their bodies. Borrowing the force of their deadlock, it formed a solid steel barrier.
The next instant.
Paul's foot stopped firmly just before hitting the blade edge.
Then, Paul bent his knee and hopped back several meters.
Allen shifted his blade and retracted his step, returning to the same Middle Stance as before, as if he had never moved.
He looked at the grinning Paul, curled his lip, and finished the sentence he had kept in his mouth.
"...it obvious? It was tricks from start to finish. Even the High Stance opening was a feint. If I had assumed it was a slash and reacted wrongly in panic, the thrust after that feint would have ended it."
Paul pretends to look down on North God Style, but he's actually an expert at it. As expected of the man who was once in a party with Ghislaine and managed to score during her heat cycle... er... didn't Elinalise walk in on them? And then they had a threesome?
Fang of the Black Wolf had only three female members. The last one was Zenith, his current wife. The cunning of the North God Style is etched into his instincts—not just in swordplay, but his timing for sleeping with women is also incredibly tricky...
Paul chuckled, showing none of the annoyance from the fight. Clearly, that flash of anger earlier had been a feint to mask his kick.
"Very good. A perfect Academic Water God Style defensive stance. Precise sensitivity to killing intent. You're a complete, excellent Water God Style swordsman. In that case..."
Allen didn't plan to respond, keeping his eyes on Paul's sword hand.
But unexpectedly, Paul made a declaration.
"You're hired. Of course, there's still a seven-day trial period. Follow me, I'll pick a room for you."
With that, he turned and walked toward the house.
Allen sheathed his sword, stunned.
That's it? I haven't even warmed up yet? Damn, I should have just used North God or Sword God style and had a passionate hack-and-slash. That wasn't satisfying at all.
And...
Allen watched Zenith and Lilia welcome Paul back like a returning hero. Rudeus, catching Allen's gaze, instantly averted his eyes and stiffly turned to retreat into the house.
Started hastily, ended perfunctorily... The job of Rudeus's tutor came suspiciously easy...
Allen pondered for a moment, then a smile touched his lips. He walked toward Zenith, who was beckoning him.
He walked through the dissipating smoke in the air.
[Mushoku Tensei Major Event Participation Score Increased.]
[Current Phase: Infancy. Cumulative Participation Score: 35 Points.]
[Pending Immediate Mission: Obtain Rudeus's Goodwill.]
[Rudeus: Countdown: 79:13:21]
The mission prompt was back online.
"Is your name Allen?"
"Yes, Madam."
Zenith walked to a bedroom door, opened it, and gestured for Allen to look inside.
"You look quite young. Do you mind telling me your age?"
Allen looked at the familiar bedroom layout and smiled.
It was the room Roxy had stayed in.
"Nine years, four months."
Zenith froze, turning to look at Allen in astonishment.
"...I really couldn't tell. You're much taller than children your age... An adventurer at such a young age? That's amazing..."
Not as amazing as your precious son, who will be touring the Demon Continent with a girl at ten.
Allen looked up at Zenith, who was half a head taller than him. Her praise was sincere, her blinking eyelashes full of feminine gentleness and empathy.
She has the face of a classic NTR victim.
Paul... you really deserve to die...
"You flatter me, Madam... Poor children grow up fast."
Zenith smiled and pointed to the end of the hallway behind her.
"Paul asked me to tell you to go to the study after you settle your luggage. I have to go prepare dinner."
"Thank you for your hard work, Madam."
Allen smiled as he watched Zenith leave. He emptied his pockets—map, compass, etc.—onto the table alongside his longsword. Then he stepped out and looked toward the other end of the hallway.
A small head suddenly retracted into its room. Snap. The door clicked shut.