Mushoku Tensei: Sword, Magic Hats, and Romance!

Allen wore a defeated, deadpan look on his face. His so-called "pseudo-immortal form" only lasted six minutes—and had a cooldown of 800 days. Considering a year in this world had about 300 days, that meant over two full years of downtime.

If he eventually unlocked higher-tier healing magic that could mend severed limbs, the mana cost would rise accordingly… meaning his skill duration would shrink even further.

A Barbarian ult, huh?

Allen couldn't help but suspect the system was trolling him.

That obnoxious [6] score from the other night? Solid evidence.

[How could that be?]

[The Healing Rune Slot is intended to help you recover after a fight. Using it mid-battle is for do-or-die moments. In a world as peaceful as Mushoku Tensei's, how often are you even near death?]

[Besides, think about it: if you could use this rune freely, and later engraved it with an Imperial- or God-tier healing spell, you'd basically have a demon-race immortal body. Add in Orsted-level Dragon-Saint Aura defense, and let's be real—you wouldn't even be Allen anymore. Just call yourself Cockroach and skip to the end. Nothing could touch you.]

Allen spat onto the ground, smearing the suddenly intrusive system text with his foot.

"Imperial-tier spells? They're practically unusable in combat because of the crazy mana cost and chant time. No one even uses God-tier Healing. And where the hell am I supposed to find someone who can cast it, shake their hand, and engrave a rune?"

"You've got time to pop up and lecture me about rune mechanics, but you still haven't told me how to increase my [Dragon-Saint Aura] reserves."

"You know full well the current embryonic state of my aura core can barely squeeze out a few wisps of Dragon Aura just to enrich my base-level battle aura."

[…Contact Orst—]

The text suddenly glitched—jagged and fragmented.

Then, just as it was about to solidify again…

It dispersed.

Midair.

Gone.

Allen raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"System?"

Nothing else appeared.

He stared blankly for a few seconds, frowning as he murmured to himself.

"Ever since I met Roxy, the system's been unusually chatty. Constantly popping in for commentary. That never used to happen before."

"And now, suddenly—gone."

"If this really is coming from my phone, it's like… the signal just dropped?"

"But it's always been spot-on for tracking sword skill upgrades and event scoring. Never missed a beat."

"…Weird."

"Is this world rejecting me? Is the cheat breaking down? Or is it just a signal problem? Low memory?"

"Too little data. Can't say for sure yet. But the answer it gave just now was clear—'Contact Orsted.' Since [Dragon-Saint Aura] originates from Dragon God Style, the system probably wants me to learn directly from Orsted."

"But going to see the Big Boss now is way too early. Gotta level up first. If I show up too weak, he won't even let me grovel properly, let alone accept me as a disciple."

"As for the pseudo-immortal uptime—6 minutes and 36 seconds. Cost to restore the mana: 800 days."

"Considering most real PvP combat in this world ends in a few exchanges, the practical rule of thumb is: one minute every 120 days. Or thirty seconds every 60."

"Basically, you only use this when you're going all in. Life or death."

"In regular combat, it's better to use pauses or baiting to sneak in short healing bursts. The mana cost and healing rate are plenty for that."

"And I can fake weakness too—set up an info gap, bait with openings, then strike back hard with North God Style or Water God Style counters."

"All in all, this cheat is more progression-focused. I guess I really wasn't born to play the overpowered protagonist."

Allen stopped talking to himself.

Silence.

No more system smoke. No text in the air.

He raised his eyebrow again and called out, testing:

"System?"

Still nothing.

Allen narrowed his eyes, then glanced up at the sky.

"…Well, in that case—time to go meet Paul and convince him to take me in."

"To participate in Mushoku Tensei's major storylines, the best path forward is to integrate into Paul's household, like Roxy did."

"Winning Rudeus's favor shouldn't be hard. The Detoxification Rune might not be as flashy as Healing, but hey—more skills never hurt."

Shing!

Sword sheathed.

He set off again.

---

Sunset.

Buena Village.

The Greyrat estate—its white walls now stained deep red by the evening glow—stood at the heart of the village.

So did Lilia's face.

Her red hair was tied neatly behind her head, wispy bangs brushed gently against her cheeks. She wore a well-fitted black-and-white maid uniform as she stood behind a second-floor window, watching the courtyard below through her glasses.

Following her gaze, three figures—two adults and one child—stood in the spacious yard.

A graceful, golden-haired woman. A tall, handsome man with a well-built frame. And a small boy standing between them, looking sheepish.

A perfectly harmonious scene—

If you ignored the man's hand, hidden from view, that was currently sliding across the back of the lady's skirt.

Master and Madam sure are affectionate. Every night… passionate, energetic… walls are thin, you know.

Lilia unconsciously brushed her own backside and lowered her gaze.

...

In the courtyard

"Rudeus. We agreed last night that this afternoon we'd spar. I was going to check your self-study progress. Where did you run off to?"

Rudeus looked down, scratching his cheek and staring awkwardly at the grass.

"Well… I went to scout the terrain. And study the plants. Kinda got caught up in it, haha… cough."

Paul squinted at him, applying a little more pressure with the hand on his shoulder. Zenith, who had come along to smooth things over, twitched as a vein pulsed at her temple—but Rudeus was standing right there, so she kept a polite smile on her face.

Her blush, however, was growing deeper.

All the carefully prepared "gentle mediator" lines she had planned?

Gone.

Paul spoke in a low voice.

"Tell me the truth, Rudeus."

At that, Rudeus straightened up, clutched the plant encyclopedia under his arm, and bowed sharply.

"To be honest, I was scouting terrain and studying plants… but yes, I did think that if I came back late, I might get to skip sparring with you. Sorry!"

Paul nodded with a grin, then turned to Zenith, winking.

"Alright then. Honey, why don't you go start dinner? Rudeus and I have a little man-to-man bonding to do. Cough, cough!"

Zenith clapped the wrinkles out of her skirt, smiled tightly, and elbowed him in the ribs.

Then she crouched down to Rudeus's level, meeting his gaze with a soft smile.

"If you don't want to spar with your father next time, that's fine. But tell me first, okay? I was worried sick when you didn't come home all afternoon."

"C'mon, Mom! I wanted to train with Dad!"

"Dear, I don't think you get the situation here!"

Rudeus watched his parents' crisscrossed hands, their mock-arguing-turned-flirting, and sighed with an exasperated, crooked smile.

Seriously? You're married. Tone it down.

Eventually, their flirtation ran its course. As Zenith walked away, Paul finally dragged his eyes off his wife's rear and leaned down to whisper in Rudeus's ear.

"Hey hey, be honest. Did you sneak out to peek under some girl's skirt?"

Don't project your sins onto me, Lord Paul!

Rudeus howled internally. Outwardly, the 34-year-old ex-NEET in a child's body forced a naive grin…

Then froze.

It was a feeling like a snake slithering across his back.

What is this…? Someone's watching me.

That gaze… I know that kind of look. Judgmental. The exact kind I hated most in my past life.

His instincts cut through Paul's teasing.

He turned.

By the front gate of the yard stood a boy—maybe a middle schooler—his posture firm, body well-built, and brows sharp like twin blades.

No, not terrifying.

Just intense.

His thick, unruly hair was tied loosely behind his head. He radiated an aura of sharpness that Rudeus instinctively disliked.

The type he could never deal with.

Someone who reminded him far too much of the bullies from his old school.

The boy—Allen—was touching his chin, watching Rudeus with amusement.

Their eyes met.

Allen arched a brow, as if something had caught his interest.

And smiled.

Not cruelly.

Just... knowingly.