Paul Too "Enthusiastic" and Rudy Too "Cold"

Allen stared silently at the sword tip a finger's width from his eye.

Paul narrowed his eyes, gripping his sword with both hands. His shoulders sank, his body tilted sideways, and he stood before Allen in a horse stance, poised to thrust.

On the ground, their shadows remained perfectly still.

"He won! Father won—mmph!"

Rudeus had barely leaped into the air to celebrate when Zenith grabbed him and sent him crashing back down, covering his mouth at the same time.

She took a nervous breath and looked down at Rudy.

"Rudy, don't shout and disturb your father!"

Rudeus put on an astonished, innocent expression.

"Huh? But Father already won. He even held back. Otherwise, he would've pierced that guy's head with one strike!"

Lilia gasped in amazement as well. Unconsciously rubbing the sweat from her palms, she turned to Rudy and spoke softly.

"Young Master, look again. Master is actually at a disadvantage. His aggressive opening was seen through by his opponent. What a splendid exchange at the start. That boy looks quite young, yet his swordsmanship is already so outstanding."

Seen through? What did that mean?

Rudeus hurriedly turned to look into the courtyard.

The wind carried an unusual sound. It sounded like the constant screech of metal scraping against metal.

Looking at the postures of the two men in the courtyard, his eyes widened.

By now, the sun had sunk a little lower, and the direction of the shadows had shifted slightly.

From the shadow cast by Paul's shoulder, a glint of light emerged between their bodies.

It was a thin blade gleaming with cold light, extending from the hand of that pervert with the messy slicked-back hair. It had pierced straight into the hilt of Paul's sword, perfectly wedged into the hollow space of the inverted triangle carved into it.

The blade trembled slightly, producing a fine scraping sound where it pressed against the sword hilt.

Paul had not stopped himself. His attack had been blocked by the blade.

The outcome had yet to be decided.

Paul braced his sword hilt and continuously applied force forward, while Allen silently wrapped battle aura around his arm, exerting strength to halt the thrust.

Paul smiled.

"Sword God Style—Wrist Drop. You realized my Sword God Style opening assault was impossible to evade, so you reacted instantly and used Wrist Drop to stab at my wrist, forcing me to block with the hilt. A beautiful defense through offense."

Allen looked along Paul's blade to his face.

"A Sword God Style opening assault? Not North God Style?"

Paul dangerously narrowed his eyes.

"Oh? Are you saying I ambushed you?"

"Wasn't—"

He had barely uttered a single word when, at the edge of Allen's vision, a right leg trailing an afterimage shot toward his chest. Allen's pupils contracted. His wrist twisted instantly, driving the blade while maintaining its position against Paul's scabbard. He flipped the blade outward and, at the same time, stepped diagonally forward, hiding his chest directly behind the back of the blade.

The blade linked their bodies, and with the force of their struggle, it firmly formed a natural steel defense.

The next instant.

Paul's foot stopped steadily before the blade.

Then he bent his knees and leaped backward several meters, withdrawing his sword.

Allen turned his blade and drew back his step, returning to the same middle-stance opening posture as before, as though he had never moved.

Looking at Paul's smiling face, he curled his lip and finally spat out the words he had left unfinished.

"...isn't that so? From start to finish, it was all petty tricks. Even that high-stance opening was a feint. If I had assumed you were going to slash and responded wrongly in haste, your thrust after that feint would have decided the match already."

Paul looked down on the North God Style, but he was actually extremely skilled in it. As expected of a man who had once been on the same team as Ghislaine and had successfully gotten into bed with her during a beastfolk mating season. Uh... hadn't Eris caught them? And then they had successfully played a multiplayer game of ball?

Black Wolf Fang had only three female members. The remaining one was Zenith, now Paul's wife. The cunning of the North God Style was etched into his instincts—not just in swordsmanship. Even his timing for sleeping with women was remarkably devious...

Paul chuckled. There was no trace of the anger he had displayed during the fight. Without question, that too had been deliberate, meant to cover up his following kick.

"Very good. A perfect academy-style Water God Style defensive stance, precise sensitivity to killing intent—you are completely an excellent Water God Style Swordsman. In that case..."

Allen had no intention of responding. He merely watched Paul's right hand gripping the sword.

Yet the next moment, the other man made an announcement.

"You're hired. Of course, there'll be a seven-day probation period. Come with me. I'll pick out a room for you."

With that, he turned and headed toward the house.

Allen sheathed his blade in bewilderment.

That was it? I haven't even warmed up yet. Damn it, I should've used the North God Style or Sword God Style and gone all out. That was no fun at all, and...

Allen looked at the first and second wives welcoming Paul back like a returning hero. The moment Rudeus noticed his gaze, he immediately looked away, stiffly turning around and going back inside.

Rudy's tutoring job had begun abruptly and ended carelessly... yet it had gone strangely smoothly.

After pondering in place for a moment, Allen smiled and walked toward Zenith, who was beckoning him over.

He scattered the dust hanging in the air.

Mushoku Tensei major event participation score increased.

Current stage: Childhood. Total participation score: 35 points.

Immediate task pending: Gain Rudeus's favor.

Rudeus: Countdown: 79:13:21

Task prompt has come online again.

"Your name is Allen?"

"Yes, Madam."

Zenith walked to a bedroom door, opened it, and motioned for Allen to look inside.

"You look quite young. Would you mind telling me your age?"

Allen looked at the familiar layout of the room before him and smiled.

This was the room Lokkishi had stayed in.

"Nine years and four months."

Zenith froze, turning to look at Allen in surprise.

"...I really couldn't tell. You're much bigger than others your age. You're already an adventurer at such a young age? That's amazing."

Not as amazing as your precious son, who could already travel around the Demon Continent with girls at ten.

Allen turned to Zenith, who stood half a head taller than him. Her praising expression was utterly sincere, and every flutter of her lashes carried feminine gentleness and understanding.

She really had the face of a cuckolded wife.

Paul, Paul... you really deserve to die.

"You flatter me, Madam. Children from poor families grow up early."

Zenith smiled and pointed toward the end of the corridor behind her.

"Paul asked me to tell you to find him in the study after you put down your luggage. I need to prepare dinner."

"Thank you for your hard work, Madam."

Allen smiled as he watched Zenith leave. He took out the map, compass, and other items from the pocket of his Swordsman's Outfit, placed them on the table together with his longsword, then left the room and turned toward the end of the corridor on the other side.

A small head suddenly withdrew into its room. Then, with a bang, the door shut.