Mushoku Tensei: Sword, Magic Hats, and the Romance System [140]

The words—so arrogant—fell like iron.

Ghislaine’s face didn’t move.

But her tail lashed through the air.

She was thrilled.

In this moment, she could almost see another figure superimposed over Allen’s.

Her master.

The one who never went a day without shouting “Yours truly” or “This old man,” the one who looked down on the world from atop the throne of the Holy Land of Swords, gripping his blade like a tyrant.

The current Sword God—Gal Farion.

She stared straight at Allen, then gave a faint smile.

No. He’s not the same.

“You're well suited to the Sword God Style,” she said.

“But that isn't your desire.”

The words were cryptic. Eris and Rudeus exchanged confused looks.

But Allen understood.

The reason the Sword God Style hinges on “revelation” is that the [Longsword of Light] draws power from two things:

One: a sword foundation built on relentless repetition.

Two: the fire of desire.

Was Allen’s foundation strong?

That went without saying.

So as long as his desire burned hot enough, the revelations would come faster.

Desire—

The fuel that feeds the [Longsword of Light].

The more it burns, the sharper and faster the blade becomes.

But once that fire dims...

It’s not so easy to relight.

Allen had always referred to this inner drive—the Sword God Style’s fuel—as the [Sword Heart].

And just now, his brash proclamation had aligned perfectly with the archetypal "strongman" persona that defined the Sword God Style.

After all, the blood of Boreas ran in him, too—

Stubborn, prideful, ever-hungry for strength.

As long as you carried the resolve to rule above all other swordsmen, wasn’t that desire? Wasn’t that [Sword Heart]?

But…

That wasn’t the Sword God path Allen had chosen.

Because that kind of desire—too simple, too straightforward—looked easy to attain, free of complications, almost tailor-made for a fast-track rise to Sword God.

And yet—

What bends too far, breaks.

The Sword God Style isn’t like the Water God Style—structured, methodical, step-by-step.

So long as desire burned bright, the [Longsword of Light] would remain sharp—terrifyingly so.

The blade could move faster than the eye.

But if that desire faltered, even slightly, the blade could snap.

If the fire of [Sword Heart] ever extinguished, it could mean stagnation—at best.

Collapse—at worst.

Especially the kind of desire rooted in dominance or conquest—when that sort of fire burns out, no one can reignite it for you.

Because deep down, you’ve already lost.

You can’t lie to yourself when someone else shatters your belief in your own strength.

Who are you to still call yourself strong?

On what grounds?

The clearest example?

Gal Farion, the Sword God.

In the original story, after being defeated by his own disciple, Gal lost his title—stripped of the position he once lorded over.

He fell into doubt. Questioned whether the Sword God Style itself had failed him.

In the final battle, he no longer struck with the Sword God’s sharpness.

He switched to the Water God Style instead—playing defensively, trying to reclaim control against his former student, Eris.

And so—

He died.

Split clean in half by Ruijerd, who was far beneath him in raw power.

A quick, quiet death.

Allen shrugged.

“That kind of desire doesn’t suit someone like me.”

Ghislaine looked at him.

And she understood.

Because the moment she’d chosen to remain in the Boreas household—she had already given up on her own desire.

That was why she had stopped at Sword King.

And she had no regrets.

Sometimes, in life, you find a place worth pausing for.

Even if it means you never move again.

Still, it was a shame. Next time she saw her master—

She'd probably get an earful.

She glanced at Allen one more time.

Then what is Allen’s desire?

Her smile faded.

She bowed slightly.

And sheathed Hiramune.

“Beneath King-rank… you say you’re the strongest?”

It sounded like she’d already lost the desire to continue crossing blades with him.

But not far away—

Eris was practically vibrating with excitement, stomping in place so hard the grass flew up and splattered against Rudeus’s face.

Among the three starting forms of the [Longsword of Light]—

This was the hardest to predict:

Iaijutsu—the draw-cut.

And it was Ghislaine’s specialty.

She continued her thought.

“Then what if I am King-rank?”

“Or do you want me to slow my blade down—so you can gradually learn how to counter it?”

Allen watched her posture—poised, waiting for a single reply to justify the strike she was prepared to unleash.

He narrowed his eyes.

A Sword King-level [Longsword of Light]…

And Iaijutsu no less...

At this moment, in his [Perception Flow]—

Ghislaine’s killing intent had vanished.

Even the intent to draw was perfectly hidden within the scabbard.

Earlier, when she used mid-guard stance, Allen had already felt where the blade would fall—on the weaker side of his neck.

But now?

His [Perception Flow] couldn’t calculate anything.

He had no idea when the strike would come.

Or from what angle.

Water God Style wins against Sword God Style by sensing killing intent—at the same level, that was the only viable edge.

And right now, he was facing a Sword King—

Striking with her full power.

In the original, the power triangle among Isolte, Nina, and Eris had formed a closed loop because of this very dynamic.

Isolte could dominate Eris because Eris’s killing intent was always too obvious.

But Nina could dominate Isolte—because Nina, raised in the Holy Land of Swords, had no experience with real combat. Her sparring sessions were like pretend battles—her killing intent unrefined, almost nonexistent.

That same lack of intent made her impossible to read.

And since there was no killing intent to sense—how could you counter it?

Allen now stood in the same conundrum.

Should he accept Ghislaine’s teasing offer?

Let her slow her blade and teach him the [Longsword of Light] one step at a time?

He could.

But he wouldn’t.

Allen smiled at her.

And closed his eyes.

If you can’t sense killing intent—

Then amplify your ability to sense it.

In that instant—

His [Dragon-Saint Aura] contracted in his core, then exploded outward.

Spreading.

Soaking in.

His battle aura surged.

His five senses flared.

The world became crystal clear.

Shape. Sound. Scent. Taste. Touch—every fragment of information flooded into his awareness.

He reconstructed the courtyard within his mind.

And in that moment—

He heard his own breath.

Like a howl slicing through a mountain ravine.

The next instant—

That sound vanished.

[Perception Flow] shrank down—

Abandoning all other input.

All that remained—

Was the pulse of killing intent.

The mental image of the courtyard dissolved, falling away like thick ink into a void.

Darkness swelled from the edges of his mind—

And pooled at his feet.

In that black silence—

There was no sound.

Was there truly no killing intent in the courtyard?

No.

A faint white thread flickered in his mind.

Five meters away.

Near Ghislaine’s lower half—right where she’d just been.

The blade, still sheathed, was about to move.

And from it—

A killing intent, buried deep.

The darkness trembled.

Allen heard his own voice, low and clear.

“No need.”

“Just swing.”

“Let me see…”

“...what a King-rank [Longsword of Light] really is.”

---

This is a fan translation of 无职转生：剑，魔法帽与恋爱系统 by 意外火灾 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!