No Holds Barred (Mushoku Tensei/Celestial Dojo) - Chapter 3 (Patreon)

Previous Chapter

K413 - Boreas Greyrat Manor, The Citadel of Roa 

“You’re doing it wrong.” Beside me, Eris makes this irritating little noise through her nose. I crack one eye open. She’s sitting cross-legged a few feet away. Since last night, she’s been smirking at me, and it’s really getting on my nerves.

“What?” I ask.

“Obviously, you’re doing it wrong. I learned it faster than you.”

“Congratulations,” I grunt, nearly closing my eyes. But she tries to punch me instead. I jerk my head back, and her fist passes close enough to brush the end of my nose. “The fuck?!”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” She swings again, but despite being a servant of this house, I’m not spineless enough to let a kid beat the shit out of me. I catch her wrist.

Eris immediately throws the other hand, so I catch that one too. We end up standing there with both her wrists in my hands while she glares up at me like I’ve just murdered her entire family.

“...You done?”

“LET GO!”

“Yeah, right. So you can try hitting me again?”

“YES!” She tries to kick me in the shin, making me step back.

“Will you fucking stop?!” I grunt under my breath.

Eris growls. “Speak Human-God!”

“Eiji.” Ghislaine looks at me and sighs. “Let go.”

“She’s trying to punch me.”

“Yes.”

I slowly turn back at Eris. She’s still glaring. I let go. Of course, she immediately swings again. “OH, FUCK OFF!”

I skip backwards while Ghislaine’s tail flicks once behind her.

“Eris.”

That gets her to stop, because Ghislaine gets listened to. Good to fucking know. I rub my face and sit back down.

...Fucking brat. I swear, the only reason I haven’t hit her back is the fact that her parents are letting me stay here. She seems like the sort of kid who needs a swift slap upside the head, though.

Eris sits down, her face going red as we get back to the lesson at hand. Obviously magic was real. There are cat people walking around. In hindsight, magic should probably have been somewhere near the top of my list of explanations instead of maybe I’ve travelled back in time. I have fucking magic! Or mana, at least. According to Ghislaine, everybody has mana. You use it for magic, but warriors use it differently. I breathe in slowly and try to focus on the feeling that Ghislaine spent the last half-hour trying to explain to me.

It hasn’t been easy, mostly because she isn’t exactly a words person. I don’t think it’s my Human-God either.” Feel it, move it, wear it” is a good place to start, but beyond that, there isn’t much else she’s told us. Thank you, Ghislaine. Very insightful. At least mana isn’t difficult to find once I know what I’m looking for.

I guess a month and a half in this world has let it accumulate in me? The fact that it wasn’t there before makes it really easy to find, especially since it’s not exactly pooling anywhere. It’s sort of just… everywhere, flowing around like blood. My hands settle in my lap.

Forget magic; I think about training. The heat after pushing myself until my arms shake. That last burst when my lungs are burning and my body is screaming that I’m done, but I know I’ve still got another round in me. All my muscles working together instead of separately to throw a punch. The weight driving through my feet, up my legs, through my hips, and into my fist, and then I reach for the warmth inside me again.

Instead of trying to shove it through my veins, I pull the mana into the movement.

“...Oh.” My eyes fly open as the familiar sense of accomplishment fills me. Ghislaine’s ears stand up. I look down at my hands right as the screen pops up.

Dismissing it, I focus on my Battle Aura. Nothing looks different. But the warmth isn’t sitting inside me anymore. Or not all of it at least. Some of it has spread out across my body so thinly that I can barely keep track of it.

“This is fucking cool.” I grin, and it disappears. “Fuck!”

Eris bursts out laughing. Ghislaine walks over and looks down at me over her crossed arms.

“Again.”

It takes longer to do it that time, but shorter the next. I don’t know how long we keep at it, Eris included. Ghislaine basically gets us to alternate assuming Battle Aura and holding it for thirty seconds a time. By the time we’re done, there’s sweat sticking my tunic to my back despite the morning cold. Holding my Battle Aura gets just a little easier each time, however.

Eris improves too. She asks Ghislaine to show us her Battle Aura properly once. It was scary. She’s utterly fine one moment, but then there’s this sudden pressure coming off her that makes every hair on my arms stand up. I can’t see anything either. That’s the thing with Battle Aura. Contrary to the name, there’s no glowing aura, but you can still feel it.

Then she turns it off and nods severely. “Like that.”

I can keep this Battle Aura shit going for maybe half a minute if I’m standing completely still and concentrating on nothing else. Walking kills it; talking kills it. Ghislaine flicking my forehead kills it. Eris yelling in my ear kills it.

“Tomorrow,” Ghislaine says, “do it while moving.”

I wipe my forehead with my sleeve. “And then?”

“Keep moving.”

“Yeah, but after that?”

“...Keep moving better.”

I stare at her pitifully. “Ghislaine, you’re lucky you’re hot. And strong, of course. Goddamn.”

“Why?” Her ears twitch.

“GHISLAINE!”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Eris is standing a few metres away with her wooden sword in one hand. At some point while I was talking, she must’ve gone over and grabbed it from the rack outside the outdoor storage closet.

“What, Eris?”

“Can I fight him now?”

Ghislaine looks at me.

“Yes.” My mouth opens before a single thought has the opportunity to get in the way.

“You answered fast,” she says. “Eris, he doesn’t use a sword.”

To that, I can only smile.

Eiji Takase:

Eris tosses her wooden sword aside. “No swords,” she declares. “I don’t want him to say it was unfair.”

I look at the discarded sword, still smiling. “Are you sure?”

“You think I’m weak?” Her scowl deepens.

No, I think giving herself more of a reach disadvantage was stupid, but hey. It’s her funeral.

I crack my neck to one side. “I think you’re eight.”

“I’M ALMOST NINE!”

“Terrifying.”

“Fight me!”

“Eris,” Ghislaine says. “No Battle Aura.”

Eris whirls on her. “But you just taught us both!”

“You can’t control it. Neither can Eiji. What if it fails at a critical moment and one of you kills the other?”

“...Fine.”

I take a few steps back and roll my shoulders. Yesterday, I met this little shit for the first time and watched her punch a servant for telling her to eat her vegetables. She looked me dead in the eye and told me to know my fucking place. I couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it because, regardless of how irritating she is, I’m not going to beat up some random eight-year-old girl for being rude to me. But she challenged me, and after the number of failed attempts to hit me, my conscience is beyond clean.

I bring my fists up.

Ghislaine steps between us. “No eyes. No throat.”

“Obviously,” Eris huffs.

Ghislaine looks at Eris. “No killing.”

“Why did you look at her when you said that?” I ask.

“Ready.”

Eris leans forward as I settle onto the balls of my feet.

“Start.”

The red-haired devil launches herself at me. I slip sideways as her fist sails past my chest. I pivot away from another wild swing and feel the air move against my cheek.

“Stop running!”

“It’s called footwork, dumbass!”

She charges again with a feral cry. I said that in Japanese, but I think she heard the insult in the sentence. Her balance is better than any kid’s should be, she’s aggressive as hell, and she commits to everything like she’s trying to split me down the middle. But that just makes her obvious. I let her get closer to fire off a lazy jab. She jerks her head away, batting the second jab aside with both hands and swings back. I lean out of range. Her fist misses my nose by an inch.

“Too slow.”

“SHUT UP!”

She swings several times in a row, and I give ground, mostly because pissing her off is making this more entertaining than it has any right to be. Her face gets redder every time she misses. Eventually I do get bored, though.

“Listen, Eris—”

Her fist slams into my ribs. My feet leave the ground for half a second before I stumble sideways, one hand shooting down to my side.

“HAHA!”

Eris is grinning, full teeth and all, knowing that she landed the first significant hit of the spar. My ribs throb. In light of her success, she comes at me again, aiming low. She swings. I slip outside of her punch.

And I plant my feet and sock the little shit square in the face. She goes down. I stand there with my fist still half-raised, feeling a sense of deja vu. Just yesterday, I was in the exact same position. Ghislaine walks over to Eris. I don’t think she’s out cold.

“What… just happened?” Eris stares up at the sky.

I lower my hand.

“You lost,” Ghislaine says.

She lurches up. “WHAT? NO I DIDN’T!”

Eris launches into a rant that Ghislaine deadpans through while I take the chance to slink away and clean off, just glowing.

“Morning, Mia!” I grin at the cat-eared maid I nearly ran into yesterday.

She blinks. “...Master Eiji? You seem to be in a good mood.”

“I got to punch Eris!”

“You what?!” Mia blanches, breaking her own ‘no running rule’ and running off towards the courtyard. Oddly, the satisfaction doesn’t ebb in the slightest, a sudden screen once again popping up before my eyes.

…Worth it.

【—〄—】

K414 - Boreas Greyrat Manor, The Citadel of Roa

Winter in this world fucking sucks.

Actually, winter in general fucking sucks. Japan had heaters, hot showers, etc. Most importantly, I had clothes that were a fuckton better at keeping you warm. The Boreas are rich enough that there are fireplaces in practically every room worth spending time in, but somebody still has to keep the damn things fed. Stone manors get really goddamn cold, too, but thankfully winter is almost over.

The last of the snow started melting a couple weeks ago. Eris’ birthday came and went, during which she was a fucking hellion, beating the shit out of two maids. Roa’s gone from white to grey to mostly brown and green. I can finally walk outside in the morning without feeling like my balls are trying to crawl back inside me. Give it another month and I might even stop missing central heating.

…Nah, probably not. Still, I can’t complain too much. It’s been a little over six months since I woke up in that alley. It feels both way too long and nowhere near long enough. My Human-God’s come along. I don’t have to mentally translate every sentence anymore. Reading still takes me longer than I’d like, but Alfonse officially retired his teaching stick two months ago. I’ve also got six silver coins saved. Three meals a day, four if I can sweet-talk somebody in the kitchen, and an actual job now. I just started helping her with more shit as my Human-God improved.

Helping the guards quickly turned into training with the guards and then sparring with the guards. One day, Philip called me into his office, and boom. As of this month, I’m now an official Boreas Greyrat guard with a salary of two silver per month. The only guard who doesn’t wield a sword, mind. I can get away with using my bare hands. Besides, I’ve spent a lifetime fighting barehanded. More importantly, six months means six months of training. Battle Aura isn’t something I have to sit there cross-legged and concentrate on anymore. I can walk and run with it. Mostly fight with it, but I tend to lose it when Ghislaine punches me hard enough. Getting it back is piss easy, though.

…I still haven’t beaten her once, even if I’ve gotten better at making her work for it.

Coat of Scars turned out to be exactly as useful as it sounded. My eyebrow, knuckles, ribs, and every other bit of me that’s been fucked up badly enough over the years (and the initial weeks in this new world) can take a smidge more punishment than they used to. The reward for becoming harder to injure is subconsciously deciding you can afford to get injured more. Shotokan Inspired was a little more interesting.

Outside of experiencing a bunch of weirdly vivid dreams where I learned the art, turns out ‘mysterious energies’ wasn’t just the Celestial Dojo being poetic. This art cultivates Ki. Not mana. I’m still nowhere near throwing fireballs out of my hands or uppercutting somebody twenty feet into the air, but knowing that shit is even on the table has done wonders for my motivation. And thanks to One Source, ki and mana aren’t even separate problems.

Life here is pretty fucking good.

For a few seconds, there isn’t much going on in my head beyond the last few shudders working their way through me and the fact that breathing suddenly feels like something I need to remember how to do.

“...F-Fuck, I needed that,” a raspy feminine voice grunts underneath me. She exhales against my shoulder. Her legs finally loosen from around my waist, dropping heavily against the bed, followed shortly after by the arms around my neck. I stay hunched over, hands beside her head as I catch my breath, not moving mostly because she hasn’t asked me to.

…Yet.

“Get off.”

There it is. I laugh breathlessly and lift myself enough to look down at her. Tala’s a wolf beastwoman. Her ears are yellow and pointed, currently flattened into her mess of long purple. She’s got a matching, white-streaked tail hanging halfway off the side of the bed and is somewhere in her thirties, I think.

Tala:

She’s also the manor’s head chef and glaring pretty hard at me right now.

“You’re heavy.”

“Tsk. Like you weren’t enjoying it thirty seconds ago.”

“Cuz it felt good then; now get off.”

“Give me a minute.”

“No.”

“Thirty seconds? I’m recovering here.”

“You can recover over there.” She points towards the other side of the bed with me still on top of her.

“Heartless.” I roll off her, landing on my back. My chest is still rising a little faster than normal. Tala sits up immediately, utterly unconcerned with being naked as she sweeps her hair out of her face. Her tail flicks across my leg, and entirely on a whim, I grab hold of it.

She slaps my hand and swings her legs off the bed. “Don’t.” Tala catches me watching her get changed. “You’ve got clothes somewhere. Find them.”

“You’re kicking me out already?”

“I have to start on breakfast, which I’m sure you’re a fan of.”

I prop myself up on my elbows. Tala glances over her shoulder, giving me a lopsided grin. I first got into her good books by carrying sacks around the kitchen without being asked. Of course, then I got into her bad books by stealing food. Thankfully, I managed to redeem myself by catching a kitchen boy trying to nick something from her pantry.

Two months ago, she asked if I wanted to fuck, and here we are, doing it basically every day. …Holy fuck, people in this world are horny. I get it; there isn’t much to do for leisure except sports and sex. Trust me, I am not complaining. That’s about as complicated as our relationship gets, too, which is good. She’s not my girlfriend. I’m definitely not her boyfriend. I’ve never once woken up beside her because she kicks me out when we’re done. As far as I can tell, Tala spends twelve hours a day ordering people around, another two getting annoyed at people not listening quickly enough.

Then she works that frustration out on me, which is fine. The sex is great because of it, but I do not envy her job.

Tala’s ears flatten as the door clicks once. “I thought you locked it!”

“...Did I?” I freeze halfway through reaching for my trousers.

It opens slowly. Ghislaine stands in the doorway. She blinks once, her other hand resting on the pommel of her sword.

“Seems you’re done copulating? We need to go somewhere today. There’s a carriage waiting.”

“Ghislaine—” I start.

“Could you have waited five fucking minutes?” Tala snaps.

Ghislaine looks back into the room, genuinely confused. “I… waited until you were finished.”

“I meant so we could fucking clean ourselves up.”

“Oh. Apologies.” She grabs the door handle. “Eiji, I’ll wait outside. Hurry.”

The door clicks shut.

“...Goddamn muscles for brains,” Tala mutters. “How can anyone be that dense?”

I step out into the corridor, leaving her to get dressed. Ghislaine leans against the opposite wall with her arms crossed. I’ve changed into what passes for my uniform now: dark trousers tucked into a pair of sturdy leather boots, a long-sleeved black tunic, and a red leather cuirass strapped tight over my chest. No standard-issue sword hangs from my hip, obviously. Instead, I tug on the fingerless leather gloves the other guards pooled together to buy me when Philip officially hired me. Thick around the knuckles, reinforced at the wrist and already scuffed to shit after barely a month of use.

Hands-down the best welcome-to-the-job gift I’ve ever gotten.

“Where are we going?” I ask her.

“Buena Village, in northern Fittoa.” She pushes away from the wall and starts walking.

I’ve got… a vague idea where that is thanks to the general knowledge Alfonse has been cramming into my head. What the heck are we going to that kind of remote village for? I catch up, adjusting my cuirass in a hurry. Ghislaine doesn’t say anything else. That said, breakfast had better be involved somewhere in this mysterious fucking journey.

The carriage waiting out front isn’t one of the ridiculous fancy ones the Boreas Greyrats use. There’s enough room inside for a handful of people, though, with two benches carved into the thing and made to face either. Ghislaine climbs in first. I follow her and drop onto the bench opposite. Ghislaine looks out the window. I keep looking at her until she turns to face me.

“What?”

The carriage jolts into motion. I last maybe thirty seconds. “You’re not mad?”

“About what?”

“Tala.”

“No.”

I settle back against the seat, folding my arms. The manor rolls past outside the window as we head towards the gates. “...So you don’t care?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You just said you’re not mad. Because—” I stop. Actually, how the fuck do I explain this without sounding like I’m asking why she isn’t jealous that I fucked someone else? Because that isn’t what I’m asking ...I don’t think.

“If you want to be my mate, you need to get stronger.” Ghislaine watches me struggle with an amused look. “It was obvious seeing how much you stare at me.”

I splutter. “Y-You walk around with half your tits out!”

“But you stare at my legs too, and I cover them.” Ghislaine nods, apparently satisfied that she’s won whatever argument we’re having.

I throw my hands up. “That doesn’t mean I’m sitting here applying for the fucking position!”

“I know you were asking because you thought I might be angry,” she says. “I’m not.”

“...Okay.”

“I like that you asked me.” Ghislaine looks down at her hands. “No one has wanted me as a proper mate before.”

Her tail curls around her ankle. Ghislaine is not shy. I’ve watched this woman strip naked without giving a shit. The faint darkening across her cheeks catches me completely off guard.

“People have wanted to copulate with me and have. But… hm.”

“I wasn’t asking because I wanted you to declare your undying love for me or some shit.” I scratch the back of my neck. “I figured you probably know I like you a bit more than I like Tala. What I have with her is casual. But you walked in and saw us naked, so I felt like I had to say something.”

“You were finished.”

“That isn’t—” I stop myself. “Never mind.”

Ghislaine’s mouth twitches.

“Are you making fun of me?” I ask. “Did you walk in just for our reaction?”

“...No.” Her shoulders move with a quiet snort.

I stare at her, betrayed. Six fucking months, and now she develops a sense of humour. Defeated, I slump against the carriage wall.

“Get stronger,” Ghislaine says.

“I’ve been getting stronger!”

She hums. “Get stronger faster.”

…Truly sage wisdom from the manor’s strongest beastwoman. Hours later, the sun is sitting directly overhead when the carriage finally starts slowing down. I lean towards the window. Fields stretch out on either side of the road, broken up by little houses and the occasional barn, with patches of snow still stubbornly clinging to the ground wherever the sun hasn’t gotten to them. After six months in Roa, the whole place is a bit underwhelming. I guess it is a village, though.

“So who are we here to see?” I ask.

“Paul Greyrat. Philip’s cousin.”

“Oh.” I snap my fingers. “That guy. Alfonse mentioned him once. Philip got his cousin made a knight or something, right? So he could look after his wife and kid. You know them?”

“Yes. We adventured together in an S-ranked party. Paul was our leader and swordsman. I was a swordsman, too. Zenith was our healer. Talhand was a dwarf mage. He used magic and an axe. Elinalise was a fighter, and Geese was a thief.”

I turn properly on the bench. There’s a house in the distance—the only house, having trundled past the entire village. Out front, there’s a man sparring with a little boy.

“How strong is he?” I ask. “Compared to me.”

Ghislaine thinks about it. “Strong.”

I groan.

“What?”

“Ghislaine, I can’t read your fucking mind. What the hell do you mean by ‘strong’ exactly?”

“He’s an advanced-ranked swordsman in the Sword God, Water God, and North God styles.” She clutches her chin. “Compared to you… depending on how rusty he is, he’d win six or seven times out of ten.”

“What happened to the party?”

Ghislaine goes quiet. “We broke up.”

“Paul left after he got Zenith pregnant.” There’s clearly more shit packed into that sentence, but it isn’t really my business to pry.

“And then you ended up with Philip?”

“...No. I travelled alone after that. I took jobs. People cheated me. I lost money, all because I can’t read. Sometimes they paid me less than they promised. Sometimes they told me I owed them money. Eventually, Eris found me on the streets on death’s door and Sauros gave me a job.”

…So that’s why she helped me out.

“Wait, you still can’t read?” I ask her. Ghislaine looks away. “Want me to teach you? Alfonse says teaching someone else is a good way to brush up on the basics. I can make sure I don’t forget the easy stuff.”

“...What do you want in return? I still won’t become your mate. You need to beat me in a fight for that.”

“Nothing. The lessons are useful enough as revision, and you spar with me as much as I want.”

“I’ll not waste your time,” she says firmly, taking my hands in hers. “We’ll start as soon as we return.”

“Why didn’t you ask Alfonse to teach you, by the way?”

Ghislaine grunts. “I planned, but Sauros also made me Eris’ sword instructor. My hands have been… full.”

“I feel you there,” I mutter, looking back out the window. “So, are we here for Paul, then? Does Philip need his knight for something?”

“We’re here for his kid, Rudeus.”

“His kid. Why?”

“I’ll explain when he’s with us, so I don’t have to explain twice.”

Our carriage rattles to a stop, bringing a halt to the father-son spar in the front yard. The front door opens before either of them reaches us. Two women come outside. One is blonde, carrying a tiny blond baby bundled against her chest. The other has darker red hair and is carrying another baby with hair closer to hers.

Zenith Greyrat:

Lillia Greyrat:

Ghislaine opens the carriage door. “You want to meet them?”

“Sure. I need to stretch my legs.” I climb out after her, boots hitting the dirt, and stretch until something in my back gives a satisfying crack. “Fuck those hard-ass seats,” I grunt out in Japanese while stretching.

The little blond boy gasps, darting behind his mother’s dress to stare at no one but me in… horror?

Next Chapter