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Some pressures had been building since the day Allen transmigrated into this Mushoku Tensei world.
If the system was real—
Then failing its missions likely meant erasure.
If the system was fake—
Then he hoped it was real.
And if he couldn't gamble on its authenticity—
Then he'd prepare for both possibilities.
One hand in the light, the other in the dark.
Before arriving in Buena Village, Allen's initial plan had been to ignore the "dark" entirely—focus solely on completing the system's tasks to avoid deletion while following the original story's trajectory. That path would've been the easiest, the safest...
Even if it meant being a bystander. Even if it meant treating this world like a game. Even if it meant detachment.
But the system's missions during his childhood and tutoring phases had stabbed at every one of his weaknesses—forcing him to engage with this world, to choose to make this life his own version of Mushoku Tensei.
Almost as if...
They were tailor-made for him.
Now, after cross-referencing countless facts, the "light" and "dark" had tangled irrevocably.
So—
To protect what mattered in the coming chaos...
To ensure everyone he cherished could stand beside him, smiling...
To carve out his happy ending in his Mushoku Tensei...
It was time to set the board.
His influence had already rippled far enough.
But if his plans were fully transparent—if his enemies could read him as easily as pre-Orsted Rudeus—it'd be fatal.
Fortunately...
Now, the Sword God style had blossomed.
Its utility was limited—he could only use his surface thoughts as a shield, masking deeper calculations.
But it was enough.
Choosing the path of "desire" had been correct.
In every way.
Allen relaxed his arm on the desk, propping his chin on his hand as he watched the system's flickering dust.
His eyes gleamed.
'System, my worries have lessened. Shedding unnecessary thoughts lets me focus—good for my Sword God growth. So why do you seem displeased?'
The dust stuttered, scrambling to form a reply—
But Allen leaned closer.
'Besides, isn't this what you taught me? Right after I left Hilda's room two days ago.'
The particles floated before him, "reading" the memory surfacing in his mind—
'Twelve years reborn—reclaim that youthful fire.'
'Discard the past. No more calculating every step.'
'Sometimes, the more you hesitate... the more you err.'
'Well? Forget already? I remember every word, System.'
[...I remember. I'm happy for you.]
Allen smirked.
'Thanks. Pretty words—I'll cherish them.'
[...You're welcome.]
With that, Allen seemed to lose interest. The system, equally done, vanished in a huff.
His gaze drifted to the scabbard lying across the desk—the one that had "severed" his tangled thoughts earlier—then to the window.
At the same time, his fingers brushed the "Salvation List" (formerly the "Death Ledger") on the desk.
A flick of his wrist sent the paper spinning through the air—arcing neatly into a drawer without him looking.
Locked.
He stood.
Traced the scabbard's length with his fingertips—blade to hilt—never taking his eyes off the window.
The sunlight had softened. Morning had slipped away unnoticed.
Tap.
His knuckle rapped the hilt.
"Time's wasting."
He turned, grabbed the sword, and swept through his room—
Only to find the adjacent classroom empty.
No arithmetic lesson in progress.
Allen's eyes narrowed. He pivoted, pushed open Rudeus' door—
Unlocked.
The bed inside was pristine.
No one had returned last night.
A breeze drifted through the hallway, sunlight dappling the floor.
Then—
Click.
The manor's front door swung open.
Hurried footsteps shattered the quiet.
Sylphiette rushed in, her expression flustered—part panic, part indignation—glancing back at the door as she hurried forward.
At the hallway's turn, just before she'd lose sight of the entrance, she hmphed loudly, broke into a jog—
And plowed straight into Allen.
Her hair fluttered up, then down.
Her gaze traveled slowly up the very familiar swordsman's uniform—
To Allen's amused face.
He stared down at her, equal parts exasperated and fond.
Sylphiette's eyes widened.
All irritation vanished.
Her head dropped—
And buried itself in Allen's chest.
Her body froze.
A half-aborted step back.
Then—
The necklace.
The confession.
The dance.
The kiss on her hand.
Rudeus off doing... adult things with some girl instead of returning for lessons—
Would Allen hate her if she kept pulling away?
But this was Allen—how could she not be embarrassed?!
But retreating might seem like rejection—she'd already done that once last night—
But her teacher hadn't yet—
Before she could spiral further, Allen's warmth shifted.
His presence lowered—
Until he was kneeling, eye-level with her, hands cupping her burning cheeks.
"What's got you in such a rush?"
Sylphiette gripped his wrists, ears twitching wildly.
A half-hearted tug (she didn't pull away).
"R-R-Ru-Rudy's not back—so we—we—we—!!"
Then—
A shriek.
She slammed Allen's hands over her own face.
Allen blinked.
Ah.
This timeline's Sylphiette hadn't been exposed to Ariel's... hedonistic court life in the capital.
Even this much intimacy flustered her.
But the stuttering's worse than I thought.
Gently, he pried her hands away—
Forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Rudy's absence means no lessons—that's what you're upset about?"
A tiny nod.
"I'll fetch him. But don't blame him—he likely stumbled into trouble."
"Trouble?"
Allen tapped his scabbard.
A hum filled the air.
"Minor trouble. I'll have him back by dusk. Keep Mother company in the meantime."
Sylphiette glanced at the sword, then his eyes.
No questions.
Just a nod.
"Okay."
——
Allen cut through the courtyard like a storm.
The system's panels shattered in his wake.
[So this is why you thought of Darius and James earlier?]
Allen's grin turned sharp.
His hand rested on his sword as the manor gates loomed ahead.
Memories flashed—
Yesterday noon, returning from buying Rudeus' "supplies," he'd overheard voices at the gates.
To ordinary ears—just noise.
To his Sensing Flow—crystal clear.
An unexpected gift.
The original kidnapping plot had continuations—and the logic fit.
'You saw my thoughts at the gate yesterday. Why the surprise?'
[...Playing vigilante now?]
'Roa. Banquets. Underground factions. Night Lion Bandits. Human trafficking. Windham Town. The original Eris kidnapping site. James. Darius.'
'The threads connect.'
'On my first day here, I bypassed the original kidnappers and eliminated Thomas. But those assassins were hired—their goal wasn't abduction, but my death. Separate from the original plot. Sauros rooted out some conspirators, but not all.'
'Darius colludes with James. The Night Lion Bandits—the ones who issued my bounty—operate nationwide. Only an organization that vast could run trafficking so smoothly. James provides intel on Roa (Sauros' stronghold), while the Bandits "procure" playthings for Darius' circle. A full-blown industry.'
'Their payment? Beastgirls—exactly what Boreas craves. That's how that low-tier noble got banquet access—he supplied stable inventory.'
'In return? Cash plus desperate noble girls—easy targets. Their disappearances barely ripple. At worst, a missing poster on the walls, forgotten in weeks. More likely? Their families assume they eloped to shirk duty—spitting on their names rather than searching.'
'The capital's elite can't constantly snatch noble daughters under the royal family's nose. Remote cities like Roa are safer hunting grounds.'
[And you care why? How's this tied to Rudeus?]
Allen's smirk turned dark.
'I couldn't save all Asura's victims even if I tried. Some "saved" girls might prefer being noble playthings to their old lives. Ironic, no?'
'But I'm no altruist. You want motives? Here they are.'
'One: Old Grudges. The Night Lion leader recognized me. Their current deal isn't for gold—it's for intel on me. No need to investigate, though. He saw me at the gate.'
[Oh?]
'His heartbeat betrayed him. James knows I'm in Roa. After a year, it was inevitable—he'd be a terrible lord without spies here. Still hungry for revenge.'
A glance at the system.
'Two: New Offenses. Why hasn't Rudeus returned? Last night, I "met" that low-tier noble. His real business? Owning brothels and inns near banquet venues—perfect for scouting targets. Rudy? Probably drugged and hauled off with the rest. In this timeline, he lacked the presence to be spared.'
The gates loomed.
'Three: More Old Grudges.'
Allen halted.
Turned.
A small, furious figure stomped from the stables—
Eris.
Her crimson hair blazed like fire, straw clinging to her dress.
In this timeline, she'd never been kidnapped.
But in the original...
Had James ordered it?
That moment—Eris coughing blood from a bandit's kick—
His "little sister" might not remember.
But Allen did.
Vividly.
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