Mushoku Tensei (LN) - Volume 1 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Swords and Sorcery 

I was now five. We had a small party to celebrate my birthday. 

Birthdays weren’t a yearly celebration in these lands. At ages five, ten, and fifteen, it was customary for one’s family to give gifts. You were considered an adult at fifteen, so that made a lot of sense. 

Paul gifted me with a pair of swords for my birthday. One was a real sword, too long and heavy for a five-year-old to wield; the other was a short practice sword. The real sword had been properly tempered and bore a fine edge. It definitely wasn’t something suitable for a little kid. 

“Son, a man must always carry a sword within his heart. In order to protect what’s important to you, you…” My father started a long, rambling stream of advice, and I just smiled and nodded. His spiel had a friendly and energetic air to it, but in the end, even Zenith chided him for going on too long. Admonished, he smiled and wrapped up with, “Just remember to keep it put away when you don’t need it.” 

The man clearly wanted me to have the self-awareness and preparation to be able to carry a sword around. 

Zenith gave me a book. “Because you love books so much,” she said, as she handed it to me. 

It was a botanical encyclopedia. “Oh, wow,” I whispered instinctively. Books in this world were quite expensive. They had the means to make paper, but didn’t yet have printing, so everything had to be handwritten. 

The encyclopedia was a thick volume, complete with helpful illustrations and easy-to-understand descriptions. I could only imagine how much it must have cost. “Thank you, Mother. I wanted something just like this!” 

With that, Zenith drew me into a tight hug. 

Roxy gifted me with a rod. It was a stick, roughly thirty centimeters long, set with a small red stone at the tip. 

“I crafted it yesterday,” Roxy said. “It completely slipped my mind, since you’ve been using magic this whole time. A master is supposed to create a rod or wand for a pupil who can use elementary magic. My apologies for forgetting.” 

As much as she didn’t like being called “Master,” Roxy sure seemed reluctant to buck the traditions of the role. 

“Thank you, Master,” I said. “I’ll take good care of it.” 

Roxy grimaced. 

*** 

The following day, I began actual training in swordsmanship. The focus was on practice swings and fundamental forms. 

We had a wooden practice dummy in our yard that I used to practice my forms and my strikes. My father helped me with my footwork, my balance, and the like. It felt really good, getting into the actual meat and potatoes of learning the sword. 

Skill with a sword was a crucial thing in this world. Even the heroes who appeared in books mostly wielded swords. Sometimes they used axes or hammers, but they were in a distinct minority. No one used spears, because the despised Superds made use of tridents; it was commonly thought that the spear was a weapon of evil. When a spear appeared in a story, it was usually wielded by the wickedest of villains, the kind who would devour friend and foe alike, who would slaughter indiscriminately. 

Given that background, the art of the blade was far more advanced in this world than it was in my old one. A master swordsman could cleave a boulder in a single stroke, or unleash a flash of the blade to strike a distant foe. 

Paul had enough skill to accomplish the first one. I wanted to know the principles behind it, so he demonstrated it several times while praising and encouraging me. He probably felt pretty good having his young, Advanced-magic-using son clapping and cheering for him. 

Still, no matter how many times he showed me the trick, I couldn’t tell how he did it. So I asked for an explanation. 

“Take a step forward, like hngh, and then fwam!” 

“Like this?” 

“No, you dolt! That was a step forward like hmph, and then a wham! I said hngh and then fwam! Stay lighter on your feet!” 

And so it went. 

This was just conjecture on my part, but it seemed to me that, in this world, magic was woven into the art of swordsmanship. It was visibly different from the flashy magical effects created by spellcraft, and instead worked by improving one’s physical prowess and strengthening the metal of the sword itself. How else would it be possible to move at such blinding speeds or slice a huge rock in two? 

Paul wasn’t using magic consciously. That was why he couldn’t explain how he did what he did. It meant that once I was able to reproduce what he did, I’d be able to use magic to give myself a physical boost. 

I had to stick with it. 

*** 

In this world, there were three primary schools of swordsmanship. 

First was Sword God Style. This style maintained that the best defense was a good offense and focused on high-speed moves with the goal of striking one’s opponent first—ideally finishing the fight with a single blow. If the opponent was still standing, the practitioner would continue to strike and feint back until they were victorious. If I had to compare it to something from my old world, the closest thing would be Satsuma Jigen-ryu. 

Second was Water God Style, the polar opposite of Sword God: It was a defensive form, focused on warding off strikes and then countering. Its core tenet was one of nonaggressive defense, which didn’t allow the practitioner many openings for attack, but a true master would be able to unleash a counterstrike to any attack coming their way—and I do mean any attack, including projectiles and magical attacks. Given its focus on protection, this was the sword style of choice for royal guards and nobles. 

Last was North God Style. This was less a sword form than a general battle strategy. It didn’t focus on specific moves, but allowed the user to adapt to different situations on the fly. According to Paul, this ad hoc approach involved a lot of cheap tricks and clever ploys, but mastering the style yielded truly fantastical results. The sense I got was of a sword-wielding version of Jackie Chan. Because this style taught one to treat injuries and allowed for fighting even with imperfect posture, it was the favored school for mercenaries and adventurers. 

Together, these were known as the Three Great Styles, and each had adherents the world over. It was said that a swordsman who wanted to push their skill to the ultimate limit would knock on the door of each school and continue training until they were dead—though few people actually did this. The “quick” way to attain martial strength was to pick one of these styles to train in until proficient. 

In reality, while Paul chiefly practiced Sword God Style, there was a smattering of Water God and North God elements included as well. It seemed that most people didn’t head out into the world deciding to exclusively adhere to one style or another. 

As with magic, swordsmanship was broken into the following levels of skill: Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced, Saintly, Kingly, Imperial, and Divine. The “God” part of each style’s name came from the epithets given to the founders of its school; the first swordsman of the Water God School, for example, was able to use Divine-level water spells. Having a Divine rank in both sword expertise and magical competence made for an obscenely powerful warrior. 

Also, it was typical when referring to swordsmen to address them as “Water God” or “Water Saint” or whatever their level of proficiency was. For magicians, it was tradition to add “level” to that descriptor. Roxy, for example, was a “Water Saint-level Magician.” 

*** 

Paul decided that I would learn both the Sword God Style and Water God Style: the former to get a good handle on offense and the latter for defense. 

“But Father,” I asked, “based on what you’ve told me, it sounds like North God Style is the most balanced of the three.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not even a style—it’s just using a sword to fight with, really.” 

“Oh, I see.” North God Style was clearly the odd one out of the Three Great Styles. Either that, or Paul just wasn’t fond of it personally. Though he was rather good at the style for someone who didn’t like it. 

“You’ve got a knack for magic, Rudy, but it doesn’t hurt to learn the sword as well. You want to be a magician who can fend off an attack from someone who can use Sword God Style.” 

“So, you’re saying I’d be, like, a mage knight?” 

“Hm? No, a mage knight is a swordsman who can also use magic. You’re the opposite of that.” 

I wasn’t sure what the difference was, really. Whether you started as a warrior who picked up magic or as a magician who did it the other way ’round, a mage knight still knew how to use both, right? At any rate, if I worked on my swordsmanship, I could adapt it to my use of magic. 

The issue was that Paul couldn’t teach me how to magically boost my physical prowess because he wasn’t consciously aware of how he did it. I either needed to acquire the ability myself or attain it via the right physical training. I needed to figure out the principle at work. 

For a moment, Paul was lost in thought, an uneasy expression on his face. “You don’t like swordsmanship, do you?” he finally asked. 

Was he saying that just because I had an aptitude for magic? He must have been worried that I didn’t want to train in the sword. Don’t get me wrong: I had no problem practicing how to use a sword. I just preferred time alone with Roxy studying magic over getting dirty and sweaty with another guy in the yard. 

I was an indoors sort of guy. 

But hey, personal preferences couldn’t get in the way of things. I’d decided to put my best effort into my second shot at life, and that meant trying my best at magic and the sword alike. 

“No,” I said, “I want to be as good at swordsmanship as I am at magic.” 

Paul flushed with pride and nodded happily as he brought his wooden practice sword to bear. “All right, then. Let’s get to it. Come at me!” 

He was a simple man. 

Swords and sorcery. I wasn’t sure which I’d ultimately come to rely on. Honestly, I’d be cool with it either way. But it was also my duty to establish a good bond with my parents while I was young. “All right, Father!” I called out. 

In my past life, I’d been a burden to my parents till the day they died. If I’d been nicer to them, maybe my siblings wouldn’t have kicked me out of the house. 

I needed to be better to my parents this time around. 

*** 

While I was taking my first steps in sword training, my magical studies were taking on a more technical and practical bent. 

“What would happen if you cast Waterfall, Heat Island, and Icicle Field in that order?” Roxy asked. 

“You’d create mist.” 

“Correct. And how would you go about clearing up that mist?” 

“Umm…cast Heat Island again and heat up the ground?” 

“Exactly. Now, please demonstrate, if you would.” 

By using spells from different schools in succession, it was possible to create other phenomena. This was known as Combined Magic. A Textbook of Magic included a spell for making rain, but had nothing about creating mist. Therefore, magicians had to use spells from multiple schools in sequence. This allowed for the reproduction of various natural phenomena. 

This was a world without microscopes. They probably hadn’t discovered all of the principles that governed the natural world. Combined Magic contained all the creative genius of the great wizards of old. 

Well, I didn’t need to bother with that kind of nonsense. If I wanted to create a cloud, I’d just use a spell that made rain fall and cast it as close to the ground as possible. The idea of intentionally creating a natural phenomenon was simple enough to understand. With a little outside-the-box thinking, you could do all sorts of things. 

For me, personally, that was a bit easier said than done. 

“Magic can do anything, right?” I asked Roxy. 

“It can’t do anything,” Roxy admonished. “You mustn’t rely on it too much. Just keep a cool, level head and hone your abilities to do what you’re able, and what you should.” Despite her words, my head was filled with images of things like railguns and active camouflage. “Moreover, if you go around proclaiming how you can do anything, you’re going to get hit with something you can’t.” 

“Are you speaking from experience, Miss Roxy?” 

“I am, yes.” 

Well, this was a lesson I needed to take to heart, then. I didn’t want problems I couldn’t deal with getting dropped in my lap. 

“Do magicians get hit with a lot of problems in their line of work?” I asked. 

“Oh, yes. There aren’t that many users of Advanced magic around, after all.” 

They said that maybe only one in twenty people could learn to fight. And to find a magician among them had the same twenty-to-one odds. So, four-hundred-to-one odds of finding a capable magician, then. 

Magicians themselves weren’t particularly rare, though. 

“Only one in a hundred magicians are able to properly learn the art and graduate from magic school, becoming Advanced-level magicians,” Roxy said. 

That meant that Advanced-level magicians were a one-in-forty-thousand deal. If we included Beginner and Intermediate spells in the mix, the number of things Combined Magic could do increased dramatically—which in turn made it so popular. To be a magic tutor around these parts, one needed to be at the Advanced level or higher. Steep requirements, but they yielded powerful results. 

“So, there are magic schools?” I asked. 

“Yes. There are magic schools all over the place in the major kingdoms.” 

I’d assumed as much, but still—magic school? Huh. Should I give that a try? Move on to my schoolboy arc? 

“Though the largest,” Roxy continued, “is the Ranoa University of Magic.” 

Whoa, they even had universities for that sort of thing? 

“Is this university different from the other magic schools?” I asked. 

“They have excellent facilities and a faculty to match. You’d have access to more modern and advanced courses there than at other schools, I’d imagine.” 

“Did you go to the University of Magic, too, Miss Roxy?” 

“I did. Magic schools have very strict rules and regulations, so the University of Magic was the only school I could get into.” 

It sounded like these other Ranoan magic schools would allow a child of noble birth like myself to attend, but could deny entry on the basis of someone not being human. Discrimination against demons was lessening in modern days, but strong prejudices still lingered. 

“The Ranoa University of Magic doesn’t lean on any strange regulations or misplaced pride. As long as you adhere to proper theory, they won’t kick you out for being on the eccentric side, and they accept students of all different races. The different races even carry out individual research on their own particular kind of spellcraft. If you’re interested in taking your magical education further, Rudy, I can highly recommend the University of Magic.” 

Way to talk up her own alma mater. I was getting ahead of myself anyway. If I enrolled in university at age five, I’d probably get the crap bullied out of me. “I think it’s a little early to make that sort of decision,” I murmured. 

“Indeed. You could also go along with Sir Paul’s hopes that you become a swordsman or a knight. And there are people who’ve attained the title of knight who have also attended the University of Magic. Don’t think your choice is an exclusive one between swords or sorcery. You could always become a mage knight or something, after all.” 

“Okay.” 

Well then. It sounded like Roxy felt the opposite of Paul and worried that I didn’t like magic enough. Lately, my magical reserves had been increasing, and I’d come to understand much of the theory behind the art. As a result, I was frequently restless and distracted during our classes. And besides, I’d been forced to take classes at age three. She probably figured I’d grown sick of it over the last two years. 

Paul saw in me a talent for magic; Roxy saw in me a passion for the sword. With these differing ideas, they were pointing me toward a middle path. 

“We’re talking about stuff well into the future, right?” I said. 

“For you, Rudy, yes.” Roxy flashed a forlorn smile. “Pretty soon, however, I’ll run out of things I can teach you. Your graduation is coming up very soon, so this sort of conversation isn’t too premature.” 

Wait—graduation?