Chapter Eleven: Paul's Overzealousness and Rudy's Excessive Aloofness

Allen stared at the tip of the sword, which hovered a finger's breadth away from his eyeball, and remained silent. Paul narrowed his eyes, gripping his sword with both hands. With his shoulders dropped and his body tilted, he stood before Allen in a horse stance, poised to strike.

On the ground, the shadows of the two men remained perfectly still.

"He won! Father won—uff!"

In the distance, Rudeus had just leapt into the air, ready to celebrate, when Zenith grabbed him mid-air and pulled him down, simultaneously clamping a hand over his mouth. She took a nervous breath and looked down at Rudy.

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

Rudeus feigned innocence, his face full of surprise. "Huh? But Father has already won. He even held back; otherwise, he would have pierced that kid's head with a single strike!"

Lilia also gasped in wonder. She unconsciously rubbed the sweat from her palms and turned to Rudy, whispering, "Young Master, look closer... Actually, the Master is at a disadvantage. His sudden assault was seen through by his opponent... What a brilliant opening exchange... That young man doesn't look very old, yet his swordsmanship is truly exceptional..."

Seen through? What did that mean?

Rudeus hurriedly turned his head to look into the courtyard. The wind carried an unusual sound—the sharp, persistent screech of metal grinding against metal. He stared at the posture of the two in the courtyard, his eyes widening.

The sun had sunk a little lower, causing the interplay of light and shadow to shift. In the shade cast by Paul’s shoulder, a glimmer of light emerged between their bodies. It was a thin, cold-gleaming blade, extending from the hand of the disheveled-haired pervert, piercing straight into the hilt of Paul’s sword and catching perfectly in the hollowed-out, inverted triangle gap of the crossguard. The blade trembled slightly, the point of contact emitting a fine, grating sound.

It wasn't that Paul had stopped; it was that his offensive had been blocked by the blade.

The outcome was yet to be decided.

***

Paul pushed forward, exerting force against the hilt, while Allen silently wove battle aura into his arm, using his strength to hold back the thrust. Paul smiled.

"Sword God Style—Wrist Fall. Realizing you couldn't dodge my Sword God Style assault, you reacted instantly, using Wrist Fall to strike my wrist and forcing me to parry with my hilt. A beautiful trade of offense for defense."

Allen looked past Paul’s blade at his face. "Sword God Style assault? Not North God Style?"

Paul narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Oh? Are you saying I was pulling a sneak attack?"

"Isn't—"

Before he could finish the word, a blurred kick flashed toward his chest at the edge of his vision. Allen’s pupils constricted. His wrist twisted instantly, guiding his blade to maintain the block against Paul’s sword while turning the edge outward. Simultaneously, he took a sidestep, tucking his chest behind the back of his blade.

The sword connected their bodies, and by leveraging the force of their struggle, it formed an impenetrable natural barrier of steel.

The next instant, Paul’s foot hung steadily just inches from the blade. He then jumped back, retracting his sword to land several meters away. Allen deflected his blade and stepped back, returning to his original mid-level starting stance as if he had never moved.

He looked at the smiling Paul and curled his lip, finishing the sentence he had held back.

"...it? It was all tricks from start to finish. Even the high-level opening stance was a feint. If I had mistaken it for a downward cleave and reacted poorly in my haste, the fight would have been decided by that thrust after the feint."

Paul, who claimed to despise the North God Style, was actually highly proficient in it. He truly was the man who had once been on the same team as Ghislaine and had managed to "score" with her during her beast-folk estrus cycle... and had even been caught by Elinalise, hadn't he? And then managed to pull off a group encounter?

The Black Wolf's Fang had only three female members, and the other was Zenith, now Paul's wife. The cunning of the North God Style was etched into his instincts; it wasn't just his swordsmanship—even his timing for seducing women was incredibly sharp.

Paul chuckled, showing no sign of the irritation from the fight, which had clearly been a ruse to cover his follow-up kick. "Very good. A perfect academy-style Water God Style defensive stance, combined with a precise intuition for killing intent. You are, through and through, an excellent Water God Style swordsman. In that case..."

Allen didn't intend to respond, merely watching Paul's right hand. To his surprise, the next thing the man did was make a declaration.

"You're hired. Of course, there’s still a seven-day probationary period. Come with me; I’ll pick out a room for you."

With that, he turned and walked toward the door. Allen sheathed his sword in stunned silence.

*Is that it? I haven't even warmed up yet? Damn, if I’d known, I would’ve gone all out with North God or Sword God style. That wasn't satisfying at all... And...*

Allen looked at the two wives, who were welcoming Paul back like a returning hero. Rudeus, catching his gaze, immediately looked away, turned stiffly, and retreated into the house.

It had started abruptly and ended perfunctorily... Rudeus's tutoring job had come about with an inexplicably smooth ease.

Allen pondered for a moment, a smile touching his lips, and then walked toward Zenith, who was signaling for him to follow.

He brushed the dust from the air.

[Participation level in the Jobless Reincarnation major events has increased.]
[Current Stage: Childhood. Cumulative participation score: 35.]
[Pending Instant Task: Gain the favor of Rudeus.]
[Rudeus: Countdown: 79:13:21]

The mission prompt appeared once more.

***

"Is your name Allen?"

"Yes, My Lady."

Zenith walked to a bedroom door, opened it, and gestured for Allen to look inside. "You don't look very old. Would you mind telling me your age?"

Allen looked at the familiar layout of the bedroom and smiled. This was the room Roxy had stayed in.

"Nine years and four months."

Zenith froze, looking at Allen in surprise. "...I really couldn't tell. You’re much taller than others your age... You’re already an adventurer at such a young age? That’s truly impressive..."

*That’s nothing compared to your precious son, who’s already out on the Demon Continent playing around with girls at age ten.*

Allen looked at Zenith, who was half a head taller than him. Her expression of praise was sincere, and her blinking eyelashes were full of feminine softness and empathy. She had the look of a victim written all over her.

*Paul, oh Paul... you really are a piece of work...*

"You are too kind, My Lady... Children from poor families have to grow up early."

Zenith smiled and pointed toward the end of the hallway behind her. "Paul asked me to tell you to find him in the study after you've put your luggage away. I have to go prepare dinner."

"Thank you for your hard work, My Lady."

Allen smiled and watched Zenith leave. He took the map and compass from his swordsman's tunic pocket, placed them on the table along with his long sword, and then stepped out to look toward the end of the other corridor.

A small head suddenly retracted back into a room, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut.