Mushoku Tensei: Reincarnated as the weakest Sword God

The sun had set behind the mountains on the horizon long before I headed home, my eyes fixed on the night sky above me, the countless stars that shone down upon the world.

That beautiful sight was a nice distraction, a good way to focus on something other than the pain wracking my body, the countless bruises crisscrossing my skin, and the tiredness that had set in.

A full day of training, from before sunrise to after sunset, was nothing to joke about, I always dreaded that grueling walk back home.

A mile or two of snow-covered hills separated my training spot from the village, where I had nothing to do but stumble home and think about the day.

On what I could have done better in duels, aspects of my technique I could improve.

There was always plenty to work on, and plenty of mistakes to identify.

Nina had left shortly after our last sparring, hours earlier, limping away and muttering a "see you later" and nothing more, disappearing into the hills, but I didn't worry.

She always got upset when I didn't get the win, I knew she wouldn't take it personally.

She's really strong, none of her friends from the dojo could even land a hit on her.

"Maybe that's why she got so bitter after losing to me" I muttered to myself.

I dismissed that idea, it was a waste of time to think about things like that, things that had no relation to what was important.

It took me almost an hour almost an hour to finally get home, when I opened the door, my eyes were already half closed and a yawn was on my lips, but when I saw my father at the kitchen table, I stood at attention.

"Hi Gino..." he said in a low voice so probably mom is already sleeping in the other room.

"Hi Dad," I said nodding my head.

He gestured for me to sit down, I did so quickly and put my training sword against the wall, next to the front door.

There was a lit candle on the table between us, almost melted down to a stump, it must have been sitting there for a while.

His eyes were fixed on me, but I knew I wasn't in trouble, I'd never done anything to make him nervous on purpose, I mean, I didn't do much more than train, and I doubted he'd find that a problem, he was the same and probably worse than me in that.

"...I see you haven't used your new sword very often," he said seriously.

My eyes went to the other sword that was leaning against the wall, along with the training sword I had just dropped, it was Nascar's sword, since my other sword had broken I had taken over his sword, the sword was sheathed in fine leather, and a hint of steel shone in the dim candlelight between us.

"...I've been training a lot with Nina and we use wooden swords..." I muttered

My father gave a long, low hum, his expression didn't change, it was all angles and shadows.

"I agree with you, you two aren't skilled enough to avoid injury while training, however, you should always have a real weapon with you, in case of emergency, have you forgotten what happened with the black bear?" my father said.

I let him continue talking, I appreciated the advice, especially from a teacher like him, but I was tired after the day.

"And real swords have a very different weight than training swords, you should know that it's better to use them for practicing strikes and while training alone," he said

I nodded

"By the way...how have you progressed?" he asked

"...Nina and I have been training hard," I said slowly

"and I am able to use the longsword of silence steadily, now we have been focusing on our Touki" I continued.

"Yes, I see" he replied dryly.

"..."

My father stood up from his seat and the scars on his face furrowed in the candlelight.

"Come with me outside, bring your sword, the real one," he said seriously.

I followed him.

It was late summer, that time of year, and the sacred land of the sword was on its warmest days, which meant that instead of there being many meters of snow on the ground there was only a thin layer of it.

Under the stars, my father and I stood facing each other in the training yard in the backyard of the house, my pain still not fading from the day of training, but I had the feeling that he wouldn't mind me using it as an excuse.

I couldn't make out his expression, even in the starlight.

He unsheathed a long sword. It wasn't his personal sword, the magical artifact gifted to him by the Sword God, but a simple, well-crafted weapon, but it was still alarming to see it in his hands.

My father could probably make a butter knife look menacing if he held it, and this was definitely not a butter knife.

I swallowed hard and unsheathed my own sword.

There was something different here, our usual training sessions were in the morning, under the light of the rising sun.

They were almost informal, my father gave me opportunities, let me make suppositions and improve my technique on my own.

I cleared my thoughts when I saw him prepare his sword.

"Defend yourself" his voice reached my ears.

My grip tightened, I moved my sword in the air, placing it in front of me, pointing at him, a simple guard... he was a dozen steps away, could he react...

A gust of wind and a flash of light.

I felt the cold prick of steel on my throat.

My father's sword rested on my neck, his eyes locked on me, standing above my shoulders.

"...ah"

My voice came out

"We'll try again, next time try to answer" my father said as he looked at me coldly.

He walked back to his starting position on the other side of the courtyard.

I realized I was shaking.

I don't think he'd ever shown me his speed before.

Sure, I'd seen him, watching from the sidelines as he and the Sword God fought with friendly intentions, but that sword had never come for me, never seriously...

It was a different experience, standing in front of him as he stared me down.

"I think I made a small mistake in your training Gino, you have a brilliant talent, we all know that, but I think... because of that talent, I've pampered you, you've been allowed to go off on your own, into the city, to the adventurer's guild, off the beaten path, there haven't been many occasions where you've been truly tested" my father said firmly.

His eyes were shining like two flints, I didn't answer as he continued speaking.

"You only had to prove yourself once to that stranger, a few years ago, do you remember the duel?, in the central dojo?" my father said.

I nodded, my movements jerky.

Hans Regon, the name stuck in my mind.

"Then you should remember how much you improved in the following months" dad said.

The hilt of my sword was especially cold in my palms, surprisingly, my trembling had ceased.

"My master, the God of the Sword, and I agree that the best swordsmen are born under the greatest pressure, there is no powerful warrior who has not faced difficulties" he continued

The reason why that night seemed different to me was clear, in front of me, my father did not see me as a son, but as an enemy.

A cold sensation invaded my mind, an icy coldness, like steel, that cooled any other emotion, a coldness identical to the calm I had felt, years before, when I faced Hans.

My father was imitating him, he wanted to get that terrible and bloody intention out of me, and he was succeeding.

"I'll count down from three, then I'll cut your right shoulder, it'll be deep" Dad said.

Slowly, very slowly, he raised his sword even higher, to a point in front of him, it was a common offensive stance, the high guard, used as the starting stance to unleash the long sword of light, the most powerful and famous technique of all.

Would he use that attack against his son?...

"Three"

My legs buckled beneath me, my sword dropped to my waist, the tip barely hovering above the ground, the low guard stance, used to receive an attack from the high guard, if I did it right, I could cut him off at the wrist with its first strike.

"Two"

I took a deep breath and let the air fill my body and run to the tips of my fingers and toes, blood running through my arms and legs, I felt it: energy, electricity, crackles and accelerations.

"one"

I let all the air fade away, the faint starlight, shining on the snow of the training yard, dimmed until it was gone, I felt it, the world on my skin, pressing against me.

The light exploded silently.

My arms raised the sword before I could form a thought.

Everything was so still, remembering it now, what felt like an explosion, a burst of energy and air that could have destroyed me, it was all in my mind, the wind whipping my ears, the fire burning in my veins, all of me, suddenly, alive.

My skin throbbed, the stars overhead, the candle still flickering in the house, the air in my hair, the sword in my hands, the light...

I felt everything, more than seeing or thinking, I simply stopped breathing.

And then it was over.

Blood splattered and a jet of it glistened in the air, my blood.

I gasped as the pain hit me, burning in the tendon of my shoulder.

I lost control of the sword, stars in my eyes as my knees hit the ground, I moaned, choking back the scream, tears flooding my vision.

I saw my father's boots crunching in the snow in front of me.

A hand appeared in my field of vision, I grabbed it, shaking, helping myself to my feet.

I saw a smile on his face.

My eyes, still blurry from the tears I had held back, fell on his hand, where he was holding me. I was staggering, the pain still taking over my head, messing with my thoughts. I would have fallen to the ground if he hadn't held me.

But at that moment I didn't care. I saw something else that caught my attention. A small cut on the corner of his wrist, where he was holding me gently.

A trickle of blood dripped from the razor-thin wound.

It was no more than the width of a fingernail, but it was there, in my father's hand.

I looked at the ground, next to us, where my sword lay in the fallen snow, a single drop of blood staining the steel edge.

Between the tears and the pain I couldn't help but laugh.

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