Mushoku Tensei (LN) - Volume 1 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Master 

I turned three years old. 

I’d recently finally learned my parents’ names. My father was Paul Greyrat. My mother was Zenith Greyrat. And my name was Rudeus Greyrat, the firstborn son of the Greyrat family. 

My parents didn’t refer to each other by their first names, and they called me “Rudy” for short, so it took some time to learn what all of our actual, formal names were. 

*** 

“My, Rudy really does love that book, doesn’t he?” Zenith said with a smile as I puttered about with A Textbook of Magic in hand, as I usually did. 

My parents didn’t seem bothered by the way I always lugged the book around. Even when I was eating, I’d keep it tucked under my arm. I did, however, make a point never to read it in front of them—not because I wanted to keep my talents a secret, but simply because I wasn’t sure what this world’s views on magic were. Back in my old world, for instance, witch hunts had been a thing—you know, where they’d burn suspected magicians alive for heresy. 

Of course, considering that my magic textbook was something of a practical guide, magic probably wasn’t considered heresy in this world, but that didn’t mean people might not still take a dim view of it. Maybe magic was something you only did when you were grown. If nothing else, magicians risked blacking out if they used it too much; people might think it could stunt a child’s growth. 

With all that in mind, I decided to keep my magical aptitude a secret from my family. As it was, I’d had to practice casting spells out the window, so there was a chance I’d be found out anyway. I didn’t have much choice in that, though. Not if I wanted to test how quickly I could launch my spells. 

Our maid (whose name was Lilia, apparently) would occasionally give me stern looks, but my parents remained as blasé as ever, so I was pretty sure I was safe. If people tried to stop me, I wouldn’t fight it, but I didn’t want to squander my childhood while I still had it. I needed to flex my talents now, before they set and became too rigid. Now was the time for me to make the most of things. 

*** 

Then, one afternoon, my secret magic training came to an end. 

My magical reserves had grown a decent amount, so I went through the incantation for an Intermediate-level spell rather casually. The Water Cannon: Size 1, Speed 0. I figured that, as usual, the water would pool into my bucket. Maybe it would flow over, but surely not by too much. 

So, I cast the spell…and launched forth an impressive amount of water that blasted a massive hole in the wall. I stood there, dumbstruck, watching as water dripped from the wooden edges of that hole. I was too flummoxed to think of what to do. Given the size of the hole, people would know it had been made by magical means. 

There was nothing I could do to change that now. 

I always had been quick to give up. 

Paul was the first to rush into the room. “What happened?” he cried out. “Whoa!” His jaw dropped at the hole in the wall. “What the hell? Wait—Rudy! Are you okay?” 

Paul was a good guy. It was obvious that I was the one who’d done this, but all he cared about was that I was all right. He went on his guard, carefully checking the surroundings. “Was there a monster?” he muttered under his breath. “No, not around these parts…” 

“Oh, goodness,” said Zenith as she came into the room. She was always a lot calmer than my dad. She looked first at the shattered wall, then at the pool of water on the floor. “Huh?” Her gaze shot to my magic textbook and fixed on the page it was opened to. 

My mother looked back and forth between me and the book, then crouched in front of me. She looked me in the eye, her mouth curled into a warm smile. 

The smile didn’t reach her eyes, though. It was pretty scary. 

I wanted to look away, but I tried as hard as I could to keep my gaze locked with Zenith’s. If I’d learned anything from my time as a jobless freeloader, it was that getting petulant and defiant when you’d done something bad only made the situation worse. So I wasn’t going to take my eyes off hers, no matter what. Right now, I needed to show sincerity. And the simplest way to do that was to make eye contact—at least you would look sincere, regardless of how you felt. 

“Rudy, did you speak some of the words from that book out loud?” Zenith asked. 

“I’m sorry,” I replied with a tiny nod. A straightforward apology was best when you’d done something wrong. I was the only one who could have done this, so lying about it would only damage my parents’ trust in me. 

Back in my old life, I told casual lie after casual lie until no one trusted me. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. 

“Sorry?” Paul asked. “That was an Intermediate-level sp—” 

“Oh, honey, did you hear that?!” Zenith interrupted, practically squeaking. “Oh, I just knew our boy was a genius!” She balled her hands into tiny fists and hopped around in ecstasy. 

Well, she sure was in a good mood. I guess that meant the apology was accepted? 

Zenith was clearly thrilled by this development, but Paul still appeared at a loss. “Wait, hold on,” he said, looking at me. “We haven’t even taught you how to read yet or—” 

“We’ll have to hire a tutor for him right away! Oh, he’s going to grow up to be an amazing magician, I just know it!” 

Zenith’s reaction to my ability to use magic was one of barely contained glee. Evidently, my fears that children mustn’t use magic were unfounded. 

Meanwhile, Lilia had casually and wordlessly begun to clean up. Either she already knew I could use magic, or she’d had her suspicions. Since this ability didn’t appear to be so bad, it seemed she hadn’t cared that much. Or maybe she just wanted to see my parents happy. 

“Honey, let’s head into Roa tomorrow and post a job for a tutor!” Zenith said. “We need to make sure Rudy can hone his talents!” 

Zenith was over the moon, rambling on and on about how her son was a genius for suddenly demonstrating a knack for magic. I couldn’t tell whether she was just being a proud mother or if being able to use an Intermediate-level spell was considered that impressive. It had to be the former, right? She hadn’t seen me practicing any of my magic, so her saying that she “just knew” I was a genius meant she’d already decided that for herself, without any basis. 

No, that wasn’t exactly true. She clearly had some kind of intuition. I did talk to myself a lot. Even when I was reading, I’d mutter words or phrases that I liked aloud. Ever since I came to this world, I’d been subvocalizing things while reading; at first it was all in Japanese, but after picking up the local tongue, I subconsciously started using that instead. When Zenith heard me utter words, she would pipe up to explain what they meant. This was also how I learned a lot of this world’s proper nouns, but that’s not really relevant here. 

Nobody had said anything as I went about teaching myself this world’s language. Nobody taught me the words I was reading, either. From my parents’ perspective, they were seeing their child read when he hadn’t been taught, as well as speaking the contents of books aloud. Of course they’d think I was a genius. 

I mean, if it were my kid, that’s what I’d think. 

That’s how it went in my past life, after my younger brother was born. He was faster to grow up—faster in picking things up compared to me or my older brothers, including speaking and walking. My parents were the sort of easygoing folks who’d cheekily say, “Oh, I wonder if he’s a genius,” even when it was nothing that impressive. 

I had to keep in mind that, while I might have been a jobless high-school dropout, I also had the mental age of a person in his mid-thirties. I could do this! 

“Honey, we have to get him a home tutor!” Zenith said. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find a great magic instructor in Roa!” Apparently, parents were the same no matter where you were: Anytime a kid shows some inkling of special talent, it’s straight to making sure they get the proper, special education for their gifts. In my old life, my parents heaped praise on my younger brother for being such a genius and gave him a whole bunch of stuff to learn. 

Paul was less enthusiastic about Zenith’s suggestion to find me a home tutor for magic. “Hold up, now. Didn’t you promise that if we had a boy, we’d raise him to be a knight?” So, a girl would be a magician, but a boy would be a knight? They must have agreed to that before I was born. 

“But he can already use Intermediate magic at his age!” Zenith rebutted. “With the right training, he’d be an amazing magician!” 

“A promise is a promise, though!” 

“Don’t you talk to me about promises! You break promises all the time!” 

“We’re not talking about me right now!” 

And so my parents got into a bit of a spat, while Lilia continued calmly going about her duties. The argument dragged on for a bit, until, as Lilia finished cleaning up, she said with a sigh, “What if he studies magic in the morning and practices swordsmanship in the afternoons?” 

That suggestion put the argument to rest, and my silly parents decided on their kid’s studies without bothering to take his feelings into account. 

Well, no big deal. I did promise to give it my all in this new life, after all. 

*** 

And so it was decided that a home tutor should be hired for me. 

I gathered that the position of personal instructor to a young noble was a well-paying one. Paul was one of the few knights in the area, which made him a fairly low-ranking noble himself, so I wondered whether he could offer competitive pay. We were out in the sticks on the far border of the kingdom, though, and out on the frontier, high-level talent (especially for something like a magician) was in short supply. If we put in a request to something like a Mages’ Guild or Adventurers’ Guild, would anyone even respond? 

My parents also seemed worried by that prospect, but they apparently found someone promptly, because my lessons were going to start the next day. 

And since there was no inn in our village, my teacher would be living with us. 

My parents were fairly certain that my teacher would be some retired adventurer. Young people wouldn’t come all this way to the boonies, and there was no shortage of jobs for royal magicians back in the capital. As I understood it, in this world, only Advanced-level magicians taught the arcane arts. So, whoever we got would at least be an Intermediate- or Advanced-level adventurer, possibly higher. 

In my mind’s eye, I pictured a middle-aged or elderly fellow with many years of diligent study under his belt, complete with the long beard that was requisite for such wizards. 

“I’m Roxy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

My expectations were quite off the mark. The person who showed up was a young girl, maybe of junior-high age. 

She was clad in brown, wizardly robes, her blue hair styled into braids, her posture prim and proper. Her white skin looked untouched by the sun, and her eyes were somewhat sleepy. Her expression didn’t exactly radiate sociability, and despite her lack of glasses, she looked like the sort of girl who liked to hole up in a library with her nose in a book. 

In one hand, she carried a bag, and in the other, she held a staff befitting a magician. The family came to greet her together, my mother carrying me in her arms.

“…” 

“…” 

My parents looked her over, at a total loss for words. No wonder, really. This couldn’t have been what they were expecting at all. When hiring someone to be a home tutor, you’d figure you’d get someone a bit further on in years. And instead, here was this little thing. 

With all the video games I’d played, the idea of a magician loli wasn’t terribly unusual to me. 

Underage. Scornful eyes. Socially awkward. That right there was the trifecta. 

She was perfect. 

I wanted her to be my bride. 

“Oh, uh, are—are you the home tutor?” Zenith finally asked. 

“Aren’t you a little, uh…” Paul managed. 

My parents were fumbling with their words, so I decided to be direct and finish my father’s sentence. “You’re little.” 

“Hey, you’re sure one to talk,” Roxy snapped back. She sure seemed to be touchy about the subject. And I wasn’t even talking about her breasts. 

Roxy let out a sigh. “So, where’s this student of mine?” she asked, looking around. 

“Oh, that would be our boy right here,” Zenith replied, bouncing me slightly in her arms. 

I gave Roxy a cheeky wink. Her eyes went wide, and she sighed once more. “Ugh, this happens sometimes,” she muttered under her breath. “Kid shows signs of growing up a little fast and the damn parents get it into their heads that he’s got a special talent.” 

Hey! I heard that, Roxy! 

I mean, I totally agreed with her, but still. 

“You say something?” Paul asked. 

“Oh, nothing,” she replied. “I’m just not sure that your son would be able to understand the principles of magic.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Zenith said, brimming with motherly pride. “Our little Rudy here is brilliant!” 

Yet again, Roxy sighed. “All right, then. I suppose I’ll just have to do what I can.” She sounded like she’d already decided it was futile. 

And so, that was the first day of taking classes with Roxy in the morning and practicing swordsmanship with Paul in the afternoon. 

*** 

“Okay, so this magic textbook here… Actually, before we get to that, how about we see how much magic you can use, Rudy?” 

Roxy had taken me into the yard for our first lesson. I gathered that magic was something typically practiced outside. Heck, I’d already learned firsthand what could happen when you let loose with magic inside the house. People don’t want to go around blowing holes in walls or anything. 

“First, I’ll demonstrate. Let the vast and blessed waters converge where thou wilt and issue forth a single pure stream thereof—Waterball!” As Roxy chanted her incantation, an orb of water about the size of a basketball formed in her palm. Then, she hurtled it at high speed at one of the trees in our yard. 

The Waterball snapped the tree in half as if it were a mere twig and drenched the fence behind it. That must’ve been a Size 3, Speed 4, if I had to guess. 

“Well?” Roxy asked. “What do you think?” 

“My mom has always loved that tree and spends a lot of time caring for it, so I think she’s gonna be pretty angry.” 

“Huh? Really?!” 

“Without a doubt.” One time, when Paul was swinging his sword around, he’d accidentally lopped off one of the tree’s branches, but Zenith hadn’t been terribly mad about it. 

“Oh, that’s not good,” Roxy stammered, rushing over to the tree in the panic. “I have to do something about this.” 

With a grunt, she hefted the fallen trunk back into place. Then, red in the face and straining with exertion, she began to chant. “Nngh… Let this divine power be as satisfying nourishment, giving one who has lost their strength the strength to rise again—Healing!” 

Slowly and surely, the trunk of the tree worked its way back into its original position. Okay, credit where credit is due: That was pretty amazing. “Whew!” Roxy breathed. 

“You can use Healing magic, too, Miss?!” 

“Hm? Oh, yes. Anything up through Intermediate-level spells.” 

“Oh, wow! That’s amazing!” 

“Oh, not at all! With the proper training, anyone could do this.” Roxy’s tone was somewhat curt, but the corners of her mouth softened, and her nose wiggled proudly. 

Yeah, she was happy, all right. All it took was laying on some praise. Man, she was easy to please. 

“All right, Rudy. You give it a try.” 

“Okay!” I held out my hand and— 

Crap. It had been nearly a year since I’d performed Waterball by using the incantation, and I couldn’t remember how it went. Roxy had just said it, though. Hmm. Let’s see… 

“Um, how does it go again?” 

“Let the vast and blessed waters converge where thou wilt and issue forth a single pure stream thereof,” Roxy said matter-of-factly. She apparently figured this was well within my capabilities. 

She’d said it so matter-of-factly, though, that I couldn’t remember it after hearing it just the once. “Let the vast and blessed waters…” I began, before failing to recall the rest, so I cut the incantation short. I conjured a ball of water just a little smaller and a just a little slower than Roxy had; after all, if I outdid her, she might get all pouty. 

Hey, I like to be nice to younger girls. 

The basketball-sized Waterball struck its mark with a splash, the tree creaking and cracking as it fell over. Roxy fixed her gaze on this sight, her expression stiffening. “You cut your incantation off, didn’t you?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” Uh-oh. Was I in trouble? 

That’s right: The magic textbook didn’t say anything about casting spells without incantations. I’d done it as if it wasn’t a big deal, but maybe this was some cultural taboo? Or maybe she was angry that I’d pulled off something that should have required a lot more training? Hopefully, she’d just admonish me for being sloppy with my chanting or something. 

“Do you usually cut your incantations short like that?” she asked. 

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, and after some wavering, decided to be honest. “I usually, uh…don’t use them at all.” After all, I was going to be studying under her, so she’d figure it out eventually. 

“Not at all?!” Roxy’s eyes were wide with shock and disbelief as she looked down at me. She quickly regained her composure, however. “Ah, yes, now I get it. That makes sense. Are you feeling tired right now, then?” 

“A little, but I’m all right.” 

“I see. Well, the size and force of your Waterball was just fine.” 

“Thank you.” 

Finally, Roxy cracked a smile—a real one. And then she muttered to herself. “Maybe it is worth training this kid.” 

Again, I can still hear you. 

“Okay, let’s move on to the next spell,” Roxy said excitedly, flipping through the magic book some more. 

“Aaaahh!” From behind us, a scream split the air. Zenith had come outside to see how things were doing. She dropped the beverage-laden tray she’d been carrying and brought both hands to her mouth as she looked over at the mangled, toppled tree. Sadness filled her face. 

A moment later, that sadness was replaced with livid anger. She stomped over to Roxy, getting right in her face. “Miss Roxy, honestly! Could you please not use my trees for experimentation?” 

“Hey! Rudy’s the one who did it!” 

“If Rudy did it, it was because you let him!” 

The whites of Roxy’s eyes grew, her body tensing as if a thunderclap had just gone off. Then she hung her head. Hey, that’s what you get for trying to shift the blame onto a three-year-old. “No, you’re absolutely right,” she murmured. 

“Please see to it that this doesn’t happen again, young lady!” 

“It won’t, ma’am. I’m so sorry.” 

Zenith went over to the tree and restored it to its former beauty with her Healing magic before heading back into the house. 

“Well, I sure messed this up pretty quickly,” Roxy mused. 

“Miss…” 

“Heh. I’m guessing I’ll be let go tomorrow.” She sat down on the ground, drawing little circles in the dirt. 

Wow. She really could not take even the slightest punishment, could she? I stood next to her and patted her on the shoulder, but said nothing. 

“Rudy?” 

I wasn’t sure what to do after patting her on the shoulder. I hadn’t really struck up a conversation with anyone in close to twenty years, so I couldn’t find the words to comfort her. I honestly didn’t know what the right thing to say in this sort of situation was. 

No. I just needed to calm down and think. What would the protagonist of an adult dating sim say to comfort someone at a time like this? 

Okay. I was pretty sure it would go something like this. “You didn’t fail here, Miss.” 

“Rudy…?” 

“You just earned some more experience, that’s all.” 

Roxy was taken aback. “Yes, you’re…you’re right. Thank you.” 

“Uh-huh. So, could you please continue with our lesson?” 

And so, right from day one, I formed a little bond with Roxy. 

*** 

Afternoons were spent practicing swordsmanship with Paul. 

We didn’t have a wooden practice sword suitable for a toddler of my stature, so our focus was on physical training: running, push-ups, sit-ups, that sort of thing. According to Paul, getting my body used to moving was the first priority. On the days he was too busy to train with me, he told me to keep up with my fundamentals. 

Guess dads are like that in every world. I just had to grin and bear it. 

A young child doesn’t have the stamina to spend an entire afternoon exercising, so we’d finish up around mid-afternoon. That being the case, I decided to spend my time between then and dinner working on spells. 

Adjusting the size of a spell increased the amount of magical power needed to fuel it. There was the default amount of power a spell took to cast if you put no conscious effort into it when the incantation finished, and making a spell larger than that consumed an accordingly greater amount of magical power. Sort of like the law of conservation of mass. 

Curiously, however, making a spell smaller also consumed more magical power. I wasn’t quite sure of the principle at work there, but creating a ball of water the size of a fist took less magical energy than creating one the size of a raindrop. It was weird. 

I asked Roxy about that, but she just said, “Yeah, that’s how it goes.” 

Apparently, that hadn’t been explained yet. 

I didn’t know the mechanisms by which magic worked, but through practice, getting a handle on the methods wasn’t so bad. My magical reserves had grown to the point that I wouldn’t burn through them unless I cast large spells. If my goal had been simply to use up my magical power, then I could’ve just keep unleashing the strongest spells I had until I was drained. 

After a while, though, I wanted to move on to actual applications of magic, so I decided to focus on practicing more precise spellcrafting. I wanted to make my effects smaller, narrower in scope, more complex: for instance, creating sculptures out of ice, making my fingertip glow with fire to write on planks of wood, taking dirt from the backyard and separating it into its constituent components, locking and unlocking doors, and so on. 

Reshaping something that was already hardy and solid was obviously more difficult. Working to reshape metal, for instance, cost more magical power. Working your magic on something smaller, on something more intricate, or attempting to work with both speed and precision at once expended vastly more power as well. The concentration and effort it took felt like trying to throw a fastball and thread the eye of a needle at the same time. 

I also experimented with using spells from different magical branches at the same time. This took more than three times the magical expenditure than using two spells of the same branch did. In other words, trying to be quick and precise with two spells of differing schools simultaneously was a great way to blow through all your magical reserves at once. 

My training went on like this, day after day, until I reached a point where I couldn’t see the bottom of where my reserves tapped out even after spending more than half the day using magic. I got the sense that I’d built them up to sufficient levels. Especially for a slacker like I used to be, I thought. 

But I was quick to caution myself. The body goes soft when one slacks off from their physical training. For all I knew, magic could be the same, and now that I’d built up my reserves, I wanted to keep training to make sure they stayed that way. 

*** 

One night, while practicing some magic, I heard the lascivious sounds of a creaking bedframe and lurid moaning coming from somewhere. Well, not “somewhere,” really—it was coming from Paul and Zenith’s bedroom. And my, were the sounds vigorous. In the not-too-distant future, I might be welcoming a little brother or sister. 

Hopefully a sister. No more younger brothers for me. In my mind’s eye, I could still see my past life’s younger brother winding up for a full swing with his bat, smashing my beloved PC to bits. I didn’t need a younger brother. But a kid sister would be nice. 

“Oh, man…” 

In my old life, I’d just stay put and bang on either the wall or the floor to shut people up whenever I was disturbed by sounds like these. Thanks to that, my older sister stopped bringing guys home entirely. Man, that brought back memories. 

At the same time, I’d always thought people who did that sort of thing were blights on the world. It reminded me of the people who used to bully me, sneering down at me from a position out of my reach, filling me with an anger I had no outlet for. Even if the perpetrator was somehow brought low to my level, he’d still look at me and ask, “What, you’re still here?” 

It was the worst. 

But things weren’t like that anymore. Maybe because I was now a child, or because it was my parents going at it, or just because I was more focused on my future, hearing them doing their business actually brightened my mood. I could tell roughly what they were getting up to just from the sounds. 

It seemed that Paul was pretty good in bed, too. Even though Zenith was out of breath, I heard him say, “Oh, I’m just getting warmed up,” before he went back to thrusting. He sounded like the main character from a pretty explicit adult dating sim, boundless virility and all. 

Hmm. As Paul’s son, maybe I’d inherited some of that sexual prowess? And one day, I would awaken to my powers, find my heroine, and make my way into the pink. 

That sort of thing excited me at first, but it had recently grown stale, and I’d casually make my way down the hall to the toilet with the sounds of creaking resonating through the walls. Also, the creaking and moaning would stop as soon as I approached their room, which was pretty damn amusing. 

Tonight was the same. I headed for the toilet, wondering whether I should let them know that their son, now capable of walking, was there. Maybe this time I should try saying something. Maybe something like, “Mooom? Daaad? What are you doin’ naked?” 

It’d be fun hearing what excuses they came up with. Heheheh. 

With that in mind, I slipped out of my room as quietly as I could—except someone was had already beaten me to the punch. The blue-haired girl was hunched in the dark hallway, peeking into the bedroom through the gap in the door. Her cheeks were flushed bright red, and her breathing had sunk to a low, rough panting, her gaze locked on the inside of the room. 

One of her hands was inside her robes, moving about rather suggestively. I quietly crept back to my own room. Roxy was in the grip of adolescence, after all, and I had the decency to pretend that I hadn’t seen anything. 

Or, well, something like that. I definitely liked what I had seen, anyway. 

*** 

Four months later, I was able to cast Intermediate-level spells. At that point, Roxy began to give me classroom-style lessons in the evenings. 

She was a good teacher. She was fussy about sticking to a particular curriculum, but she’d also ramp up the content of our lessons based on how well I understood things. She was good at intuitively responding to her student. She had a book that acted as a supplement to Textbook, from which she’d ask me questions. If I got one right, we’d move on to the next one, and if I didn’t know something, she’d very politely explain it to me. 

It might not sound like much, but I could feel my world opening up. 

In my old life, our family hired a personal tutor when my older brother was taking his entrance exams. One time, on a whim, I listened in on one of their classes, but it didn’t seem like it was anything different from what was taught at school. By comparison, Roxy’s lessons were much easier to understand and a lot more fun. Her teaching style resonated with me, and got quick results. 

Of course, it didn’t hurt that my teacher was a cute girl of junior-high age. That was kind of an awesome situation. In my old life, I would have been totally turned on. 

*** 

“Miss Roxy, how come there are only spells for things to be used in combat?” I asked abruptly. 

“Oh, well, that’s not really the case, actually,” Roxy replied. “Let’s see. What’s the best way to explain it? Okay, first off, it’s said that magic was originally created by the High Elves.” 

Whoa, elves?! Aha! So they do exist! 

I could picture them, with their blond hair and greenish garb, bows strapped across their backs, tentacles keeping them all bound up. 

Ahem. Okay, gotta calm down there. 

Based on the ideographic characters used to write the word for “elf,” it seemed they had long ears. 

“Miss Roxy, what are elves?” I asked. 

“Allow me to explain. Elves are a race of people who currently live in the northern part of the Millis Continent.” 

According to Roxy, long before even the Great Human-Demon War, when the world was engulfed in the unceasing spiral of battle and chaos, the High Elves, in order to fight their enemies, entreated with the spirits of the forests to control the wind and the earth. And thus, the first magic spells were born. 

“Wow, so there’s an entire history to this and everything?” I asked. 

“Of course there is!” Roxy huffed, rebuking me with a nod. “Modern magic takes its form from humans mimicking the spells the elves used in battle and reworking them. Humans are good at that sort of thing, after all.” 

“We are?” 

“Why, yes. It’s nearly always humans who push for innovation. There are only combat spells because people have mostly only used magic in battle; for anything else, you can use something close at hand instead of relying on magic,” Roxy explained. 

“Something close at hand? What do you mean?” 

“Well, for instance, if you need a light source, you can just use a candle or a lantern, right?” 

Ah, I got it. So, we were in that kind of setting, where tools and devices were simpler to use than magic. That made enough sense. 

Granted, silent casting would be easier still. 

“Moreover,” Roxy continued, “not all magic is used for battle. For instance, Summoning magic lets you call forth powerful fiends or spirits.” 

“Summoning magic! Do you think you’d be able to teach me that soon?” 

“I’m afraid not. I can’t use it myself,” Roxy replied. “But to get back to my earlier point, magical implements also exist.” 

Magical implements? I was pretty sure I had an idea of what she meant, but that was still a little vague. “Could you explain those?” I asked. 

“Magical implements are devices that have special magical effects. They’ve got a magic circle inscribed somewhere within them, so even if someone isn’t a magician, they can still make use of them. Some of them utilize vast amounts of magical power, though.” 

Okay, so that was pretty much in line with what I’d been imagining. Still, it was too bad about Roxy not being able to use Summoning magic. I understood the principles of Attack magic and Healing magic well enough, but I didn’t know how Summoning magic actually worked. 

But hey, I’d been introduced to some new terms I hadn’t heard before: Great Human-Demon War, fiends, spirits. I understood them well enough on the surface, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask more. 

“Miss Roxy, what’s the difference between a fiend and a monster?” 

“Fiends and monsters aren’t terribly different from one another.” 

She explained that monsters were the result of sudden mutations in normal animals. If they were lucky enough to grow in numbers, establish themselves as a new species, and develop intellect over the generations, they became fiends. But apparently, many creatures that possessed intelligence but still attacked humans were referred to as monsters; there were also cases of fiends growing more savage and brutal over the generations, reverting back into monsters. 

So, there wasn’t a wholly concrete delineation between the two. In general, though, monsters attacked humans and fiends did not. 

“So then, demons are just more evolved version of fiends?” I asked. 

“No, demons are completely different. The name ‘demon’ comes from a time long ago when the races of men and demons battled one another.” 

“Is that the Great Human-Demon War you mentioned earlier?” 

“That’s right,” Roxy said. “The first conflict happened around seven thousand years ago.” 

“Wow, that’s so long ago it’s almost dizzying to think about.” This world evidently had quite a long history. 

“Oh, it’s not all that long ago. Humans and demons were still at war with one another as recently as four hundred years ago. It started seven thousand years ago, and the two sides have been in conflict off and on ever since.” 

Four hundred years sounded pretty long ago as is, but seven thousand years of ongoing fighting? Humans and demons must really not get along. 

“Ah, okay, I get it,” I said. “So then, what are demons?” 

“Well, it’s a little hard to actually define,” Roxy said. The simplest way to put it, according to her, was that “demons” included whoever fought on the demons’ side in the most recent conflict. But this, too, had its exceptions. 

“I’m a demon myself, actually,” she said. 

“Oh. You—you are?” 

I had a demon for a home tutor. Which I supposed meant that there wasn’t any conflict going on right now. Giving peace a chance really was the way to go, huh? 

“That’s right,” Roxy said. “More formally put, I’m one of the Migurd, from the Biegoya Region of the Demon Continent. You must have noticed your parents’ surprise when they first saw me, right, Rudy?” 

“I figured that was because you’re little.” 

“I am not little,” Roxy huffed. That was clearly a sore spot with her. “They were surprised by the color of my hair.” 

“Your hair?” I thought it was a very pretty shade of blue, personally. 

“They say that, for the demonic races, the closer our hair is to green, the more savage we tend to be. Depending on the lighting, my hair can look pretty green, too.” 

Green, huh? Was that this world’s danger color, then? 

Roxy’s hair was a striking sky-blue color, and she twirled a finger in her bangs as she explained herself. Her mannerisms were adorable. 

Back in Japan, blue hair was the sort of thing I’d associate with punks or older women. When I saw people like that, I always thought it was unusual—but there was nothing unusual or off-putting about Roxy’s blue locks. If anything, I thought her slightly sleepy-looking eyes helped complete the picture. She looked like she could be the first character whose route I’d try to complete in an adult dating sim. 

“I think your hair is pretty,” I said. 

“Oh, thank you very much. But that’s the sort of thing you should say to a girl you like after you’ve grown up.” 

I didn’t miss my opening. “I like you, Miss!” I couldn’t help it; hitting on cute girls is what I do. 

“I see. Well, in another ten or fifteen years, if your feelings haven’t changed, please feel free to tell me that again.” She’d pretty cleanly rebuffed me, but I still caught the happy look that crossed her face. 

I wasn’t sure how much the skills I’d honed by playing dating sims would help me in this world, but the answer clearly wasn’t “nowhere.” Jokes and lines that were old and played-out back in Japan might well be unique and passionate ways to win over someone’s heart here. 

Okay, yeah, I’m not sure what I was trying to get at, either. The point is that Roxy was cute and naughty and I wanted to push her buttons. The considerable age gap between us was definitely an issue, though. Maybe something to think about for the future. 

“To get back to the subject at hand,” Roxy said, “the idea that more brightly colored hair signifies danger is nothing but a superstition.” 

“Oh. It is?” Now I felt silly for having taken the whole “danger color” thing seriously. 

“Yes. During the war four hundred years ago, the Superd, a green-haired demonic race from the Babynos Region, went on a brutal rampage. That’s where the association comes from; the color of someone’s hair doesn’t actually have anything to do with that.” 

“A brutal rampage, you said?” 

“Indeed. After only a decade and change of war, they became feared by friend and foe alike, becoming as violent as they were despised. They were so dangerous that, after the war, persecution drove them almost completely from the Demon Continent.” 

Their own allies pushed them away after the war? Wow. “People really hate them that much?” I asked. 

“They do.” 

“What did they do that was so bad?” 

“Well, I can only tell you what I’ve heard. Things like attacking allied demon settlements and slaughtering the women and children, or wiping out all of their foes on the battlefield and then turning to do the same to their allies. When I was a kid, I’d hear stories like that all the time. ‘Don’t stay up too late, or the Superd will come and eat you!’ That sort of thing.” 

It almost sounded like she was talking about the Putaway Man, the boogeyman from that old anime. 

Roxy continued. “The Migurd and Superd peoples are closely related, and I’ve heard we used to get treated much the same as they were.” She paused to make sure she had my attention. “I imagine your parents will probably tell you something like this soon enough, but if you ever see someone with emerald-green hair and what looks like a red jewel set in their forehead, make sure you don’t go anywhere near them. And if interacting with one is unavoidable, whatever you do, make sure you don’t make them mad.” 

Emerald-green hair and a red jewel in the forehead? She must have been describing the Superd to me. “What’ll happen if I make them mad?” 

“You might get your entire family killed.” 

“You said emerald green, with a red jewel in their forehead, right?” 

“That’s right. The thing on their forehead is their third eye, which allows them to see the flow of magic.” 

“Are all the Superd women?” I asked. 

“Er, no. There are men, too, like you’d expect.” 

“If they do something with the jewel on their head does it turn blue or anything like that?” 

Roxy tilted her head in bafflement. “Um, no? At least, not that I know of?” 

Well, I was happy I’d gotten to ask what I wanted. “It sounds like they stand out and are pretty easy to recognize, at least,” I said. 

“That’s right. If you ever see one, just act casual, like you’ve got something else to do, and get out of there. If you bolt all of a sudden, you might provoke them.” 

Spotting some punk and making a run for it just invited the chase, huh? Yeah, I had some experience with that. “So, if I do have to talk to one, just speak very politely and I should be okay?” 

“As long as you don’t say anything blatantly degrading, then there ought to be no problem; however, there are many differences in what’s commonly accepted in human culture versus demon culture, so you might not know what words will trigger an outburst. It’s safest to avoid being obliquely sarcastic and that sort of thing.” 

Hmm. These guys must have some incredible tempers. Roxy had said they’d been victims of oppression, but it sounded like these fears had some basis. I mean, if their anger was scary enough to warn other people to stay away from them—yikes. 

If I got killed, I doubted I’d be lucky enough to get a third shot at life, so I figured it was best to do everything I could to steer clear. These Superd were really bad news. 

*** 

Roughly another year went by. My magic lessons were proceeding apace. I could now use Advanced-level spells from all different branches of magic. 

All without using incantations, too, of course. 

Compared to ordinary training, Advanced magic was like picking one’s nose. By which I mean there were a lot of ranged attacks and they felt pretty awkward to use. Like, what was I going to do with the ability to make it rain over a wide area? 

But then I remembered how, after a prolonged drought, Roxy had made it rain over the wheat fields, to the great joy of the villagers. I’d been at home at the time, so this was all stuff I’d heard from Paul. 

Evidently, Roxy had handled multiple requests from the townsfolk and had been solving their problems. I could almost hear it now: 

“I was tilling the soil and struck a big rock buried in the ground! Help me, Roxyemon!” 

“Just leave it to me!” 

“Whoa! What kinda magic is that?” 

“I used water magic to dampen the soil around the rock and then used it in concert with earth magic to change it into mud!” 

“Wow, that’s amazing! The rock is just sinking 

away!” 

“Heeheehee!” 

I was guessing that was (probably) how it went. 

“I knew you were the sort of person who liked helping people, Miss Roxy!” I said. 

“It’s not exactly that. I’m doing this to earn money on the side.” 

“You get paid for doing stuff like that?” 

“Of course.” 

My first instinct was to write her off as greedy, but the townspeople seemed to accept her terms. They’d never had anyone who could do that sort of thing for them before, and they deeply appreciated Roxy for it. I guessed this was what they called give and take. 

I’d been thinking about this the wrong way. The idea of helping someone out of a bind without asking for anything in return was a very Japanese one. It was normal to get compensated for that sort of thing. It just made sense. 

Granted, being the shut-in I was in my past life, not only did I not help anyone else out of a bad situation, I was the bad situation for the rest of my family. 

Hahaha… 

*** 

One day, out of the blue, I decided to ask Roxy, “Would it be better if I called you ‘Master’ instead of just ‘Miss’?” 

Roxy scrunched up her face awkwardly. “No, probably best not to. I’m sure you’ll easily surpass me soon enough.” 

I had enough talent to be better than Roxy? It was enough to make me blush. 

“After all, it’d be weird to call someone whose powers were inferior to yours ‘Master,’” Roxy added. 

“I don’t think it’s that weird.” 

“Well, it’d be weird for me. I’d never outlive the shame of having someone who’s clearly better than me referring to me as ‘Master.’” 

Ah. Was that what this was all about, then? “Are you saying that because you got stronger than your own master, Miss Roxy?” 

“Listen, Rudy: A master is someone who says they have nothing else they can teach you, but still butts in with their advice on each and every thing you do.” 

“You wouldn’t do that, though, Miss Roxy.” 

“I might.” 

“Even if you did, I’d be honored.” Roxy always looked pretty satisfied with herself whenever she advised me on things; I probably had quite the grin on my own face when plying her with compliments. 

“Oh, no. If I became that resentful of my own student’s talents, there’s no telling what I might blurt out.” 

“Like what sorta things?” 

“Stuff like how I’m just a filthy demon, or how you’re just some country hick.” 

Wow, did Roxy seriously just say that to me? I felt sort of bad for her. Being discriminated against wasn’t great, after all. But I guess that’s what you get when there’s a hierarchy to your relationship with someone. 

“It’ll be fine,” I said. “Just act like you’re better than me!” 

“I’m not going to act all haughty and superior just because I’m older! I’m just not comfortable having a master-pupil relationship with such an imbalance of talent!” 

She shot me down real quick; it looked like my bond with my master had taken a turn for the worse. In my mind, I decided that I’d still think of her as my master regardless. After all, she was a girl who still had some traces of youth and could properly teach me whatever I couldn’t learn by reading.