Mushoku Tensei: Reincarnated as a Beast Race-Chapter 168 - The Winds of Change

Asura Kingdom, Dojo of the Water God Style.

A blue-haired young woman trained with dedication.

Her body moved in perfect harmony, her feet gliding lightly across the polished floor of the dojo, the sword gleaming in the morning light as she precisely reproduced the characteristic movements of the Water God Style.

Each step, each strike, and each retreat mimicked the smooth, continuous flow of a river, as if she were facing an invisible enemy. Her gaze was fixed on the void, completely absorbed in her training.

The soft sound of the sliding door opening broke the silence of the space.

An elderly lady with a serene posture and piercing gaze entered and stood watching for a few moments. Her eyes followed every movement of the young woman with critical attention before she sighed, resigned.

"Isolte," said the old lady, in a firm, clear voice. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

The young woman's concentration shattered like glass. Surprised, she almost let the sword slip, whirling abruptly toward the door.

"M-mistress Reida?!" she exclaimed, breathless, sweat running down her face.

It was none other than Reida Reia, the current Water God. A living legend. Her posture was severe, but her tone was calm.

"I hate to interrupt your focus, but I want you to take charge of the dojo in my absence."

Isolte blinked several times, trying to absorb those words while still seemingly dazed from her training.

"Ah-ah... ah! Yes, of course, I can take charge... but where are you going, mistress?"

Reida smiled, a mysterious gleam in her eyes.

"The boy has succeeded. He has become the Sixth World Power... and created the Fourth Swordsmanship Style."

Isolte's mouth dropped open.

"But already?! He's only... sixteen years old right now?!"

Reida seemed to ponder for a moment, then nodded with a mischievous smile.

"I suppose that's exactly it!"

Isolte felt as if punched in the stomach.

She tried to remember what exactly she was doing at that age.

At sixteen, she was departing for the Sword Sanctuary.

She was a Water Saint at the time and believed herself very talented and powerful. Now it all seemed a joke.

While she was training and considering herself promising, a boy had created a new style recognized by the world and risen to the rank of Sixth World Power.

Reida continued without considering her granddaughter's emotional storm:

"In any case, thanks to this, my presence has been requested until his current position is officially confirmed. They fear he might suddenly invade the Royal Palace and kill everyone there... heh! Actually, I think that's exactly something he would do!"

She turned, walking slowly out of the dojo, carrying only her elegant, deadly golden blade.

Her figure faded into the dawn light without waiting for any further response.

Isolte stood still for a few minutes, digesting it all. Then, slowly, she headed to the outer dojo, where the Saints of the Water God Style trained.

She was already a Water King, and coupled with her status as granddaughter of the current Water God, she usually managed the dojos.

Some greeted her, and she responded automatically, her thoughts racing. She took up her sword again and resumed training as if it were just another day.

Sometimes she guided the Water Saints in their questions. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Meanwhile, the Asura Kingdom began to stir. Rumors spread through taverns and alleys like wildfire.

Some adventurers, townspeople, and even guards claimed to have seen a huge red dragon flying over the kingdom's territory. Tales and fables about the Beast God began to flourish intensely.

Rygar Adoldia.

That was the name burning in whispers and heated discussions. Opinions about him were divided in the greatest kingdom in the world.

Some nobles fiercely supported the Holy Country's crusade against the Great Forest and tried everything to change the Kingdom's stance on the matter.

But not out of any sense of justice or agreement with Milis—out of convenience. They knew Rygar was against slavery, especially of his own race.

He was unpredictable, followed no policies or laws—only his own morality.

And the problem was that the Asura Kingdom, in its essence, went against almost everything he believed in.

These nobles and aristocrats argued that if the Beast God won this war, there was no guarantee they wouldn't become his next target.

Still, the majority of nobles—and even the royalty—seemed to want to avoid war.

Perhaps it was foolishness. Perhaps ignorance. Or perhaps fear. Some trusted their military strength; others thought they could manipulate the situation.

But in the end, they chose caution. They decided not to provoke the Beast God.

Some even dared to send emissaries to the Iron Legion, seeking dialogue.

But the Asura Kingdom, at that moment, had no idea how foolish that decision would prove.

They had essentially wasted their only chance to resist the winds of change Rygar Adoldia was about to bring to the Six-Faced World.

----

Meanwhile, at the headquarters of the North God Style, located in the Dragon King's Kingdom, a fierce battle unfolded on a vast stone platform marked by countless cracks—scars of innumerable confrontations.

There, two figures dueled with brutal intensity.

One looked like a green-haired child, wearing black armor and wielding a gigantic golden sword: Ornthorn, the North Emperor.

The other was a very tall, muscular demon with dark skin, equally armed with a colossal sword: Lwis, the North King.

They moved with astonishing speed, defying the weight of their weapons.

Each clash of blades echoed like thunder, making the very structure of the arena tremble.

Until, suddenly, a man burst onto the platform, out of breath and visibly alarmed. The two combatants halted with one last thunderous collision.

Ornthorn cast a sharp glance at the intruder and spoke in a disinterested yet threatening tone:

"It better be important... only kings and above are allowed to set foot here..."

The man, a North Saint, stammered nervously:

"I-it is important, master! You asked the disciples to patrol the Seven Powers Stone and report any changes!"

Ornthorn's interest was instantly piqued. A discreet smile spread across his face.

"And...?"

"There's been a change!" the Saint replied eagerly. "The Sword God has been defeated! The one who took his place is called... the Beast God!"

Ornthorn's aura exploded in a crushing wave as he burst into an intense, savage laugh:

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The North Saint froze in fear.

His master's green hair was already intimidating, reminiscent of the Superd demon race, but that insane laugh made it seem as though he was about to descend upon a peaceful village and massacre it on a whim.

He stood petrified until a huge shadow covered his vision.

With a gentle smile, Lwis, the North King, appeared.

His presence was imposing, but unlike Ornthorn, he was known for kindness and empathy.

He placed a hand on the messenger's shoulder and said:

"Thank you for the information. You may go now."

"Y-yes! Thank you!" replied the warrior, turning quickly and returning to the lower platforms, mentally thanking Lwis.

Ornthorn was still exhilarated, his voice resonating:

"Four years, Lwis! The brat defeated Gall Farion in four years, and I said five thinking that was the limit of impossibility! He must have just reached adulthood!"

"He is truly impressive," Lwis replied, smiling. "Even uncle showed interest when I spoke of him."

The North Emperor's laughter abruptly ceased as he grew thoughtful:

"Badigadi, huh? I wonder how he fared at the Sword Sanctuary..."

The two began walking toward the edge of the arena, and Lwis asked:

"So... will you help the Iron Legion?"

Just over a month ago, a letter arrived from the Sword Sanctuary.

It was from Rygar, who at that time was still training with Reida and Gall Farion.

In it, he announced his plans to claim the Sword God's post soon and asked Ornthorn to travel to Milis to support the Iron Legion when he did.

The reason was that his subordinates were predicting a war against the Holy Country.

"I will," the North Emperor answered.

"After all, I promised to serve him if he won the bet. It'll probably be very interesting. I want to see what kind of power he can reach if he's already this strong at his age... he might be strong enough to shake the world."

Lwis raised an eyebrow, curious:

"I thought you didn't like wars?"

"I don't. But I promised to help if it wasn't a senseless war. Milis is merely waging an irrational crusade against the Great Forest because they grew too strong. I hate religious fanatics more than wars."

Ornthorn then gazed at the horizon and grabbed a wineskin of liquor, pouring himself a strong drink. Lwis, in his usual good humor, smiled and said:

"So... good luck in battle! When will you depart?"

The Emperor downed the liquor in one gulp and declared:

"Right now."

The dark-skinned demon was surprised.

"So soon?"

"Yes. Rygar said I should leave as soon as I received the news. I won't disobey my leader's first order, right?"

With that, he raised his colossal sword and rested it on his shoulder. Before departing, he looked at Lwis and said:

"If Randolph comes looking for me again, tell him I'll return in about three or four years."

"I will," the North King replied.

Without another word, Ornthorn turned and left. He didn't need farewells.

Never one for socializing, it was uncommon to see him outside the North God Style headquarters.

With a single leap, he caused the ground to tremble.

His body was enhanced by the Laplace factor without his knowledge, making his physical strength surpass that of many monsters, though not rivaling Rygar's power.

Still, that made his journeys and travels always simple: run in a straight line.

And so the leader of the North God Style headquarters departed—silently, with overwhelming speed.

---

Randolph Marianne, known by few, was the fifth world power, the Death God.

Recently, over the past decades, the Death God had tried a different path from his traditional one.

All that death, blood, and battles wore him down.

So he decided to open a restaurant.

It turned out that, over time, he discovered he wasn't very good at it; he went into debt and recently went bankrupt.

He was saddened by this, but at least he returned to what he was considered skilled at: fighting.

Thus, he joined the royal guard of the Dragon King's Kingdom, personally recruited by General Chagall Gargantis.

Randolph went to the North God Style headquarters to greet the North Emperor Ornthorn, the Dragon Hunter, and also to train.

He said he felt somewhat rusty after so long away from true combat.

Ornthorn recognized him immediately. Those were other times—about fifty years ago, he himself was one of many who dared challenge Randolph for his title.

Randolph Marianne had trained as a candidate for North God alongside Kalman III, but he quarreled with his grandfather, Kalman II, and fled to follow his own path.

Back then, Randolph was a monster in battle. He killed the former Death God, Laxus, in the Demon Continent and took his place.

He was a legendary fighter, surpassing all three Gods of the three Swordsmanship schools of the time, and likely even surpassing today's Gall Farion in direct combat.

His swordsmanship skills were unique: strange, unpredictable, dangerous. He blended the North God Style with the Water God Style like no one else, giving birth to his ultimate technique—the Sorcery Sword.

And with the Demon Eye of the Absolute Void, Randolph seemed, at that time, perfectly suited to the position of the fifth world power.

But that was long ago.

Nowadays... he was no longer as formidable. Still, he managed to defeat Ornthorn again—which was no small feat.

However, Ornthorn believed that, with his current strength, Randolph wouldn't be able to surpass the North God or the Sword God.

Perhaps after a few more years regaining his muscle memory and battle senses, who knows.

Still, he remained a precious asset for the Dragon King's Kingdom. A powerful deterrent.

With the recent emergence of the Beast God, someone like Randolph had become even more vital, serving as a natural bulwark against any threat.

The Dragon King's Kingdom had sent allies from its army as support via the new sea route directly connecting to the Hobbit territory's coast.

But Randolph was not sent. For obvious reasons. You don't waste a card like him in just any game.

The world was changing. All eyes were on Milis. The war unfolding there captured the attention of every major power in the world.

-----

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