Hey everyone! I already have four story ideas for after Mushoku Tensei (now that we are getting closer and closer to the end).
Keep in mind that I'm not planning on drastically changing these ideas, because the most important thing while I'm writing is that i want to and am interested in what I'm doing.
If I write an idea that I'm not that excited about, it might make me abandon it, it might make the writing bad, tiring, or automatic.
Your support so far, and the fact that I really wanted to write this story, are what made me continue, even when I had some obstacles along the way.
Anyway, the ideas I have in mind are Attack on Titan, Naruto, Shadow Slave, and One Piece.
Soon, I'll be doing a poll (on p@treon) with a brief synopsis of the stories, the premise, the tone of the story, and other things, and as mentioned in the levels, anyone contributing from Emperor Level upwards will be able to participate in the poll.
For now I'll keep it a secret, to create suspense...
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Timothy Britz.
The current Sword God, the one who succeeded Gall Farion after his voluntary abdication of the title.
Over the course of hundreds of years, the title of Sword God passed through many hands. Some of its bearers were impetuous warriors, battle-maniacs who lived only to test their limits against ever-stronger enemies.
Others were cold and absolutely devoted to the refinement of the blade, always seeking a higher level of martial proficiency.
All were powerful.
But their strength always fluctuated according to the era in which they lived.
Timothy Britz also had a goal.
He wanted to make the Sword God Style prosper and spread across the world.
For him, that martial art was not just a method of combat — it was his faith, his religion, something deeply rooted in his existence. Something he would never give up.
Over generations there were times when the Sword God Style flourished strongly, and others when it nearly fell into oblivion.
Until a few years ago, the style was living its golden age.
The greatest swordsman alive was its leader.
Every disciple of Gall Farion was a force to be reckoned with. Saints, Kings and Emperors trained by him often surpassed practitioners of the same level from other styles.
The prestige of the Sword Sanctuary was unquestionable; its influence reached kingdoms and continents.
That influence reached its absolute peak with the emergence of Rygar Adoldia in the Sword Sanctuary.
Rygar traveled across continents, made his name echo throughout the world, defeating countless combatants and demonstrating exceptional dexterity.
Although he had been a disciple of both the Water God and the Sword God, he rose above them all in a few years, proving a talent that simply transcended generations.
And then, finally, he claimed his master's position among the Seven Great Powers, replacing the Sword God and assuming a new title.
The Beast God, the Sixth World Power.
It was a classic story — the disciple surpassing the master. Heroic, inspiring, even admirable. In the Kingdom of Gaia, that story was told with pride.
But for the Sword Sanctuary, that moment marked the beginning of a precipitous decline.
Timothy Britz became the new Sword God.
Even without taking into account that a third of the practitioners left the Sanctuary along with Clint after Gall Farion's departure, those who remained lost their pride.
Timothy, over the years, grew as Sword God. Challengers came from all parts of the world, and he defeated them one by one with undeniable skill.
He was an exquisite swordsman.
But it was not enough.
Every month, a practitioner abandoned the dojo. Every year, some considered switching to the North God Style or even the Beast God Style, traveling the world in search of a more promising path to power.
The decline of the Sword God Style became gradual, steady and unstoppable.
This put crushing pressure on Timothy.
He was, in essence, a simple man. A man born to wield a blade. For as long as he could remember, his whole life had been dedicated to the Sword God Style.
His belief in that truth was so absolute that he refused to allow everything to end that way.
So he accepted an alliance with a princess of the Kingdom of Asura.
An opportunity that would not come twice.
It was a chance to fight personally, to make the name of the Sword God Style resonate again across the world. Princess Ariel's group counted influential figures such as the Armored Dragon King, a North God and the Magic King.
Being part of that group meant prestige and recognition.
With the backing of a kingdom, new practitioners would arise. The Sanctuary could rise again. The style could prosper.
Thinking that, Timothy did not hesitate.
To make the Sword God Style great again, he would use every means. He would fight tooth and nail. He would not allow such a grand fencing art to die in his hands.
That was why he had come.
And that was exactly what he was living now.
A curved, silver blade passed a few centimeters from his face, too fast for his eyes — blurred by blood — to track as before.
The world seemed to move in slow motion for the two swordsmen.
Timothy avoided decapitation by luck, stepping back and leaping over the remains of a fallen statue.
It was the statue of an ancient King of Asura, originally fifteen meters tall, now reduced to rubble. Like the entire surroundings of the Silver Palace, it had been shattered into countless pieces.
Nearby, a large hall burned in flames. There were walls raised of earth, regions completely frozen, and fires spreading out of control — the consequence of Rudeus Greyrat's reckless spells.
Timothy did not notice a follow-up strike, so he took advantage of the brief pause to observe his opponent.
His own body was covered in cuts of varying depths. The mantle of the Sword Sanctuary was torn, sliced by blades, stained with blood.
By comparison, the woman in front of him seemed to be in much better condition.
Her long red hair was whipped by the wind streaming through the castle's destroyed structures. She wore an eyepatch over her left eye.
The only visible wound was a deep cut on her left shoulder — the strike Timothy had landed by exploiting her blind spot.
Feeling blood flowing more and more, an unexpected curiosity took hold of Timothy.
He adjusted his grip on his blade and asked:
"Why are you wearing an eyepatch, after all? I suppose I should have asked at the start of the fight..."
Eris, who was smiling fiercely, let that smile soften for a moment when she heard the question.
She spun her wrist naturally, letting the blood run down the blade before wiping it clean with a motion.
"Well… it turns out this is a gift from Rygar."
Timothy blinked, genuinely surprised.
"…A gift?" he repeated. "You received an eyepatch as a gift? You do know that cut on your shoulder was exactly because of that, right?"
He frowned, clearly confused; for a brief moment, he forgot that the conversation was taking place amid a mortal battle.
Eris brought her hand to the eyepatch and laughed.
"Hehe… yes. Well, it's a Demon Eye!" she said, with no small pride. "But I still don't master it properly, so I need to wear the eyepatch."
She turned to face him again, appearing relaxed but ready to explode into motion at any second.
Understanding hit Timothy.
His expression became complex.
"Haaah…" he sighed. "Rygar advanced too fast. He can even give you a Demon Eye now…"
He shook his head slowly.
"I really don't understand anything about magic… but that must be something impressive."
Timothy waited for a response, but Eris remained silent, only watching him attentively. So he continued, feeling that talking more or less would not change the outcome of that fight.
"I wanted Jino to take my place…" he confessed, raising his gaze to the smoke-filled sky.
Eris snorted, visibly irritated.
"He's fighting the Armored Dragon! Hmph!" she crossed her arms for a moment. "Do you believe Rygar told me I wasn't versatile enough to fight the Spirits of Perugius?!"
Timothy widened his eyes for a brief moment, but soon understood.
"So… I wasn't strong enough for him to come face me personally…?"
His voice sounded melancholy.
"He really grew."
Memories came to the surface. His genius son, training day after day, had become someone he could no longer fully reach.
A pang of emotion pierced his chest.
He harbored a hidden desire in his heart. Maybe, if his son became so strong…
Maybe that would mean he had done something truly great in his life.
Eris seemed frustrated.
"He won't be the strongest forever! I'll defeat him eventually! He's just more versatile!"
Timothy laughed loudly.
"Haha! Don't be mistaken, Eris." He set his stance again, adjusting his sword grip. "I admire you even more than Rygar… or Jino."
Eris blinked, surprised.
"Huh?"
"You fight with the philosophy of the Sword God Style," he continued, serious. "You yearn to kill your opponent in a single instant. Even while learning other techniques, it's visible… your only real weapon is a fast, direct and absolute strike."
He smiled faintly.
"A true swordswoman of the Sword God Style. Not even Rygar's notorious Beast God Style managed to rip that out of you."
Eris was puzzled by the compliment.
"O-okay!" she replied, somewhat awkwardly. "You also became stronger than I expected! Honestly… if you had trained with Rygar, you could have gone even further…"
She looked at him with apprehension, but also with a fierce fighting spirit burning in her eyes.
Timothy's expression hardened.
"What?" He narrowed his eyes. "You think you're talking to a dead man?"
His smile turned sharp.
"I will still kill you. And after… I'll go after my ungrateful son."
He raised the blade.
"This fight is not over yet, Red Lioness."
Eris smiled challengingly.
"Tch… then let's see…"
In the next instant, both vanished.
The metallic sound of blades colliding echoed repeatedly as they crossed the battlefield like shadows, appearing and disappearing among flames, ice and debris.
The reason that fight dragged on so long was simple.
They were very similar in strength.
Timothy Britz had grown stronger in recent years. As Sword God, he had refined his technique until he became worthy of the title. Perhaps, at the moment he assumed it, he could not be called a true God.
But now?
He carried the will, the essence and the philosophy of the Sword God Style within him.
He had not surpassed Gall Farion… but he was not someone anyone could face.
And Eris?
Eris was equally terrifying.
From seven years old training with the Sword King Ghislaine.
From nine years old accompanying Rygar, attempting to reach him… and surpass him.
Becoming a Sword King at fourteen.
And reaching the rank of Sword Emperor at seventeen.
She fought against generals of the Holy Kingdom of Millis.
Against Depth Giants of the Sea Race.
Against Demon Kings of the Demon Continent.
She trained every day at the Combat Temple, without exception.
Her tireless nature, her hunger for strength and her dedication were perhaps the greatest in the entire Kingdom of Gaia.
Her potential was not merely realized.
It was surpassed.
Under constant guidance, motivation and pressure, Eris Adoldia became something that would never have existed under normal circumstances.
But her circumstances were never normal.
The Sword God and the Red Lioness cut through the battlefield like torpedoes, involved in a deadly dance of steel and murderous intent.
The objective was simple.
Cut before being cut.
Silver lights collided with each impact. Blood pooled on the ruined ground.
In the middle of the accelerated fight, Skoll finally appeared nearby.
But he did not dare approach the storm of steel. And he did not need to.
At that moment, without further surprises.
The one who had been at a disadvantage from the start was overtaken.
It took only a small distraction. Scattered thoughts arose due to the constant loss of blood, added to attention momentarily diverted by the presence of a new participant on the battlefield.
It was enough.
A lateral cut sliced diagonally through his torso.
The blow was clean and decisive.
An arm flew through the air, severed from the body in a single movement, spinning before falling among the rubble.
No follow-up strike came.
Timothy Britz staggered back, and his sword fell from his other hand. He brought his hand to the deep cut, which had completely eviscerated his internal organs, and then fell to his knees.
His entrails spilled out, scattering across the ruined ground, while the blood streamed like an unending waterfall. His eyes began to lose color, the brightness fading quickly.
Eris was looking at her opponent.
Timothy raised his eyes, increasingly empty, and spoke as blood gurgled in his throat.
"Cough, cough… it was an honor to fall by your blade, Red Lioness…"
He tried to breathe, but only more blood escaped from his mouth.
"If possible… cough, cough…!" he continued with difficulty. "Leave my blade to my grandson."
Blood flowed from his throat, interrupting his words.
He fell forward.
A final silver flash covered his vision.
His head rolled across the battlefield.
The last thought in his mind was satisfaction.
As long as Eris Adoldia lived, the Sword God Style would still be high and bright in the skies.
He had died, but in his place, a powerful Sword God occupied his post.
Beep—beep—beep!
Eris barely had time to contemplate the death of the Sword God when a communicator beeped at her waist.
"Huh? Already?! Phew! That was close!"
She turned immediately.
"Come on, Skoll!"
Eris picked up Timothy Britz's sword from the ground and leapt onto the Ebony Wolf, which had been watching from the side.
Then the wolf dashed through the rubble at high speed, crossing the ruined field, while Eris began to heal her more serious wounds with her magic.
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