On the hillside outside Buena Village, the wind was gentle.
Dappled light shimmered through the leaves, casting shifting shadows across Allen's face.
He lay under the tree, watching the play of sunlight, mind swirling with recent realities.
There were still three to four months until the original timeline would naturally enter the Tutoring Phase. But internal dilemmas loomed, troubling him deeply.
Foremost among them: his repeated attempts to persuade the Greyrats to leave Buena Village—to avoid the catastrophe of the Teleportation Incident.
That effort had clearly ended in failure. Words alone wouldn't be enough. It's not like he could just shout "I'm a transmigrator! Listen to me or die!"
So if persuasion wouldn't work, he'd have to rely on external forces to push things forward.
And what would that be?
In the foreseeable, inevitable future, the party with the most potential to move the situation...
Was the Boreas family in Roa City.
In other words—his original family.
At this point, Allen no longer worried about being recognized. Nearly two years had passed, and his facial expressions, demeanor, and even hairstyle had completely changed. The sharp-eyed, slicked-back-haired youth of two years ago had transformed into a long-haired, bespectacled "gentle" smiley-face.
Back then, Philip had always been wary of him under James's orders. In the eight years Allen had lived in the capital, they'd only seen each other once—and from a distance, when Allen was still a child.
Now, with time blurring the memory, Philip had no realistic chance of connecting Allen with the eldest son of the main house—especially without enough information.
So going there as an unknown outsider to stir the pot? Perfectly viable.
That was Allen's current assessment based on all available intel.
But if he continued along this train of thought... a new problem emerged.
Yes, he had "cleared" the Childhood Phase and could now enter the Tutoring Phase at any time.
But the boundary into that phase had become... murky. The most logical excuse to interact with the Boreas family had disappeared.
In the original plot, the trigger was this:
Rudeus received a letter informing him that Roxy had been promoted to Water King-level. Realizing he'd hit a wall in his own magical development, he was shaken. That moment of painful clarity led to his epiphany—adoration is the furthest distance from understanding.
Only then did he propose attending the University of Magic to continue his studies.
Sylphy, upon hearing this, immediately didn't want him to leave. Rudeus, thinking of the joy of "raising" her, then decided to bring Sylphy along.
At that point, Paul rejected Rudeus's request to attend school.
He saw through Rudeus's motives—the intention to keep Sylphy close, raise her in isolation, and prevent her from developing independence. To prevent this, Paul and Laws decided to send Rudeus to the city to work as a private tutor, so he could "earn his own tuition."
The real goal? To separate the two. To stop Sylphy from becoming an emotionally dependent satellite in Rudeus's orbit.
"You want to go to school with Sylphy? Sure. Earn your own tuition. But for the next three years, you're not allowed to see or contact her. Come back when you've got the money—and then take her with you."
That was Paul's condition.
Secretly, Paul sent a letter to the Boreas family in Roa.
Then, out of nowhere, Ghislaine appeared and whisked Rudeus away—marking the start of the Tutoring Phase.
But now?
Rudeus hadn't made any dramatic breakthroughs in magic—but his floor had risen significantly. In the original story, while he displayed tremendous talent, he still struggled with the practical application of magic in combat.
But since Allen arrived?
They'd been sparring nearly every day. And after last year's monster wave...
That damn shut-in had suddenly turned serious.
Since then, Rudeus had been working relentlessly to improve his battlefield magic. His hybrid magic techniques were now something he could conjure at will.
"[Frost Nova]!"
Just as that thought crossed Allen's mind, a shout rang out from the distance.
A burst of frost swept across the grasslands, racing toward the tree where Allen lay. Each blade of grass it touched turned into glistening spikes of ice, surging like a wave toward him.
Allen's thoughtful expression froze. His pupils contracted, then expanded.
The world changed color.
The tree leaves froze in midair, suspended like a watercolor caught in time. The rustling leaves fell silent.
And Allen—under the tree—watched this fading ink-wash painting unfold in perfect stillness.
Tendrils of shadowy mist crept into his vision.
Then—
The mist scattered.
Blown away by the wind rising from within.
Allen blinked.
The world returned to motion.
The frost seemed to sense it had gone too far. Just before it reached him, it veered off, flowing harmlessly around his feet—as if aware it would be impolite to disturb the man under the tree.
The hillside froze over.
But the tree still swayed gently in the spring breeze, scattering soft beams of sunlight onto the face of the man who sat beneath it, eyes half-closed.
This tree protects him.
From nearby, the voices of a boy and girl drifted on the wind.
"Allen's [Stone-Hearted] Technique is still completely flawless... He just gently diverted my spell like it was nothing. He doesn't even need to draw his blade anymore to do it perfectly. He really is amazing."
"Hey."
"...Sylphy, why are you smiling like that with your eyes closed? It's kinda creepy... Anyway, the village has been super lively lately. Look—there's a carriage heading down the road."
"My father said it's the season to sow barley and batils flowers, so people have been coming by the cartload to deliver seeds."
"Ah, planting season already..."
Their young voices faded into the wind, and Allen resumed thinking.
Right now, Rudeus was laser-focused on practical magic. He was pushing the limits of his lower-tier spells rather than chasing high-rank achievements. As a result, Roxy's promotion to Water King-level hadn't affected him much.
They'd been writing back and forth, discussing magic theory for some time now. Rudeus already understood that, for someone like him—huge mana pool, narrow channel—magician ranks were largely symbolic.
What mattered was output control, spell form, and adapting spells for actual combat.
At this stage, every [Stone Cannon] he fired could already hit Water King-level force. The real game was in his ability to use basic and hybrid spells flexibly.
Compared to the original timeline, Rudeus was now several patches ahead.
Not quite adventurer-level yet—but easily equivalent to his skill during the Demon Continent arc.
So... the urgency to go study at the University of Magic?
Gone.
And Sylphy?
She wasn't glued to Rudeus anymore either.
The second trigger—the desire to attend school together—was also gone.
Allen had even tried testing the waters with Laws. He asked whether it was okay for Sylphy to spend all day playing with them—was he worried about her future growth?
Laws had stared at him.
For a long time.
Expression unreadable, saying nothing.
Until Allen began to feel genuinely creeped out.
Then Laws finally answered in a low, steady voice.
"Not really. I trust you. She's grown a lot already. That much is clear."
Trust... who?
What do you mean?
Before Allen could press further, Laws made a weird, twisted expression and abruptly brushed him off.
What the hell's that supposed to mean?
Not that Allen minded giving Rudeus a beatdown to force growth. And helping Sylphy "grow" a little didn't bother him either—after all, she rarely pushed back on his suggestions.
But that wasn't the core issue.
The real problem—
Was Paul.
Paul, to this day, had shown zero intention of sending Rudeus to Roa.
The man hadn't written a letter. Hadn't made arrangements. Without Paul's signal, there was no official tutoring job waiting for them—no "Tutoring Phase" to begin!
Sure, the system had said Allen's own tutoring phase would begin the moment he interacted with key characters.
But was he really supposed to pack up and leave, head to Roa, march up to Eris and declare:
"I, Allen, Sword Saint—humbly offer myself as your tutor."
He'd get his head chopped off by that two-meter-tall furry dark-skinned tsundere brawler before he could finish the sentence.
And this kind of stunt? Allen had already pulled it once.
Try it again and they really would kick him out of the family.
So Allen tried probing Paul too.
The result?
Paul's take was: with Rudeus, Sylphy, and Allen together, they already had the perfect core for a future adventuring party.
Magic university? What for?
Just go be adventurers!
Besides, Paul added, noble girls at school might look pretty in dresses, but once they take them off, their bodies are all soft and squishy, completely misshapen. You couldn't trust what you saw. Nothing like an adventurer woman—what you see is what you get. No corsets. No padding. No false advertising.
Back when he went to noble school at eleven, he'd been fooled so many times—
Allen had heard enough. That entire rant matched the original story word-for-word.
Paul Greyrat: the one man whose thought process is a literal stone tablet. Even time in an outhouse couldn't soften it.
Still—on the point about adventurer girls, Allen had to admit he agreed.
Because honestly?
He only ever liked adventurers.
Especially a certain brave solo explorer in the labyrinths near Shirone...
Blue hair. Stoic face. Thin lips. Short. Cute.
Absolutely perfect.
Then, a shadow suddenly fell across Allen's vision. A gust of white hair blew past his eyes.
He blinked.
And saw Sylphy.
She was leaning over him, hands braced against the grassy slope.
A white off-shoulder dress.
White hair fluttering in the breeze.
Pale skin glowing translucent under the sunlight.
The wind brushed her cheek. Her ears twitched slightly. Her reddish-brown eyes softened into a gentle curve.
It was...
Warm.
A side note: the dress had been a gift from Allen. He'd picked it out for her at the spring market.
She'd blushed furiously when he gave it to her, waving her hands, insisting it was too much, too expensive, and asking if it looked weird.
Allen had replied firmly: not at all.
Come on. He was a man with a two-silver-coin monthly salary.
...Though ever since fully becoming part of the Greyrat household last winter, that salary had kind of... disappeared. Now it felt more like a kid getting pocket money.
Ridiculous.
Family or not, we should keep the accounts clear, damn it!
Paul really didn't get it.
Still, Sylphy seemed to really like that dress.
Now, every time she saw Allen, she'd wear it.
Allen looked up at her smiling face.
Lately, every time he saw her smile like that...
It felt oddly familiar.
Kind of like—
The face he saw in the mirror every morning.
Must've been his imagination.
"What is it, Luffy?"
Sylphy's white hair had grown to her shoulders. Ever since her mana depletion turned it white, no new green strands had grown in. Possibly due to damaged hair follicles, the white strands were softer, smoother than before, brushing gently against Allen's face in the breeze.
"It's time to head back for lunch."
...
March—the season of sowing.
Ox-drawn carts brimming with seedstock lined the edges of the irrigated fields, their contents unloaded basket by basket into the soil.
This was but one scene from the agrarian economy of the Asura Kingdom.
Allen walked the dirt path with Rudeus and Sylphy, the village fields stretching out on either side. Every so often, a farmer working nearby would look up and greet them.
Allen, head lowered, was absorbed in thought—his mind still circling around how to initiate the Tutoring Phase. Over the past year, his mastery of the Water God Style's [Perception Flow] had reached a state of near-perfection. Even without invoking it, his senses were razor-sharp.
But too much information at once was exhausting, so he'd trained himself to selectively filter it out—otherwise, his brain would be overloaded by day's end.
Right now, his thoughts were tilling the metaphorical soil of his internal dilemmas, and the chatter around him was nothing more than the breeze skimming across the fields.
The wind only stirred small ripples in his mind.
"Hey there, Rudy! You've shot up again—what a fine-looking young man!"
"Hello, uncle! Thank you!"
Allen's brain: ~ Useless data. Ignored.
"My, Sylphy's getting prettier by the day! That dress is just darling!"
"Thanks, auntie! Allen gave it to me. :)"
Allen's brain: ~ Relevant data. Noted. Will gift again.
"And Allen! You've filled out nicely, haven't seen you around much—come visit soon, alright~?"
Allen's brain: ~ Compliment detected. This is where I should say tha—
Wait, what???
Allen's neck stiffened. He blinked and pulled himself out of his thoughts.
Even without looking, he could tell from the distinctive warble of her voice that it was Madam Eto.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sylphy frowning in that direction, and Rudeus—the little gremlin—already switching gears into social mode, enthusiastically chatting up Madam Eto.
"Yes yes! Allen has gotten sturdier! We've been meaning to stop by and visit soon~!"
Rudeus, you good man. Truly a brother. Willing to throw yourself under the cart to cover me.
Tonight would be the end of him.
Allen gave a stiff nod and looked back down at the dirt road, choosing not to respond to Madam Eto's enthusiasm.
At that moment—
A breeze passed over his face.
Kicked up by the carriage that rolled past from behind, fluttering the curtain of the carriage window as it swept by.
A pair of eyes peered out from within—then quickly drew back, the gaze brushing past Allen's profile.
Unlike the wagons hauling farming goods, this was a widened luxury carriage designed for passengers, complete with an elevated crystal canopy.
One after another, more carriages followed.
Each crafted to the same noble specifications.
Four in total.
And from nearly every single one—
He could feel it.
That weight.
That unmistakable sensation of being watched.
The carriages didn't stop. Their wheels continued to roll.
Curtains flapped in the wind. And just as quickly as the gaze had come—it vanished.
As though it had all just been a coincidence. Passersby glancing casually out at villagers on the roadside.
But Allen had stopped walking.
Sylphy blinked, surprised. She glanced toward the flooded fields, where Madam Eto was suddenly animated again at the sight of him halting, then turned back to Allen.
"A-Allen?"
To Sylphy's eyes, his expression shifted multiple times in a blink—first surprise, then a flicker of confusion, then a look of quiet contemplation.
A moment later, his expression melted like spring snow.
He said lightly, "It's nothing. Let's keep going."
Rudeus and Sylphy exchanged a glance, both sparing a sympathetic look for Madam Eto—who visibly deflated once again—before following after Allen's calm, steady pace.
In the sunlight, Allen's face was blank.
This expression—this mask—hadn't appeared on him in a long, long time. For the past year, he'd either been smiling with narrowed eyes or openly wearing whatever emotion he felt.
But this face—this cold, unreadable face—was the one he used to wear back when they first met, two springs ago.
Neither Sylphy nor Rudeus had seen it even once since.
That was why they were so surprised now.
Even stranger, the carriages ahead had noticeably slowed since they passed the three of them.
Maintaining a consistent, measured distance.
As though...
They were guiding them.
Leading them straight to the village entrance.
Then down the compacted dirt roads of Buena Village.
Past houses. Past alleyways.
Until finally, at one bend, all four carriages turned in succession—pulling off toward the side wall of a particular estate.
And vanished from view.
Rudeus stared after them, dumbfounded.
Because on the other side of that wall...
Was the Greyrat household.
He turned toward Allen, brows raised in silent question.
Allen hadn't changed.
Same even steps. Same tranquil gait. As though nothing had happened, he walked on, leading the two behind him—
Around the corner.
And then—
They saw it.
Sunlight spilled freely across the front gate of the Greyrat home.
The four carriages had stopped completely.
Paul and Zenith's frantic voices echoed from within as they rushed outside.
A servant dismounted and placed a small step stool beside the lead carriage.
Then opened the door.
A pair of pristine, dust-free boots stepped out. A pair of finely tailored trousers, aristocratic coatwork, ornate embroidery—noble finery through and through.
The man descended, boots tapping onto the stone path leading to the Greyrat gate.
He was middle-aged, scholarly in appearance.
He took a deep breath of the clean rural air.
And smiled.
He didn't so much as glance at the manor's owners scrambling toward him.
Instead, he slowly turned—
And looked toward the trio.
The full glare of the noon sun struck his face.
Half-length brown curls. Eyes half-closed in a serene smile.
That smile…
A strange blend of gentleness and detachment, utterly at odds yet coexisting in a way that made it impossible to tell which was real.
Sylphy saw that smile and felt her heart skip.
She didn't know why.
But she felt suddenly tense.
She reached out and took Allen's hand—turned toward him, and—
Froze.
Because Allen's expression was changing.
His eyes narrowed slowly.
His mouth curved up, just slightly.
And with that smile, he returned the stranger's gaze.
Smoke and dust shimmered between them—drifting on the breeze.
In that moment—when carriage wheels brushed past and their gazes locked, brown and ash-gray—
The system prompt flared to life:
[Interaction detected with Tutoring Phase character.]
[Childhood Phase complete.]
[Tutoring Phase begins early.]
[Score reset.]
[Current Phase: Tutoring. Participation Score: 2 points]
[Please continue to carve your presence into the eyes of protagonists and side characters alike, amid the raging currents of this jobless era.]
[Current Sword Styles:]
Sword God Style – Advanced
Water God Style – Saint Rank
North God Style – Advanced
Allen's gaze passed through the digits of [Participation Score: 2] and landed back on the man's face.
In that moment—
Beneath the same sunlight—
Reflected in Sylphy's eyes—
The two of them smiled at one another.
And Sylphy...
Suddenly understood.
These two—
They look far too alike.
Her own nervousness made sense now.
Noble.
Middle-aged.
Lavish carriages.
Visiting the home of a knight.
Allen's strange behavior.
This man...
Could it be—
Allen's biological father?
The carriage wheels before the Greyrat gate had stopped turning.
But fate?
It kept rolling forward.