Mushoku Tensei: Reincarnated as a Beast Race Chapter 3 - 03 - Rygar Adoldia

There I stood, hair dancing in the wind, posture proud and chest puffed, surveying the immense green landscape from atop a tree—a truly epic tableau, at least in my imagination. My mother's laughter erupted behind me, finding my attempt at heroic grandeur, despite my diminutive stature, utterly charming.

A little over a year had passed since my transmigration to this new world, and each day unfolded with novel challenges and revelations. From my initial fumbles to finally achieving the ability to stand and walk, I felt a distinct sense of progression. Now, I can run, and while I may not match adult speed, for someone of my size, it's a remarkably impressive feat. My small frame belies my capability; every stride, every dash through the forest, serves as a testament to my potential for growth and refinement.

My physical strength also surpassed the norm for my age. By estimation, I possessed the might of a 6 or 7-year-old from my previous existence—an astounding level for my small, developing body. My family and the rest of the tribe were quick to notice, particularly when I could shift objects no one would expect someone my age to budge. While I considered concealing this prowess, each surprised reaction from others sparked a peculiar yet gratifying sensation within me. Since this strength had only proven advantageous thus far, I resolved not to hide it. I could sense my muscles adapting, as though this body were rapidly fulfilling an intrinsic urge to become more robust.

Another distinction was my eyesight. My golden irises, unlike the crimson ones common among the tribe, seemed to offer more than a mere hue change; my vision was sharper, extending further. When I concentrated, I occasionally perceived something akin to an aura surrounding individuals. Given this world's arcane nature, I speculated it might be a form of 'Aura' power, reminiscent of anime, or perhaps mana, as this luminous phenomenon was more distinct around the tribe's seasoned warriors.

On one occasion, I observed my father and another tribal warrior sparring. He was formidable—not merely strong, but his movements possessed a truly superhuman quality. I strained my focus, witnessing the aura coursing through their forms as they battled, but after ten minutes of intense concentration, the world began to spin, and I lost consciousness. I awoke hours later, and from the fragments of my mother's conversation with Verdia, the elven healer who had mended my arm, I gathered I had experienced mild mana exhaustion. Consequently, my mother became even more protective, even restricting my outdoor excursions, a stark departure from her usual encouragement. I admit, the restriction irked me. Being confined indoors when so much awaited exploration felt like a significant hardship.

Yet, my displeasure was short-lived as torrential rains swept across the region. This, apparently, was a recurring event—the Great Forest endured seasonal deluges that inundated its floor. At the very least, I understood why our people made their homes amidst the treetops.

The most significant development, however, occurred recently: I am finally beginning to grasp the language! It took considerable time, but through constant exposure to conversations and Selene's dedicated tutelage, the words started to cohere. My articulation still required refinement, but communication became increasingly possible. And with this newfound ability came fresh possibilities.

-

One morning, as my mother conferred with Verdia within our modest dwelling, she stepped into an adjoining room, and I stealthily approached. Verdia sat by a small hearth, sipping tea she had prepared herself. Her tranquil demeanor was captivating.

"Have you been recuperating well, Rygar?" Verdia inquired upon noticing my approach, her voice a blend of softness and clear authority. "Do you experience any lingering discomfort in your arm?"

"No... it does not ache," I responded after a brief pause to formulate my thoughts.

Verdia offered a smile of approval. "Should you feel mana exhaustion again, inform your mother so she may summon me. I have a hypothesis regarding its cause."

I was enthralled. Her smile radiated brilliance, akin to the sun. I had never witnessed such unblemished beauty. (Curse this infant body! She'll never take me seriously with this appearance...)

Desiring to prolong our interaction, I impulsively inquired:

"How... did you mend my arm?" My voice brimmed with curiosity.

Verdia regarded me, her smile holding a kindness that felt both genuine and somehow distant, as if she perceived the nascent stage of my journey.

"Magic..." she began, her finger sketching an intricate symbol on the wooden table. "It is not easily imparted, young Rygar. It demands patience, discipline, and, above all, comprehension. It is a pervasive energy pervading the world, but... there is much you must learn before you can truly perceive it."

I paused, letting her words sink in. Perhaps this enigmatic energy would eventually make sense to me. For the present moment, however, I could only marvel at her proficiency, contemplating its potential applications.

Just then, my father, Hontar Adoldia, materialized in the doorway, his arrival punctuating our discussion. He beckoned me forward. When I met his gaze, his expression was grave, yet a spark of curiosity flickered in his eyes.

"Come along, Rygar. There's something I wish for you to be a part of," he stated, turning to exit the house. Such abruptness.

With a swift farewell, I hurried to catch up with my father.

-

Upon reaching a sun-dappled clearing, I observed approximately ten children, likely between three and four years old, alongside several adults and older youths engaged in lighthearted conversation and laughter as they observed the younger ones. An elder, whom I recalled being named Tiro, was methodically arranging the children into a starting line. The atmosphere was jovial, and I noticed some of the children taunting me. One of the older boys regarded me with a condescending smirk.

"Oi, are you the monster brat?" he inquired, folding his arms.

I studied him for a beat before disregarding him and turning towards my father, seeking clarification. This seemed to irk him, but I maintained my focus on my father. He then explained that this was a customary tribal event, a small-scale race for the younger members, and that he had brought me early, believing I could manage it. He left me among the other children and went to converse with the other adults.

Ignoring the other children attempting to gain my attention, I surveyed the racecourse, which wound its way deeper into the verdant forest.

As I readied myself, a potent surge of motivation and eagerness coursed through my being. By now, I had grasped that the instincts of this new body were profoundly influential, shaping my choices – a fact evidenced by my immediate attachment to my new mother and my innate deference to my father's palpable strength. These were certainly not thoughts I'd possessed before my demise.

These instincts were accompanied by a powerful drive to excel, to surpass my peers. While I had dabbled in martial arts during my previous existence, it was merely a pastime; I harbored no ambition to be the foremost practitioner. With this current form, however, though I couldn't be certain, if I weren't grounded by reason, I might have succumbed entirely to these primal urges, transforming into something more beast than man.

Yet, this profound connection wasn't confined to my familial bonds. I sensed an unexpected kinship with the other children, with the towering trees, and even with the very earth beneath my boots. Each passing day, the tribal environment felt less alien, less like a place I had been unceremoniously dropped into, and more like a genuine home. A sense of belonging resonated within me, and the joyous laughter of the children and the encouraging calls of the adults seemed to awaken something deep inside. Despite my rational mind's attempts to resist, my senses, my body, and even my heart felt increasingly harmonized with my surroundings.

This pervasive feeling of belonging was disquieting. The concepts of 'family' and 'tribe' had never held such sway in my former life. My affections were reserved for only two individuals – my mother and my aunt – and a handful of close acquaintances. Here, my heart and mind were in a perpetual state of conflict: as my rational self strove to maintain emotional distance, my instincts embraced this new existence with an almost voracious intensity.

This internal dissonance intensified with every passing observation. The Rygar reborn into this world was not merely a pale imitation of Aoi Hiroto, my former self. He was an intricate fusion of my primal, bestial inclinations, my human rationality, and the very environment I now called home.

It was as if, with each deliberate step, I was being molded by forces far beyond my comprehension – forces as untamed as they were ancient. And perhaps, at some juncture, I had begun to uncover the answer to the question of my true identity in this new reality.

(But for now, securing victory in this race wouldn't be detrimental, so let's proceed.)

"Hey, are you even listening?!" one of the children called out to me.

At Tiro's signal, the children surged forward, and I followed in their wake, leaving the vociferous child in my dust.

"Ahh—" He began to give chase.

The race commenced, and like a volley of arrows loosed into the sky, the children scattered into the forest depths. I was among them, my attire unhindered, my focus sharp, though my body remained small and still developing. Given the forest setting, this would be a trial not solely of brute strength, but a blend of agility, nimbleness, and strategic cunning.

The initial stretch of the course was straightforward, yet the dense arboreal canopy and the gnarled roots snaking across the terrain presented a formidable obstacle course, navigable only by a body endowed with exceptional suppleness.

The first significant hurdle presented itself as a dense thicket of thorny bushes. Those racing ahead of me began to falter, their pace diminishing as they navigated the prickly barriers. However, I was already prepared. Channeling the momentum from my short legs, I launched myself forward, my muscles responding with unexpected power, as if specifically conditioned for such trials. Effortlessly clearing the thorns without snagging, I surged ahead, gaining considerable ground.

While running, my senses grew more acute. I recognized that sheer strength alone would be insufficient given my shorter legs and inherent disadvantage. Cunning was essential. The next challenge materialized swiftly: a brook spanned by a series of stepping stones. Utilizing my rapidly improving vision, I precisely identified the stable stones and leaped across with agility.

As my journey continued, the environment grew more demanding. The thick foliage and waterlogged earth rendered the path slick, yet this did not impede my progress. I understood that halting would jeopardize the lead I had established.

The final major obstruction loomed directly ahead—a colossal boulder barring the way. While avoidance was likely the intended course, my rapid advance made me hesitant to deviate, unsure of reaching the finish line in time via the conventional route. Placing faith in my burgeoning strength, I gathered my resolve and sprang forward, the wind rushing past as exhilaration surged through my veins.

As one of my feet narrowly cleared the boulder's summit, the designated finishing tree came into view. This massive tree, which all participants were required to reach and strike with their claws, represented an ancient tribal tradition—a test of might and skill. The inaugural child to reach the tree and mark its trunk with their claws would claim victory.

Glancing sideways, I observed the others closing in, yet I remained closer. The sounds of heavy panting and hurried footsteps could no longer sway my focus. It seemed I would strike first. My instincts ignited. A faint, peculiar life force pulsed within me, propelling me onward. My gaze fixed upon the tree, its substantial branches and trunk already bearing the scars of countless ancestral claw strikes.

With a burst of power, I executed my final sprint, feeling remarkably light, as if the very earth were assisting my propulsion. Upon reaching the tree's base, I leaped, unleashing all my accumulated strength in a victorious roar—though it likely sounded more endearing than fearsome—striking the trunk with my claws. The impact reverberated through the woods, and for a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still. My competitors halted, their faces etched with astonishment, and I knew I had triumphed. I, Rygar, the one previously underestimated, had conquered the challenges and secured first place.

As the other children trickled in, their expressions conveyed a mixture of surprise and newfound respect. Taes, the boy who had previously deemed me monstrous, arrived second, yet his demeanor was not one of dejection but rather impressed admiration.

Hontar, my father, observed from a distance, his face a mask of solemnity. However, witnessing my victory, his eyes gleamed with a pride I had never before perceived.

Though this race held minimal significance in the grand scheme, a profound sense of achievement and pride washed over me.

I, Rygar, had emerged victorious. In that defining moment, a realization dawned: my true journey had only just commenced.