Mushoku Tensei: Reincarnated as a Beast Race

Rygar drew both his swords, his movements fluid like a predator preparing for the hunt. He took a low stance, his feet firmly planted on the ground. He was using a dual-wielding technique from the North God Style, a technique designed to fight multiple enemies at once. His focus was there, on the battle, but his mind… his reason was beginning to waver. The rage, the adrenaline, and the savagery made it difficult to think clearly. Rygar knew that if his thoughts started racing again, he would lose control once more.

The objective. Only the objective.

He knew what he had to do. Move forward. Rescue his subordinates. And get out. There was no more room for hesitation—his brief moment of rationality was enough for him to realize that fighting in his current state wouldn't be advantageous. The blade in his hand began to glow with the fire magic he was gathering. One of the holy knights glanced at Urai with a judgmental expression.

"You've ruined our 'advantage,' Urai," the knight's deep, authoritative voice echoed like thunder. "Finish him off before he fully recovers."

Urai, wielding his thin sword, advanced first. His face was displeased, his brow furrowed, knowing it was his own words that had awakened the boy. The other two paladins, in a well-rehearsed maneuver, began moving along the flanks, forming a perfect encirclement. They were ready. The pressure on Rygar increased. But he wasn't ready to stop.

With a thunderous sound, Rygar lifted a foot and stomped hard on the ground, as if carrying the weight of the world. The earth beneath him shattered, fragments of stone exploding in every direction. The impact disrupted the momentum of the three knights, forcing them to slow down. In milliseconds, Rygar used the brief moment of advantage to strike.

With Tsukikage and Night Hunter in hand, he entered a dance of blades, holding off the three attackers simultaneously. The paladins' swords clashed against his, but Rygar remained focused. He dodged with the agility of a feline, his reflexes heightened by the wild instincts in his body. But the battle wouldn't be easy.

Then, Urai, with a mocking grin, laughed and charged again. His eyes gleamed with cruel confidence. He seemed convinced that the fight was under control. He believed Rygar still wasn't using magic—a fatal flaw in his reasoning.

"Looks like he's still not using magic! Hahaha!" Urai taunted, and Rygar sensed his movement. He knew what was coming.

At that very moment, Rygar turned with terrifying speed. His eyes shone with magical power that he made no effort to hide. He knew he had to be fast and decisive. With a precise motion, Tsukikage sliced through the air in a long arc, and a wave of fire erupted outward. The attack was immense—a Flame Slice that left the air hot and charged with power.

Urai, caught off guard, retreated quickly, trying to evade the wave of flames, but it wasn't enough. The scorching fire engulfed him, searing his clothes and nearly burning his skin. He barely had time to process what was happening. But what he didn't expect—what no one expected—was what happened next.

From within the flames, a black sword emerged, spinning at an astonishing speed. Night Hunter. The blade, crackling with lightning, cut through the air at an insane velocity. Urai tried to block, but the moment his sword met Rygar's blade, the impact was devastating. Urai's weapon shattered into pieces, unable to withstand Night Hunter's power. Before he could even react, the blade pierced his forehead with deadly precision, driving through his eye and killing him instantly.

Everything happened so fast that the other two knights were left stunned. The shock was palpable. Rygar had killed Urai, which was not expected. They had no information about Rygar's second magic sword, a blade capable of piercing common swords and covered in lightning, increasing its speed. A single moment of surprise had been enough to cost Urai his life.

With a quick and fluid motion, Rygar extended his hand while running. Night Hunter responded to his command, vibrating as it pierced through Urai's skull and returned toward him. The blade flew into his hand, and Rygar caught it with dexterity, breaking through the enemies' encirclement.

There was no time to waste. Rygar did not pause to boast or to look at what was left of his enemies. The two holy knights, now dazed, were still in shock, unable to understand what had just happened.

But Rygar was not there to waste time with them. He needed to find his subordinates. Kidar, Taes, and the others were there. He quickly followed their scent, his focus now entirely on his goal. He dashed through the corridors of the house with the agility of a predator, his feet practically gliding over the floor. The sounds of battle faded behind him, and he did not look back.

Rygar raced through the mansion's corridors with the agility of a fleeing predator. Each step was calculated, each movement a desperate attempt to reach the stairs that, according to his sharpened instincts, led to the lower part of the house. His ragged breathing mixed with the echo of footsteps, while the latent pain from his wounds blended with the adrenaline driving him forward.

Upon spotting the stairs ahead, a guard blocked his path. Without hesitation, Rygar charged. In a lightning-fast movement, Tsukikage's blade slashed toward the man's neck. The strike neared victory—the blade gleamed, ready to meet flesh. However, in a split second, a visceral instinct flared in his mind.

Death.

The warning rang with an intensity he had never experienced before, freezing his thoughts for a brief second. He knew that in the next moment, if he did not act, he would be doomed.

With the speed of a primal reflex, Rygar focused all his energy and wove, in an almost automatic gesture, the strongest barrier he could muster around his neck at that instant. Without wasting a second, he activated a Burst Step, and his body exploded into motion.

But then, Rygar saw it—a silver sword emerging from the chaos. The gleaming blade had a golden hilt, finely crafted in the shape of a stag, with two "branches" mimicking antlers. It advanced slowly but with lethal precision, slicing through the flames of his Burst Step as it approached.

Time seemed to slow as the sword neared. No matter how fast Rygar moved with his superhuman speed, that attack seemed inevitable. He managed to avoid decapitation, but the impact was devastating. The silver blade, driven by overwhelming energy, swept across his left arm with a clean and precise cut, severing it up to the elbow.

The searing pain and the sensation of emptiness mixed in his mind, but Rygar did not allow despair to consume him.

Determination screamed within him.

Amid the chaos, his eyes locked onto the guard blocking the staircase entrance. Unlike the others, this man wore silver armor, not gold—signs of wear and a face that had seen more than fifty years of life, with graying hair and a well-groomed beard. At first glance, he might have gone unnoticed, appearing as just another guard. But something about his presence—an aura of calm and, at the same time, subtle danger—set Rygar's feral instincts on edge.

He looked at his severed arm on the ground, several meters away from the guard. He could still heal it if not too much time passed—he thought about grabbing it. But before he could move, the old guard raised his hand. With a controlled motion, he pulled out a paper inscribed with a magic circle that activated instantly. A sphere of fire formed and, with surgical precision, was launched directly at Rygar's severed arm.

Rygar shifted his gaze to the old man, whose eyes now gleamed with an unsettling serenity. The guard advanced with firm, measured steps, and his voice, surprisingly calm, cut through the battle's tumult:

"You are a great warrior, boy. Few—only four opponents in my lifetime—have survived after attacking me without knowing who I was before you. I am Lord Donos Bonart, head of the noble House Bonart of Milis, the Protector of Milis, and ranked as a Water God Style King."

The revelation caught him off guard. The old man's voice was serene, yet carried the weight of authority and a history of battles. Noticing Rygar's hesitation—that wavering between reason and instinct—Lord Bonart let out a slight sigh, as if lamenting the tragic fate of such a formidable warrior.

"Are you still rational? What a pity… A formidable warrior who opposes Saint Milis, and now, more beast than man, taken over by demonic energies—this is the inevitable fate."

As he spoke, he prepared his sword with calm precision, as if every movement was part of a long-practiced choreography.

Rygar's mind spun with countless thoughts. The pain from his lost arm throbbed, mingling with adrenaline and rage. His instincts, now sharpened by the sight of Lord Bonart—a figure who at first seemed like just another guard but whose threatening aura became clearer with each passing second—screamed for action.

As his mind wavered between reason and instinct, Rygar felt the need to push past this obstacle. An inner voice urged him into battle, to keep fighting, even with one arm missing. To eliminate any threat standing between him and those who depended on him.

With a restrained growl and eyes that held a mixture of madness and determination, Rygar lunged toward Lord Bonart.

But before he could gain speed, an imposing figure blocked his path. His steps faltered for a brief instant as his eyes focused on the woman standing before him. She was a very familiar beastwoman: silver hair and dark skin.

Ghislaine Dedoldia, gathering all her social skills to convince him, spoke in a toneless voice:

"Rygar, regain your senses."

The phrase echoed through the corridors, causing the mist clouding his mind to begin to lift, even if just for a brief, painful moment. He regained his senses—or at least enough to recognize what stood before him. However, as clarity returned, his primal instincts screamed at him: this woman was blocking him, preventing his advance.

Ghislaine remained motionless, her lips slightly parted in an almost inaudible murmur:

"So it didn't work on..."

Her eyes revealed no emotion, but her posture was firm and resolute.

Observing the scene, the Protector of Milis watched in perplexity, murmuring to himself:

'What didn't work? Was that her best attempt?!'

Doubt hung in the air, but Ghislaine seemed convinced that she had done her best to persuade him with words.

When Rygar, his eyes bloodshot and his spirit still unbalanced, took his stance to attack, she also positioned herself, paying attention to the movements of the old guard in the background.

With a violent impulse, Rygar lunged forward. But as his muscles stretched to deliver the sword strike, he saw a red blade approaching rapidly, surpassing him vastly in speed and power—yet, strangely, the sensation of death did not come.

He tried to react, but time, merciless as ever, did not allow it. The blades clashed with fatal precision. A long diagonal cut opened across Rygar's chest, pain exploding in his mind like a thousand knives. He felt the steel of Hiramune slicing through his flesh.

For a moment, as he fell to the ground, the world shrank into a succession of flashes: the burning of his wound, the muffled sound of his ragged breathing, the scent of blood and magic mixed in the air. His mind, once a chaotic battlefield, suddenly cleared. Every thought, once shrouded in disorder, returned to order in an almost miraculous way.

He lay on the ground, bleeding from both his severed arm—cut off at the elbow—and the massive wound on his chest. Yet, surprisingly, a faint smile formed on his lips.

"I'm alive..." he murmured to himself, his voice broken by pain.

His now clear and serene gaze met Ghislaine's as she approached. She looked down at him, and upon seeing that he no longer seemed out of control, she gave a barely perceptible smile.

"You once said during our training, Rygar, that as long as you had mana, you could heal from any injury quickly—except for lost limbs or shredded organs."

Ghislaine glanced at his wound, then at the old man, who still blocked the door to the stairs.

"I don't know what happened in Tinaver, but I know you'll handle everything much more easily if you're lucid."

At that moment, the two holy knights who had been fighting Rygar—whom he had left behind—finally reached the hall. The old guard, now with his silver armor gleaming under the flickering lights, kept his gaze fixed, observing every movement with an almost unsettling calm.

Ghislaine turned to them, her voice unwavering in determination:

"Heal yourself quickly, Rygar. I'll hold them off."

As she spoke, Rygar struggled to rise while channeling advanced healing magic throughout his body. Pain pulsed with every beat of his heart, but the mental clarity that had returned now shone in his eyes. His once murky and imprecise thoughts were now sharp and focused. He realized he might have made a mistake in attacking the Joylore estate so rashly and had likely killed many innocent people—but these were things he couldn't afford to dwell on now.

He was here, and now that it had begun, he would kill them all, including this old man, to ensure there were no witnesses left. He sharpened his senses, trying to detect any reinforcements that might be arriving, but he felt nothing. Then he thought, 'That old Donos must be the reinforcement... and he really is a massive obstacle.'

Even in his weakened state, he knew he couldn't allow himself to sink into pain. Every wound, every loss, was a cruel reminder of the price of the path he had chosen. But in that moment, Ghislaine's intervention offered him a new chance—a chance to regain control and keep fighting, even with only one arm.

As Ghislaine fended off the attacks of the two knights, the old guard was finally forced to intervene. This put Ghislaine at a disadvantage, as the Sword God Style was restricted by the Water God Style. Yet, even so, she fought fiercely, precise and calm.

Rygar, blood still dripping from his wounds but his mind now clear, gathered his strength and rose to his feet.

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