Peak Between Two: Mushoku Tensei

-Third-Person Perspective-

Ryu clenched his jaw, his eyes burning with uncontrollable rage. His muscles tensed, and without a second thought, he turned and sprinted toward the village.

In mere seconds, he was leaping over tree roots and crashing through the undergrowth at an incredible speed. The wind whipped against his face, but his mind was focused on one thing—saving his village and slaughtering every piece of trash that dared to attack it.

When he finally reached the village border, the sight before him made his blood boil even hotter.

Flames devoured the wooden houses, turning the peaceful village into a living hell. Beastmen ran in all directions—some carrying buckets of water in a desperate attempt to extinguish the fire, while others fought fiercely against armed humans. The air was thick with screams and the clash of steel.

Without hesitation, Ryu charged into the battle.

One of the slavers noticed him and immediately swung his sword.

But Ryu didn't even slow down.

With a single swift movement, he deflected the blade with his forearm, then drove his fist straight into the man's chest.

Crack!

Blood spurted from the slaver's mouth as his body flew backward, crashing into a tree before collapsing unconscious.

But Ryu had no time to pause.

Three more enemies lunged at him—one with a spear, two with swords.

He twisted his body, dodging the spear thrust by mere inches, then leaped forward and slammed his elbow into one of the swordsmen's neck.

A sickening snap.

The man dropped instantly.

The remaining two attacked at once, but Ryu had already read their movements.

With a sudden leap, he landed behind them and—

Slash!

His sharp claws ripped through the back of one of the slavers. The man screamed in agony before falling face-first onto the ground.

The last one trembled in fear and tried to run—

But Ryu didn't let him.

He lunged forward and delivered a brutal kick to the man's back, slamming him into the dirt with bone-crushing force.

As Ryu stood amidst the fallen enemies, he quickly scanned his surroundings.

But then—

His instincts screamed.

Danger.

A presence.

The moment he sensed it, he heard the faintest footsteps behind him.

Ryu whirled around—just in time to barely dodge a sword that sliced through the air at terrifying speed.

A man stood several meters away, holding a long, thin blade that seemed light yet radiated a deadly aura.

Tall and lean, his gray cloak billowed in the wind, and his sharp eyes gazed at Ryu with eerie calmness—as if he didn't even consider him a threat.

A North God Style swordsman.

Ryu instantly recognized it.

From the way the man positioned his feet—slightly spread apart, knees subtly bent, sword held effortlessly yet ready to strike at any moment—there was no doubt.

This was North God Style.

Unlike the graceful techniques of other sword schools, North God Style focused on one thing only:

Winning battles by any means necessary.

"I've heard about this style before…" Ryu thought, his gaze sharpening as he analyzed his opponent.

North God Style was like a survival martial art.

It didn't matter if it looked elegant or not—all that mattered was victory.

No rules. No restrictions.

Every North God swordsman developed their own unique combat style, adapting to their strengths and circumstances.

Which meant—

No predictable patterns.

Unlike Water God Style, which focused on impenetrable defense, or Sword God Style, which relied on overwhelming speed, North God swordsmen constantly evolved and adapted.

Ryu narrowed his eyes.

This would be difficult.

Ryu eyed the man before him with sharp focus. His opponent stood casually, his thin sword still dripping with blood from a previous victim. The man's piercing gaze studied Ryu—his expression unreadable, somewhere between admiration and condescension.

"Oh? Another fighter?" the man mused, his tone calm, almost amused. "You're just a kid, yet you've already taken down half of my men. Impressive."

His voice was relaxed, but Ryu wasn't fooled.

This man was dangerous.

"I don't care how many of you there are," Ryu replied coldly, gripping his dagger tighter. "None of you are leaving this village alive."

The North God swordsman chuckled. "Bold words." He raised his sword slightly, letting the glow of the burning village reflect off its razor-sharp edge. "Name's Zayd. I'll remember your name… if you last more than three moves."

Three moves?

Ryu knew that North God swordsmen weren't the type to bluff.

If Zayd said that, it meant he truly believed he could end this fight in three attacks.

"I have to turn this around before that happens."

Without waiting any longer, Ryu lunged forward—claws bared, attacking at full speed!

His strikes were fierce yet controlled, utilizing the natural agility and power of a Beastman. His claws aimed straight for Zayd's throat—

But in an instant—

WUSH!

Zayd vanished.

"Fast—!"

Ryu instinctively jumped back, but it was too late.

A sharp gust of wind brushed past his cheek, leaving a thin cut.

Had he reacted even a fraction of a second slower, his head would have already been on the ground.

Zayd reappeared a few meters away, standing casually as if nothing had happened.

"One move," he said lightly.

Ryu clenched his teeth.

He's not even trying yet…!

Zayd didn't wait.

He closed the distance with effortless grace, every step calculated, every movement refined to perfection.

Ryu sharpened his senses, analyzing his opponent's pattern.

North God swordsmen always sought the optimal angle for their strikes. If he kept dodging, Zayd would simply keep pressing forward until the third move finished him off.

"I have to change my approach."

As Zayd launched his second attack—

Ryu didn't fully dodge.

Instead, he shifted his body just slightly, allowing the blade to graze past his ribs instead of piercing his heart.

And in that same instant—

BUK!

Ryu's fist slammed into Zayd's stomach!

A clean hit.

Or so he thought.

Because instead of staggering back—

Zayd simply smiled.

"Two moves."

Ryu's eyes widened.

"What—?!"

Zayd hadn't budged an inch.

The force that should have knocked him back did nothing.

And before Ryu could react—

SLASH!

A sharp pain seared through his arm.

He barely managed to leap away, but blood was already dripping from his left arm.

A deep cut.

Zayd casually twirled his sword, flicking away the blood like it was nothing.

"That makes two attacks. You only have one more chance left."

Ryu growled under his breath, his grip tightening.

He could still feel his instincts, his combat experience, his years of training.

But this body…

This child's body still had its limits.

"Damn it… have I really gone soft?"

He hadn't expected that being reborn into a younger form would dull his edge this much.

The speed, the reflexes, the endurance—none of it was at its peak.

D.O.B., a name once feared across sixteen nations in his past life, now struggling to keep up with someone like Zayd?

It was frustrating.

It was humiliating.

But—

He wasn't going to lose.

Ryu lifted his gaze, and for the first time—

His eyes burned with a serious intensity.

Zayd smirked, his stance still relaxed despite the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh? Looks like you're finally warmed up."

Ryu didn't respond.

Instead—

He relaxed his posture.

Not in a defensive stance.

Not in an offensive one either.

Zayd raised an eyebrow. "Hah? Giving up?"

No.

Ryu was waiting.