Mushoku Tensei: the Apostle of God

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Though Allen's reasoning seemed obscure, Hitogami's ability was actually quite simple.

A straightforward, completely non-perverse explanation would suffice—

If the Mushoku Tensei world were a game, Hitogami would be a cheating player. His hack was called "Observation," a divine life simulator that popped up notifications at will.

One day, Hitogami was at home, enjoying hot pot and singing, slurping down a bite of human tripe, when suddenly a window popped up in front of him.

—[Bro, you still eating? Your son's gonna have problems in 20 years!]

Hitogami was shocked. He opened the simulator panel and took a closer look—the source of his son's future issues was traced to the fourth floor of a nearby hotel.

He froze, realizing the severity of the situation.

Without hesitation, he summoned his divine power and stormed to the hotel's fourth floor, searching room by room until he kicked open the door to Room 419.

—There, he found his wife, who had gone out earlier for a "hair appointment," lying seductively on the bed.

His wife was surprised. "Husband, weren't you eating hot pot at home?"

Hitogami took two steps forward, reached out, and—

—gently took her hand.

Softly, he told her, "The hot pot's still at home. Go back and eat it while it's warm."

Then, his expression darkened. He yanked the covers off the bed—no one underneath.

Just as he sighed in relief, his eyes caught a man peeking out from under the bed, staring right at him.

No hesitation needed!

Hitogami immediately dove into the man's body, turning him into his apostle.

Only to realize the apostle was currently in his post-nut clarity phase.

"Observation" took effect. Reality laid itself bare before him—this moment, right now, was the starting point of his future son's "problem."

In that instant, the present and future intertwined. Hitogami saw the man's entire life, from this very moment to the birth of his son, laid out in a full-text simulation—a future yet to come. His son's issue was undeniable.

What to do?

Simple.

Two solutions immediately surfaced in his divine mind:

Castrate the man. Solve the problem at its root—his son wouldn't be this man's child, at least.

Castrate himself. Solve the problem at its root—if he had no son, then "his son" wouldn't have problems.

So, which to choose?

As he agonized over the decision—

A sudden twist.

The man under the bed sprang up, turned to Hitogami's wife, and roared, "I've been waiting for this chance!"

Then he slammed Hitogami to the ground, mounted him, and unleashed a flurry of blows—

Convincing him.

Thus, a brand-new "path" was forged.

From then on, whether Hitogami's future son had problems or not no longer mattered.

What mattered was—

The man under the bed had achieved his goal.

There was no nonsense like "Hitogami's wife" on the second floor of the Greyrat house.

Only a figure sitting quietly at the desk.

Allen slowly rubbed the letter in his hands.

He tapped the table with his fingers, then raised his wrist and began writing.

His strokes were deliberate.

Each movement synchronized with his thoughts.

Because he wrote slowly, he thought carefully.

Because he cast aside the restraints that had always confined his mind—

He understood everything clearly.

Cause and effect.

Past and future.

"Seems you've really gone offline, Hitogami."

"From what I can see, the life you arranged for Rudeus in the original story using your future sight can be summarized as 'turning points.' So far, the first turning point—the Great Teleportation—hasn't arrived yet."

"But this playthrough is my jobless reincarnation. Will my Turning Point 1 also be the Great Teleportation? For the past twelve years since my birth in this world, has it all just been a peaceful growth phase?"

"No."

*"My Turning Point 1 had already begun. It wasn't the Great Teleportation—it was the staged-turned-real assassination attempt at the Red Dragon's Jaw two and a half years ago."*

"You learned my thoughts, inserted variables through your apostle, and forced me to abandon my original plan of traveling by carriage. You pushed me to brave the winter blizzard and sprint through the forest using battle aura, altering my future for the first time."

"This prevented me from taking shelter in a forest cabin and missing my encounter with Roxy, ensuring our 'chance meeting.' Then, leveraging my inherent fondness for original characters, you issued quests to plant the seeds of a possible relationship with Roxy."

"At this point, my fate began to diverge according to your design."

"But then, an accident happened. Whether it was my deliberate avoidance of butterfly effects or the event being too minor to alter the future, your observed outcome remained unchanged."

"So you escalated. Through quests, you bombarded me with starting points for future changes, wave after wave."

"You used quests to force this butterfly to stir storms—affecting Roxy, Sylphie, Rudeus, Paul, and Zenith. Altering everyone's 'fate.'"

"You expanded the Great Teleportation's magical rift, intensified the forest's mana fluctuations, and triggered an early monster surge. Thus, you sowed the seeds for my Turning Point 2."

"Winter."

"The monster surge arrived ahead of schedule. To protect the village, I decided to track and eliminate the source."

"A sudden change in the snowy valley, the fall, the rescue, survival. Turning Point 2 arrived."

"I willingly stepped into the game, burned 'Future Sight,' embraced the Greyrat family's bonds, and integrated into the world of Mushoku Tensei, changing their fates once more."

"At the same time, I resolved to save Zenith and Paul—to fix the regrets of Mushoku Tensei, to save the family I acknowledged. You seized the opportunity, using quests to plant the idea of seeking external help in Roa, setting the stage for Turning Point 3."

"Spring."

"Phillip, affected by the aftermath of Turning Point 1, realized I was in Buena Village and came for me."

"Boreas, father, mother, identity struggles, self-acceptance. Once again, familiar changes to everyone's fates—this time even pulling in Roxy from afar and dragging Sylphie into the mess."

"Based on your judgment of Sylphie, you used quests to stir butterfly effects, trying to guide her to seek Roxy's help and lure her to Roa. If Sylphie hadn't shared her letters with me two days ago—hoping I'd see Roxy's subtle matchmaking efforts—I might never have noticed."

"And if I hadn't coincidentally written to Roxy beforehand, she might already be on her way to Roa by now."

"Even with these twists of fate, the resonance between Sylphie and Roxy disrupted your plans, giving me a sliver of breathing room. By embracing desire through the Sword God style's Desire School, I seized a fleeting chance."

"But Turning Point 3 was still pushed to completion, planting the seeds for my desire to save the Boreas and Buena villagers—my Turning Point 4."

"This garbage-tier Future Sight…"

"You've played it like a damn fiddle."

"How amusing."

Allen paused, narrowing his eyes before continuing mentally.

"So far, I've altered the fates of everyone I've touched. The Great Teleportation's timeline has long since shifted unpredictably. Meanwhile, you've been observing both my future and yours, meticulously setting the stage for Turning Point 4. If I'm not mistaken, my Turning Point 4—your 'checkmate'—will be the Great Teleportation."

"When it happens, the early Great Teleportation will reshuffle all fates beyond the original story's framework. I don't know what future you've seen, but without a doubt, the reshuffled outcome will align closer to your desired future—if not already indistinguishable from it."

"The price? Only one: me, your apostle, swallowing the bitter fruit alone while you reap the rewards."

"Hitogami, you've played quite the clever game."

At this thought, Allen stopped writing.

He looked at the words on the paper and smiled.

His mental monologue was long, but strangely, the letter's contents were brief.

Because what he wrote wasn't his thoughts—

"Hitogami."

Allen lifted the letter, flicked it with a finger, and—snap—the paper tore crisply.

With a grin, he said,

"See this? This is my next move."

"Honestly, I've tested you twice—insulted you, praised you—yet you've remained unresponsive. I still can't confirm if you're truly offline. But it doesn't matter."

"Let's make a few assumptions."

He raised three fingers, folding them down one by one.

"1. If you're really offline now and can't 'observe' my actions or this letter's contents…"

"Then this is a conspiracy."

"I win."

"2. If you're pretending to be offline, staying vigilant, silently observing my actions and this letter…"

"Then this is a gambit."

"I can still adjust my next steps based on your subsequent actions. And if you do act, it proves my analysis of you is completely correct—you're desperate. That's why you don't dare face me now."

"Still my win."

"3. If you're faking offline status to mislead me, saving your strength for the distant future…"

"Then you've surrendered the Turning Point 4 trap you meticulously prepared for me."

"Again, my win."

He held the letter up to his face, as if displaying his plan, and smirked.

"See? You've schemed against me for so long, from Turning Point 1 to 4. Well now—"

"This is my Turning Point 1 for you, Hitogami."

"Don't drop the ball."

Silence.

Allen held the letter aloft.

A breeze drifted through the window, brushing his cheek.

One second.

Two.

Ten.

Twenty.

Time's up.

The mockery, excitement, triumph, and scorn melted from his face, leaving only calm.

At the same time—shink!—the letter in his hand disintegrated into powder, shredded by battle aura.

Allen casually tossed the scraps out the window.

Then, with his other hand, he pulled open a drawer, took out fresh paper, and began writing anew.

Swift strokes filled the page.

He stood, strode toward the door, and slipped the letter into an envelope—all in under three seconds.

As he walked, his mind raced.

The original story never mentioned Hitogami going offline. Truthfully, Allen hadn't been entirely confident in his deduction, fearing another setup.

After two years of relentless manipulation, he'd grown cautious.

Hence the repeated tests.

After the first, he pretended to believe Hitogami was offline, then set a second trap—

If Hitogami's future sight truly caused disconnects, then after every quest's butterfly effect, he should've gone offline each time.

But he hadn't.

If Hitogami wanted to refute this, he would've spoken up.

Yet he didn't.

So Allen escalated—taunting, provoking, praising, ridiculing, layering emotion upon emotion.

Still, Hitogami didn't appear.

Only then did Allen finally confirm it: Hitogami wasn't watching. He really was offline for some reason.

Now, at last, he could think freely—about the truth behind his reincarnation.

Namely: Hitogami's disconnects never happened in the original story. Either this was a flaw he'd always hidden, or…

This playthrough was unique?

Hitogami had always insisted the "system" was just a transmigrator's interface.

But if that were a lie—if this system, capable of granting Dragon Saint battle aura and magic crests, wasn't a reward but something crafted within the Mushoku Tensei world…

Then who created it? Who had the power to summon him here using what resembled summoning magic?

Was Hitogami's disconnect due to a divine flaw, or was it tied to the system's creator?

Moreover, based on his observations—whether it was Roxy, Eris, Paul's family, or Sylphie's parents, Roehler and Norn—Hitogami's disconnects shared one trait:

They were all people Allen wanted to save.

Hitogami's disconnects didn't hinge solely on future changes, but on who was changed.

If only Allen's fate shifted, nothing happened.

But if it involved those he considered "family"—

That was when Hitogami crashed.

The mastermind behind the system…

A system that destabilized when his family's futures changed…

As Allen reached the door, a figure flashed in his mind—

Roxy's.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't slow his steps.

Whoever the mastermind was, they were a natural ally. Hitogami's repeated disconnects might even be their doing.

Regardless—

He had to seize this hard-won opportunity to tip the scales before the Great Teleportation.

The system's origins required more clues, but he had no time to dwell on that now.

He needed to focus on the present.

He needed—

To complete the scheme already in motion.

Half an hour later, the sound of carriage wheels echoed through the air.

Reunions and farewells were equally abrupt.

Amidst the crowd's waves, Aisha—held by Lilia—finally stopped smiling. Under Allen's helpless gaze, she burst into loud sobs.

The wind blew.

Lilia, carrying Aisha, touched her pocket as she watched Allen's retreating figure.

Her eyes flickered.

What was she thinking?

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