Mushoku Tensei: the Apostle of God

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Gurgle, gurgle.

Isolte's consciousness slowly pulled itself free from the fog.

A strange sound crept into her ears. Something soft brushed against her cheek—light, soothing. It traced from her face to behind her ear, circled gently, then slipped away.

Wind.

The wind was patting her face.

She must have left the window open last night.

As this thought settled in her mind, Isolte's awareness sharpened. Her eyelashes fluttered. Instinct urged her to open her eyes, but at the last moment, she squeezed them shut again.

Her stomach felt tight. The odd gurgling sound returned.

Was that… my stomach growling?

Ah, right.

Last night, Grandmother had been busy and hadn't come home. Her brother, too, had stayed at the dojo to oversee things.

So, once again, she'd gone to bed without dinner.

How had she even fallen asleep?

Her memory was hazy.

She tried to recall.

Normally, she'd stare at the candle on her desk until exhaustion took her. But yesterday…

Oh.

Yesterday, she'd been lying on her bed, watching the night sky through the window.

The darkness hadn't been as beautiful as the sunset's glow—just vast and distant.

If that's the case…

Can Mom and Dad see me from up there?

The wind caressed her face, threadlike, as if urging her:

Open your eyes.

But Isolte didn't want to.

A new day held nothing novel for her—no motivation to rise. Opening her eyes would only reveal the same empty bedroom, the same silent house.

She'd wash up, go to the dojo, cook with her brother, train all day, return home, and lie alone in bed again.

Another repetitive day.

Another day without her parents.

They were gone.

Grandmother said they'd gone somewhere far, far away.

Gurgle, gurgle.

Ignoring her protesting stomach, Isolte let her mind drift aimlessly.

Last night…

I had a dream.

A long, long dream.

How strange—it had felt so vivid. In it, she'd grown up. Her senior brother had left the capital, gone to where his parents lived.

I'm happy for him.

I saw him again.

I was so happy.

But…

Why did it hurt?

What was wrong?

The dream was fading now. She couldn't remember.

Wait… Senior's parents are in the capital. Why would he leave to find them?

What a weird dream.

Yet, despite the confusion, a tiny flame flickered in her chest—small, but warm.

And suddenly, she no longer resisted opening her eyes. No longer resisted facing the new day.

Because—

Her wandering thoughts collided with a memory of blazing sunset, so bright she could see it even behind closed eyelids—a sky aflame, casting its glow on a face both youthful and sharp, smiling faintly.

Contradictory, yet captivating.

"Your parents are watching you from afar, yet they're close enough to touch you. The proof is everywhere."

"The sky, the earth, the sunset, the wind—"

Those words, spoken by her senior brother just yesterday evening, echoed in her ears.

Too clear.

Clear enough to carry a strange power.

Enough to spark curiosity for the day ahead.

Enough to make her want to face it.

Enough to—

Thump. Thump.

Her heart pounded.

The wind still stroked her cheek.

But this time, it felt like strength.

Mom and Dad… are touching me. Waking me.

And so, Isolte's new day—

Her day—

Began.

Gurgle, gurgle.

Ah, I still haven't eaten.

I'll go to the dojo early today. Make breakfast for Senior, too. He always skips it, training at dawn.

Just like me. Alone.

…Yeah.

I'll make breakfast for him every day from now on.

Eyes still closed, Isolte smiled, her expression softening.

Then—

She opened them.

Gurgle, gurgle.

Isolte froze.

Before her, strands of pale mist swirled like an autumn morning in the capital—yet the space around her bore no trace of dawn's dim light.

Only pure, flawless brightness.

A stark, sterile whiteness.

The cramped, rectangular space was utterly foreign.

Gurgle, gurgle.

She bolted upright.

This wasn't her bedroom.

A fluttering curtain swayed in the mist ahead.

Wind rushed toward her.

Stunned, she stepped forward and pushed the curtain aside.

Endless white stretched before her.

No horizon.

Beneath her feet—a carriage? No, just a detached compartment, devoid of horses or any means of propulsion. Yet it carried her forward through this void.

She turned slowly.

Behind her, the carriage's frame was clearly visible. At the edge of her vision, a turning wheel emitted that same gurgling sound.

For a long moment, she simply stared, unable to comprehend.

Then—

The wheel slowed.

And stopped.

Isolte watched it halt, a sudden understanding dawning.

She whirled around.

Her pupils shrank to pinpricks.

There, where nothing had been before, now stood a throne—woven of red and black brambles and blossoms.

And upon it sat a figure.

Gazing down at her.

Its form was indistinct, shifting like the mist—impossible to grasp, featureless, untethered to any origin or destination.

Yet despite the dreamlike haze, one truth pierced through:

It was real.

It was here.

Isolte's lips parted soundlessly. Her mind floated, unmoored.

By the time she regained herself, the carriage had vanished.

The throne loomed before her.

Close.

Too close.

Clarity struck like lightning.

This is a dream.

No—the other dream was real. I have grown up. The memory from earlier wasn't just a dream.

This is the dream.

The one I had as a child, the night Senior comforted me.

And atop that throne—

Him.

The god she worshipped.

Millis.

The realization crystallized in an instant.

She tried to lift her head, to see the figure fully—but before she could, her trembling eyes caught a shift.

The red-and-black throne…

Changed.

Red became flowing blood.

Black became scabbed wounds.

The blossoms? Severed heads, dyed crimson.

The thorns? Limbs strewn haphazardly.

A throne of corpses.

And upon it sat—

God.

Her heart and body plunged into winter's frozen lake.

She swallowed hard, forcing her gaze upward.

Through the mist shrouding its face—

It looked at her.

Eyes like nebulous night.

Unfathomable.

Gurgle, gurgle.

"!!"

Isolte's eyes flew open.

Darkness. The faint outline of a carriage interior. The plush bedding prepared by the Boreas maids beneath her.

She was in the second carriage.

After leaving Buena Village, everyone had gathered in the first carriage to talk. But the detour had cost them time, and night had fallen with the road still stretching ahead.

They'd been traveling for a month already—first to the Boreas estate, then, after just one night's rest, back on the return journey.

Perhaps it was the sudden release of tension, or something else entirely—

But exhaustion had crashed over her.

She'd held out until midnight, but as the night deepened and their first stop remained distant, even Isolte's stamina faltered.

Her senior brother, ever perceptive, had suggested—in that same lazy, gentle tone from three years ago—that she rest in the second carriage. He'd wake her when they arrived.

Yet somehow, she'd actually fallen asleep.

Gurgle, gurgle.

The carriage rocked. Night air seeped through the curtains, brushing her face.

In an instant, the waking world flooded back, banishing the absurd dream.

"Hah…"

She exhaled, tension easing. Rubbing her face, she shifted—

And froze.

A heartbeat thudded beside her.

Slowly, she turned.

Dark gray eyes watched her.

Allen crouched next to her, silent.

Their gazes met.

The carriage was pitch-black, save for faint light bleeding through the curtains. The cramped space should've felt oppressive—yet Isolte only felt…

Safe.

But her words betrayed nothing.

"Senior… how long have you been here? It's… a little scary."

Allen smiled. She'd always been like this—her face calm, her tone belying her true feelings. So scary, so amazing, so lame—all delivered with that same mild expression.

His voice cut through the dark.

"Just arrived. Did you have a nightmare?"

Isolte sat up, smoothing her bangs and straightening her collar.

"A nightmare…?"

She paused, staring at her knees.

The dream had been terrifying. Denying that would be a lie. But now…

It didn't matter.

The fear had been replaced.

Her heart still raced—

But not from dread.

What a strange nightmare. Was I just stressed? Tired from traveling?

Get it together.

"No, it wasn't a nightmare. Why did you come back here?"

"You were sleeping so soundly. I was debating whether to wake you—then you just opened your eyes."

Isolte blinked. Suddenly, she reached for the curtain and yanked it aside.

Outside, shadows loomed—a town swallowed by darkness.

Mortalt.

Fwoosh.

Under the glow of Rudeus' fireball, Allen unfolded a map—a special edition from the Roa city mayor, dense with annotations. He pointed to a spot in the northwest of the Fittoa Region.

"We're here—the first village on the main road to the capital. About thirty households, just slightly bigger than Buena. But it's a trade hub, not farmland. Travelers and merchants pass through often, so it's more of a marketplace economy."

He glanced toward the village entrance.

Rudeus brightened the fireball, casting light on the haphazard layout—a single wide road splitting rows of shabby storefronts, far less orderly than Roa. Near the entrance, a blacksmith's forge glowed faintly under a canopy, sparks dancing like fireflies.

At 1 a.m., only a tavern and an inn still had lights on. The residential areas beyond were completely dark.

Even in Asura, rural villages couldn't afford to burn candles through the night.

"It's… quieter than I expected. Not much livelier than Buena," Sylphiette remarked.

Isolte, Rudeus, and Sylphiette all turned to Allen.

His gaze lingered on the darkened buildings.

"Yeah."

"Guess we're too late."

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