Mushoku Tensei: the Apostle of God

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"It really is getting quite late."

Allen faced Sylphie, Isolte, and Rudeus's gazes, calmly observing the town ahead.

His words left everyone momentarily silent.

For a brief moment, it almost felt like there was some hidden meaning behind them.

But as the night breeze brushed past, that impression vanished just as quickly.

Perhaps he was simply stating the obvious—they had arrived late.

Late enough that it was well past the usual bedtime for a certain noble girl.

The three of them turned their eyes toward Allen's side.

Eris: Zzzzzz…

The young lady, who had always been infamous for sleeping sprawled out in stables, was already deep in slumber.

Her signature crimson cowlick, faintly glowing in the darkness, was currently poking into Allen's cheek, bouncing slightly with each gust of wind.

It was this sight that made Allen's earlier demeanor seem less serious.

After all, anyone with a bright red, twitching strand of hair poking their cheek—especially when it belonged to their little sister—would struggle to maintain a dignified expression.

Beneath that rebellious lock of hair, Eris's mouth hung slightly open as she leaned against Allen, sleeping with what could only be described as extreme caution.

Just a tiny bit more, and no one would have noticed her dozing off.

Rudeus glanced at Allen's overly serious expression, then down at his unmoving feet. Clearing his throat, he took his life into his hands and spoke up carefully:

"Uh… maybe don't sleep like that? You're making it hard for Allen to walk…"

The moment the words left his mouth—

Eris's eyes snapped open.

Her blazing crimson pupils burned through the darkness like embers, locking onto Rudeus with terrifying intensity.

All traces of sleepiness vanished instantly.

She frowned at him, then subtly shifted away from Allen's shoulder, glancing around in confusion.

"Who's sleeping?"

Rudeus: …

Sylphie: …

Isolte: …

Allen finally turned his gaze away from the town, glancing sideways at Eris, who had just woken up in a prickly mood.

"Tired?"

Eris instinctively wanted to deny it, but when she met Allen's completely serious expression, her face stiffened slightly, and her eyes flickered away.

"J-Just a little!"

Rudeus: ?

Allen tilted his head slightly, observing the others. Fatigue was evident on all their faces. Since sunrise, apart from the brief stop at Buena Village, they had been on the carriage for a full sixteen hours.

Earlier, when Allen had asked if they wanted to push through, everyone had insisted they could keep going—only stopping to eat and camp.

But Allen knew that wasn't realistic.

Back when he and Roxy had traveled by carriage to Rikarisu City, even with just the two of them and a driver who strictly kept his distance—never entering the carriage, always making separate arrangements for rest and supplies—it had still been inconvenient. They'd often had to make adjustments for propriety's sake.

Now, with this many people—and this many girls—it was even more impractical.

They needed proper rest. Exhaustion wouldn't do.

After all, this was only the first stop.

"The next place we can rest is a city, but at our current pace, we won't reach it until noon tomorrow. Let's call it a night here and continue in the morning."

"We'll stay at the inn."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

The carriage slowly rolled into the village.

Footsteps echoed against the quiet, unpaved road as the wheels crunched over loose gravel.

Sylphie trailed half a step behind Allen, her crimson eyes fixed on the inn's flickering lantern light ahead. The unnatural stillness of the night made her inexplicably nervous.

She blinked, stealing a glance at Allen's profile before discreetly clutching the hem of her dress.

Her reddish-brown pupils followed his silhouette as he passed by a dimly lit forge, its furnace glowing faintly in the darkness.

The sight made her heart flutter like a butterfly had taken flight inside her chest.

Allen turned his head slightly, observing the blacksmith's workshop. The furnace, built from packed earth, stood beneath a makeshift tent of tattered cloth.

Embers drifted from its open door as the night wind stirred the ashes inside.

The furnace hadn't been properly shut—its coals were nearly spent, and an unfinished sword blank lay neatly on the anvil beside it.

Rudeus was also staring at the forge as they passed. He'd seen plenty of blacksmiths in Buena Village—after all, Allen's swords kept getting chipped under various circumstances.

But…

Shouldn't the furnace be closed at night? Is it left open to cool? That's… odd.

"—!"

Rudeus tripped over something, stumbling forward before catching himself. He looked down.

A bellows lay half-crushed under his foot.

He blinked, guiltily glancing toward the blacksmith's shop—its door tightly shut.

Scratching his head, he bent down, picked up the bellows, and placed it back near the furnace, clasping his hands in a silent apology.

As he did, Allen paused, watching him quietly.

Behind the smithy, a few darkened stone houses stood in the shadows. The wind curled around their eaves, brushing against Allen's face.

Rudeus awkwardly turned back.

"We can come back tomorrow and pay the blacksmith for a new bellows…"

Allen said nothing, simply turning away and continuing forward. Rudeus quickly caught up.

In the silence of the night…

The residential area behind the shops—just thirty or so households in this small waypoint village—stood eerily still.

No crying babies.

No snores.

No sleep-talking murmurs.

Only the fading "thud, thud" of their footsteps.

And, just as notably…

No heartbeat.

—

They didn't have to walk far before reaching the inn. Through the window, they could see a drowsy clerk slumped over the counter, seemingly asleep.

Allen, who had been leading the group, suddenly slowed his pace, falling to the back.

A burst of noise came from the tavern next door—far livelier than the inn, filled with the occasional shouts of rowdy men.

In villages frequented by adventurers, taverns and inns never truly slept.

A drunk man sprawled at the entrance, mumbling into an empty bottle. He barely glanced at Allen's group and their two carriages before stumbling to his feet, trying to push back inside—

Only to be promptly kicked out by someone inside.

Laughter echoed from within.

"Piss off! No money, no drinks!"

"Lemme… put it on tab…"

"Scram!"

The drunkard swayed, then collapsed back onto the steps, dazed.

"Allen? What's wrong?"

Allen blinked, turning to see Sylphie standing on the inn's steps, looking back at him. Even without Rudeus's fireball lighting the way, her cheeks seemed faintly flushed under the moonlight.

He smiled.

"Nothing. Coming."

The moment he replied, Sylphie immediately ducked her head and stiffly hurried inside.

Allen stepped onto the porch, one hand on the doorframe Sylphie had held open for him—but just before entering, he glanced once more at the tavern.

The drunk man lay motionless at the entrance, head lolling against the steps, facing their direction.

Whether he had passed out or not was unclear.

The inn's candlelight flickered through the window, casting shadows across Allen's face. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

Then stepped inside.

Outside, the two carriage drivers tended to the horses in the stable.

As hired help, they would, of course, remain with the carriages to guard the luggage. A village inn like this didn't offer dedicated coachman services.

But they were used to it.

In their line of work, even when such services were available, nobles rarely paid extra for them.

After all, they were already being paid to drive. No lord would waste coin letting them lounge around—much less cover an additional room fee.

—

Inside the Inn

Isolte was the first to approach the counter, her eyes briefly lingering on the grimy carpet before scanning the hallway.

Dim candlelight illuminated a row of doors stretching into the darkness.

She frowned slightly, still groggy from her earlier nap, but forced down her noble-born instinct to critique the accommodations.

The inn was single-story—this hallway and its doors were the entirety of it.

Her gaze settled on the clerk, still face-down on the desk, snoring.

An half-empty bottle of liquor sat beside him.

"Excuse me… Are there rooms available?"

No response.

Isolte tilted her head, considering whether to raise her voice—

When a hand suddenly shot past her and slammed onto the counter.

"WE NEED A ROOM!!"

The impact jolted the clerk awake. He jerked upright, nearly falling off his stool, and glared furiously at the offender—

Eris, staring back unimpressed.

His anger evaporated the moment he registered the group before him—five young travelers, all dressed far too finely for this place.

His eyes flicked to the only adult-looking figure among them—Allen, who was currently studying the hallway.

Their gazes met.

The clerk blinked.

"Uh… staying the night? But you all seem a bit young. Where are your—"

He cut himself off as five pairs of eyes locked onto him—including Sylphie's, despite her fidgeting.

The man hesitated, glancing again at Allen.

"Well… I guess it's fine."

He rummaged under the counter, producing a handwritten placard and slapping it down.

"Here. Room types and prices."

Isolte, ever the noble, nodded politely before looking down—

And immediately lost her smile.

Her usual serene, half-lidded expression vanished as her eyes widened in shock.

The others, noticing her reaction, crowded around—

And froze.

Written on the placard:

[Motarito – Love Inn]

[Love Room – Small. Single bed, double occupancy. 25 Asura copper coins.]

[Love Room – Large. Single bed, triple occupancy. 35 Asura copper coins.]

[Love Room – Extra Large. Fittoa Region Noble Special. Single bed, fits 5+. 60 Asura copper coins.]

Everyone except Allen fell silent.

Rudeus, after a beat, shot the clerk an impressed look.

A "Love Inn" next to a tavern? Makes sense.

All rooms with only one bed, just in different sizes? Also makes sense. Probably just a matter of how many people could squeeze onto it.

Simple. Direct. Very "Love Inn." Very Asura.

This must be the adventurer life.

Most adventurers likely camped outside to save money—the ones who did stay here probably came straight from the tavern next door for some… quality rest.

This… this is the true fantasy world experience!

Adventurer—no, hero—Rudeus Greyrat, at your service!

Allen, however, remained unfazed. His eyes drifted from the placard to the cluttered counter, then the liquor bottle, before finally settling on the clerk.

The man smiled back, perfectly natural.

Allen gestured at the group behind him—

Isolte, a devout Millis believer, looking utterly scandalized.

Sylphie, face burning red, lost in some thought.

Eris, scowling as she tried to sound out "Motarito."

And Rudeus, grinning like he'd just unlocked a new achievement.

For some reason, Allen's lips curled slightly, as if he'd found something amusing.

"How many rooms are available?"

The clerk's eyes swept over Isolte, Sylphie, Eris, and Rudeus before returning to Allen.

A knowing glint flashed in his gaze.

"Sorry. Only one room left."

"60 Asura copper coins. No other currencies accepted."

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