Peak Between Two: Mushoku Tensei

Night deepened as Ryu made his way back to the inn.

The streets of the Dragon King Kingdom were growing quiet. A few oil lamps still flickered at the corners, casting long shadows along the stone-paved paths. Night guards patrolled lazily, their bored expressions visible under the dim glow. The sound of their boots echoed through the alleys, blending with the occasional calls of nocturnal creatures.

When he finally reached the inn, the large wooden door creaked slightly as he pushed it open.

Inside, the main hall was still lively. Several adventurers sat around wooden tables, engaged in boisterous conversations, their voices tinged with the slur of mild intoxication. A serving girl weaved between them, balancing a tray of drinks while skillfully dodging the wandering hands of overly familiar patrons.

Ryu walked past them casually, heading toward the stairs. However, just before he could ascend—

"Oi, Ryu."

The voice came from a table near the fireplace.

Rudeus Greyrat.

The young man sat comfortably, still clad in his travel-worn cloak. His sharp gaze studied Ryu with a hint of curiosity.

"Where have you been?" he asked, his tone casual, but there was an unmistakable hint of interest beneath it.

Ryu paused, glancing over briefly.

"Just went for a walk," he replied nonchalantly. "Checked out the city, found a place to eat, enjoyed the fresh air…"

Rudeus raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Didn't you say earlier that you don't like wandering around aimlessly?"

Ryu smirked slightly. "Yeah, but sometimes, a change of pace isn't so bad, is it?"

Rudeus held his gaze for a moment before finally shrugging.

"Fine, as long as you didn't cause any trouble." He took another sip from his drink, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

Ryu let out a small chuckle before continuing up the stairs.

###

-Ryu Dedoldia-

The inn was still lively on the lower floor.

Adventurers clinked their ale mugs together, loud laughter occasionally breaking through the background noise, and wooden tables groaned under the weight of carelessly slammed bottles.

But on the upper floor, far from the raucous atmosphere, Ryu Dedoldia collapsed onto his bed, letting his head sink into the soft pillow.

"Finally… I can sleep," he muttered, feeling exhaustion creeping over him after a long day of wandering the city and unexpectedly becoming a cooking mentor to a mysterious tavern owner.

However, before sleep could fully claim him, a faint conversation from below slipped into his ears.

At first, it was just meaningless drunken chatter. But then, one name was mentioned, snapping his mind back into sharp focus.

"Hey, have you heard about him?"

"Who?"

"Word around the market is… the former Death God is living in this city."

Ryu remained lying down, but his eyes were now wide open. His muscles, once relaxed, tensed instinctively.

Death God?

That title alone carried the weight of inescapable demise—a name not bestowed lightly.

The murmurs continued, now quieter, but still clear enough for his sharp ears to catch.

"Death God…? You mean Randolph Marianne?"

His heartbeat pounded.

In an instant, any trace of sleep vanished completely.

Ryu shot up from the bed, his eyes widening in quiet disbelief.

Randolph Marianne.

That name echoed in his mind over and over again until an image surfaced—long black hair, a skeletal face with a single piercing eye, and an eerily quiet presence.

Him.

Ryu groaned, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to process the information that had just hit him like a storm.

"Damn it… Why didn't I realize it earlier?"

The memories of their meeting replayed in his mind.

The way Randolph had appeared behind him without a sound. His piercing gaze that seemed to analyze every minor movement. His absolute composure, completely unaffected by tension. That invisible yet undeniable pressure—a presence so heavy it put Ryu's combat instincts on high alert.

And despite all those obvious clues… Ryu had completely overlooked them.

Randolph Marianne.

One of the Seven Great Powers of this world.

A former knight known as the Death God, a legendary assassin who moved faster than shadows, capable of killing his targets in a single strike—so swift that his victims never even realized they had died.

He wasn't just strong.

His name alone was enough to make people tremble.

And Ryu?

He hadn't just casually chatted with him—he had critiqued his cooking.

"Tsk… So I just gave a cooking lesson to the Death God?" he muttered, half in disbelief, half amused.

His mind raced. If Randolph truly was that legendary figure, why was he running a simple tavern in the slums?

Had he truly retired?

Or… was there another reason for him staying here?

Ryu let out a deep sigh, then lazily ran a hand through his hair.

"Ah, whatever. Whether he's a former Death God or not, to me, he's just an old guy trying to be a chef… even if his cooking sucks."

He turned over and pulled the blanket over his head.

"Besides, I didn't piss him off or anything… So there's nothing to worry about."

With that thought, he shut his eyes. Within seconds, the drowsiness that had vanished returned once more.

And with nothing weighing on his mind, Ryu drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Luciel Greyrat

It had been several weeks since we arrived in this village.

The flood that had struck the forest caused the river to overflow, submerging parts of the travel route and forcing us to wait until the waters receded.

There was no other choice. Continuing our journey under these conditions wasn't a wise decision.

During this time, I worked on building relationships with the villagers, trying to get to know them better. Meanwhile, Norn and Aisha quickly blended in with the local children.

At first, the language barrier posed a challenge, but they gradually found ways to communicate. Aisha, with her sharp wit and adaptability, easily read the situation and used gestures to convey meaning. Norn, though quieter, followed in her sister's footsteps and slowly grew more comfortable in this new environment.

Staying here longer than expected was a little dull… but at least we weren't just waiting around doing nothing.

Meanwhile, Ruijerd and I regularly held sparring sessions. I knew that if I wanted to hold my own in close combat, I had to find a way to integrate magic more effectively without sacrificing mobility.

How could I fight close-range opponents with magic?

How could I move faster while still maintaining control in battle?

These questions constantly ran through my mind every time we trained.

However, our training grounds weren't exactly ideal. Instead of an open field, we fought on wooden platforms arranged in a circular formation among the trees.

The footing was narrow and unstable. Every movement had to be calculated carefully—one misstep could throw off our balance and send us falling.

But that was precisely the challenge.

If I could master combat in an environment like this, then in a more open battlefield, I'd be able to move even more efficiently and effectively.

Still, movement alone wasn't enough. I also needed to refine my magic, ensuring that every spell was not just powerful, but also energy-efficient.

That's when I started developing a new approach—"Source Code."

The concept was simple:

A magician's body could be compared to biological hardware—a machine with limitations in processing energy and outputting power.

Mana acted as raw data, a resource that needed to be managed carefully to avoid waste.

Magic techniques functioned as programs, determining how mana would be converted into spells.

And the spells themselves? They were the software, the final result of this entire process.

With this understanding, I began exploring ways to "optimize the code" behind my magic—minimizing mana consumption without compromising effectiveness.

If I could properly implement this method, I'd be able to cast spells faster, more efficiently, and without unnecessary energy loss.