I do not own Mushoku Tensei nor anything by Type-Moon, including Fate.
This work was commissioned by Anon.
FATE/ Lost Post
Chapter 1
I am the bone of my sword.
He was dormant, adrift in the swirl of the root as but a formless mote. A sheathed blade ready to be drawn at a moment's notice by the will of Alaya. He was another brick in the wall that was the Counter Force, a spirit summoned forth to prevent calamity. He was a Counter Guardian, a safeguard of humanity, a tool for its survival wielded with cold efficiency.
Steel is my body, and fire is my blood.
Amusingly he was so close to those lorded as heroes; their domain, The Throne of Heroes, was also technically a part of the Counter Force, but the heroes it contained were not like him. On the contrary, they were those who cemented themselves in history, while he was but a foolish man who consigned himself to endless service in pursuit of a childish dream.
I have created over a thousand blades.
What dream?
To be a 'Hero of Justice.'
To this end, he fought and struggled, walking along a path that was bereft of peace, fraught with opposition and betrayal. But he would hold no grudges, instead only continuing to pursue his ideal, despite its unobtainable nature.
It was this that led him to become a Counter Guardian. He had thought that doing so would enable him to save everyone. But, his deal with the World struck, he strode forth and met his end at the hands of his allies.
And with his life spent, his duty began.
Unknown to death.
He would be called forth when humanity was threatened, the 'hero' sent at the final hour to save humanity.
By slaughtering all those deemed responsible.
Good, evil… it didn't matter; he was not there to determine the morality of those responsible, only to purge any deemed a threat.
Again and again.
The blood on his hands, the bodies laid at his feet…
A barren wasteland, filled with naught but the discarded remains…
A hill of swords.
Nor known to life.
It didn't matter. None of it mattered. This was what he had chosen, he had struck the accord to save people, and now he did so. He was a force of destruction that scourged the few to preserve the many.
What good was a hero of justice? What value could a life hold in comparison? What should he care? Forced to kill, to slaughter over and over, again and again.
It didn't matter.
Have withstood pain to create many weapons.
A childish dream shattered against the unyielding nature of this reality. As if there could be any other result or ending for such a whimsical idea.
No, it had to be cast aside.
Lest he be naught but a hypocrite.
A Hero of Justice… he could never be something so…
It wasn't for him to lord such a title.
Besides… there would be none to care for and, indeed, none to agree with such an epithet.
Yet, those hands will never hold anything.
It was hell.
Who was he, a hypocrite, a fool, fake?
Betrayed in life by those around him.
Betrayed in death by the world.
Betrayed even after that… by his ideal.
A blade that cut indiscriminately. What values does a tool have, what merits does a weapon hold, and what could a blade call sacred?
…
Well, he was definitely a fool.
So as I pray.
His ideals were those of a fool, befit for only a child, a brat!
But did that make them wrong?
Was it wrong to help others?
To strive to save everyone was a goal doomed to failure. It was utterly mad to believe otherwise.
But did that make its pursuit wrong if, while racing towards that ever-fleeting horizon, he left behind some good… was his ideal truly that foolish?
He might be immature and foolish, little more than a fake hero and something of a hypocrite…
But he still wanted to save them.
Unlimited Blade Works!
-FATE/Lost Post-
A tug.
It was familiar and utterly pervasive in a manner. This discomforting sensation was indicative of being summoned that once more he was being called upon by Alaya.
Or someone else.
But this tug… it was strange. In the Swirl of the Root, removed from time, he had access to the many previous times he had been called upon. He wasn't sure if it was the same for real heroes on the Throne, but many of his memories from being summoned… he would rather ignore.
But the feeling of being summoned was one he had come to know instinctively; it was unignorable and very prominent. So why did this one feel so… off kilter?
Wait… where was the tug coming from?
Where was he being pulled to?
There was no chant, so he doubted this was some ritual-based summoning… and the Counter Force was a lot more directed in their prompting.
Why didn't he feel it, the manifestation, the draw of his self to a vessel, the actualisation of his identity imprinted once more or even the summoning of his self as demanded by the World?
Then it happened. Not some tug, a prompting of direction. A tremendous and unstoppable yank that had him, for lack of a better word, spinning. The pull was wrong!
The direction was wrong!
Where? Why? How?
What was going on?
He arrived at the border, and as intended, upon the edge, he felt the spilt, the parting from the realms of Akasha.
Wrong!
It was all wrong!
He didn't so much split.
As he was torn.
Had he a mouth, he would have screamed.
It was over as soon as it occurred, and he found himself trapped. He was somewhere dark, hot and moving, the walls of his prison convulsing against him, crushingly so as the world around him heaved.
Noise. So much noise that it was defining. Some were muffled others were roaring in his ears.
Then light. Screaming. Cold.
Bright, it was way too bright.
-FATE/Lost Post-
I blinked, the burning bright receding as colours bloomed in my vision, the world thankfully coming into view.
I saw a ceiling… it was wooden with simple timbre beams and a slanted shape. The light in the room was moving back and forth in a familiar manner.
Fire.
It was fire light, probably candles.
My head felt heavy like it was laden with something… a helmet? I rolled it to the side following a murmuring noise, my vision resting on two people.
No two giants.
They were saying something, their words in some language I didn't know and…
Why did it feel like I should know what they were saying?
The pair of huge people were both fair of skin, and they looked distinctly… wait, why did they look like…
L-like… what?
Oh, that's not good.
The man began to say something, his arms reaching out to lift me with terrifying ease, my body made to dangle aloft as he pulled me in and-
Kissed my forehead?
This situation was becoming increasingly strange.
He then handed me over to the large woman, the lady possessing a light sheen of perspiration over her skin as if she had just finished something strenuous. She took me for the man's arms with a smile and held me in her arms beneath her… plentiful chest.
She continued to speak to the tall man, her words utterly indecipherable to me as she cradled me with ease, an action that stripped me of comfort at the sudden powerlessness I felt. But, then, the man began to make… expression? Ridiculous ones at that; I have no clue what he was attempting.
Was he trying to mock me?
My head lolled to the right some more, and I saw yet another colossal person; they were roughly equal to the other giants, but her hair was of a different complexion, and she wore different attire.
Maid… I think she is dressed as a maid.
… How do I know what a maid is?
Unlike the other large people, she was observing me silently, keeping a tight vigil on my person.
I did not think my discomfort could grow, yet it did.
The man continued to make those ridiculous faces, his head moving closer to mine until I could feel his breath. I moved my arms up to guide my face from-
"Wahha?"
My hands, my hands were so small, they were pudgy, and the fingers were practically nubs; my flesh was an irritated pink colour. And my voice!
My voice had come out as babble, my words tumbling out of my mouth like a newborn foal.
Newborn.
Small, pudgy, pink…
Oh… I'm a baby.
-FATE/Lost Post-
Time flies when you are an infant.
I blame the copious amount of time spent sleeping. Like seriously, days would fly by in a blur with the rest of my time spent eating.
…Well, drinking.
The less said on that topic, the better.
That could be said for many aspects of my life at present; the amount of help I required for everything was frustrating.
But I had not spent my time so idle… no, there was far too much still unknown to waste even a second.
First, the most frustrating revelation is that I was not an ordinary infant; I have vast and sometimes very in-depth knowledge of various topics. The knowledge that had led me to a conclusion that deeply unsettled me.
This was not my first life.
Somehow I had been reborn, my body brand new, but my soul seemed to be someone else's.
And that was the other immediately pressing issue at hand.
I don't know who I am.
I have knowledge but no memories; I have an identity but no name.
Well, I have a name, but … it's my new one.
Rudeus Greyrat, it was the name given to me by my parents. The two I had first thought to be giants were actually my mother and father, with the third being their maid.
Still strange that I know what a maid is but not the name of my old identity, but dwelling on it won't fix things.
My father was Paul Greyrat; he was a tall, muscular man with sandy light brown hair that he grew long and kept gathered in a ponytail. He had green eyes and a mole under his left; I inherited both of these traits from him.
My mother was Zenith Greyrat; she was about a head shorter than my father with a far softer physique. Her hair was blonde and far more well-kept; she often kept it up in a bun as she went about her day but left her bangs down to frame her face. She also had blue eyes, and I inherited my hair colour from her.
The third member of this little family was the maid, Lilia. She had wine-red hair and amethyst eyes framed by a pair of glasses. Like my mother, she kept her hair up so it didn't interfere with her work, but instead of a bun, she kept some of hers tied up and let the rest of it lay over her shoulders.
It had taken about six months, but I had finally gotten the language down; I had no way of knowing if this was fast or slow. But unfortunately, none of my previous knowledge helped shed any light on this either; the knowledge I had possessed from my last life was terribly lacking concerning my present situation.
Being an infant was a struggle.
I was unused to feeling so powerless, I don't know why I wasn't used to it, as I have no clue what I was previously, but this felt like a drastic change all the same. Today was much the same with regards to my new routine.
I would awaken and be tended to by my mother in such a manner that left me wishing I could cast my mind elsewhere, and then I would be left to my crib to sleep. But now I wasn't constantly tired, and thus I yearned for more.
I explored the house and, in doing so, discovered even more about the strange knowledge I seemingly possessed.
It didn't happen immediately. Unfortunately, reading was still out of my grasp, so the few books I found in my parent's room were useless. Strangely, I knew what a toilet was, but somehow I felt the one in our house was… old?
I didn't understand how a toilet could be old; in what way was it old? Was it older than the house?
This was the issue with all this strange knowledge I somehow possessed; there was no base for it, no memory or corroboratory thought that gave the knowledge substance. My brain thought of our house's toilet as old because… it just did.
I can say this, though, it stank terribly.
I continued exploring the house, my little arms and legs keeping me ahead of my mother, who was now trying her best to find me. It was not easy sneaking about as an infant, but luckily I knew to keep to her blind spots and listen for her movements.
… Huh, more knowledge; at least this time, it's useful.
Making it downstairs was tricky, but I got by with more than a bit of grace.
Or whatever passes for grace amongst infants.
Once down there, I noticed Lilia was tending to a pot by the fire; her back was to me, so I quickly scurried under the table.
Lilia was a curiosity for me.
She always seemed… perturbed by me. Her eyes followed me with this sort of warry curiosity. It was unsettling, but at the same time, she had never shown any hostility towards me. On the contrary, the woman helped change and clean me and as much as I might wish to forgo such embarrassment, those actions tend to build trust.
But it didn't change that something about me made her feel some discontentment.
Did she know that there was something different about me?
What would she do if she did?
And what is that strange smell?
It smelt… good.
Wanting to get closer, I pulled myself across the floor as quietly as possible, but it seemed my luck was not great as Lilia chose that moment to turn around.
"Eep," She startled, flinching a little as she spotted me on all fours behind her. She stared at me for a little longer, and I just looked back at her, trying to find some visual cue about why she acted so strangely about me.
"Y-young master…" she mumbled, either in acknowledgement or greeting. Then, seeing that she wasn't about to wield her ladle against me, I tried to crawl closer to the pot she had been working at.
Was she making a soup, perhaps a stew, or maybe she was preparing some ingredient by boiling-
"Careful young master, you shouldn't get too close to the fire now," Lilia chimed, lifting me off the ground and into her chest.
Which was perfect because now I could see inside the large pot, and already I could tell it was a soup, one that had a variety of vegetables already cooking but-
Wait… why do I know about cooking?
"Brrppplll."
"Hmm, were you curious about the smell, I wonder?" Lilia pondered aloud as she rose to her full height, still cradling me to her chest. "How strange…"
"Lilia, you found him!" Zenith happily cheered, quickly marching over and pulling me into her embrace. This was one of the annoying parts about being a baby; getting handed over to someone, especially if done so frequently, is a real pain.
"Yes, he snuck up on me, actually… he seemed interested in the soup," Lilia informed my mother.
Zenith chuckled, holding me up as she cooed, "did the soup smell yummy, my darling boy?"
"Bwah," which means yes, but speaking was still a pain.
"Well, mummy and Lilia need to finish making the food, so you get to sit over here and- oh look, it's daddy!" Zenith exclaimed, placing me near the window.
Now I had nothing against Paul, but when I had been near the soup Lilia had been making, it managed to stir up some more of this mysterious knowledge I had been born with.
What could Paul be doing that could compete with mysterious knowledge from a previous life?
The sound of blades edge slicing through the air.
The hum of metal in motion.
A sword.
My eyes were enraptured, my throat tight, and my mouth dry. My heart was suddenly so loud, and my hands felt strangely clammy.
I am t%# *o#1 f &* #w$%+
What the-
*Thud*
I tried to muffle my groan of pain, but I'm not sure how successful I was as both Zenith and Lilia rushed to my side, and my worried mother was swiftly babying me.
…
Which I suppose is appropriate given my age, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.
"A fall like that, and he still won't cry?" I hear Lilia ponder as Zenith runs her hand over my abused head. Zenith didn't respond to her question, but my brain came to life as a few things clicked.
Babys cry.
A lot.
When was the last time I cried…
Ok, so perhaps Lilia had a genuine reason to find me disconcerting. But in my defence, everyone was probably getting a lot more sleep because of my uniqueness, and I feel that should be applauded.
My head hurt… aren't baby skulls supposed to be considerably softer than adult ones?
"That's my strong boy," Zenith cooed, hefting me up and doing nothing to dissuade my current concern that I may have accidentally given myself brain damage.
"But just in case-"
Hmm?
"I'll cast a spell to help the pain," Zenith proclaimed, sitting me down on the edge of a table. "I don't want my baby to hurt," she said, kissing my forehead before positioning her hand over my head.
A spell? Wait, my mother could use magic. Was she a mage? Wait… how do I know about magic. Oh, she is chanting something, oh, an Aria.
…
Why do I know what that is? Is this why I have all this knowledge? Was I a mage? I should be paying attention to Mother's Magecraft.
Unfortunately, by the time I got my thoughts back in order, Zenith had finished her incantation, and her spell had activated.
It was breathtaking.
I was awash in a beautiful green light that showered over me, tiny motes of gold scattered throughout it like stars as they rained down.
And best of all, the pain in my head was gone.
And then it was over, the light faded, and the spell ended; Zenith didn't even look winded, bending over to speak to me at eye level. "There you should be right as rain now, little one," she bounced back up, putting her fists to her hips as she boasted proudly, "I bet you'd never guess, but your mummy used to be an adventurer!"
Paul quickly hurried in, asking questions about what happened, but my mind had already turned in on itself.
I didn't know why I was reborn; I also didn't know who or what I was in my past life. What I did know was that whomever or whatever I was… I knew about magic.
What my mother did… was not what I was familiar with.
I knew about Magecraft.
What Zenith just did was not Magecraft… I knew this instinctively and intimately and knew another piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place.
…
Now if I could work out what happened to me when I fell off the bench near the window, I could be satisfied with an eventful day.
My eyes drifted to my father's sword once more.
Also… I should probably work out why I really, really wanted to hold Paul's sword.
A.N.
Hey.
So this popped up out of nowhere but surprise!
Now while this is a commissioned piece, I won't lie; it feels fraught with potential. I only recently got around to enjoying Mushoku Tensei (the anime), but I will say the animation and music were mind-blowing.
And, of course, me and the Fate universe are well acquainted via Gacha and some pretty damn good anime.
Now this piece here is crafted by the designs of the individual who commissioned it, and I would like to take a moment to thank them as they did an excellent job providing me with guidelines and feedback.
While it may only be an introductory taste, it could be so much more, and they made this wonderfully clear.
I hope this piece is to your liking, and I hope everyone else can feel the same spark of intrigue I did making it.
Anyway, all, please enjoy and comment.
And if you want to commission anything or support me and my other writings, feel free to hop on over to my p-treon.
Now then… toodles!