Jobless reincarnation: Echoes of Mystic Mountain

how it starts and how it ends

The clash of steel and the rush of magic filled the air as Rudeus Greyrat found himself embroiled in a skirmish far from the beaten path. Despite his formidable skills and arcane prowess, a misstep left him vulnerable to a crushing blow. Darkness quickly claimed him, his consciousness fading amidst the chaos of battle.

As the din of combat receded, a soft, melodious lullaby seeped into Rudeus' fading awareness. The gentle song seemed to weave through his pain, cradling him in a warm embrace of sound and serenity. Struggling against the pull of unconsciousness, Rudeus opened his eyes to a blur of shining light. Near him, a silhouette edged by the soft glow hummed the soothing tune. Her hair shimmered like moonlight, and her voice was a whisper against his soul.

"It's going to be alright," the mysterious woman said as she reached out, her hand brushing the side of his face with a touch as light as air. Her presence was comforting, a beacon in the fog of his pain. But before he could speak, darkness claimed him once more, her touch lingering like a promise.

When Rudeus awoke again, the sound of singing filled the room, clearer this time, as if calling him back from the brink. His vision slowly focused, and he turned towards the source of the melody. There, beside him, sat the woman with fair dark skin, her long white hair flowing like a river of light, and her eyes a deep aquamarine sparkled with relief and joy upon seeing him awake.

Her smile was a balm to his weary spirit, and as she noticed his gaze, she continued her song, her voice wrapping around him in a cocoon of healing energy. Rudeus felt a warmth spreading through him as she placed her hand over his chest, a light emanating from her palm that seemed to pulse with life and magic.

"Who are you?" Rudeus managed to whisper, caught between awe and confusion.

"I'm Angel," she replied, her voice as soft as the light she wielded. "You were badly injured, but you're safe now. Rest, and let the healing take its course."

As her hand glowed brighter, Rudeus felt his pain ebbing away, replaced by a strength he had not felt since before the battle. Each note of her lullaby seemed to stitch his wounds, mend his bruises, and soothe his aching heart. In her presence, the loss of Eris and the hardships of his journey seemed distant, manageable.

In the days that followed, Angel tended to Rudeus, her lullabies and healing magic guiding his recovery. With each passing day, he found himself drawn to her mysterious aura and the peace she brought him. Her gentle care and the serenity of her songs offered him not just physical healing, but a mending of the spirit, a soothing of the deep scars left by his losses.

As he prepared to leave, knowing his journey must continue, Rudeus felt a profound gratitude towards Angel, the mysterious healer who had appeared when he needed her most. Her melodies and the memory of her comforting presence would stay with him, a gentle reminder of the healing power of kindness and song.

Mystic Mountain, a serene village nestled among rolling hills and towering trees, seemed more a realm of fables than a part of the mortal world. At its heart stood the dojo home, a grand structure that blended the simplicity of a village dwelling with the solemnity of a martial arts hall. It was here that Rudeus found himself recovering, under the care of Angel, whose lineage was as storied as the village itself.

Angel was the great-great-granddaughter of Leon Megumi, a legendary fighter known for his draconian heritage and formidable prowess. In her village, Angel was revered not just for her lineage but for her extraordinary abilities as a healer, often called the "goddess healer" by her people. Rudeus could see why the tranquility of the village and the miraculous recovery he experienced under her care made it easy to believe.

Despite the peace, Rudeus couldn't shake off his curiosity about a certain visitor. A man, older and with an imposing presence, often passed by the room where Rudeus rested. With jet-black hair and piercing red eyes, he exuded a dark aura that seemed at odds with the gentle spirit of the village. Angel called him Vlad, greeting him with a warm smile each time he appeared, yet the man rarely spoke, his eyes always searching, as if looking for something or someone.