The Honorable Wanderer: Mushoku Tensei

Tokyo, 21st century .

At a random university in Tokyo, a young man emerged from a professor's office, breathing heavily with slumped shoulders. He looked neat, with styled hair, a dark blue linen shirt tucked under a black hoodie, and white-and-black sneakers.

"I truly trusted you with this research, but what happened!? You promised me you would attend this research demonstration, but what!? You said your mother had an accident? At least provide the research data. You know this is important to me too," his professor exclaimed, his expression twisted in frustration moments ago. The young man, who was collaborating with his professor on a study about atomic energy known as Anti-Material, appeared increasingly despondent.

What is anti-material? In physics, particles refer to matter composed of antiparticles, which possess properties opposite to those of regular particles. For example, an antielectron carries a positive electric charge, while an electron has a negative charge. When a particle and an antiparticle meet, they annihilate each other, releasing a tremendous amount of energy.

The young man, assisting his professor in particle physics, discovered indications that this energy could open a fourth-dimensional space. This was supported by their research, leading to the conclusion that it was possible. Although the theory was controversial, prior studies had shown that the creation of black holes was feasible.

After half a year of research and proving this theory, the young man finally reached a conclusion accepted by his professor. However, on the day of the demonstration, tragedy struck. The only person who supported and cared for him, his mother, passed away. This plunged him into despair. On that day, he could not attend the demonstration, and he didn't even read his professor's message requesting the research files, resulting in a failed demonstration and tarnishing his professor's reputation.

"Haah... What should I do next?" the young man murmured, sounding hopeless as he sat on a corridor chair at the campus with a vacant stare.

A drop of rain fell onto the back of his hand, bringing him back to reality. Realising it was unwise to linger on campus, he decided to head home. No one would be there to welcome him.

With heavy steps, the young man with black hair and dark eyes walked towards the motorcycle parking area.

...

Heavy rain poured down the streets of Tokyo. On a Naked-Bike motorcycle, a gift from his mother upon graduating from a prestigious university, the young man reminisced about the day he made her so proud. It was a moment he cherished, warming his heart. His feelings were a mix of pride and emotion as he recalled his mother crying in his embrace from joy.

Inside his helmet, he smiled at the memory. However, the smile quickly faded as he remembered his mother's departure. Distracted by the increasingly heavy rain, he suddenly noticed a truck in front of him stopping abruptly. Reflexively, he pulled the front brake at a speed of 120 kilometres per hour. His motorcycle lost control on the slick road, and his body was thrown across the truck, landing right in front of it.

The last sight he beheld before everything went dark was students standing by the roadside alongside a homeless man trying to help them. The incident happened too quickly, creating a bright flash of light.

-Point of View A-

What a truly unlucky day for me. A week ago, I received the news that my beloved mother died on the same day as my phenomenal research demonstration. This caused me to lose half of my identity and plunge into sorrow for several days.

My professor was furious because I didn't answer his calls. While I was grieving for my mother's death, it felt utterly outrageous, but what could I do? That day happened too swiftly for me.

When I attempted to apologise to my professor, as expected, he was very angry and dismissed me while berating me. Because of me, his name was tarnished in the eyes of the audience present during the demonstration. What can I say? I was utterly shattered that day.

And if I were to die in this accident, it wouldn't matter. After all, I no longer had the will to live in this world since losing the one I cherished the most.

{AN: Don't think anything strange; this is a normal relationship between a boy and his mother.}

So what's happening now? Why am I dreaming after experiencing death? I'm convinced that I died in that accident. What human could survive being run over by a truck? Logically speaking, the accident seems odd; I shouldn't have been thrown that high. What exactly is happening?

Even up to the front of the truck, which apparently didn't slow down at all and hit me and those people in the process! If I assume, the people in the truck's path, including me, should be dead.

Well, it turns out my death wasn't too painful. Just some hysterical screams from a few people on the street, then boom, my eyes went dark, and here I am.

Yep, that's the question. Why can I, who am dead, still think!? Is this the afterlife!? If I knew the afterlife existed, I would become a believer! Hey, I used to be an atheist! So, what will happen to me now? Am I going to hell or heaven?

Considering I'm an atheist, I'm bound to go to hell, right?

...

[Ahem... Apologies for neglecting you,] a cold, mechanical voice suddenly sounded as if someone were speaking over the phone.

Ah, I hear a voice. Thank goodness. "Hey, please tell me, are you an angel?"

[Technically, that's correct. I am a seraphim angel overseeing the celestial realm named Gabriel.]

"What! You're Gabriel!? The messenger from Christianity, that Gabriel!?"

"Yes, that's correct... And in accordance with my duty as a messenger, I've come to your soul here to convey a message from God. He told His lost sheep that your soul cannot go to heaven or within my authority as a deity. This is because you, my child, experienced a transition due to someone special from another world beyond my jurisdiction as the deity of Earth. My son Gabriel will assist you during your transition."

Upon hearing this message, anyone would be taken aback. "What is this, why is it like this!?"

[The Father suspects there's an intervention from someone from another world in your transition. Among the many souls that died in that truck accident, the other three were successfully pulled by this figure into another world, whereas you, your soul was released from that pull, causing you to float in the dimensional gap. This has been ongoing for quite some time, and your soul was almost entering the Void if the Father hadn't noticed.]

"Wow! Another world! Is that fantasy!? So the theory about different dimensions is indeed true!"

[You seem quite enthusiastic, but as I mentioned, your soul is no longer an earthly object, so I cannot take you on the journey. However, I can help your soul return to the previous pull. So in your case, this is called Transmigration.]

Listening to the explanation resonating in my mind, it was dizzying. I had no idea what he was saying. But clearly, the phenomenon of spatial ripping means there's someone who can influence space. Reflecting on the situation before I died, there were four people, including me, who were pulled by this figure. It's possible I was merely dragged, causing that pull to loosen, and I slipped away from the path, getting lost in who knows where.

I had many questions, but they weren't worth pondering at this moment. Let's think when the situation is better.

[I will take your soul back to its path. I wish you good fortune in this life.]

"Hey, if I end up in another world, I promise I will be a faithful servant! So please tell God, and thank you for not ignoring me."

The voice chuckled for a moment before replying. [Yes, of course.]

Then a bright light enveloped me again after what I assumed to be half an hour in the darkness.

...

-Point of View N-

Central Continent

A wagon pulled by two horses moved slowly along a cobbled road. Inside, there were several slaves being transported to a legal slave trader at the port. The wagon creaked, adding to the bleak atmosphere enveloping its passengers.

Within the cramped compartment, children aged between eight and thirteen huddled together like balls, their eyes vacant as they stared at the floor. Their pale faces reflected fear and despair. In a corner of the wagon, a beastman boy with dog-like features appeared to be fast asleep, perhaps dreaming of the freedom he once experienced.

As the wagon hit a pothole, a violent jolt shook the carriage, waking the beastman boy from his slumber. He gasped for breath, as if just escaping a terrifying nightmare. His messy grey hair was tousled, and his sensitive dog ears twitched, detecting sounds around him. His yellow eyes reflected the tension and panic he felt.

Then, his bright yellow eyes darted around, observing his horrific situation with heightened awareness. Gradually, he began to comprehend the dire predicament he was in. He lifted his hands to his head, trying to calm himself from the shock that hit him.

"Woaaah! Why have I transmigrated into a slave? This is not what I thought!!" he silently screamed, filled with confusion and despair.