The mercenary’s mind struggled to grasp what had just happened.
He had experienced countless battlefield blasts, the roaring sounds that pierced the ears, invaded the brain, and clung to consciousness. The explosive sounds of siege spellcraft unleashed by sorcerers or even the so-called “cannons” that had recently gained popularity for their ability to demolish fortress walls without magic were no strangers to him.
Yet, this was different.
It wasn’t a low rumble but a high-pitched, searing sound that tore through his mind—not just his vision, but the entire world seemed to quake. Everything around him vibrated violently, and it was as if the ground itself rose up to strike his face.
Or was it simply that he had fallen? As he tried to turn his head, he felt the weight pressing down on his back, but even that simple movement was beyond him.
In any case, his eyes—now blinded and useless, as if exposed to sunlight after emerging from a dark room, magnified dozens of times in intensity—would not clear, no matter how many times he blinked. A fleeting thought crossed his mind: Was this the same discomfort experienced by those unwelcome guests who had lingered in manors or foreign villages?
His brain seemed to have abandoned logical thought, leaving him with nothing else to do. His stomach churned uneasily, forcing him to regurgitate the plunder he had stolen.
Still, the echoes of sound and light would not release him. “You weren’t the sort to listen to pleas for mercy, were you?” the silence seemed to taunt.
Through the ringing in his ears, the sound of clashing swords could barely be heard. Were his men still holding out? If so, he would need to learn a way to endure or defend against such sensations later.
Something was strange. Even the only sense that had remained somewhat normal—touch—was starting to fail.
The grassy field where he lay had loosened, turning into a muddy quagmire, much like the churned ground after a rainstorm and the march of hundreds of men. Desperately trying to avoid drowning in the mud, his struggles were thwarted when someone collapsed beside him, burying his face in the mire. Pain shot through his thumb—sharp and deliberate.
—
Tips: Losing a thumb is a significant setback. It serves as the starting point for gripping objects, and its absence applies a heavy penalty to one’s actions. While one may still clumsily wield tools like shovels or hoes, handling a sword becomes almost impossible. Advanced regeneration techniques used by mages and priests require authorization from the Magic Academy or Manor, making them both highly advanced and politically sensitive methods.
—
Getting tangled up in trouble while on an errand—perhaps it was a timeless certainty.
The gods above must have rolled the dice, and once again, the outcome of my journey had turned sour. No boss fights, no grand objectives—just a simple errand marred by “mid-boss battles.” At this rate, what will happen if we escalate straight to the “climax battle”?
“Really, it would be nice to just go out and come back without any issues, wouldn’t it?”
I wiped off the blood and returned the “sending wolf” to its sheath. Simultaneously, I dissolved the spellwork that combined “Invisible Hand,” “Multithreaded Thinking,” and “Far Sight” into a system that treated my sword-wielding arm as a construct of six additional limbs.
Even with my body handling six extra arms, it seemed there were limits. I felt a throbbing sensation near the back of my skull. Creating complex movements with eight total arms—including my own—drained both physical strength and mana, proving to be highly inefficient. Attempting to replicate “Graceful Precision” while wielding battlefield swordsmanship at its peak required all of my focus, limited to about five minutes of full effort.
If I scaled back and used simpler moves—thrusts, downward strikes, or even rapid-fire shortbow techniques—I could sustain it for an hour or more. However, the drawback of my combo build quickly showed through: poor endurance. A system where mana replenishes by breaking magic crystals would have been much more helpful.
“Erich, after cutting down thirty foes, all I hear is whining about a detour. Honestly, even I feel a bit unnerved.”
The clop-clop sound of hooves approached. Having retrieved Polydectes after ensuring safety, Mika rode Castor over to join me. Her ever-enigmatic, gender-neutral beauty—both stern and charming—distorted into an expression of feigned concern, somehow still graceful.
“Still, you’re one to talk, turning the ground into ‘mortar’ with that ‘transmutation’ and ‘shifting’ spellwork, trapping them like rats.”
But allow me one small objection: you were involved in this mid-boss battle too.
Wasn’t it you who excitedly sent your familiar crow scouting when you recently acquired it? And didn’t you enthusiastically suggest we take action against the bandits? I was content to simply navigate through the wilderness without incident.
Well, from a TRPG perspective, taking down bandits for petty cash—er, performing good deeds—is a textbook adventurer’s move, after all.
Perhaps it was the unexpected surplus of adrenaline, or perhaps the onset of that disease common in fourteen-year-olds, but it was Mika who was most enthusiastic. Using the reconnaissance information from her crow, we devised a strategy and successfully captured all the bandits alive.
Their thumbs were severed to neutralize their combat abilities, and the muddy terrain was hardened instantly with magic to prevent their escape. The first eight were even buried neck-deep in the ground to ensure they couldn’t move.
A demonstration of my prowess as a construction mage.
We typically build structures, pave roads, and develop public infrastructure like sewers, but when that energy is redirected toward conflict, it’s impressive what we can achieve. It’s no wonder that powerful mages are recruited as bureaucrats, granted noble titles, and bound by national loyalty.
—
As I was about to send the familiar to summon a patrol unit, a faint sound caught my ear through my “Keen Hearing” spell. The metallic click suggested someone had unlatched something.
Assessing the source, position, and other factors, I instinctively began to weave a spell.
The twang of a bowstring, the ripping sound through the air, and then… the telltale warping of space.
“Wha—!?”
Spinning around, I reached out with an invisible “hand,” snatched a dagger from the nearest man, and slammed it into the palm of another who had aimed a crossbow at me. The blade pierced between the metacarpal bones, punishing the would-be attacker in a fitting manner.
“You owe me one, Mika.”
“A..ah, yes, my apologies, Erich.”
As Mika patted her chest, checking if the “dimensional rift” near her had caused any harm, my response to the attack was clear—the acquisition of “Spatial Transition.”
On that fateful night, Lady Agrippina handed me the spell diagram for this technique. A supposed “taboo” and a near-lost technology. I was seconds away from blowing up when she casually dismissed my protest the next day with, “Anyway, most people don’t understand it, so it’s fine.”
But after attempting to master it, I understood why it had become obsolete. Even with personal instruction, the cost was exorbitant. Mastering it entirely would demand skills and abilities that could elevate one to “Divine Realm” or “Chosen One” territory.
Creating the “warp in space” alone requires considerable mastery—and that was before addressing concerns like coordinates, object specifications, and other complex add-ons to make it viable for safe biological travel. Plus, controlling the size or duration of a warp depends on the spell’s tier, leading to further challenges.
No wonder manipulating space without proper precision results in something so rudimentary—a mere rip in the fabric of reality that leads who-knows-where.
Nevertheless, viewed from a certain perspective, its applications are still valuable. Imagine using it as a shield to deflect powerful attacks into distant, harmless voids. I, for one, don’t know where these warps open, making it both unpredictable and useful.
Taking into account its future potential, I referenced the demonstration provided by Professor Riseinitts and set a “temporary completion point” for this ability.
Of course, my mainstay is swordsmanship, aiming for expertise from “Mastery” to “Perfection,” while simultaneously wielding up to seven weapons for crowd control. For overcoming barriers beyond typical defenses, I settled on “Spatial Transition.” My aspiration is to someday transport people efficiently.
“Let’s secure this area with one more burst.”
This technique fills the gaps.
From my left hand, a beam of focused, directed light—approximately 75,000 candela—accompanied by a thunderous 150-decibel roar blasted forth. The bandits writhed in agony, possibly suffering permanent damage to their eardrums, but considering their future at the hands of the patrols, this would be the least of their worries. These effects, though severe, are still non-lethal.
The principle is simple: Using basic “transmutation” spells to alter oil paper–wrapped dolomite powder and ammonia salts into magnesium and ammonium peroxide, which ignite explosively. These are common materials available at workshops run by sorcerers in the Imperial Capital. I merely used magic to replicate the elements involved in flashbang grenades.
Additional subroutines enhance the effect by focusing the sound and light exclusively forward—so intense that even I cannot directly observe it—making it a precise non-lethal spell.
Inspiration came from movies and games of my past life, where flashbangs proved invaluable for hostage rescues and subduing enemies without property damage. Though mine lacks the power of those from my previous world, it’s still practical and avoids accidental collateral damage. Plus, given the simple magic principles involved, it requires only one action to activate and consumes minimal mana. Honestly, as the creator, even I am tempted to applaud my own genius.
Of course, if accused of copying the techniques of mages from my memory, well, at least it’s improved, right? It’s important to celebrate personal progress.
“Then, let’s locate a patrol. There should be sentries on the main roads at this time.”
Mika pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket and began writing. She would likely tie it to her familiar’s leg, dispatching the message much like a homing pigeon.
How much profit might this generate? This time of year, even low-level bandits are worth a fair amount. I recall seeing a recently captured one hung as an example, with a bounty of one libra per head, plus a staggering five drachmas for their leader alive.
Additionally, there’s no issue with confiscating some minor items from the bandits, though larger spoils must be returned. Their equipment, though, appears to be relatively well-maintained, fetching a good price if sold. Returning with a cart of goods might be cumbersome, but tying it to Castor and Polydectes should suffice to transport a reasonable amount.
Ah, and I heard there is a “live capture bonus.” With thirty-plus captures alive, this venture could be quite lucrative. Even dividing the spoils, we might cover Eliza’s tuition fees for the year between earnings so far.
All’s right with the world. Evil has been subdued, and the adventurers have earned their smiles. By the Henderson scale, the chaos level today remains pleasantly low.
Only, after two consecutive battles and the excessive use of my “spatial transition” barrier, my mana reserves are almost depleted. My headache has worsened, and the sense of exhaustion looms heavy.
“Ah, my friend.”
“Erich, what’s with the formal tone?”
This youthful body still struggles with efficiency. Recharge speeds are quick, but the shallow reserves remain a problem. Still, I’m doing well for my age, right?
“A bit tired. How about a rest?”
Surely taking a moment to relax atop the hill won’t bring misfortune.
—
Tips: Despite regular patrols keeping the roads much safer than in other nations, there’s always a slim chance of encountering such trouble.
Thus concludes the presentation of growth. Rushing to finish with the day winding down, I’ll aim for an update around 19:00 on February 23, 2019.
