It's been a decade since I discovered the power of magic, and let me tell you, it's extraordinary.
With magic, I can surpass the physical limitations of humans, performing feats like effortlessly lifting massive boulders with a single finger, running faster than any horse, and leaping higher than a house.
But despite my magical abilities, I can't match the destructive force of nuclear weapons. The firepower unleashed by those weapons is unimaginable.
At one point, I even considered forgetting about them entirely, as they do not exist in our world. But settling for less is not in my nature.
As a master puppeteer, I strive for greatness. My next mission is to become strong enough to defeat weapons of mass destruction. I've conducted extensive research and training, and I've found a potential solution which I incorporate into my daily experiments.
In addition to my magical pursuits, I am also born into a noble family that has a long lineage of dark knights. These knights use magic to enhance their abilities and defeat enemies in battle.
However, despite being the rising star of my family... not— I am currently living as an average apprentice. It's imperative for shadowbrokers like me to be extremely selective about revealing our powers, so I patiently bide my time.
Although I know I'm not fully utilizing my potential and taking shortcuts, I've learned valuable skills as an apprentice. Observing how magic is used in battles in this world has been enlightening, allowing me to reflect on my own techniques.
To be honest, the fighting styles in my previous life were far more refined and logical compared to what I see here. Contemporary martial arts battles emphasize efficiency and precision, drawing from various combat schools to create the "perfect" fight. This approach, coupled with adherence to the rules, helps identify the best fighters in any situation.
On the other hand, in this world, fighting techniques are confined to their country of origin.
Cross-pollination of combat schools is non-existent, and certain skills are kept hidden within each nation's borders. Additionally, access to media is limited, so there is no avenue for sharing, rejecting, or improving upon these techniques.
If I had to describe this system in one word, it would be unrefined.
However, there is one fundamental difference between the two worlds: magic. Magic completely alters the baseline of physical performance. For instance, my strength is enhanced to the point where traditional hand-to-hand combat or grappling becomes irrelevant.
Even in a mounted grappling position, I can soar through the air by harnessing my abdominal muscles. If I find myself in an offensive guard, a simple activation of my leg muscles can send my opponent flying.
But beneath it all, there's a hint of... and disappointment.
I feel as though I'm not living up to my true potential. I'm stuck in a world with limited opportunities for growth, and the unrefined nature of combat frustrates me.
However, these sentiments may not be obvious to others, as I hide them between the lines. It's a struggle only evident to those who can read in-between and understand the depth of my emotions.
This is my perspective, and I travel through this world with a mix of determination and a sense of longing for something more.
What is it?
What do I need?
More of what?
...that's right.
I need.
More.
Power.
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Ground fighting is completely irrelevant in this world. It's like comparing the combat methods of humans to those of gorillas. The differences are distinct and can't be bridged. I won't dwell on it any further.
One crucial difference in this world's combat is the distance and speed at which fighters engage in their attacks.
It becomes harder to predict their movements in battle. I've learned that in martial arts, reading your opponent at the appropriate range is everything. The angle, position, and distance of your attacks are essential.
It took me some time to adjust to this concept, especially because these fighters prefer to attack from a distance of sixteen feet. At first, I assumed it was just their fighting style. It turns out, they rely on their lightning-fast movements and long strides to compensate for their poor defense tactics.
I'm sure many martial artists can relate to this: those who can't adequately defend themselves tend to keep their opponents at a distance.
The fear of being hit is paralyzing, and retreating seems like the safest option. However, this results in a monotonous back-and-forth, where one fighter attacks and the other retreats. This is not the art of boxing; it's simply an exercise in running back and forth.
Whether fighters are five or a hundred meters apart, landing a significant blow becomes nearly impossible. Five, six, seven, or ten meters - it all feels the same.
Consider this a public service announcement to close the gap and engage in real combat.
But once you cross a certain threshold, even the smallest millimeter can make a significant difference. It's the range where I can strike and react to attacks simultaneously.
Factors like the angle of my strikes and slight adjustments can determine an advantage or disadvantage. The narrowest margins define the best range between two fighters.
A battle should not be about one combatant dashing sixteen feet while the other leaps back nineteen.
I admit, I initially had certain expectations about other worlds, and coupled with my unfamiliarity with magic, I found myself confused about their combat techniques. But, as of late, I've gained a better understanding. It's all becoming clearer now.
Every day, I train at home, guided by our father who instructs us on combat techniques. I also grapple with my older sister, who is only two years my senior. Everyone praises her natural talent, and if she continues to develop, she may very well become the next head of our family. In this world, women can wield significant power through magic and become heirs.
"Geez, you're so strong..." I mutter daily as she outperforms me.
But winning against her is not my aim. If I want to become a shadow commander, I must establish myself as the most ordinary of all background characters.
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Living my day-to-day existence has become a monotonous affair. Caught up in lessons on aristocratic behavior and socializing to secure my place as an insignificant extra, I find myself devoid of any free time.
Training becomes a late-night ritual, and I sacrifice precious sleep, relying on magic's quick recovery and finding new ways to rest through meditation. It's almost as if I've developed short sleeper syndrome. I make it work, but there's an underlying sense of emptiness.
Now, it's time to focus on the task at hand. I power through my usual training routine in the forest, but today holds something extraordinary in store for me. Word has reached me that a gang of rogues has made the nearby ghost town their home. It's the perfect opportunity to put my new weapon to the test.
Taking down bandits here and there has become customary, but facing an entire group of criminals is an event of the year. I've always been short on sparring partners, so I welcome encounters with evildoers with open arms.
It would be wonderful if this place became infested with even more crime. I've noticed how villages attempt to deal with offenders on their own, but they mostly escape unpunished. Our judicial system lies in the city, and that's why I've taken it upon myself to enforce the law.
Today marks a historic moment as I engage in my first official battle with my latest weapon. I've spent months experimenting with it, and I've dubbed it the "slime bodysuit." Allow me to explain the concept behind it.
In this world, we use magic to strengthen our bodies and weapons. However, there are substantial energy losses when transferring magic from one form to another.
For instance, if I infuse an average steel sword with one hundred units of magic, only 10 percent will be effective in combat, resulting in a staggering 90 percent loss. Even with a mithril sword, renowned for its magic compatibility, achieving 50 percent capacity is considered high-end.
That's when I became intrigued by slimes. Slimes are magical beings that utilize energy to change form and move effortlessly. My research led me to discover that slimes have an astonishing 99 percent conductivity, making them ideal conduits for magic. Additionally, their liquid state allows them to shape-shift at will.
To develop my new weapon, I began testing slime jellies by capturing and crushing their cores—over a thousand of them, I dare say. In my zeal, I nearly pushed them to extinction in my vicinity and had to embark on an expedition to find more.
These jellies are not only easy to handle but also incredibly resilient. I successfully molded them into a wearable bodysuit that is super-lightweight and silent, shunning traditional armor.
The suit almost seems to assist and support my movements. Naturally, I've ensured it possesses remarkable defensive capabilities.
At present, I find myself encased in a black slime bodysuit—a simple, no-frills outfit perfectly contoured to my body, with only my eyes, nostrils, and mouth exposed. It's amusing how I resemble the criminal in a certain renowned detective manga. Perhaps, when intervening as a full-fledged shadowbroker, I should consider a more suitable design.
Late into the night, I finally arrive at the ghost town. I can discern a few flickering lights in the darkness, indicating that the thieves are reveling in a feast to commemorate their successful robberies. How lucky I am to stumble upon this opportune moment.
You see, thieves are notorious for their lack of prudence, quickly squandering whatever they pilfer. It means they possess something worthwhile immediately after a successful heist.
One man's treasure becomes another man's gain. This is precisely how I will fund my aspirations of becoming a puppet master.
Filled with excitement, I crash their feast, but not with a surprise attack. That wouldn't make for a good practice session. Instead, I pierce the air with my voice, shouting, "Yahoo! Hand over the loot, scumbags!"
The response is expected, as one of the thieves cries out, "Wh-who the hell is this puny dude?!"
Mocking my stature is expected, considering I'm merely ten years old. It's only natural to be small at my age.
But I don't back down. "You heard me! Now fork over the goods!" I retort, punting the rude man across the room for calling me small.
As anticipated, the other thieves draw their weapons, ready to defend what's rightfully theirs.
"Hey, keep it up, and we ain't gonna hold back, you bra—!"
"Take that!" I interrupt, swiftly slicing through the neck of the one who dared to speak, severing his head midsentence.
That's right—the sword I wield is made of slime, allowing me to summon it from my bodysuit when necessary. And it possesses a wide range of nifty functions.
For example, function number one: it can elongate.
"Take that! And that! And that!" I announce, extending my sword to strike down all the insignificant thieves within my vicinity.
I manipulate the slime, shaping it into a whip-like form with edges as sharp as a sword. Though it's my first time wielding it in battle, I can already sense its potential and usefulness.
But as I revel in my victory, the room falls eerily silent. I realize that only one man remains.
"Wh-who are you...?" he stammers, visibly shaken by the massacre I've unleashed.
"Eh, I guess you'll be my guinea pig for function number two," I declare.
"Th-the hell do you mean...?" he trembles in fear and confusion.
"In simple terms, you seem stronger than the rest—you must be their boss or something, right? Your chances of winning are minimal, but if you let me practice on you, I bet you'll live an additional two minutes. Good luck," I taunt, savoring the thrill of the upcoming battle.
"Stop playing around, you brat! In the capital, I'm—" he begins, but I cut him off.
"Hey, you. Skip the empty speech and come at me."
"D-Die, dammit!" he bellows, closing the distance between us with deliberate slowness, aiming to strike me with maximum force. Little does he know that it won't faze me at all.
As his sword pierces my chest, I'm thrown to the ground by the impact. But to his surprise, I rise to my feet unscathed. The suit's defenses have surpassed my wildest expectations.
These feeble attempts at attack can't even touch me.
I can't help but gloat a little, saying, "I've heard that this is all the rage in the capital. Show me what you've got."
"Damn you!" he curses, attempting another strike.
But I effortlessly evade him, sidestepping and ducking his sword with ease. His clumsy attempts at the Royal Bushin method finally make sense to me. Perhaps I can learn a thing or two about wielding a sword from his flawed technique.
In a world dominated by conflicts driven by spirituality, old-fashioned ideals, or personal beliefs, it's a rare occasion to witness a fight solely motivated by logic. His attacks, though lacking finesse, are guided by a logical approach.
In the blink of an eye, I take a small step forward. The Boss calculates his next strike, his approach teeming with creativity. Yet, his attacks fall short, leaving much to be desired. Sensing an opportunity, I effortlessly step just out of his range.
"Why...why can't I hit you?!" he blurts in frustration.
"Well, compared to my old man, you're pretty weak. Though, I suppose you're stronger than my sister. Not that it matters. In another year, she'll probably surpass you," I retort with a touch of somberness.
"You little shiiiiiiiiiiit!" he screeches, wildly swinging his sword towards me.
Swiftly parrying his feeble attempts, I land a light kick to his shin—a quick snap of my leg that catches him off guard.
"Gwah, ah! Why...?" the Boss whimpers, doubling over in pain, clutching his injured leg.
As blood drips from his shin and forms a small pool on the ground, I can't help but acknowledge the cheap trick up my sleeve. After all, I have a blade as sharp as an ice pick protruding from my toes.
The slime sword's second handy feature allows me to wield it from any part of my body, whenever I desire. And I found this tactic most promising. By positioning myself upfront, I can slash at the enemy with the sword concealed in my shoe. Lower-body attacks are notoriously difficult to block. Using this technique, I efficiently parry hits, engage in blade locks, and occasionally deliver a well-placed kick. It may lack flashiness, but it gets the job done.
"Well, I guess our little dance is over," I casually state.
"W-wait...!" the Boss stammers, a desperate plea escaping his lips.
"Didn't even last two minutes," I remark dismissively before delivering a final, blade-infused kick to his chin.
Death by impalement.
He twitches as I roll his body to the side, searching through the spoils left behind.
"Artwork? Can't sell that. Food? No thanks. Come on, where's the cash, jewels, and precious metals? Gimme, gimme, gimme," I mutter under my breath, eagerly searching for the desired loot.
Amidst the generous plunder—equivalent to several carriages' worth—I take a moment to whisper a prayer to the slain merchants, assuring them that their treasures will be put to good use and expressing my hopes for their peaceful journey to heaven.
Silently, I gather my haul, and in the tranquility, I offer another prayer. It seems I've procured around five million zeni—an estimation, with each zeni roughly equivalent to one Japanese yen. This substantial fortune will greatly aid me in my role as a shadowbroker. Sometimes, I find myself yearning for a world where encounters with enemies are as simple as walking down the street, for in a world overrun by criminals, life might be improved. Oh, how I wish reality resembled video games.
With a parting, somewhat melancholic remark—"Please wreak more havoc in your next life"—I give the fallen Boss a thumbs-up. However, my attention is suddenly diverted to something beyond my fingertip.
"Is that...a cage?"
Examining its sturdiness and size, the notion of slaves briefly crosses my mind. But I dismiss it quickly, opting against anything I can't trade for immediate cash.
But what if there's something valuable hidden within? My curiosity compels me to lift the cage's cover.
"Well, this is...unexpected."
Describing the contents proves challenging—mere rotting flesh compressed into a mound. Perhaps human, but neither age nor gender can be discerned. Astonishingly, it still exhibits signs of life, even consciousness. Peering closer, the flesh abruptly jolts, almost as if it reacts to my presence.
I happen to know that the Church executes these creatures known as the "possessed." Originally born as ordinary humans, they suffer from the sudden decay of their flesh, fated for a grim demise. The Church makes a point of acquiring them, claiming to exorcise demons, but in reality, it's nothing more than the merciless murder of the sick. Yet, the ignorant masses applaud, praising the Church for preserving peace—an archaic mentality befitting the Middle Ages. What a downer it is.
While selling this pile of flesh to the Church could potentially yield a greater fortune than the entirety of my spoils, the notion remains futile, as I cannot sell it.
Well, it appears I should put it out of its misery. I plunge my slime sword into the cage when my attention is captured by yet another revelation.
This mound of flesh brims with an overwhelming abundance of magic. Despite my training in magic since childhood, this surpasses my own abilities—it's truly beastly. And what's more...
"Is this wavelength...the effects of a magical overload?"
Indeed, a magical overload seems to have caused this transformation into a heap of flesh. I've experienced its effects firsthand before. Had I not gained control over it back then, I might have met a similar fate.
I'm aware of how magic affects the body, having felt its impact that fateful day. I sensed its potential to enhance my magical endurance and enable me to handle greater amounts of magic. However, intentionally inducing a magical overload would be immensely dangerous, causing me to abandon the idea long ago.
Yet, hypothetically speaking, if I were to conduct experiments on this product of such a phenomenon, I could draw closer to becoming a shadow commander without any inherent risks.
"I can make use of this," I murmur, reaching out to the flesh and infusing it with magic.
"Don't worry, I'll help you." I suddenly say. Huh, That's... a first.