Chapter 1

Do not touch Eldmia Eg - Chapter 1 (1/599)

Reincarnation. What a sweet word.

Given how difficult my current life is despite my efforts, how could I not wish for reincarnation? But I didn’t.

Even if I were to be reborn, what good would it do? I wouldn’t expect to get a particularly good draw, like all the fancy settings from novels. If it were something like that, I’d welcome it with open arms, but otherwise, I was too busy living my current life.

But unfortunately, I died and was reincarnated. And it was a fantasy world. Life is truly unpredictable.

Still, what can I do? Whether it’s a prank by God or the grace of my parents who always looked out for me, I have to live this new life I’ve been given, no matter what.

However.

However, everything else aside, fuck.

Having my village completely destroyed by the Demon King’s army just 8 years after being born is really fucking over the line.

8 years.

The time it took to be reborn in this world, form new bonds, and adapt to life.

It was a long time, but for a child, it was really too short. Even with reincarnation, it took 4 years for my mind to mature and for me to start functioning properly.

“Really, it’s so hard.”

And today is the 8 years and 12th day since I was born in this world. It’s been 3 days since my village was almost completely destroyed...

“This fucking body is really weak.”

I’ve been digging graves with a charred shovel I found where the blacksmith’s forge used to be for two days now.

“The blisters are so painful!”

There was a stream with drinkable water and some burnt potatoes left in the village’s granary, so immediate food and water weren’t a problem, but a child’s body is inevitably too weak.

Since this is a fantasy world, magic exists. If I had learned it, digging the ground would have been much easier, but the village where I lived was just a small town, so I couldn’t learn such valuable things. At best, about 3 years ago, a magician visited, and I tried to mimic the feeling of mana by flattering him, but I couldn’t actually use magic.

He said he would teach me magic if I worked hard and he confirmed it when he returned 4 years later. Since magicians don’t lie, if the Demon King’s army had attacked just one year later, I could have at least used earth-moving magic, right?

But what can I do? It’s only been 3 years so far.

Fortunately, I could use the extremely fantastical action of moving mana to strengthen my body. It was such an incredible and fantastical experience that I practiced it diligently for 3 years. I could run at a speed that an 8-year-old child couldn’t possibly achieve, and for brief moments, I could swing a heavy longsword at a speed close to that of an ordinary adult.

However, regardless of that, an untrained body has its limits. The blisters on my palms were proof of that, and the pain I felt when running fast was proof that it wasn’t just muscle soreness. So, I dug the ground with just my pure physical strength and the charred shovel. It took two days to finish digging my parents’ graves.

“Still, I worked hard for an 8-year-old.”

Although my body was 8 years old, my mind, combined with my previous life, was approaching 30. I couldn’t help but understand what it meant that my father, who had left the hideout to bring my mother, didn’t return even after a day, and I found my parents collapsed together at the outskirts of the village early in the morning, with a heavy heart.

I really cried my heart out. I fainted from exhaustion after crying. It took two days to dig the graves because of that.

“Tomorrow, I can finish the gravestone by using the remaining fence.”

My parents, who were hunters, had once been adventurers traveling the continent before settling down.

Is that why? Both of them had died holding swords, which I couldn’t tell where they had taken from, in their hands. Though it’s embarrassing to call it fortunate, they didn’t get caught in the fire or have their bodies desecrated. It seemed they didn’t suffer much, as their hearts were cleanly pierced.

That’s how I died in my previous life.

“Thinking about it now, I’m angry.”

By the time I finished digging the graves and moved my parents’ bodies from the underground storage, which fortunately hadn’t burned, I was completely exhausted. Even if I used mana to enhance my strength, I would have collapsed after moving them, so I just moved them as they were.

It was fortunate that it was late autumn and winter was just around the corner, so the bodies hadn’t decomposed yet.

“Phew, it’s a relief.”

How can an 8-year-old child survive the winter alone? The hideout was just a small cave my father used to store meat during the winter. If it had been a bit later, there would have been some food stored for the winter, but now it’s empty. Even if I gathered the burnt food from the granary, it wouldn’t last a week.

I’m only doing this because I feel compelled to fulfill my filial duty; there’s nothing fortunate or comfortable about it.

“I thought this was a fantasy, but it’s turning into a survival story in this world.”

The sunset was setting. This is usually the time when my mother’s stew would be ready, and my father and I would return home. After I turned 6, I followed my father to learn hunting skills and herbal knowledge from his adventurer days. Reading books at the village chief’s house was also enjoyable, but the process of learning knowledge for life, without the pressure of college or employment, was filled with a joy I had never felt before.

Tears flowed naturally as I realized those happy days had vanished like a dream.

It was truly pure happiness. I felt a sense of relief that I, not being a child, had fully enjoyed that happiness.

“Let’s go back.”

At least the stream water is fine, so I don’t have to worry about dehydration.

If I pick some potatoes for dinner and head back to the hideout, it will definitely be dark. With nothing to start a fire, I had no time to rest. I had to get back to the cave quickly, wrap myself in the gathered clothes, and raise my body temperature to avoid the cold.

As I was about to stand up, I felt a slight vibration through my seat.

A sound I had never heard in my previous life but was familiar in this one.

The sound of hooves striking the ground and the neighing of horses.

“Fuck.”

It sent shivers down my spine. It was the most terrifying sound I had ever heard. I took out the longsword I had given to my parents as naturally as possible, placed it beside me, and slightly turned my head to look at the source of the sound. A group was standing at the village entrance, silhouetted against the sunset.

From their silhouettes, I could tell they weren’t a normal army. They didn’t even have a flag to indicate their affiliation, which even mercenaries carry. Most importantly, there weren’t that many of them.

“Fucking hell.”

They were bandits. Whether they saw the village burning or the traces of the Demon King’s army, they were clearly there to see if there was anything left to loot.

If I run into the mountains now, I can probably survive without any trouble.

But if I do, these bastards will take not only the swords I gave to my parents but also the few pieces of jewelry we had.

I can’t stand by and let that happen, even if it means I might be torn to pieces today.

They started to approach the hill where I was.

The place where I was was a small shrine on the village hill. It had no special meaning; I just thought it was right to bury my parents here because they were religious.

There were 7 of them. As they approached, they dismounted and started to look around, moving towards me. One of them seemed to be a woman, as her figure suggested, but she was being dragged along with a metal collar, likely a slave.

Their armor was poor. None of them wore helmets, and the best-armed one only had a breastplate, greaves, and gauntlets. Only one of them had a sword; the others had daggers or axes, and there were no bows. Or rather, there was a bow, but it was left on the horse.

The tension made my blood run cold. What do I have? An 8-year-old body, the sword my parents held, and some rocks around me.

And... mana. The mana that can enhance my body, which I hadn’t used for 3 days and had preserved.

“Hey, kid.”

The man who seemed to be the leader, walking a bit faster than the others, called out to me. His hair was unkempt and looked like he hadn’t washed in days, but he had no scars on his face.

“Who, who are you?”

I asked, trembling and hugging the sword as if it were a memento from my parents, with a pitiful expression. In my heart, I hoped they were just adventurers checking the situation and would leave, but it seemed unlikely.

There’s no way a bandit would be nervous about an 8-year-old, but with my life on the line, I had to put on the best act I could. The man laughed mockingly and approached me.

“Huh. Fuck, I don’t care about that. Just give me that sword.”

“This, this is my parents’ sword.”

I turned my body and pretended to struggle with the weight of the sword, holding the hilt. The man scowled and leaned forward, shouting at me.

That’s what I was waiting for, you bastard.

I released the mana that had spread throughout my body and swung the sword.

“Fuck, if you don’t want to die, then... huh?”

Swordsmanship? I’m not sure if I have any, but my hobby in my previous life was martial arts. During my school days, I was even obsessed with kendo and considered becoming a master.

If I had the strength, I could perform a horizontal cut aimed at the neck. And I had the strength of mana.

“Cough. M, Mus...”

The pressure of killing someone? I don’t give a damn. I died at the hands of a murderer in my previous life. I broke his neck with all my strength, but I was stabbed in the heart almost simultaneously and died. I’ve already killed before.

That’s how my reincarnation started. But it’s all gone now.

I’m a man with nothing to lose.

“Hey? Leader?”

The man who had fallen face-first into the ground, gasping in a state of cognitive dissonance, was indeed the leader. One of the others, still not understanding the situation, ran over and squatted next to him, noticing the blood on the sword I held.

“Leader, what... blood? Huh?”

I took a step back, creating some distance, and aimed for the man’s neck with my sword. The diagonal cut I made cleanly severed his carotid artery. His eyes widened in shock, but it was too late.

“What? What? Fuck, what did you do, you little shit!”

The other bandits finally realized what was happening and looked at me. But my act wasn’t over yet.

“I, I don’t know. It, it just suddenly...”

The shocked looks of the four bandits and the strange expression of the slave were all on me.

“What?! F, fuck, isn’t that a magic sword?”

It seems such things really exist. What a brutal world.

I was worried they might charge at me and try to kill me, but they were floundering in fear.

“What the hell is a magic sword doing in this shithole village!”

“But the Demon King’s army passed through, right? Maybe they dropped it?”

What the hell kind of idiot drops something like that? I almost lost my act from the absurdity.

Sad thought. My deceased parents... This is really fucking sad. I can’t forgive these bastards.

“Hey, hey, kid. L, let me have that for now.”

The one who seemed to have the most composure started to approach me cautiously, one arm outstretched, bending down to match my height.

“N, no, it’s my mom’s...”

“Fuck, I get it. Just give it to me for now! I’ll give it back later!”

He approached, panting, as if to take the sword from me with both hands. He had never held a sword before and didn’t expect I could use it.

He wasn’t that big. He was probably around 160 cm tall, with arms about 60-70 cm long.

As soon as he was close enough for the pommel to touch his fingertips, I swung the sword with all my might at his neck.

“Cough!”

“Aaaaaah!”

“Aaaah, fuck, Glen!!”

“It’s a magic sword! A magic sword, fuck!”

My act still seems to be going on.