As I spent my days practicing magic and working through bowls of porridge, something unusual happened. My parents hadn’t come home in seven days. Normally, they’d be back within three...
For mercenaries to go into a dungeon and not return, even after the day they were supposed to... There’s really only one conclusion you could draw from that: something must’ve happened. To be blunt, there was a good chance they were dead.
But even when I thought that, I was surprised at how little I felt. No sadness. No grief. They were my parents, sure, but they never showed me a shred of affection. I thought it was cold of me, but I guess it was natural I felt that way, considering they practically abused me. If I did feel anything, I felt lucky that I was saved from the trouble of running away. But there was a problem...
“I’m starving...” I muttered.
It was unbearable. Mind you, I’d been left on my own for seven days. I’d run out of the oatmeal look-alike they’d left me, and I’d also used up my stash of the almo wheat used to make it.
Jörgyn grass was the only thing I’d eaten for two days. To make matters worse, I’d already picked the area around the tent entrance clean. I’d even poked my head outside to look for more—a risky move—but had come up empty. I had torn through every corner of the tent looking for something edible. Nothing. Thanks to the knowledge embedded in my mind, I could instantly recognize when something was safe to eat, so there was no chance that I had missed anything.
“All alone at four years old and left to fend for myself... This isekai really doesn’t pull any punches.”
Well, I did get the divine seal of approval for having bad birth fortune.
I urgently needed to secure some food before my body gave out. It seemed the time had come to step outside the tent. I’d originally planned to spend another year honing my magic and gathering intel, but the circumstances left me no choice.
I was in a town called “Erunst” located right in the middle of nowhere. Right at the heart of this town was the entrance to a dungeon. Back in the day, the town had thrived, since the dungeon had drawn in mercenaries from all over. But after a few years, people had started to realize that despite the dungeon’s massive size, the loot inside its treasure chests was underwhelming. There weren’t many monsters that were of any use either. After that, the mercenaries all but vanished, and the town slid into decline at breakneck speed.
The only people diving into the dungeon nowadays are the kind of bottom-of-the-barrel thugs who’d get kicked out anywhere else. In other words, mercenaries like my parents.
To make matters worse, the person in charge of Erunst was an absolute scumbag. The local lord—some guy named Viscount Holm—was your textbook corrupt noble. He’d bleed the people dry with heavy taxes and use his private army to do whatever he pleased. Getting assigned to a backwater dump like Erunst pretty much screams “career over” for a noble, so he must’ve messed up big time and got kicked out here as punishment. Which meant that not only was he a jerk, he was probably useless too.
Thanks to all that, most of the people here were dirt-poor and barely scraping by—not to mention that the crime rate was through the roof. Half the town was practically a slum; when I peeked out of my tent to look for some jörgyn grass, the first thing I saw was a row of crooked shacks. Of course, they were still probably better than a tent... That being said, even with my cheat abilities, I couldn’t help feeling uneasy about getting tossed out into a place like that all on my own.
“I’ve got no one to rely on but me,” I said to myself. “Guess I’ll stick with this tent for now and slowly expand my stomping grounds from here.”
Right after I made that decision, I sensed something outside. I could hear footsteps rustling through the grass. The thought that my parents might have returned eased my mind a little. Sure, they were awful, but it’s not like I hated them enough to wish death upon them. If they’d made it back alive, then, that was fine too. At the very least, I might have gotten some food out of it.
“This it?” I heard a voice bellow.
The man who stepped into the tent wasn’t anyone I recognized. He was huge, bald, and had an old scar running down his cheek like something had clawed him. He was probably around forty years old, with unkempt facial hair and filthy leather armor—he was exactly what you’d imagine a bandit would look like. Not that my parents looked any better.
Who is this guy?
“Huh, whaddya know, we got a little pip-squeak here,” he said.
He flashed a nasty grin—the kind that would ruin your day in an instant. There was no way he was thinking about helping out a poor, abandoned kid. Those eyes were checking me out to see how much I’d be worth.
Am I, like, in trouble here?
“It’s all crap here,” he grumbled. “I’ll just take whatever’s valuable and get out. There’s gotta be something here worthy of the great Gizmelt. Anyways, it’s more use to me than to you, so you can both go cry about it in the afterlife,” he added, cackling to himself.
Yeah, this is your textbook villain, all right.
The man, Gizmelt, started rummaging through the tent, paying no mind to me.
He certainly isn’t a friend of my parents. Wait, afterlife? He said afterlife, didn’t he? So are my parents dead?
“God, like hell I’m fightin’ that thing,” said the giant of a man. “Gotta grab what I can and scram.”
So it turned out this guy robbed the dead. No better than my scumbag parents.
“Hey, you, get over here,” he demanded.
Once it became clear that there was nothing of value he could steal, Gizmelt motioned me over.
Does he seriously think that’ll get a kid to come up to him? No way in hell I’m going over there. If you’re gonna try luring kids in, maybe get some plastic surgery to fix up that creepy grin.
I shook my head firmly, trying my best to look childish. I was hoping he’d give up, but that probably wasn’t going to happen.
“Your folks got swallowed up by dungeon malice, ya know that? Not that a twerp like you would understand. Just get over here already!”
As Gizmelt made a move to grab me, I twisted away on instinct. He clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. Honestly, I’d underestimated him. The way my parents raised me was bordering on child abuse, sure, but they’d never gotten violent with me. So I figured that this guy wouldn’t either—that he wouldn’t damage the goods he was thinking of selling to a slave trader. That naive little assumption shattered in the very next second.
“Hold still, you little shit!”
The hard tip of Gizmelt’s shoe drove straight into my gut, and a sudden jolt of pain tore through my back.
“Gahhh!” I wheezed, coughing and retching. I didn’t vomit since my stomach was empty—just bile rose up my throat. The pain, the fear, the nausea...it all mixed together, and before I knew it, tears started streaming down my face. I groaned. “Ugh...”
“Don’t waste my time,” said Gizmelt. “Get up. Before that thing shows up!”
Gizmelt grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t even think about resisting. All I could do was tremble as this giant unleashed his violence upon me without a hint of reason.
This was a world of swords and magic, where death could come at any moment. I had thought I understood that. But in the end, that was just my imagination—just a naive fantasy born from the peaceful, sheltered life of a former earthling who’d never seen the real world. I had just come face-to-face with the rough nature of those who live in a world of violence.
“You talk back to me again, you get worse. Got it?”
All I could do was groan in pain.
“Listen up. I’m in a hurry, and I got no problem killin’ you. A scrawny little twerp like you won’t be worth nothin’. So, if you don’t wanna end up like your parents, you’ll do what I say.”
Like my parents? Did he just say that he killed them?
“They were pathetic,” he went on. “Both fell for a paralysis trap, so I offed them like that. Pitiful worms, always pissed me off, thinking they were on the same level as me.” Gizmelt then burst into a booming laugh.
I felt like my ears would rot off, listening to him going on and on like that, grinning all the while with that filthy, twisted smile of his. A thought welled up from deep, deep inside me: I couldn’t stand being near this guy for even a second longer.
Suddenly, Gizmelt hoisted me up under his arm. The strength behind it was unbelievable—there was no way I could break free.
“All quiet now, huh?” he said. “Should’ve just behaved from the start. Not that I mind if you act up. Roughing up a brat before killing him doesn’t sound so bad either.”
If I were to let him take me like this, there was no chance I’d ever have a normal life. All that awaited was a future filled with violence and hunger. I had to run.
This was the man who killed my parents. And yet, even after learning that, I felt no anger. No hatred. No grudge. What I felt was something else entirely. Even so, one thing was clear in my mind.
There is nothing wrong with killing this man.
He was probably a mercenary—and without a doubt, way stronger than I was. A half-hearted attack wasn’t going to cut it, and I didn’t even want to think about what would happen if I used magic on him and failed to finish him off. There was no way this greedy bastard would let a magic-wielding kid go free. I’d get a brutal beating and a one-way ticket to life as a slave. I had to kill him in one shot.
I picked a spell without hesitation. It was the one I knew best—quick to cast and perfect for a sneak attack thanks to its stealth. Just the other day, I’d finally managed to activate it without an incantation.
I cast the spell in silence.
The most important thing was developing the right image in your mind. I focused on the image of a needle of water—compressed to the limit to make it razor-sharp and rock-hard—driving straight through Gizmelt’s head. I decided to throw in some rotation as an extra bonus.
I braced myself and fired away. The Water Needle manifested in midair, then pierced straight into the back of Gizmelt’s skull.
“Grah!” he shrieked in agony.
His arms went limp. I dropped to the ground, unable to break the fall. I yelped as a sharp jolt of pain shot through my elbow.
“Huhhhh?” said Gizmelt.