Zeroth

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Update is in the works!

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

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Neir Slums — Dilapidated Shack

《 Level 1 Pessimist 》
@ERode@TheMushroomLord@PKMNB0Y

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Connor had barely begun to rest when the elf guy's message appeared--behind his eyelids, even! He blinked and shook his head. He wondered if there were any "settings" he could access within this Status System to make it a little less...intrusive. However...

Of course. A tall, glass-jawed, pointy eared bishonen bats his eyes and the catgirl tells him everything he wants to know! And makes me look stupid for wanting to be cautious and not approach anyone who could probably kill us! He inwardly malded. I bet if I'd been the one to go talk to her, she wouldn't have given me the time of day! Probably call me a creeper or just laugh at me--or hell, throw me in jail for vagrancy! But, despite already feeling angry at the personality of someone he didn't know that he'd made up in his head, Connor had to admit that this information was exactly what they needed.

Neir of Cethaim, ruled by King Selm. Was there a text to speech function within the Chat he could use to figure out how these words were pronounced? Also, was this a constitutional monarchy or just a feudal pyramid system? The latter might actually be easier to deal with, piecemeal, because in that system while the monarch might hold more dictatorial power, the local nobles would command more loyalty from the populace under them, being "kings" of their own in miniature. Or at least, that's what Connor had read when doing research for his own fantasy novels. If they needed some kind of paperwork or permission from the lord in order to travel freely, or buy property, and other things like that, it would be easier to get if the guy with the wax stamps didn't also have to get it stamped by a succession of other people with slightly more authority.

No wars? Awesome, but then if they'd been deposited onto this world for a purpose, what was it? Either that, or their arrival itself was the flag for shit to start popping off. In which case they probably needed to get the hell out of this city as soon as they could, because this was now their official "Doomed Hometown" the Demon King or Dark Lord would waste no time torching to the ground in the opening cinematics.

Catgirl was an Adventurer, but no mention of things like "Classes," "Jobs," "Parties," or "Ranks." Maybe that was too much gamification to ask for--Connor's own status didn't list anything like "Mage," or "Otherworlder," and especially not something like "Hero," so he probably couldn't expect it to be as straightforward as the usual conventions of Isekai trash. Still, signing up at the Guild was basically mandatory in these stories in order to get fast cash. Even if a "modern" education could net them a job in the city, Connor assumed people here would be just as unwilling to hire someone who didn't have connections or a reputation as the corporate assholes back on Earth. Hell, in a culture like this where values like "family tradition" and "honor" were probably still being used, if you weren't the son-of-so-and-so being apprenticed to a master of such-and-such guild, or some other such "who ya know" status, any attempt at getting a job would probably be suspect to first impressions at best. So just like the situation with the catgirl, the elf would probably have no trouble while a loser like him and a non-humanoid like the slime would be booted out.

He shook his head again. He was getting himself too worked up over strawmen. What else had the elf figured out?

Teleportation magic existed. That was a lot to consider. Was it highly expensive and intensely resource draining to make use of? If it wasn't, this medieval world shouldn't have looked so...medieval, right? Being able to teleport goods, raw materials, and most especially armies would have ENORMOUS implications on communication, industry, mercantilism, and just about any other facet of world-building. Then again, Connor felt like he'd almost blacked himself out casting...what, five or six spells? That were probably considered basic, level 1 shit by any real mage in this world? Depending on what the actual level cap of this world was and how long it took to get there, it was probably a safe bet that something like Teleportation could not be used on a wide scale or by a large number of people within the world.

However...could Teleportation, or some other similar magic, possibly get them back home? In a manner in which they'd survive? Maybe even with their new abilities (but hopefully not their new bodies, in the poor slime's case) intact?

Connor sighed and rubbed his head, which had begun to hurt again. He closed his eyes once more--but once more, his rest was interrupted, this time by the slime. He read their message in the blackness behind his eyelids. He sniffed a bit--he'd already thought of a lot of this stuff, so shouldn't it have been kind of obvious? Then again, after all, he had to keep in mind that his companion couldn't see or hear much, and probably wasn't familiar with all the tropes or even the subject matter...

Contacts: Slime
Ye, keepin u hidden was what I meant when I talked about diggin ur way out or gettin under the floor if needed. For carry-on, I guess we could make a sack of sorts outta that tarp u were under b4?

I'm definitely taxed. Casted like a half dozen times rapid-fire. I think it gets easier once u have the mental image of ur spell, but I feel like I just had to run a mile while hungover. Like I said b4, when I'm better I'll see about getting us some wa--

Waitaminnit, I'll get that bastard to do it, since he didn't just abandon us after all.

As his head pounded, he nonetheless managed to concentrate and send another message zipping Cassius's way. Oddly enough, the contact list had already changed the elf-man's name. Cassius? Like famous draft dodger Cassius Clay, later to be known as Muhammad Ali? Did he come up with that on his own or was that his actual name on Earth?

Contacts: Cassius
On ur way back, look for a well? We think slime can use their ability to filter it so we have H20. Next goals are fire and food. I can use magic now but not a lot, so we still need to avoid conflict amap.

CONNOR'S DISCOVERIES

• "Caliboard, the Holy 2x4."
• Learned "Push!"
• Learned "Cut!"

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

---

??? — Dilapidated Shack

《 Level 1 ...Mage? 》
@ERode@TheMushroomLord@PKMNB0Y

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Connor sat with his back against the wall, a little bit away from the slime, and held his palm out towards the opposite, empty wall of the shack. He had placed the weapon he dubbed "Caliboard" into a gap in the floorboards so that it would stand upright as a sort of target.

Think real hard, and try to notice a draining effect? He mulled over the slime's previous words. Apparently the "contact" function included a log, which was convenient...but what if you had a chat with someone that covered several hours of dialogue? Connor wondered if this was like one of the group chat apps he used for gaming, and if he could create his own "server" and copy-paste or pin messages from other groups that he found useful. Something else to experiment with. But for now...Magic! But be careful, because overdoing it is painful...Right...

A blip appeared in the corner of his vision, which he scanned quickly--oh! The slime was right! If they could break things down so efficiently, their own body could be used as a water filter! Which brought up another interesting possibility...

Contact: "Slime"
Good idea! That makes me wonder, though--can you basically read the chemical composition of anything you take in? In some video games there are things like "Crafting" and "Alchemy" systems that let a player take, like, a magic herb or something and turn it into beneficial potions and whatnot. If you could do that, it opens up a lot of potential...Ah, wait, I'm getting distracted. Hold on a bit.

Connor liked optimizing things. The idea of turning life into a videogame, where he could actually tell his efforts were making a difference via numbers on a screen as opposed to the "real world's" painful process of continual trial, rejection, error, screw-up, setback, and worthless rewards, made him absolutely giddy.

Especially if it meant he could be powerful for once in his cowardly, miserable, self-loathsome life.

So, Kinetic Magic. Briefly Connor mentally reviewed a vast number of animated television shows, video games, novels, internet commentary, and amateur writing (of his own design) where a character tried to "learn magic." For once, wasting his life had become somewhat useful.

It's not an "element" like fire or water, so I doubt doing a kung-fu move and projecting my energy would produce any results. The slime can't talk and none of us have anything besides the clothes...or gel...on our backs, so verbal and somatic components must not be essential. So that leaves...what, self-visualization?

Applied force. Force was mass times acceleration, so was magical energy being converted into both of those things, or at least somehow imitating them while being incorporeal? And "applied" force was...work, maybe? Scientifically, the measure of force exerted on an object over a distance? So the simplest form of that was...a push?

Connor wiggled his fingers, then clenched his hand like he was trying to strike someone with an open palm--not that he actually knew how to do that, but he'd seen lots of action movies. He looked at Caliboard, and focused his mind. He imagined...a ghostly, pale blue aura, enveloping his whole body. Extending from his arm. Shaped into a wispy, disembodied hand. Stretching across the distance. Pushing against the board.

He felt...resistance? In his mind? He gulped. His heart beat quickened. He pushed harder.

The awkward, scary, and uncomfortable sensation of using a muscle for the first time--something else he had never experienced outside of gym class and a short lived attempt (exactly two days) at accomplishing a "Hero for Fun" exercise routine--that sensation pumped through him. He pushed harder.

The mental wall gave way. What should not have been physically possible became real.

A cyan shimmer in the vague shape of a hand--like a bad artist's sketch--formed in front of his palm. As slowly as Connor himself would've pressed a barbell, it drifted towards Caliboard and pushed against the flat top--paying no mind to the rusty nail--until the plank creaked. That sound caused Connor to blink and jerk back on instinct. He let out the breath that had been under oceanic pressure in his lungs.

"HO. LEE. SHIT!" He looked at his own hand, which trembled as a smile most people would associate with serial killers and supervillain clowns threatened to rip his cheeks apart. "I can do magic! I can do magic!"

He thrust his palm towards the board again. The image was faster, the power came faster. The push was more violent this time--like the numerous times in elementary school Connor had tried to protect himself from a bully, knowing nothing more than to shove them, try to get them away from him. The spell was projected faster, striking the board hard enough to lever it a few inches to one side--its other end made another squeaky noise as it ground between the floorboards.

That memory darkened Connor's mood, but didn't discourage him in the least. Again he pushed, this time physically mimicking the motion with his own arm. The two-by-four was shoved free of its admittedly shoddy brace, and clattered to the shack's floor.

Connor didn't realize he was on the verge of hyperventilating, his face flushed as a bead of sweat made its way down his cheek. But it wasn't due to the drain of the magic--he could feel it, like the way an actual athlete feels after fully warming themselves up--but his own excitement had his stomach trying to leap into his throat.

How many times can I cast this!? How hard can I push?! How far? How fast? It was shaped like a hand just like I imagined--can I shape it into something else?!

He spun in place, now facing the wall and still seated. He placed his hand flat against the dark boards, and imagined a second one made of magic. This time the effect wasn't immediate--but slowly, haltingly, Connor's body slid backwards across the floorboards until he was an arm's length away from the shack's wall. He kept pushing, the sweat of real effort joining the bead of excitement on his other cheek, and his body scooted another span, then another. Soon, he had almost pushed himself clear across the shack using only his magic.

About ten feet before it can't reach the wall anymore! He heaved an enormous sigh--he had to stop not-breathing when he did this. Maybe, what, like twice as hard as doing a pushup? As he put a hand on his chest to try and stifle his panting, he noticed the real drain--like he'd just tried to sprint across a football field. But the speed at which I moved my own weight...Maybe I could get more but...The slime's right, this could definitely get painful...

And once again, the bullies flashed into his mind. Pushing them away had never worked, had it? No. They always kept coming. Even trying to hit them with a closed fist--a weak, scrawny, desperate fist, small and useless just like the loser it was attached to--!

Connor clenched his fist, and his other hand covered it as if he'd somehow injured himself. He sniffed as he screwed his eyes shut, trying to focus on what he could feel. The magic now running through his veins.

This isn't enough. He took a forcibly slow, deep breath. Applied force. Work. How do I get more work out of something? Ninth grade physical science class. He needed to start simple. Pulleys? Too complex. Levers? Was he meant to magically recreate the fulcrum, or the arm? No. Simpler. Inclined plane? No, it'd still be just a push...A wedge?

The example of a wedge, in his mind, was an axe being swung into a log. His heart leaped with realization. Humankind's first use of technology--no, of weaponry! First it was just their fists, then blunt clubs! Then clubs with wedges in them, and then...

Blades!

He calmed himself, and now with his back against the opposite wall, he extended his hand once more. He did not release the magic, but merely formed its shape in his mind. With his imagination he crafted a 3D environment, similar to something a computer modeler would use for animation and rigging.

I can rotate an apple in my head. Proof that I'm not an NPC. he thought, sardonically.

He formed the same hand he had been using to push with. It was actually a little clearer now than it was when he cast it for real, but not by much. By practicing more, he was sure he could shape it up--but he needed something useful, and he needed it quickly. Every moment they spent in this new world without a means to defend themselves was another moment of living in fear. And Connor had lived like that long enough, thank you very effing much.

The hand's "model" was pinched and pulled by Connor's mind. First it lost detail, becoming a simple polygonal block instead of some imitation of an articulated human hand. Then he thinned one edge of that block, rotating it to be sure he had what he wanted--an edge, yes. Like an axe head. But if he wanted a blade, it needed to be...

Thinner. More taper. Not just thin at the edge, but less...long? Width from another angle? He didn't know what the flat back of the axe was called, but he shrank that. As far as vertical length, he stretched that out a little more. What else?

Foru-ded wan sou-zand timu! Superior nihon steeru!

A slight curve. He wasn't sure how to reflect the next idea in his "3D Mindspace" but he tried to "concentrate" the mass, make it denser, harder. Like it was being compressed. He imagined dragging the blade down an actual whetstone, though he'd never done anything like that either.

Then it stood out in his mind, alone among a black void. He opened his eyes. Almost on instinct, he changed the position of his hand. Instead of extending his palm, he folded all of his fingers but the index and middle. And as he took aim at the far wall, and summoned up his magic, he swept those two fingers in a short arc.

"Cut!" he ordered the power.



He felt more resistance this time and clenched his teeth as the power released. In his mind he imagined swinging a machete as hard as he could. There was a crack and snap, a blue arc flying through the air--!

And now, a single board in the dilapidated wall bore a mark. Like someone had taken a pocketknife, and tried to carve a straight, diagonal line into it. At least six inches long, not quite an inch deep. These boards were dry, bug-eaten wood...but still harder than flesh, and thicker than skin. If Connor could land that on an attacker's wrist, or neck, or across the eyes...

Again, he smiled like the villain of some cheap slasher horror-flick.

Then he gasped and fell to one knee, one hand over his face. As he blinked and slowly took his hand away, looking at it and growing pale, he sent the Slime an update.

Contact: "Slime"
Gud news: Magic work. Can Jedi push stuff and shoot swords. Bad: Nose bleed, head hurts. If I hav aneurysm plz w8 48 hrs b4 eating me. Thx.

The young man laid back on the floor and panted, chest rising faster and then slower. His nosebleed soon stopped as he pinched the bridge, and he realized after a few minutes the headache wasn't actually terribly debilitating--he was just, in all honesty, a big wuss. No, this was definitely just from getting too excited. He probably couldn't cast that cutting spell more than a handful of times, at least not in a row, but he didn't think he'd damaged himself permanently.

He'd rest, and then...well, then he had to decide how to face the outside world. It made a bubble of laughter rise from his throat. New world, same problems.

CONNOR'S DISCOVERIES

• "Caliboard, the Holy 2x4."
• Learned "Push!"
• Learned "Cut!"

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

---

??? — Dilapidated Shack

《 Level 1 Slime Feeder 》
@ERode@TheMushroomLord@PKMNB0Y

---

As the floorboard came free with a woody shriek, the crawlspace beneath the shack was exposed to what limited daylight illuminated the interior. A crowd of roaches started to scatter--and Conner jabbed his new weapon as fast as he could. The board's flat edge caught two of the critters, crunching them nearly in half. Leaning uncomfortably close to the earth scented hole, he managed to wedge the weapon up against a corner to trap another handful of scuttling adversaries. They almost got away from him, but with the speed and coordination of a gaming addict, Connor managed a second blow, then a third, to bring down the insectoid horrors!

Not nearly as dramatic as the opening battles of most isekai. Hell, even by casual JRPG standards that was barely worth calling a tutorial. But no new notifications appeared, and when he opened his status window again he couldn't see any kind of bar graph or rising numbers.

Okay, so there's a few options. First, EXP might not be visible at all regardless of what tasks award it. Second, the bugs might not be considered "valid" targets--maybe only creatures roughly "on par" with me, level wise or something, award EXP. Or possibly, only "hostile" targets award it--maybe whatever deity dropped us here doesn't want to incentivize wanton slaughter. The jury was still out on whether or not some intelligent higher power HAD plucked them away from their deaths and deposited them. But considering the way these things usually went, and that "hole" in his memory... Third, killing or fighting may not award EXP in this particular setup. It's rare, but there are some games where practicing your skills or completing roleplaying challenges are more important than being able to kill every enemy you come across. Fourth...

He'd have to think some more about it, or get more data. Probably both. The slime was already relating their own experience with trying to use magic, so he couldn't spend too much time lingering or they might level up before him.

For now he dropped the bugs onto the Slime's membranous surface, one at a time, and watched the result.

Contacts: "Slime"
Don't take this the wrong way, but watching you do this is actually pretty neat. Reminds me of a vid I saw once about how white blood cells attack foreign bacteria and such.

He watched each cockroach be broken down, then noticed some of them were disappearing more slowly than others. The slime's surface occasionally wobbled. No more new messages came through for the moment, as they were clearly focused on whatever internal processes were going on. But, as cool as this was...

I feel like, even if we don't remember...no one would've chosen that form for themselves. If something or someone had summoned them into this new world, then the only two reasons Connor could think of as to why his companions were non-human were that it had either given them a choice--a "character creation,"--or it had simply slotted them into new bodies for its own purposes. Perhaps mere amusement.

So he, for some reason, was entirely the same, but some other prick got to be the tall bishie elf? Granted, Connor kind of hated most elves aside from the "classic" ones--and that was because most of the ones he hated just ripped off the tropes without ever innovating. But then there was this poor soul. No eyeballs, no mouth, not even a functioning spine. Connor leaned one elbow on his knee, and let his chin rest in his hand as he sighed.

"_{Just like Earth, I guess--some people get handed everything they want, and other people get shit on their whole lives.}" He muttered under his breath.

Then the last bug's body disappeared before its head. And its head disappeared very slowly. And...Connor felt like he'd need a microscope to be sure, but it sure seemed like something was happening inside that gelatinous mass.

Ding

His eyes scanned the Slime's message, and a smile slowly started to pull at his lips. Then he pumped his fist.

"Hell yeah!" He shouted, though not quite as loudly as when he'd awakened the other two. Then he looked around sheepishly, as if expecting every fantasy equivalent to a meth-head to come spilling through the windows after them. But, so far, it seemed no one besides the catgirl had bothered to even check in on them...

Contacts: "Slime"
Nice! And, if you were able to digest the dirt, you could potentially dig tunnels to hide or get around unseen if need be. If something bad happens, the bug-hole I dug is...uh...to your left?

If you wanna rest, I'm gonna practice my own magic. Once I feel like I could conceivably defend myself I'll try to find us some water and a way to filter it. Bound to be a well around here but I'm sure it's filthy.

Before settling down to another task that could potentially become very distracting, however, Connor took another look out the window--only to find that the elf guy had walked some distance away with the catgirl.

That knife eared sonnuvabitch! He better not be ditching us! the younger man seethed, clenching one fist under the windowsill. Turning away with new fuel in the form of spite and distrust, Connor blew air through his nose while angrily reading over his Status screen again. Keeping what the slime had said about their own abilities in mind, he extended one hand and tried to think about how best to test this idea...

Conversion of magical power into applied forces, huh...?

CONNOR'S INVENTORY

• "Caliboard, the Holy 2x4."

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

---

??? — Dilapidated Shack

《 Level 1 Bug Hunter 》
@ERode@TheMushroomLord@PKMNB0Y

---

"...some sort of community safety patrol?"

"Safety patrol...You could call it that, I guess--"

That bastard, if he asks her who she is she's gonna wanna know who WE are! It's a reciprocal type of-- Connor tried to calm himself and focus on what he was doing. Nobody seemed to be trying to sneak up on them at them at the moment, so maybe the catgirl was indeed alone. Nonetheless, having a weapon on hand seemed like a good idea. Why's this so hard when the building's falling apart?! Of course, with my luck, I got the ONE structurally soundly nailed plank--!

"--Does pay well enough when I'm too tired to go hunting monsters or something, even if being in this place makes me wish I didn't have a nose."

Connor looked up at hearing that--and found the catgirl staring right at him. He froze in place, awkwardly contorting his face. The exchange of gazes lingered for a moment longer than he was comfortable with--and of course, the damn nail chose that moment to come free all on its own. The young man fell backwards, hitting his ass with a thump as he clung to his newfound armament.

"...Right. Well, we've all got our own circumstances, I guess--"

As Connor hissed in pain, slowly rolling until he could climb back to one knee, he used his board as a crutch until he could focus properly.

Contact: "Elf man"
DO NOT ENGAGE! She's either Adventurer or Town Guard! 3 Lv1s prolly can't scratch her!

But, this was good! She was going to leave them alone! Once they had a few more things in order, she might even prove to be friendly. He'd been wrong about her reciprocating the elf's request for an introduction--No, not wrong. She just clearly knows she could kill us, so she's not worried. Wonder if she's got some kind of Scan or Appraisal ability?

Just then, another notification appeared in his vision. He had dismissed his Status window, so he jumped a bit with fright. The Slime was answering him...

And they had a lot to say, actually. Good, at least one other member of his party seemed of above average intelligence. As Connor mulled over the slime's responses, he looked for the most cobweb covered, bug-eaten corner of the shack. Upon finding it, he wedged one end of his weathered plank under the loosest floorboard he could find and started trying to lever it upward too--being VERY careful of the rusty nail sticking out of his makeshift lever.

Contact: "Slime"
Ye, typically "universal translation" is default thing, in most stories I've seen. Having it work w/o proper parts like u is new, but ya kno, gift horse, mouth, etc.

In a hut. Old, rotted. Whole place looks like shantytown. That's the plan so far--tryin to gather info myself.

I'll know if mine's useful if I can figure out how to activate it. It's a type of magic, too. Elf guy hasn't said anything about his. Biomancy? Healer's a good guess, but maybe more. In some stories Slimes can shapeshift, copy abilities from things they absorb, etc. If I uh... kill like, a bug, do you... wanna eat it and see what happens?

Regardless of whether the Slime wanted to eat a bug, Connor intended to try squashing something small first--an ant, a termite, a spider, whatever he figured he might reasonably find under the floorboards or in a pile of refuse--and see if it gave him any EXP. Even if it was only a single point, or even a decimal, whether or not killing other creatures was a path to power in this world would tell him more about how this "system" they had worked.

Find a piece of information. Extrapolate on it. Experiment, find a new piece of information or clarify what was already known. That was Connor's secondary goal right now, but it was immediately conducive to the first goal: Survive.

They had shelter, which meant they had a little leeway before they needed water. Once they found that, though, they would need fire immediately afterword--especially if this was really a medieval slum row. Last was food, although if the slime could eat what would normally be considered "garbage" this bug hunt might kill two birds with one 2x4...

CONNOR'S INVENTORY

• Acquired "Caliboard, the Holy 2x4." Item Description: A dilapidated plank roughly 2-and-a-half feet long, pried from a shack's windowsill. 1 Rusty Nail embedded in the end.

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

---

??? — Dilapidated Shack

《 Level 1 Madlad 》
@ERode@TheMushroomLord@PKMNB0Y

---

“Ad̵d… con̴t̸act… ̸a̶dd… D̸ow̸n̵, U̷p̶… ad̸d…”

Connor glanced back at the slime as it spoke up once more. All it had done so far after he'd set it down was open its Status--although weirdly, Connor noted he couldn't see the image even though he'd heard the slime slap out the words. The elf, however, had been able to see Connor's own--was it because he'd presented it, directly? If they were all otherworlders, and recognized as such, then what if that "contacts" tab in the window...

Is that like some kind of Telepathy? Or would it literally work like a phone call...or a text message? Did it only work between otherworlders or could they add anyone they wanted?

Also, of slightly less relevance to the current predicament, the elf claimed he had died before the election was over. Either he was dodging the question entirely--was the term "president" something a medieval world would be familiar with?--or they had died, and been reincarnated, at different points in their own native timelines. Which opened up another barrel of worms if it was possible to go back to their original worlds, especially if they would be redeposited at their original time of death in some fashion to secure a new lease on life. That meant, if the elf went back to an earlier point than he did or vice versa, and they had learned something from each other they couldn't have known otherwise...

Connor hated time travel stories. He was going to assume that, if there were multiple otherworlders in one place, there had probably been more than one otherworlder in this particular world before the three of them. And if that was the case, he was going to assume that if the multiverse hadn't paradoxx'd itself before now, it wasn't going to do so. And if it did, well...

The total cessation of all existence would at least bring some peace and quiet.

“So we need to leave after all. And trust that the ‘NPCs’ aren’t hostile when we ask things of them. Ok.” A shallow nod, then a turn towards slime that was once-more bound to the ground. “And ‘add contact slime, C’.”

"N-no, w-wait, I meant--" But the elf was already stepping through the door! Dammit, he couldn't at least wait until nightfall?! Connor started to follow, but then looked back at the slime. Then he looked back at the swishing, raggedy curtain.

"...Um...Contacts...add Slime and...elf man?"

In the inner place where he usually heard his ears ring, he heard two bloops like a notification on an app. Once more, he glanced at the doorway--and now he heard another voice. Softer, feminine. He moved back, kneeling down next to the tarp and the slime, and kept his eyes on the window while his fingers adjusted the Status Window's position in the corner of his vision.

That's--that's a catgirl! And she's wearing a two handed sword with a blade that's too wide, on her back instead of at her waist! Connor felt his heart beating faster again. However, his brain could work even faster than that--as a wannabe writer, he was quite proud of both his typing and reading speeds, and he'd gotten to a point where he often watched videos on 2x speed so he could cram more dopamine into his doomscrolling.

Contact: "Slime"
Guy who picked u up stepped out. Don't worry, won't leave u alone.
Vision, smell, sound, taste, feel, uh...kinesthetics? Y/N to any?

She acts like this is a bad part of town--which is obvious--but she's not wearing what I'd call a "conservative" outfit or armor. With a build like hers there's no way she could use that sword realistically--so either upping STR doesn't affect your musculature, or physics just play out different here. It wasn't clear if she was genuinely just warning the elf man, or making some kind of veiled threat. Connor quickly looked all around the shack again, just in case some bandit backup might be climbing through another window somewhere while the neko kept the most combat-capable-looking person in their party occupied.

Contact: "Elf man"
Ask smth like "what kind of enemies," keep her talkin. Don't tell her any of what I told you, or anythin bout us, plz

He went ahead and started to slowly, quietly prize that board out of the wall.

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

---

??? — Dilapidated Shack

《 Level 1 Introvert 》
@ERode@TheMushroomLord@PKMNB0Y

---

The Slime looked...droopy? Some parts of it almost sloughed off before it seemed to barely be able to reel them back into its central mass. The elf had asked it if it was human--had been human.

Right, monster reincarnation was a thing too...and, oh God, I hope this is a Dragon Quest ripoff world and not one of those Cultivate-For-Thirty-Millenia worlds... But why was he the only human out of the bunch? And he was still wearing his clothes he'd been in on the flight, whereas this other guy had a whole new wardrobe set and the slime had...

Nothing. Not even eyes or antennae or anything. For a moment Connor's overactive imagination, completely overdosed on all the tropes he mindlessly consumed instead of working on anything productive, managed to activate his dulled sense of empathy. To imagine what it would be like, trapped inside such a body. No limbs, no senses. That creature couldn't even...hold itself together.

When it answered the elf's question, its distorted, wobbling voice was slow, and quiet, and, maybe only in Connor's imagination, afraid.

"W-wait," he said, his own fear and survival instincts trumping any mote of kindness, "M-maybe it's lying!" Maybe the elf is too. Some isekai burn otherworlders like witches, after all... Not too far from him, a board that must've once sealed one of the windows now hung from a single rusty nail. He could probably swing it with both hands if he tried really hard--

The six-and-a-half-plus foot elf, with inhuman grace, covered the distance between them in uncanny steps. The slime was plopped into his chest before he had a chance to refuse. And...

“If you want to die, tell him. He'll do it for 'EXP'.”

Connor looked up at the elf, and down at the slime. Physical contact was not something he was familiar with even among his own kind. It was not any more comfortable holding a...a monster. A monster that used to be his own kind.

The slime was still drooping. Connor bent his knees and carefully deposited it on top of the tarp it had been under before, so that none of its goopy bits would slip away between the floorboards if it couldn't keep them attached. Maybe being able to sit on a solid surface for a bit would...help it?

“You seem to know about this situation. Let’s head out and talk about it. What's your name?”

"W-wait!" He shrank back again, in the process falling onto his butt--though a sidelong glance told him he was still within lunging distance of that dangling board. "U-um, I, I think we should stay here, at least while we, um, get our bearings!" He looked around the shack again, not because he expected to see anything different, but because he didn't want to look the elf in the eyes. He gulped down a breath to try and calm himself but his speech still came out fast and nervous.

"S-survival 101 is shuh-shelter, water, f-fire, th-then f-food!" Or at least, that's what the bushcraft content creators always said. And he doubted they could punch trees to obtain building materials like in his early-access, never-finished, copycat survival crafting games. He pointed outside, where the occasional shadow of movement and the sounds of muted voices could still be perceived. "W-we don't know if NPCs are hostile, either. So, um..." Slowly he got back up, dusting off his knees and glancing at the slime with concern.

"Slime, if, uh...if you can hear me...It's hard to talk to you--for you, right now. If something you, uh, wanna weigh in on comes up...make...a, um, a loud hiss or...fart noise...or something." Then, he finally managed to make eye contact; at least with the elf's pale, smooth forehead.

"Just...call me C, for now." Never give your name to a fae. "I w-was on a plane. My world was called Earth." Some isekai aren't always Modern Earth to Fantasy. Maybe that's why these people aren't Human--the elf might've come from some Crystal Spires and Togas world... "I-if you came from the same world...then, uh...who's the current President of the United States of America?" Just about anyone from a "first world" country would probably know that, given how his nation had an unfortunate penchant over the last...what, hundred years?...of butting their heads into everything everywhere.

When the elf--and maybe the slime--had answered that, Connor nodded...and, despite recoiling at the idea of being grabbed, held out a trembling hand for the other humanoid to shake.

"As f-far as we can tell...we're somewhere that isn't home. I found this, earlier: Status!" He opened the glowing screen again, and using his hand, moved it as if it were a tab on a touch-device. To the elf, "Can you see this? Or open your own?" After receiving the answer he continued,

"From what I can read on mine, "Magic" and "Stats" appear to be...a thing. Considering that two of us are non-humans, I'm gonna assume Monsters--Demons, goblins, dragons, whatever--are also a thing." He jerked his head towards the windows. "And given what I can see outside, I'm assuming this world is gonna be like something out of an LotR fanfiction." He took a high pitched breath and continued, "Usually in this genre, um, those who are transported will have some kind of ability the rest of the world doesn't--and, um, sometimes they've been transported for a reason. L-like, a Ch-chosen Hero k-kind of situation." He started to redden in the face again, because he could just tell the elf probably wasn't a big dumb nerd like him. "We're not standing in front of a King or a Princess or anything, though, so I'm assuming if there's a reason for us b-being here, it's only known by...who, or whatever, put us here."

Lots of times it's a goddess of some sort. But surely they wouldn't just send us in blind? Unless their involvement had to be kept secret? Again he tried to access that...hole...in his memory, and again his head started to hurt. Was he babbling too much? Was the elf going to get angry at him? Or bored enough to abandon him? Was the slime even taking any of this in?

"S-so, um...I th-think it'd be best for us to keep a l-low profile!" He held up a finger, then raised another. "Step two, see if we can find a map, or some roadsigns, or a big building called an Adventurer's Guild, or maybe a, uh, an inn. And step three, um..." He blinked rapidly as he tried to think past the intro chapters of the latest trashy light novel he'd read. "Ask about rumors or news from around the area, maybe? Get an idea of what's going on in this world--like, is the Demon King waging war or something."

Still pink in the face, knees shaking, Connor once again looked between his two erstwhile companions.

"U-um...do-does...does that w-work for y'all?" Shit! Accent slipped!

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

---

??? — Dilapidated Shack

《 Level 1 Loser 》
@ERode@TheMushroomLord@PKMNB0Y

---

After his outburst, Connor clapped a hand over his mouth and shrank down like a child afraid to be beaten. Face flushed, though unclear whether out of excitement or embarrassment, he turned around towards where the other two figures were stirring.

The one under the tarp had...shrunk? No, it was like one part of the tarp had swollen...like a big ravioli, or a gross boil on some prepubescent kid's face. And then the lump moved, but there were no arms or legs to accompany it. But as it peeked out from under the edge of its cover, a slender hand reached down to pick it up, palming it like a basketball with long, delicate fingers--

Neither of those are human! Connor glanced towards the glowing screen still floating in the corner of his eye.

Name: Connor Goodwin [+]
Level: 1
Stats: STR [1] | DEX [2] | MAG [3] | DEF [1] | RES [2] | AGI [2] | LCK [1]
Skills: Kinetic Magic [+]

Contacts: 0 [+]
Quest Log: Current - N/A [+]

STATUS

With a trembling finger he poked the "expansion" tabs of the windows. Indeed, his own Race was Human, and his age was still correct. But as the elf spoke to the blob, Connor observed the ears and other features that made it obvious that it--or he, presumably, from the voice at least--was indeed an elf. And so the blob...

"C-careful!" he blurted out before he could stop himself. "It, it m-might just be a m-monster!" Slimes were always some of the first enemies in a JRPG, right? What if it attacked them? Connor quickly looked around the dilapidated shack for any spar of wood that might serve as an impromptu weapon. He had something called "Kinetic Magic," as well, but other than what it implied by the description--a conversion of magic power to applied forces--he had no idea how it worked. Did he have to chant or move his hands?

"If, if it attacks...maybe killing it will get us some EXP?" Despite his shivering limbs, something like a hint of giddy anticipation crept into the boy's voice...

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

---

??? — Dilapidated Shack

《 Level 1 Edgelord 》
@ERode@TheMushroomLord@PKMNB0Y

---

Connor opened his eyes like someone coming off a sedative after months of insomnia. He took a deep breath, stretched, and made some lip-smacking noises that for some reason everyone associates with deep sleep in visual media. He rolled over, wincing as something splintery jabbed his side, and reached for a blanket that wasn't there. Upon realizing said lack of comfort item, he started to sit up--and the floorboard under his hand see-sawed indignantly at being touched without consent, thunking him lightly in the back of the skull.

"Ow, you motherf--" Connor recoiled, sat up straight, and finally came out of his stupor. He froze like a gazelle that knows a lion waits behind it.

This was not a plane. Not good. Neither was it a line in front of a pearly gate on a bed of clouds. Not bad? He could not remember how he'd gotten here. Not good. He was not alone. Possibly worse. His eyes darted around the dilapidated shack, his mind already conjuring shadow demons in the unnerving silence.

Wooden building--looks like crap. Light coming through...uh, everything? Daylight? What time was it when we crashed? He tried to think back--and his head started to hurt. There was...a hole...in his memory?

Slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, Connor picked himself up. He ducked his head under a support beam that now dangled down from the ruined building's roof in a way OSHA would certainly never approve of, and looked at the two dark lumps nearby. One of them had a blanket, he thought derisively as he looked at the shape he couldn't quite make out. Although it was one of those rubbery tarp things by the look of it...and it almost looked...wet? Or slimy?

He wasn't going to get close enough to try and look at them in detail, because he was afraid one of them might have those near-death-experience reflexes and grab him by the throat in a jump-scare scene. Instead, he turned to the shack's windows--although he probably could've used one of the rotted holes in the wall just as easily.

We must've been rescued? How far into the flight were we? If we went down in the ocean...maybe we washed up somewhere in the Phillipines, or...

Outside there were more ramshackle buildings, a true shanty town right out of those third world countries he'd never been to. The streets were cobblestone, chipped or cracked in places, and covered in filth--some of it clearly originating from a human or animal's body. But beyond that, as he leaned his head further to see from different angles, it seemed like this place was at least partially walled in? Huge stones bound by mortar rose up higher than any of the crumbling rooftops, and at the top...

"Machicolations?" Connor quietly breathed, in the pseudo-excited accent of a youtuber he liked to watch sometimes. Then he saw the people passing by. They were not Filipino, nor Japanese, nor Chinese. And their clothes looked like something out of a Ren Faire--except, the ones who took historical accuracy really seriously. Like, seriously enough to smear some of that previously mentioned biological filth over themselves.

"Officer Toto, Status Report." he again whispered to himself, this time in a Patrick Stewart impression. Then he changed voices to what he imagined a cairn terrier would sound like. "Not in Kansas anymore, sir!"

However, he flubbed his own imagined joke halfway through. Because when he said "status," something interesting had happened.

"Oh?" His eyes widened. He started to read. "Oh. Oooooooh..." His heart began to beat faster, and louder, as his hands began to shake.

Then he threw his fists into the air and shouted, more than loud enough to wake the other two.

"THE ISEKAI! THE ISEKAI IS REEEEEEEEEAAAAL!" The meme's music didn't kick in, but he could hear it in his head.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

I was really trying not to make a mage again after the last RP, but you can't throw out something like "do you want to learn magic?" and not expect a person to jump at it.

@King Cosmos

Keep in mind, she's a Shaman, not an academic. "Spell-type" Skills definitely count for what would be considered "magic," by most, but Monsters and Demons can't always "learn" Skills the way the Enlightened Races can by actually, well, learning.

Also you could always just use Healing magic the wrong way and stay a punchy-kicker, lol.