The not-immortal Blacksmith

Isekai Isekai’d.

Chapter 1

I looked at the bright light. It hurt my eyes. My eyes that weren’t there, I discovered when I went to cover them with hands that my hands also didn’t exist. Okay, I guess that accident where I flipped my jeep in the ditch after hitting the black ice on the road was fatal? I thought as I “looked” around. I’m dead. Now what?

The obnoxiously bright light dimmed, and took the shape of a “man”, then it spoke, “I’m sorry about what happened to you back there. One of the agents made a mistake.”

I turned my complete attention to the man, “A mistake that cost me my life.” I replied, voice hard.

“Yes, yes. These things happen.” The man replied. “Now, according to protocols, I can offer you two options. The first is to put you on your path to whichever afterlife you deserve; Or to place you on a new world in perfect health, with three powers of your choosing.”

The man’s words caught my full attention and I began to think. Where I deserve to go…Don’t want that one, I haven’t exactly led my best life… My mind wandered to some of the things I had done as a youth and as a young man.

“I’ll take the second option!” I nearly shouted. “I mean, I would like to go to a new world.”

“Very well. What powers would you like?” The man asked, as he stretched and yawned.

“I need some information, real quick, before I make my choices.” I replied, thinking I have too many questions to ask! Magic? Tech Level? Cultures? Slavery?

The man sighed, “Make it quick, I have dimensions to run, and your…powers that be don’t like me being here. Tick tock.”

“Okay. Is magic a thing? How powerful is it?” I asked before rambling on, “What level of technology is there? What are the cultures like? Is slavery a thing?”

The man rolled his eyes, “Yes; Mid to high; Renaissance levels with occasional extra bits; Too many to list; Occasionally.”

“Thanks… I want to be able to speak and understand any language I run across.” I said, and the man nodded. “Second, I want perfect recollection of anything my six senses have ever encountered in the past and going forward.” I continued, and the man nodded again tapping his foot on the “ground”.

I took a deep breath, “And I want to be able to Isekai anything I can think of into existence…up to say ten tons in weight.”

The man stopped tapping his foot for a moment. “Five tons. Not alive. And no more than three times a day.”

I smiled, “Done.”

The man let out a long sigh, “Good. Now get going.” He waved his hand, and I found myself plummeting towards a blue and green world, currently being illuminated by a bright yellow sun and circled by two moons, one moon was green and the other gray.

-

“I thought humans here only had five senses…” the man mumbled to himself. “Oh well… Wait, Isekai? That the F- “

-

When I awoke once more, I was lying face down on something hard, kind of like concrete, but lumpier, and perhaps a bit softer. I lifted my head and took in my surroundings. Dirt, trees, rocks, cliff face going up to my left. I mentally noted. I stood up, and staggered a bit.

“Ouch!” I exclaimed as I stepped on a sharp rock with a bare foot. “…I’m naked?!? That [grumble] hole didn’t even give me clothes!” Looking to the sky, I shake my fist. “I’ll make you walk this naked one day, [grunt] hole!” I got no response.

“Okay, so I’m naked and alone.” I spoke to the empty air. “I need food, water, and shelter…”

I closed my eyes and concentrated hard, bringing to mind a pair of full five-gallon water jugs that my family had used camping when I was a kid. “Isekai!” I shouted, and opened my eyes. On the forest floor Infront of me sat the jugs, just as I had pictured them. “Sweet! It worked!” Then I felt woozy, as though a bunch of energy had left my body. “Well poop.”

“…that teaching gig has killed my swearing vocabulary…Crap.” Again, I spoke out loud. “And I’m talking to myself too! Oh well, It’ll be some of the best conversations I will ever have.” I shake my head to clear it, and look more closely at my surroundings. The trees nearest me are deciduous, have dark green leaves in an arrowhead shape, and the trunks brownish with rough bark. Some of the trees more distant, have a more smooth and silvery bark, and lighter colored leaves.

The dirt under my bare feet is dark brown to black, with a bit of light green grass here and there. Being at the bottom of the cliff, there are a large number of rocks ranging from pebbles to full size boulders that my six-foot frame can’t see over.

“Alright, sticks and rocks. Grass and trees. Undergrowth.” I say. “I can deal with this.” My stomach growls. I need food. Now. I close my eyes and bring forth from memory a twenty-four-pack case of MREs. “Isekai.” I say, then open my eyes. To my delight, a case of MREs is sitting next to the water jugs.

Walking to then, I bend over- Wait a minute…I don’t hurt when I bend over! The thought screams through my mind. I kneel down in front of the MREs, rejoicing at the lack of joint pain, then curse under my breath after reading the packaging: Chili-Mac. “Darn it all to heck! I should have isekai’d fresh C-Rations instead of Meals Rejected by Everyone.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Now I need…camping equipment, survival equipment, transport…” My mouth shut off, as the whole situation crashed down on me. “I’m in the middle of nowhere, with no pain in my body, my dentures are gone because I have teeth again, and I’m in perfect health!”

Then my brain spun again. “I’m in the middle of nowhere. I have no survival gear. I have limited resources. I have no support structure. I know almost nothing about this world. My lack of pre-planning has wasted my second Isekai on something that I hate. I need to think on my last one for the day.”

I sat my naked butt on the ground, swiped a patch of dirt clean, and with a stick, began writing things down.

Water.

Food.

Shelter.

I began to think, Camping gear is a good thing to have. It would include things like a tent, sleeping bag, backpack, clothing, cook wear, ditty bag of personal care items. I began to write it down, but ran out of room at the second item.

“To heck with this.” I said, continuing my trend of “thinking” out loud. I brought up the memory of my last camping trip into the mountains to hunt elk twenty years ago, last fall. I focused in on the pack I was carrying, with the backpacker’s tent, and mountaineers sleeping bag. The pile of warm clothing inside. The cook kit, and portable stove. “Isekai!” I all but yelled again. I opened my eyes, and saw a big red X in front of my face. It then faded away. “Well Poop.”

I stared at the empty spot in front of me, and gritted my teeth. “Okay. Fine. I want a tent. I want a sleeping bag. I want an air mattress, with one of those fill bags that act like a mini bellows.” I picture the items together like a RainForestTM advertisement. Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I concentrate on the picture as hard as I can, and say “Isekai.”

When I open my eyes a few moments later, my vision is fuzzy, but as it clears, I see what I had just pictured. Just in boxes. From MartMartTM. I looked to the sky, again, “Really? MartMartTM™? I think I hate you.”

A half an hour, several sharp rocks and pointed sticks later, I had a tent set up with a summer weight sleeping bag. The air mattress had popped. “Stupid MartMart™ poop. I guess that’s what you get when you make your wish too generic. Or too wide reaching.” A green circle appeared in my prereferral vision. “Wow. Something helpful happened.” The circle disappeared in wat I can only think of as a huff.

For the next hour I cleaned up my immediate surroundings, made a fire ring, and attempted to light a fire by making sparks with different rocks. “Come on! QuarryJob™ makes this easy!” I took a deep breath. “Okay, that survival guy used friction to make heat to light his fire. Come on Sam, you can do this.”

I used a sharp rock, and a largeish piece of wood to split a chunk of dry broken wood. Then I used a smaller sharp rock to whittle a point onto another, but smaller, piece of dry wood. Finally, I used a rock to make a hole in the first piece to put the pointy wood in. Then I used the flat of my hands in a rubbing motion to spin the pointy piece of wood in the hole. Fifteen grueling minutes later, I had an ember. Which I immediately over fed and killed. “I need a fire-starting kit. And a survival kit… even if it is a MartMart™ kit.”

The second time it only took ten minutes to make the fire.

“I’m glad that’s over with.” I spoke to the nearest tree, a tree I had named “John”.

“John, what do you think of Chili-Mac for dinner?” I asked. “I’m not a real fan, but I need to eat, and hunger is the best sauce.”

John did not reply, nor give any indication that “he” had heard me. I sighed internally. “Apparently trees here can’t speak.” I said aloud as I started to open the case of MREs. “I really hate Chili-Mac.”

Lots of real cussing, a couple of bruised knuckles, and a burn later, I was eating a Chili-mac MRE. “I blame the hunger for this tasting good.” I grumbled, eating the food as quickly as I could, then placing the empty container into the fire.

I retired for the day. The sleeping bag felt good, even if the air mattress had popped. I slept well for the first time in years.

-

In a cemetery on a hill that overlooked a placid river, a fresh gravestone was surrounded by students young and old.

Samuel Smith.

53 years old.

Beloved Teacher.

Chapter 2

I awoke with a start in the tent. Something was rustling outside, not far from the tent; I was thankful as it dragged me out of a nightmare. I opened the flap after struggling with the zipper, only to see some sort of rodents fleeing from the now torn open box of MREs. “Poop! I forgot to put those away in the tent!” I yelled to the world.

I scrambled outside, and immediately noticed two things. The first was that the wind this morning was cold on my bare flesh. The second was that nature was calling, number one and number two. I waddled to the thicket I had used last night, and relieved myself.

On the way back to camp, I heard another noise, a loud one. Something big was heading through the thicket I had just vacated! I ran towards camp, but the noise got louder. Along with the sound of movement, I could also hear the noise of jaws clacking together. I hope that isn’t some sort of undead clacking its jaws! I thought as I ran.

There was suddenly quiet behind me, and a whistling sound in the air. Then a monstrous six-legged purplish spider thing landed before me. It had the normal fused head and thorax of a spider, but ten eyes, and no pedipalps. It was also several shades of purple, not a “Purplish” color. From what I could see of its opisthosoma, there were no spinnerets; no wonder it traveled on the ground. It’s six legs were covered with finger length barbs that oozed an off-putting green liquid, and ended in barbed claws. Definably not a jumping spider.

On instinct I reached out my hand thinking of a huge shotgun, and screamed “Isekai!” What appeared in my hand was heavy, and as I brought it to my shoulder, I pulled the trigger. Twice. The first shot hit the ground in front of the thing, and made my arm go numb. The second caught is square in the face (if you could call such a thing a face), and I dropped the shotgun.

I looked at the creature in horror, expecting it to keep charging, but it had fallen in its tracks, very dead. The shotgun round had obliterated its face, and upon inspection seemed to have penetrated all the way into the opisthosoma, destroying its book lung. Then I collapsed.

Several minutes later, after the adrenalin faded and I had caught my breath, I became aware of the pain in my right shoulder. I crawled to the nearest tree, grabbed a branch with my right hand, and pulled. There was a loud “pop” and my shoulder was back in place. Then I screamed.

Several more minutes later I returned to where I had dropped the shotgun. It was huge. It weighed in around twenty pounds…or nine kilos as I would tell my students. The barrel was a side by side (SXS in gun terms) with a length of around twenty-eight inches…71cm… Why am I converting things for children who aren’t here? Habit, I assume. I thought as I read the information stamped into the barrels and receiver.

“OGRE Arms Inc.; 2” (5cm) to 4” (10cm) Magnum; Proof Tested; 12 gauge.” I read aloud. “Who the heck makes a four-inch Magnum round for a shotgun?” I looked around, then broke open the action and a pair of pale-yellow shells flew out of the gun. Stooping over I retrieved the shells. Shure enough, four inches, and labeled “00000”.

“Quintuple ought buck shot?!?” I spoke in a hushed voice. “Who in the heck…” Then it came to me, OGRE Arms Inc. …I bet that’s NOT a human company. Then I continued the thought. First, this must be a hunting gun for young adult Ogre sized people. Second, I can isekai technology. Third, I need to focus more clearly on what I want in order to get exactly what I want. And fourth, I need more ammunition. I saw a small green circle in the corner of my vision.

Heading back to camp, I noticed that the spider thing was slowly dissolving from the wounds outward. The thing was obviously not edible. I passed it by.

Upon arriving back in camp, I restarted the fire from last night from the coals. It was much easier than the manual method I had used yesterday…yes, a “Fire Bow”, just without the bow…

I stared at the now crackling fire, and the flashback began.

-

“SMITH! Get The Hummer moving!” Gunner Jeb yelled from up top. I smacked the speed control full forward, and turned the wheel sharply to the left and the electric beast of a vehicle took off. I loved this thing. A combined 200 hp, 50 hp from each electric wheel motor. Battery cell that gave full power for 24 hours; longer if you didn’t run full speed all day. Up armored to stop heavy machinegun fire, and low-end rockets. Dual Ma-dues mounted in a manual turret above the rear axle. NBC sealed and EMP proofed. Carried up to a ton and a half of gear, and/or up to eight service men. Off road shocks, and run-flat tires. And we were getting our asses kicked by insurgents backed by Brazil.

I swerved again as a rocket’s firing flash from the left alerted me to its presence. I jinked twice more before it nosed up, and came down on my roof. “FUCK! Johnson? You still their buddy?” I screamed over the internal speaker. No reply. I took my eyes off the front screen to look back. The sight of a pair of legs oozing blood were all that was left of my gunner of the last 72 hours. “Fuck me.” I cussed under my breath. I turned around and backtracked to firebase six-alpha to reload and get another gunner.

-

I sat up with a gasp, body shaking. I jerkily checked around me, empty shotgun in hand, pointing down the firing lines I had subconsciously noted the day before. Poop. The personality cap seems to have loosened since I arrived here. I’ll need to get that adjusted. I was thinking when it hit me. I can’t get it adjusted. It isn’t there anymore. It’s gone, just like my battle scars, and track lines... POOP! I shook for what felt like hours. POOP!

-

I “cooked” a Chili-Mac MRE, and ate it while listening to the sounds of the forest. The local wildlife seemed to have accepted me, as I now occasionally saw birds fly by, and those rodents come snuffling past. The birds were…birds. Varying colors and beak styles. Most looked similar to chickadees, but more white feathers. The Rodentia were somewhat like red squirrels back home, just smaller and with twin tails. I would like to examine those rodents up close. Maybe record my findings so I could demonstrate it to the Bio class… I was pulled from my thoughts again by the realization that there would be no more classes. No more “Mr. Smith the GOAT!” from the mid and high-grade classes. No more Miss Maggie giving me a covered grin. No more Mrs. Ericson grabbing my ass with her old and bony fingers…Okay that is a plus. I sighed and finished my “food”.

I burned the trash from my meal, threw the remaining MREs into the tent, and sat cross legged (what was historically called “Indian Style” almost a century ago according to the “History of Teaching” book I had been reading back home) on the ground. I closed my eyes and brought forth the memory of my first, 4 box case, of long-range turkey loads. I held both of my hands out in front of me, and whispered “Isekai” into the world. A moment later a familiar weight settled into my hands, and I opened my eyes. In my hands was a full, 100 round case of turkey loads for a 12ga shotgun!

I pulled the Ogre Arms SXS to me, opened the action, and loaded the shells. Perfect fit. Then I remembered why I stopped buying the “Long Range” shells any more…They kicked like a mule. “Poop”.

-

The day has been long, and I’m not looking forward to sleeping tonight. I’m sure there will be more nightmares tonight. I’m cuddled up with my shotgun, and a belly full of Chili-Mac. I hate chili. I hate mac and cheese. I’m starting to hate this life already. Still, I think it’s better than combat.

-

The needle in the arm feels so good. I pull it out and let the euphoria overtake me. I’m flying high. Who needs school, with all the stupid adults who know nothing about the modern world. Stupid kids who don’t know anything either. Kids who tease you about your lack of name brand clothes. The high lasts just long enough to let me fall asleep in my box in the back alley I call home.

Morning comes, and I’m up. Time to make some money, and get my next fix. Some people like my thin body, and will pay for it. The money is good, but the filth isn’t.

The john was good this time, and he wasn’t too rough. The tip he left will more than make up for the cut the pimp takes. I approach the building Geeves works from, and enter from the “service door”. The place is quiet. Too quiet, but my needs make me throw caution to the wind. I bolt up the back stairs, and burst into Geeves’ office.

There is blood everywhere. And bodies. There is a dead Sigma on the floor, but all of Geeves’ guards are down too, most have already bled out. Geeves is on his throne, his head hanging by a thread of muscle and skin. I almost puke; due to the blood and gore, or the withdrawals, I don’t know.

I open his lower left drawer, only to find it empty of his stash and money. I sit on the floor next to the desk, and sleep. I’m awoken by the pigs charging into the room. They always wait until the danger is gone before entering a place. Assholes. They might have been able to save someone if they had showed up earlier. I’m cuffed, not even read my rights, and stuffed into the back of a squad car. I’m sunk.

-

It's been six months. I’m off the drugs. I still want a fix. I’ve testified about what I did for Geeves’ group. His lieutenants have been rounded up. I’ve been given a choice, Military service, or prison. Boys like me don’t do well in prison. I’m in the army now.

I’m still trying to remember why I had a bloody butcher knife in my hand when I woke up, just before the cops came in. I’m glad I rolled it in blood before they saw me.

-

I woke up hard, and rolled out of my sleeping bag, shotgun in hand. I don’t know what did it, the dreams about recovery? Geeves’ head looking at me as I rolled the knife in the blood? I’ll probably never know.

I listen intently to the sounds outside my tent. I hear birds singing, small rodents rustling through the grass, and something smaller than that spider thing rubbing itself against a tree. I unzip the flap, and chance a look.

Four legs ending in hooves. Brown furry body. One slightly curved horn on top of an equine head. The horn is closer to a Rino’s horn than anything else I can think of. It’s tail, which I see as it walks away from me, is short, resembling a black tailed deer. I’m betting the creature is similar in ecological niche to deer from home, just with one horn as opposed to antlers.

Today, I think I’m going to try my biggest Isekai yet. A vehicle.