Unlimited Isekai and Other Unfortunate Magic

Dave awoke to the relentless sun beating down on his face while his back stung from the snow that engulfed it. He groaned as he peeled his eyes open. White flurries fluttered down, tangling up in his eyebrows.

His vision swam as he slowly rotated and staggered to his knees, his head and body pounding with pain.

He discovered himself on a side of a mountain.

Slightly below him, the view revealed a rich, emerald expanse of fields that seemed to stretch on forever, punctuated by the towering blue and white peaks of glacier mountains.

He stood up and took a hesitant step forward, his knees shaking. As he moved, he felt that a lot of things inside him were wrong. It seemed that he couldn't walk straight, only able to take the tiniest steps forward.

He wondered how far the night hunter took him. Tall mountains blocked most of the view behind him, most likely the domain of the Dragon God-Emperor lay beyond their jagged peaks.

"It's certainly pretty," Dave commented at the glacier mountains. "But where am I?" He scanned the horizon, searching for any signs of...anything, really. But all he could see was the endless vista of mountains and wild fields.

Dave hefted his knife and trudged onward down the slope, hissing and groaning, taking in the sights and sounds of this idyllic land.

After about twenty minutes of limping, he reached the bottom of the glacier and the land beneath his bare feet became moss-covered rocks and grass.

He felt a gnawing sense of thirst creeping up within him, awful dryness that parched his tongue. With a groan Dave knelt down, noticing the morning dew glistening on the grass blades. He carefully gathered the droplets, licking them off his fingers and palm. The cool moisture provided some relief, but he knew it wouldn't be enough to sustain him for long especially if he moved with such glacial slowness.

Dave closed his eyes and focused on the presence of Sherlock within him.

"Alright, Sherlock," he thought, "What do I do?"

The violin song moved to dance over his black bracelet.

"Right," Dave nodded. "Stats?"

The blue menu flashed into existence over his wrist.

Name:

Dave Walter

Age:

33

Species & Subtype:

Human

Core Affinity:

Phantomancer

Level:

3

Anima:

86/86 + [29.4735]

Anima Stamina:

3/3 + [19.6094]

Mana:

3/3 + [0.1636]

Mana Regen:

3 m/hr + [0.0182]

Strength:

0 + [29.4735]

Agility:

0

Dexterity:

0

Vitality:

0

Charisma:

0

Magic:

0

Foresight:

0

Intelligence:

0

Wisdom:

0

LV 3 Skills:

Phantom Sight

Phantom Absorption

Postmortem Parleyer

Wraith Wingman: Sherlock

"Huh," Dave said as he read over the text. "So I guess I can move the absorbed souls of the dead into different stats or something?"

The violin sang in confirmation.

Mentally focusing on the [+ 29.4735] he relocated it from Strength to Agility. Suddenly, his entire body filled with unbearable pain and he collapsed onto his knees with a cry as if the Strength that was propping him upright had vanished.

"Shit, shit, shit," Dave heaved, moving [29.4735] back into Strength.

"Okay bad idea," he said. "Maybe I'll just move a bit of it to... Agility?

The violin in his soul agreed.

Focusing, Dave was able to push a single digit into Agility. He felt slightly lighter on his feet, but the pain in his broken body increased by a fraction.

He relocated the [1] from Agility to Dexterity next. The lightness vanished and he felt something in his hands now. He wiggled each of his fingers, squinting at them.

"Guess Dexterity helps with hand control or something," he commented.

He relocated the [1] into Vitality.

The pain in his body decreased by a fraction.

"Huh," Dave said. "Seems like Strength reinforces my muscles and bones and Vitality... heals me? Right. Lets try to fix things..."

Point by point, he relocated numbers from Strength into Vitality. Falling back onto his knees, he felt like he was being healed from within, but the process was much too slow and he could not move while it was happening. Too many of his bones and muscles were damaged.

Dave picked a mossy spot, crawled to it, lay on his back and closed his eyes relocating everything into Vitality. The pain of broken bones, bruises, cuts and torn ligaments overwhelmed him, but started to gradually decrease minute by minute.

Dave lay there for what seemed like several hours, gritting his teeth and wincing until he felt alive enough to move again.

He used the time to move a few points into Charisma, Magic, Intelligence, Foresight and Wisdom, learning what each of them helped with. Magic added a single point to mana. Charisma made him think of jokes faster. Wisdom sharpened his thoughts and made it easier to think even when his head was throbbing from the pain. Foresight didn't seem to do anything at all and Intelligence helped him mentally multiply large numbers in his head.

Having any of these didn't help him heal or walk though, so he shoved the [1] back into Vitality, waiting for his body to heal itself.

In a few more hours he was able to get up with a groan.

"Where should we head next?" He asked Sherlock, feeling haunted by thirst and hunger.

The soft, melancholic notes of a violin filled his mind, painting a picture of his surroundings. The melody swelled, directing his attention towards a particular direction, where the mountains seemed less imposing. Sherlock had noticed something there while Dave was plummeting through the clouds.

"Thanks," Dave said.

Inhaling the crisp air, Dave ventured down the mountain side as quickly as his busted up body allowed it. Recalling his boy scout days, he sought solace in his past memories of rural life in the Midwest, a place which contained no God-Emperors or giant bat monsters.

Rocks and spiky weeds stabbed into his feet with awful sharpness so he had to relocate [5] points into Strength from Vitality, which hardened his skin enough not to get cut up by the rough terrain.

After two more hours of limp-walking he spotted a waterfall coming down the mountain. He headed towards it.

"Well, I'll be," he murmured. "This is what you were leading me to?"

The violin answered with a cheerful melody, confirming that indeed it was.

The water was very cold. Nevertheless, he stepped close to the waterfall to get himself clean and to sate his thirst. He had lost the flesh belt and pouch somewhere during his batty misadventure, but at least he still had his trusty bone knife.

As he prepared to leave, Sherlock's violin resonated once again, seemingly pointed at the waterfall.

"Look behind the waterfall, huh?" Dave asked. "Fine."

He winced as the frigid water stung his skin, the icy embrace jolting his senses as it washed away the bone dust and dried blood. He shivered involuntarily, an odd giggle rising in his throat as he considered the absurdity of his situation: a reincarnated programmer-turned-survivalist, searching behind waterfalls for mysterious prizes.

The waterfall and river current was too strong for him to push through on his own so he relocated all of the points into Strength.

Thus reinforced, Dave plowed through the curtain of water, his teeth chattering from the cold.

Blinking away the droplets clinging to his eyelashes, he found himself in a dimly lit cavern. The sound of the waterfall echoed off the damp walls, creating an eerie ambiance.

Cautiously, he ventured deeper into the cave, his eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. The wet stalactites glistened above him, their crystalline forms creating ghostly shadows in the faint light that filtered through the water.

As he rounded a bend, Dave's breath caught in his throat. There, propped against the cave wall, was the corpse of a man. The body was withered and mummified. Despite the macabre sight, Dave couldn't help but feel a twinge of relief - the corpse was clothed.

With trembling hands, he approached the body.

"Sorry about this," he muttered as he began to remove the clothing from the corpse. The fabric was surprisingly well-preserved, if a bit musty, featuring a few holes.

As he dressed himself in the dead man's clothes, Dave noticed a black bracelet with the peculiar hexagonal texture on the corpse's wrist.

He carefully removed it and slipped it onto his own wrist, next to the one he'd received at the citadel of bones. A small hexagon-shaped token was connected to the black bracelet displaying the man's face and the words [LV 14 Iron: Harkoni] with the red [-11S, 9Co] below. A small iron plate was attached to it too.

[Shandria Adventurers Guild - Quest:

Bring 50+ Prismatic Beetles to the Dvaliss Smithy for a silver.]

Dave read the words on the plate.

He searched the man's bag next.

The bag, unfortunately, was slightly rotted through and empty. The boots were a bit too small for Dave's feet, but he squeezed into them anyway, grateful for any protection of footwear.

Once dressed, Dave took a deep breath and activated his Phantomancy skill, reaching out to absorb the essence of the dead man.

The spectral violin suggested another point relocation and Dave pushed all of his gathered souls into Magic, which amplified the duration of spiritual absorption.

As the spectral energy of the dead man flowed into him, fragments of memories and knowledge flickered through his mind.

Being attacked by flying bugs. Losing his iron knife, getting horribly cut up, running and hiding behind the waterfall. Passing out from blood loss. Regretting signing up as an adventurer.

"Where'd you come from?" Dave thought.

A name: Shandria. A city. Images of bustling streets, market stalls, and towering structures flashed before his eyes. A map, a route, a journey.

Five hours of walking from this very cave.

As the vision faded, Dave felt a sense of purpose settling over him. He had a destination now, a goal to work towards. With renewed focus, he gathered himself and prepared to leave the cavern.

Casting one last glance at the now-undressed corpse, Dave murmured a quiet "thank you" before relocating everything to Strength and stepping back through the waterfall. The sun seemed to be brighter, warming his soaked, raggedy outfit as Dave oriented himself based on the memories he'd absorbed.

Thankfully having over 28 points in Strength made him less susceptible to the cold, pushing back hypothermia.

The cloak and the boots were still a bit wet and Dave continued to shiver until the sun baked him completely dry.

The landscape stretched out all around him, a verdant tapestry of wildflowers swaying like an idyllic symphony upon the breeze.

The wind whispered secret messages through the tall grass, while enormous dragonflies, jeweled aerobats of this realm, danced amidst the meadows.

Dave suddenly heard a resounding, metallic hum, and found himself facing a swarm of glistening bugs, their prismatic exoskeletons clashing garishly in the idyllic backdrop.

The technicolor armored insects closed in like a living metallic patchwork quilt, their cacophony an assault on both sense and sensibility. He couldn't help but think that to see these creatures born of a nightmare realized in this otherwise pastoral field was an act of some absurd deviant that combined tinfoil and insects into one awful package.

Nevertheless, he raised his knife and assumed a defensive posture.

"Sherlock," he muttered, his weapon glinting, "some assistance would be great."

The violin produced a melody for him resembling the Mortal Kombat Theme Song.

Dave quickly divided the souls inside himself between Strength and Agility just as the bugs reached him.

Time seemed to slow ever so slightly thanks to the extra Agility pumping blood through his heart at an accelerated rate.

He lunged at the nearest metallic insect, driving his knife through its gleaming exoskeleton at an accelerated speed. The sensation was, he mused, akin to impaling a finely-crafted art installation.

Like a pixelated plague, the remaining bugs swarmed around him, nipping at his body. Dave's knife danced tirelessly, each calculated stroke met with a sickening crunch.

Without the dead souls keeping his body reinforced and accelerating his response time he would definitely succumb to the colorful swarm.

Finally, as the last bug died to Dave's rhythmic strokes, an eerie silence settled over the meadow.

Dave panted as he wiped the colorful goo and innards from the knife and shoved all of his points into Vitality.

He surveyed the carnage with a disbelieving grimace before snorting, "Welp, that was about as graceful as a drunken ostrich on ice skates."

He sheathed his knife with a grumble, taking heed of the numerous shallow wounds that dotted his skin. The metal claws of the bugs added a few new holes to his already extra-raggedy outfit.

"Of all the ways to go, being taken out by a bunch of Technicolor bugs in a field of flowers would be extra embarrassing," he muttered.

With a sigh, he dusted himself off, looking at the dead insects, wondering if he was on their home turf and if they were another bewildering anomaly of this world.

Did the bugs have souls?

To test this theory, Dave reached out to the nearest bug and activated Phantomancy, switching everything to Magic.

A flood of disjointed images and sensations washed over him. He saw the world through their life-sense, felt the vibrations of countless legs skittering across rocky terrain, and experienced the collective consciousness of the swarm zooming through the trees.

Suddenly, it all came into focus.

He understood their origin - a shimmering, iridescent mountain lake nestled high in the peaks he had seen earlier. The bugs were drawn to it, born from metal hives hanging above azure water.

Dave shuddered as he realized how close he had been to their nesting grounds.

"So that's where you little colorful nightmares come from," he muttered, glancing back towards the mountains. "No wonder that poor fellow behind the waterfall didn't make it, he must have encountered a far larger swarm."

Armed with this new knowledge, Dave adjusted his course, giving the mountain lake a wide berth. He knew that venturing any closer would likely result in encountering more of these deadly swarms, and in his current condition, he doubted he could survive another attack.

Wincing from the numerous cuts that adorned his body, Dave pressed on. The bug bites stung fiercely, and he could feel warm blood seeping through his tattered clothes. He tried to ignore the pain, focusing instead on putting one foot in front of the other and shoving everything into Vitality once again.

As the local sun began to slowly dim in the sky, painting the landscape in hues of orange and pink, Dave finally caught sight of his destination. In the distance, silhouetted against green hills he could make out the unmistakable outline of a city.

Shandria.

A somewhat suspicious ring of very thick, very dark clouds spun in a perfect circle around the city. Since this cloud also existed in the memories of the dead adventurer, Dave wasn't too spooked.

"Ah," he said tiredly, "just the town I was looking for."

Approaching the city, he appreciated its aesthetic blend of antiquity and architectural oddness likely caused by use of magic during its construction.

"Well," he thought as he neared the ramparts, "let's see if they'll welcome a friendly Phantomancer with open arms... or unleash another colorful calamity."

The violin played a calm song. Sherlock didn't see the town as threatening.

"You're right Sherlock, at least these walls aren't built of the dead," he thought back.

Admiring the town's rustic charm, Dave optimistically ambled towards the front gate, his grimy cloak billowing with every step. Sardonic observations aside, he couldn't deny the allure of the warm glow that emanated from within.

As he eased into the crowd milling outside the town gates, he found himself amidst a motley ensemble of fantastical beings. There were catgirls and foxgirls with gem-like eyes and sinuous tails, punctuating their vivid expressions with flicks and sways. Humans of all sorts and colors and shapes intermingled with birdkin boasting resplendent plumage. Antlered men were carrying what looked like a giant, black and white striped worm, violet blood dripping behind them.

Unconventional carts in all sorts of shapes and giant beasts pulling them commanded Dave's attention as he got closer to the entrance into the city.

The cart standing nearest to the gate was a snail of truly monstrous proportions, the size of a two story house. An old wizard was on a seat perched at the front of the snail's pearlescent shell, clad in emerald robes.

"And here I thought a snail's pace was a figure of speech," Dave though, staring at the bizarre cart standing right in front of the city's gates.

The old man looked decidedly unimpressed with Dave. He yawned as he lazily held the reins leading to the giant gastropod. Some kind of a small creature sat next to the wizard atop of a brass vase, its body glittering with violet sparks from within. The creature was somehow both solid crystal and fluid, undulating in the sunlight ever so slightly, as if it was just painted into existence with thick brushstrokes.

Dave drew his eyes from the gastropod-wizard and his pet and noted that everyone heading into town seemed to give him a wide berth, probably not wanting to mingle with someone so bloody and filthy.

Feeling inspired, he relocated [23] points into Charisma, keeping the rest in Strength to stay upright.

"Lo, weary traveler! Fancy a latte?" a dark foxgirl suddenly declared from a round window in the snail's shell.

Dave turned to the phantasmagorical cart. The unexpected offer of a latte completely derailed his train of thought sideways off a metaphorical cliff of mental cohesion.

A large sign made from colorful letters caught his eye as he tried to process the words of the fox-person. Assuredly he was not asleep. The foxgirl talking to him was indeed quite real.

"Cambria Snail Cafe," the sign above her read, in bold, swirling, slightly glowing script.

Inhaling the tantalizing aroma wafting from the round window, Dave marveled at the notion that foxgirls, giant snails, wizards, cartoony-looking solid-liquid critters and lattes could somehow coexist harmoniously in this peculiar location without the universe collapsing in on itself from excessive whimsy.

"How much would a latte cost?" Dave finally asked.

"Three coppers," the girl shot back, her dark tail swishing.

"Do you take metal bugs as payment?" He asked, showing the kitsune barista one of his kills.

"We don't take bug carcasses as payment,” the wizard interjected. “Only Shandria currency or mana transfers."

"Shandria currency?" Dave muttered.

"You are in the City of Shandria proper, adventurer," the wizard said. "I suggest you trade those bugs to a blacksmith for some local coin."

"What are... mana transfers?" Dave asked.

"World currency," the wizard said, waving a hexagonal token on his bracelet.

"I see," Dave nodded.

"Also," the wizard added, "you could ask to undertake a quest within the town, and upon completion, be rewarded with Shandrian currency."

Dave rubbed his chin, considering the wizard's proposal. "Right... questing. What's next, saving the kingdom by slaying a fire breathing dragon - all before dinner?"

"That's how adventurers work, yes," the foxgirl beamed, her ocean-blue eyes drilling into his head.

"Gotcha," Dave said.

His stomach growled. He looked back at the wizard. "You wouldn't happen to know a good place to eat around here, would you?"

"Visit the blacksmith first, boy," the wizard advised. "Have a bath and dinner at a tavern after. You smell like death."

"Oh pshh, Murdoc, lighten up," the foxgirl said, turning back to Dave. "Listen, I'll give you a free latte and a close-to-expiry snail cake if you tell me where you're from. I don't recognize your face."

Dave blinked, taken slightly aback by the foxgirl's generosity but glad that the Charisma magic was working on her. "That's... awfully kind of you," he said, eyeing the cakes on display. "I'm from... urm... Let's just say I'm new in town and still trying to figure out which way is up in this bizarre world."

The foxgirl leaned out of her round window, her fluffy, dark ears twitching with interest. "Ooh, a mysterious stranger! How exciting! I'm Cedez Astra! So, tell me, did you perhaps fall from the sky? Or emerge from a magical portal? Come on, the cake offer requires more detail as payment. Entertain me!"

"That free cake is coming out of your salary," the wizard commented. The foxgirl stuck her tongue out at him, seemingly not bothered.

Dave couldn't help but smile at their warm exchange. "Actually, I was dropped here by a giant bat after being reincarnated by a rather unpleasant-looking God-Emperor. You know, just your average Wednesday."

"Ohhh, you're one of the summoned! How exciting! Much more interesting than serving lattes and hanging out with grumpy wizards all day." She shot a playful glance at Murdoc, who merely harrumphed in response.

"Well, if you think being summoned by a megalomaniacal God-Emperor is exciting, wait until you hear about the field of corpses and the bone city. It's like a twisted amusement park, minus all the amusement," Charisma-laden words flowed out of Dave's mouth.

The foxgirl snorted, covering her mouth with a leather glove. "Ooh, tell me more! Was there a gift shop at least? I hear some necromancers have quite the flair for skull-themed merchandising."

"I'm afraid the only souvenirs were trauma and this stylish bone knife," Dave replied, patting his weapon. "Though I suppose the constant fear of death does add a certain... je ne sais quoi to the experience."

The foxgirl leaned further out of her window, nearly tumbling out in her enthusiasm. "And this giant bat? Was it friendly? Did it offer you frequent flyer miles?"

Dave snorted, momentarily feeling like he was back in the office, chatting with a coworker. "Oh, absolutely. We're best buddies now. We exchange Christmas cards and everything. The postage is killer, though."

Cedez giggled. "So, Mr. Summoned, what's your grand plan now? Defeat the evil God-Emperor? Save the local princess from boredom? Open a rival snail café?"

"Well, I was thinking of starting small. Maybe get some money for these bugs," Dave replied with a wry smile.

"Ah yes, the prismatic beetles!" Cedez nodded, sliding a cake and a latte over to Dave. "I suggest the smithy on the hillside at the edge of town."

"The smithy on the hillside?" Dave asked, accepting the food and drink.

"Yepperoni," Cedez winked.

Dave squinted at Cedez as he ate his snail cake and quickly drowned it with the latte. The cake was surprisingly tasty, with a texture reminiscent of a dense sponge cake and a hint of... was that mint?

The foxgirl's eyes sparkled mischievously. "You know, there's an ancient legend that says if you can claim a dragon's heart as your first quest in a new land, you'll be blessed with unimaginable riches and power. In fact, why don't I give you a quest now, hero?"

Before Dave could say anything, Cedez placed her hand on top of his. The pattern of blue gems woven into her glove sparkled with silver strings, like a fractal that was folding into itself.

[Cambria Snail Cafe Quest: Slay the dragon, free the princess. Reward: An extra special latte!]

[Accept: Y/N?]

Dave stared at the glowing text hovering above his wrist, his mind stuttering to a halt.

"Are you seriously asking me to slay a dragon? Me? The guy who just stumbled into town looking like he almost lost a fight to a bunch of bugs?" He demanded.

"Oh, come on! Where's your sense of adventure? This could be your big break!" The girl laughed.

"My sense of adventure is currently on vacation, possibly permanently. Besides, I'm pretty sure my 'big break' would be quite literal if I faced a dragon right now," Dave crossed his arms.

"But think of the princess! The glory! The... um... rewards!"

"A latte?" Dave asked tiredly.

"The quality of the latte will depend on the quality of the slaying, obviously," Cedez grinned. "Impress me enough and I... could even give you a handshake."

Murdoc rolled his eyes. "Children, please. Some of us are trying to maintain a shred of dignity here."

"Are you messing with me?" Dave squinted at Cedez. "Is this some kind of a joke?"

"Oh, I mess with everyone, darling," the foxgirl laughed. "You're the one who brought up slaying dragons."

"Riiiiiight," Dave said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why not throw in a unicorn sidekick and a quest to find the holy grail while we're at it?"

Murdoc spoke up. "Don't encourage him, Cedez."

"Pffft," Cedez waved dismissively. "Our summoned friend here looks like he could handle a little heat."

Dave, too tired to argue and slightly delirious from too many recent near-death experiences, simply blinked at the foxgirl.

"Just a simple, lighthearted, open ended quest," Cedez clapped her hands gleefully. "Or dark-hearted, if you choose the path of a villain. That's really up to you!"

"Meaning what?" Dave asked.

Cedez tapped her chin. "'Slay the dragon' in this context, doesn't necessarily mean you have to kill it. And 'free the princess' doesn't have to involve a literal rescue."

"Uh-huh?" Dave outputted.

"Maybe the dragon just needs a good conversation. Or a massage. Or... you know," she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Maybe the princess needs freeing from her boring royal duties. Or from her stuffy clothes. Or from a slave collar. Or maybe she's been cursed to turn into a hideous dragon monster at night and she just wants someone to cure her dire-some condition? See? Open ended."

"Who is the princess in this scenario?" Dave asked.

"The princess is whoever you nominate to be your princess, my Charismatic darling," Cedez smirked with sharp chompers. "Shandria is your oyster! Crack it open and enjoy the salty flavors!"

"Boy, let me give you some advice. In this world, not every quest needs to be accepted, and not every princess needs saving," the wizard commented.

"I'm just expanding his horizons!" Cedez protested. "Besides, think of the stories he could tell afterward. 'How I Wooed a Dragon: A Summoned Hero's Tale.' It could be Shandrian romance bestseller! Eh, eh?"

She turned back to Dave with a sly grin.

"Sometimes, the smartest thing to do is to walk away," Murdoc added, lighting a gray pipe.

Dave nodded, feeling a surge of appreciation for the wizard's pragmatism. "Thank you, voice of reason. I think I'll take that advice and maybe start with something a bit less... fiery. Like finding a place to sleep that isn't a dragon's stomach."

Cedez pouted, her ears drooping slightly. "Oh, you're no fun. But fine, have it your way. The smithy on the hillside is still your best bet. Just... maybe don't mention the dragon-slaying thing when you get there."

Dave raised an eyebrow. "Why is that? Is this smith particularly sensitive about dragons?"

"Yeeeeeees," Cedez answered with a shifty look of silver-blue eyes.

Dave opened his mouth to demand greater clarity.

Cedez clapped her hands. "Listen, you better get to the smithy before nightfall."

"Why?" Dave asked.

"Terrible things happen at night," Cedez replied cryptically.

"What?" Dave blinked.

"First they take your arms. Then legs," the foxgirl replied with a far too casual tone. "Then, the rest of you gets chopped up into adorkable meat cubes."

The girl in the window of the Snail cafe smiled jovially with sharp fox chompers as the hair on the back of Dave's neck suddenly stood up.