Eric's self-isekai
Chapter 1
I had never expected to be Isekai-ed - I guess it is not something that one expects. I was minding my own business walking to the midnight mini-market to buy an extra pack of cat food for Oona, my spoiled British short-hair cat. The next minute, I was at the edge of a forest, in daytime, in a different set of clothes. At forty-three, married with a wonderful partner, no kids, one cat, overweight (ninety-one kilos for one meter seventy-eight), and slightly out-of-shape office worker, it was really a puzzle about why it would happen to me. On top of that, there was no “interview” with a god/goddess, no status screen (I tried everything “status open!”), and seemingly no cheat power or any magic. What the hell?!? No welcoming committee either.
As you can see, I’m familiar with the genre and tropes. I watched enough Anime, read some manga and light novels, and played Dungeons and Dragons and other RPGs. So I should have a shot of surviving and getting back home if I figure out which kind of Isekai I am in.
But for whatever reason, as if to add insult to injury, I appeared fully dressed and equipped with my militia army pack I last put on when I was in my mid 30’s before I was released from the army reserves. I did my militia service when I was eighteen, Twenty-five years ago! You got to be kidding, God / Dungeon Master?
I was only provided with the basic army pack that I had when I served in the militia. At least, since I had compulsory shooting once a year until I was released from service, I still remembered how to care for my gun and shoot.
My rifle, the Sturmgewehr 90, a SIG SG 550, was hanging off my shoulder. A full pack on my back and the standard combat harness (complete with that damn gas mask hanging awkwardly off the side in that massive pouch). A medical bandage and compress in the uniform’s upper-arm pocket. The three plastic twenty-round magazines for my rifle in the harness pouches, and looking at the tips, one of the magazines is filled with magnesium-tipped tracer bullets. The comically large bayonet might come in handy? In my pack, I found two hand grenades (score!), two rifle grenades (I only shot these once), and a rail-mounted scope - that was unusual, I only had used that during basic a couple times at the range. Bedroll, combat canteen (but why the chili-con-carne MRE?), water bottle, army knife, shoe shine kit, gun maintenance kit, and sundries rounded out the full equipment.
On my first day, I spent hoarding my supplies, hiding in a bush with my camo, and making an improvised ghillie suit out of leaves and grasses attached to my BDUs. I dismantled my rifle, cleaned out the packing grease, and reassembled it to ensure the firing pin was inside. When I had my rifle at home before I was released from service, I had always kept the firing pin separate in a drawer of the desk and the rifle at the back of the cleaning cabinet, behind the vacuum. That day, I didn’t meet any humanoids, only the strange red-eyed horned bunnies or more likely hares due to the long ears hopping around. I kept well away and downwind of them, until evening, when I saw a solitary one in a clearing munching on some tubers he had dug up using his horn and clawed paws. I got on my belly slowly, placed the rifle on its tripod, and lined up the iron sights. An easy shot for a rifle, thirty yards or so. Calm breaths and fire. I missed! The bullet flew over the hare's head, its red eyes immediately locked onto me and it charged. How could I miss it? In that instant, I knew I had left the iron sights on the three hundred meters setting, meaning that the rifle and sights were compensating for bullet drop at that distance. No time for anything, I scrambled back awkwardly, crouched, shouldered the rifle, and squeezed off a series of shots, my ears ringing. The first two also missed, the next winded the hare, the following two stopped it in its tracks and it collapsed to the ground, mere meters away. I got up, shaking from the adrenaline and shock, walked over, and picked up the dead horned hare.
That night, I had hare stew in my canteen (not touching that chili until it is my last option!). I made an absolute mess of trying to gut the animal, skinning it was an exercise in frustration since the damn skin and fur just tore instead of coming off. Finally, I carved out chunks of meat and boiled them over the camping stove. The meat had a very strong flavour and was stringy and tough. Reminiscent of the one time I had eaten wild mountain goat in a restaurant on Crete. Finally, I couldn't resist the temptation and I tucked into the chocolate reserve in my canteen. If I die overnight, at least I'll die having had chocolate. The meal kit, beyond the MREs, contained the best part of my military background: two bars of officer’s chocolate (the milk and cornflake one) and a pack of soldier’s chocolate (the real dark black one). Stuffed and now satisfied, I found the nook of a tree, wedged my combat bag into the hole as a pillow, and wrapped myself up in the bedroll.
The next morning, as I took stock of my remaining supplies, I was astounded to find that not only was the chocolate back but even the bullets in the magazine I had swapped out had been replenished. ISEKAI CHEAT POWER ACQUIRED! Now if that applies, as I think it does (and rapidly proved over the next few days), to all my kit, then it means that I'm for sure not in a harem isekai, I'm in a kill the dark lord one - you don't get unlimited ammo for a slow life - that was my logical conclusion.
Chapter 2
I spent the day walking in the direction of one of the mountains I could see in the distance, hoping to come across a stream or river to follow. My lunch was a fruit tree that had something that resembled apples on it, so I collected a few, cut one up, and pressed it onto the back of my arm to see if it would cause an allergic reaction or itch. After a while with no reaction, I took a small piece in my mouth and nibbled it. Still alive and there was no tingling in my mouth so I assumed I would be safe to eat them. The flavour was closer to a pear than an apple and the fruit was relatively hard. I cut them all up and boiled them down into a softer mash that I ate with some dark chocolate and army biscuits from my pack. It seems my water bottle had been refilled overnight, so it looks like I could at least survive off my daily supplies (but please don't make me eat that chili, Dungeon Master).
I spent some time to dial-in my rifle's iron sights, shooting at a tree about three hundred meters away (I counted them out). I also discovered that a spent rifle magazine was refilled with bullets pretty much the moment I returned it to the munitions pouch and closed it up. I was tempted to throw one grenade to see if they would also be replenished, but thought better of it - if they did come back after use, then all the better, but if not, it was best to keep my best weapons for an actual emergency. The hand grenades were the actual "real ones" with the fragmentation shell, not the training grenades we had used in the service that only have the explosives inside. They were prepared as we used to, with extra black electrical tape wrapped around the pin ring to keep it in place. I also took out the rifle scope, read the user manual that was tucked away in its pouch (in three languages, French, German, and Italian, amazing how small you can make the print), and practiced attaching and removing it from the rifle. I'll keep it off for the moment, I'm not expecting engagement distances that would require the scope, particularly not in the half-forested area I was in now. Having finished with that, I cleaned the rifle, shouldered my pack, and moved out.
So happy that whoever provided me with a new kit when I was transported decided that my boots would already be broken in. I remember the weeks of pain and blisters I had to break in these combat boots, but by the end of basic, they fit me like a charm.
As I was starting to think about what I would be eating for dinner and remarking that I had had no random encounters or plot encounters that day, I noticed a column of dark smoke rising up ahead and off to the left. Oh my, pretty much on the nose. You can't make it more evident Dungeon Master - that's pretty much railroading with an extra large sign saying "next clue here". But since I really have nothing else to go on, I will have to investigate it.
Making my way as fast as possible in the dying light of the day, I finally crested that final forested hill (with a brook at the bottom - there was my river!) and found a place to watch where the dark smoke was coming from. By now, the fire that had ravaged this village was dying down, the village was an accumulation of light huts surrounding two larger trees which had a now very charred platform tree house, the huts were probably some kind of daub over a wood frame - the reason why they had burned so well and now were shattered burnt husks. I could see a rather large dark shape moving, something the size of a small car, with what looked like wings moving about, as if searching for something among the ruins. Looking at it, I knew that I would have to face it to discover what had happened in the village. I switched my rifle magazine to the tracer bullets and attached the second magazine to the first using the plastic pegs for a quick magazine swap. I had practiced it today and was confident I could at least do one reload before panicking. I started creeping forward down the slight slope to the village, staying as much as possible out of sight. I nearly got there before I heard what sounded like a humanoid's shriek and a roar. Absolutely terrified but feeling pressed for time, I burst around the edge of one of the huts and took in the scene before me.
A lithe elven figure (long ears were a dead giveaway) was dancing around a Manticore (I know my D&D Monsters - damn, that's dangerous). The lion-headed monster was trying to bite and claw the elf, with its scorpion tail darting between its wings to try and sting the elf. The elf, they - couldn't tell the gender right now - were batting the paws away with a long blade, but seemed unable to injure the manticore through its thick fur. In the three or four seconds it took me to take it all in and realize that this was no movie, this was actually really happening right now, the elf chanted something, and a lance of frozen ice appeared and plunged through the manticore pinning it for a second. But the strain of such a spell must have taken its toll on the elf's concentration, because the manticore's stinger lodged itself in the elf's left leg and they fell, crawling backward, dropping their blade. I moved a step forwards, crouched, set the rifle's selector to three-round bursts, and lit up the manticore. At this distance, with the tracer bullets in the dying light, it was practically impossible to miss the broad side of the monster. I unloaded the first magazine in seconds and quickly started switching over to the second magazine as soon as the chamber was empty. The Manticore was roaring in pain but didn't yet seem mortally wounded. Oh, I was in trouble. It turned in my direction and charged as I finally hit the release on the loading handle and the chamber slammed closed. I hit the selector switch down to full automatic and let it rip straight into its face, getting up and sidestepping its charge as it collapsed into a pile and collided with a ruined wall. Taking no chances, I took out my bayonet and stabbed it through the stinger's venom pouch, pinning the tail and stinger to the earth, before stepping back and reaching for my third magazine. I reloaded and let rip three round bursts into the manticore's back until my gun clicked on empty and the monster didn't move anymore. I had a quick moment of panic, if I needed sixty bullets for a single monster, this weapon was not as much a cheat as I thought it would be. I replaced the magazines in my ammo pouch and made sure to reload the gun, chamber a round, and safe the weapon before turning to the elf.
The poor elf lay convulsing on the ground, green eyes wide open with dilated pupils, gasping for air. While the puncture injury on the leg looked minor, the venom injected looked very potent. Their hazel hair was matted with mud and ashes, face streaked, torn, and muddied tunic with a kilt-like pleated skirt mid-knee and high soft-leather boots. I quickly looked around me to ensure nothing was going to jump out at us, but it seemed that the elf and manticore were the last two in the village. What could I do with this elf? First aid: ABC. Airways, Breathing, Circulation! Airways look clear but the poor elf couldn't breathe, they were gasping, chest heaving. I didn't have anything to save them, unless?
Opening my gas mask kit, I reached for one of the two Combopens. An autoinjector with Atropine and Toxogonin made to relieve symptoms of a chemical attack that is in every soldier's kit. I had no idea if it would work, but it was the only thing I have that could help. I twisted the cap and thrust the injector (probably too forcefully due to the elf's high-pitched grunt) into the elf's thigh, releasing the medication into their muscle, waiting twenty seconds before removing the injector. I tried to hold them down somewhat as the spasming slowly stopped and their breathing seemed to stabilize. Either Manticore venom was similar to chemical attacks such as Vx gas and thus Atropine worked on it or the great Dungeon Master in the sky was ruling that this worked for any poison. Knowing that the elf was going to be out for a while, I put the rifle on my shoulder and gently picked them up as kindly as I could. First surprise, the elf weighed even less than my wife! Were their bones hollow like birds? Carrying them without too much difficulty, I retreated from the village, finding a spot a couple hundred meters away, hidden from the village by the trees and the side of the low hill, next to the bubbling brook. I placed them down on my bedroll.
Chapter 3
Next in the ABCs was Circulation, I checked the elf for any visible wounds, but apart from the leg they looked unhurt. Using my combat compress, I bandaged their left leg, using the blocs of hard foam to add extra pressure to the wounds, as we had been taught.
Satisfied they were bandaged and out of imminent danger - the atropine would keep them alive for at least the hour and I was hopeful they would overcome the poison. I returned to the village, creeping round to gather the elf's sword and collected my bayonet from the Manticore's tail. The elf's sword was thin and straight, strangely reminiscent of the Chinese Jian swords of the Han dynasty. The pointed straight double edged blade gave way to a rune decorated sword guard and a leather wrapped grip ending in a ring pommel. Although it did not fare well against the Manticore, I had not trouble imagining this blade skewering a humanoid. Peeking into the burned huts gave me an impression of well designed but light craftsmanship, wooden bowls and spoons, light fabrics on the walls and floor, Futon style beds low to the ground. The fact that something was wrong dawned on me suddenly: there were no corpses here, despite there being traces of a fight and even bloodstains. I found short drag marks, so someone had taken away the bodies.
I made my way back towards the elf. Shaken from seeing the devastation of the village, the absence of cadavers apart from the newly deceased Manticore.
They were still semi-conscious, drifting in and out, unable to focus their eyes on me. While waiting on the elf to wake, I took stock of the situation. I had to be in an alternate Earth: The season was probably Autumn - fruit trees had ripe fruit and some trees (which looked like mostly Earth trees) had their leaves turning gold and orange. There was a single sun, which looked like Earth's sun. Last night, I saw a single moon and it looked much the same as the Earth's moon. But here there was Magic: I had seen the elf use some, Monsters: the uni-hares and Manticore, and Isekai cheats: my equipment.
The elf had a sudden spasm, eyes opened and muttered something the sounded like "tching guy wo chui" before passing out again. It took me a while to recover from my shock, I realized that he had spoken something that sounded like Mandarin Chinese from Earth, and this combined with the Jian sword confirmed it for me: I must be having a stroke and imagining everything! I had studied two years of Mandarin in University and promptly lost it all upon graduation, but this was too much of a coincidence. Either the world was tailored to me personally or I was living in a wish fulfillment fantasy - and both of these pointed to the only logical conclusion in my mind - I was hallucinating while having a stroke on Earth - maybe even locked-in syndrome in a hospital room? It did give me some kind of hope, at least it meant I had not suddenly disappeared leaving my partner and cat all alone - my body would be with them, even if my mind was not there currently and it meant I had a place to return to if I managed to break out of this world. But how? Seeing how my mind worked up to now, I was now sure that meant completing the quest and beating the "big bad", whomever that may be. Now if only I could remember what that Mandarin meant! Shuǐ means water, Wǒ is me. Made sense they would be parched from the fight and the exertion of fighting off the poison.
I whetted a spare shirt and cleaned their face gently. Holy hell, do elves get a Charisma bonus in this world? Their face was practically Angelic, high cheek bones, chiseled features, smooth unblemished skin, long pointy ears, tiny lightly coloured lips and perfect teeth. An eleven out of ten. I could barely imagine how humans looked to them. And how I must have looked. Bushy beard, barely kept in check by a visit to the barber every couple of months, white on the sides and copper, brown and white in front. Blemished skin from the sun, uneven teeth, widow's peak and short dark-blond hair. In comparison, I felt more akin to an Orc or a monster. No surprise the elf was fainting if they were catching sight of me!
As they drifted in and out of consciousness, I gave them tiny sips of water from the last of my water every time they were awake. I ate my chocolate, the last of the fruit puree and finished the broken biscuits from the bottom of the pack, refusing to even contemplate eating the chili. Finally, it seemed the elf passed out and was sleeping. Since the air was turning cold, I rolled them into the bedroll and I hugged it for warmth, using my backpack on one side as a windbreaker and two trees on the other side as protection from the night. I didn't sleep well, only in short stints, listening to the elf's light and raggedy breathing, acutely aware of the noises of the night. And finally, as the morning light came, I half dozed off until I heard and felt the elf moving in the bedroll.
I hope I never have to find out by applying another one.
I quickly discovered that chocolate is a universal currency, prized by elves, dwarves, and others.