Elf Mage, My Right Foot Got Totally Fucked
My right foot was absolutely fucked. Who would've thought a crawler surge was actually a real move.
Steel panty armor on one leg, leather armor, longsword, leather boots, pouch full of magic stones, bandages, a bit of rations. Was this supposed to be a win?
I tried some emergency first aid with the bandages, but fuck if I knew if I was doing it right.
That's when something caught my eye. A worn yellow-covered magic tome.
Books that contain magic are called magic tomes. One of the things that drives mages insane, or so I'd heard. They punch right through your blocked walls.
……
Honestly, I was a little curious. What the hell was inside?
How to use magic? Or maybe something like a martial arts manual about realm breakthroughs?
Curiosity got the better of me, so I cracked open the magic tome. The title… fuck if I knew what language it was. Some completely alien script. Not even from this world.
Uh…?
I'd never seen the language before, but I could understand the contents of the book.
This is a play?
A play is a kind of theater script made for the stage. Unlike novels, it's a form of dramatic literature that shows events purely through characters' actions and dialogue, no narrator.
Not at all what I'd imagined in a magic tome.
I'd figured it'd have stuff like how to summon spirits or cast spells.
Thud.
I closed the book and hauled myself up. Time to move.
Using the iron rod as a crutch, I pushed to my feet.
Pain shot through my leg like a motherfucker, but what choice did I have? Better a limp than end up like that panty-clad corpse over there.
I thought about grabbing the panties too, but left 'em. Not because I'm some saint—hygiene looked like shit.
"Hoo…"
I hobbled forward. Seeing the sack bulging with loot gave me a bit of strength, at least.
In resource-starved Mortus, gear fetches a high price. And this stuff was in pretty good shape—well maintained.
That's when I spotted a tiny particle floating in front of me.
…?
Particles everywhere, like snow falling. Thought I was seeing shit, so I blinked. Still there.
What the fuck.
It was messing with my vision a bit, so I raised my right hand and waved it around.
The particles followed my gesture, clumped together, and…
Boom!
"……"
My mind snapped alert. Maybe I hallucinated? I waved my hand the same way again.
Particles gathered to my hand, formed a small orb, and shot off.
Boom!
Didn't take long to figure it out. Magic existed in this world, along with mana.
Magic!
The mystical art of wielding mana. Not something anyone can just learn.
If it was, every fucker would be a mage. One of the rarest jobs in this world.
Me having magic talent? Nah, too much of a stretch.
Until just now, I was a slave who couldn't even handle mana.
The reason I could suddenly use magic… probably this magic tome in my arms.
Thump thump thump.
My heart started pounding.
That excitement from when I first arrived in this world came rushing back.
…Escape from slavery is a done deal.
Citizen ranks are based on 'how much you help the city.' Useless trash who can't pay taxes? 13th grade slave. Mages or high-grade explorers who contribute? Top-tier ranks.
I glanced at my right foot, turning purple. Was this shit okay?
Ways to heal wounds here: three.
First, doctors using herbs and bandages.
Second, priests with Divine Power, aka miracles from the gods. Cleanest method.
Last, potions. Magical elixirs from the alchemy golden age.
Explorers sometimes bring 'em back, and you can buy in the city. But they're poorly recreated lost tech—effectiveness sucks, I'd heard.
I limped along. Snail speed. Crawling might be faster.
While dragging my ass like that, I heard footsteps. Thud thud. Thump thump.
Multiple people.
Ah, fuck.
Thud thud.
Getting closer. No miracle of them heading the other way, huh?
Of course not.
Two guys and a woman emerged from behind a building. The woman was decent-looking, but the guys' faces were fucking hideous. Like looking at a blob and a beanpole.
Woman in the middle—love triangle? Nah, with those faces, more like queen bee party.
"Hey, where you rushing off to in such a hurry?"
The chubby one on the right eyed my leg and grinned sleazily.
Key here: don't panic.
"Urk! Please help me…! Fight broke out over a relic that way—barely escaped…!"
"R-relc?"
Chubby's eyes widened at "relic."
Relics are valuable as fuck. Base price is sky-high.
Mortus management council buys 'em for top dollar.
"Yeah…! Please help…!"
"Hold up, what exactly do you want us to do?"
Beanpole said coolly.
"My lover got caught in it…! Please help…!"
I wailed desperately, tears flowing. Beanpole's eyes changed at "lover."
"Lover? Tell me more details."
"Well… life's been tough lately, so…"
"No, not that—describe her looks in detail."
This crazy fuck.
"Long brown hair, eyes the same color… and…"
"And…?"
"Huge tits…!"
Beanpole's face twisted at that.
"Lead the way now…!"
"Wait, isn't this suspicious? Ditching your lover?"
Queen bee sensed a threat and started doubting innocent me. So unfair.
"What do you mean lying…!"
I yelled with utter injustice, mixing sorrow, rage, and a dash of self-loathing. Former acting hopeful—I'm good at this shit.
Tears welled in my eyes.
"No more talk. We'll help."
Beanpole comforted me with greedy eyes. Creepy as a serial rapist.
Decision time. Ambush now, or soon?
No running—leg's fucked.
Priorities: Chubby looks strongest. Weight class power is no joke.
Next, beanpole. Dagger at waist—agile type likely.
Last, queen bee. Doesn't look tough.
First kill was a wanted criminal. Lesson: hesitate even a bit if uneasy, you're fucked.
Shing.
"Hold it."
A low voice as I drew my sword. All eyes—including mine—turned toward it.
Dead silence hit.
Silver hair gleaming like moonlight, pointed ears poking out. Amber eyes like gold.
Other race.
But the real issue started now.
Her worn cloak hid an outfit with more skin than cloth. Basically a bikini. In a place where a scratch can kill? And Mortus ain't safe.
People dressing like that are usually whores or strong enough not to care.
But other race—elf, specifically—leans toward the latter.
The elf tilted her head and crooked a finger.
A small water droplet pierced the woman's head.
Splat!! Sizzle!!
Fuck…!
Cold sweat poured like mad.
"I said don't move."
Thud!
Headless corpse hit the ground.
Beanpole glared at me like 'That the guy you meant?'. Total misunderstanding. I don't know her either, shit.
"Oh, breathing's fine."
With the elf's okay, I finally gasped.
"Hahk… hahk."
Let's sort this. Elf's probably a mage.
Saw the water drop—water magic user?
Vibe screams at least 5th grade explorer. My 7th grade fighter owner? She'd finger-flick him dead.
Elf's amber eyes flicked to my right foot.
"You're hurt? Did those friends do it?"
Her gaze shifted to chubby and beanpole.
Twitch.
Splat!
"I said don't move."
Beanpole's head exploded right next to me. His hand had been reaching for his dagger.
"One question. Who here has the magic tome?"
"……."
"……."
"Oh, speak casually."
"No idea what you're—"
"Me!"
Splat!
Luckily, it was chubby's head that blew, not mine.