Isenkai Hero

Conversations With Sister Eknia

“My confusion about this place was mostly fixed by conversations with Sister Eknia a priest-assistant in the religious order of Marmor Hall, in the Church of Xor-azar-ox. The Marmor Hall is dedicated to welcome those like me. Brough to Hive against their will, on purpose or by accident. There are magic spells in this world capable to deal with the Multiverse beyond Hive Dimension, and mine the Infinite Flux for many kinds of resources. Unfortunately, there is no spell here capable to send back those brough here,

Because of that, different religions and political institution have branches like the Marmor Hall, dedicated to find a place in this world for outsiders. And to kill those who don’t adjust.

My ability to communicate with locals came from a magical item, that translates conversations in half a dozen local languages to mine, and vice-versa. Directly in my mind, without I realize it while it happens. This is only one of many magical items found in this world. Quite expensive, I will need to give it back to Sister Eknia when my time as a guest in the Imperial Palace ends.

I was lucky to be transported here by an experiment performed by an apprentice of wizard, who is of high nobility. Second cousin of their Emperor. The kind of treatment an outward gets here depends greatly of who was responsible for their arrival.

And why.

Since I was not brough here to be offered in sacrifice, or send in some suicidal mission to save the nation, I was brought by accident, my fate was undecided. What was among the best possible option, as far as I understand.

In this world there are 27 normal “Magic Spheres”, as they call the different kinds of magical energy. Each one deals with one kind of spell, one “energy” if you will, that is needed as fuel to transform reality by will. Those born to be magic users are born with one of those “Magic Spheres”. One is the magic that allow telepathy, necessary to build those translation devices. Like the seashell pendant hanging from my neck.

They say the best protection against each sort of magic is superior skill in that same Sphere. On the other hand, wizards from the same Sphere cannot combine their powers directly, and the more powerful spells need the combination of two or more wizards. From different Spheres.

Another 4 Spheres are considered “special”, due to their rarity, potential for disaster, and for being usually only found in royal families. The spells that manipulate the borders of reality and grant the power to fish people from other Universes is one of those.

Some, even rarer, individuals are born with 2 or even 3 Spheres of Magic. Those individuals have immense advantage over other wizards.

In any case, only 1 in each 500 people is born with potential for magic. However, in this world they believe that every person is born with one special gift. Magic being just one kind of gift, albeit particularly useful, versatile, and obvious.

Some individuals can see in the dark, some can speak with animals, some can fix things by touch, some can heal wounds and cure minor diseases. All those look like examples of magic to me, but in this world they are not considered magical. I suppose they are too personal, and cannot be taught, each person can develop the gift they got, but not share the knowledge. And with magic, each Sphere allows many different manifestations, many spells. Other gifts do not.

I needed time for my gift emerge, being impossible to know what a gift is before that.

The locals can more or less guess this by knowing which gifts the parents and grandparents of someone had. There is a probability of those things repeating in a hereditary line. With people like me, from other Universe, that doesn’t help.

Me, I was in no hurry. Because until my gift show up I would remain in the Palace, in a room of the Marmor Hall, as a guest.

I understand the most desirable gifts are the Spheres, and those that grant faster than usual learning. Allowing someone to develop skills and improve their capacity in as many areas as possible.

While the least desirable alternative as those that rarely can be uses. Like that fellow who is immune to any poison, except for magical ones. Unfortunately for him it also makes him immune to **** prescribed by healers. When he gets sick, he either suffers in silence or pays a fortune for a magical elixir. And there is no practical use to be immune to poison. “

One year transpired since our hero was transported from a public park in the heart of a city on Eart to Planet Hive, in a different universe.

Despite not having yet manifested any power, his time as a guest came to an end. The period seldom lasts as long as two months, an entire year was too much. Even considering the involvement of a member of Imperial Family itself, albeit from a minor branch. The Imperial High Arche-Wizard showed up to talk with him a few times a week, in the last few months. She seemed to suspect he was somehow hiding his gift, to stay in the Palace.

Be able to do that would be a gift by itself, and one not yet registered.

Finally, more on account of curiosity, she gave him a job in a tavern nearby. He would sleep in straw, on the wooden floor, in the ceiling. Work all day, and get a moment for himself only if and when the tavern owner decided to feel generous. Still, was better than being throwed alone on the streets. This society don’t treats beggars kindly, and homeless people have 2 chances of end up as chained slaves, to each 1 chance to end up as ingredient in an unregulated stew.

This was better.

Really all things considered, was not too bad.

Specially because some waitresses found his linguistic difficulties funny, in a charming way. Mildry was perhaps ten years older than him, maybe less, and a widow. Her husband had die three years before, working. He was a city guard, unlucky enough to cross the path of some dangerous non-human criminal, who was hiding in the Imperial Capital. Working as spy for a foreigner nation, or as assassin for some local crime lord. She never found out, and would not change anything in her life to know.

He was dead, find a second husband was practically impossible in this society. For her. Since soldiers in wars are all men, except for the rare woman born with an exceptional gift for combat, men die a lot. Their medicine on the other hand is good enough to prevent a significant number of deaths of women giving birth. In consequence the men get a significant advantage in the offer-demand balance.

What proved to be good fortune for our hero.

In part because his first sexual intercourse with the widow, two weeks after he move to the tavern, provided the answer for that mystery about his gift.

Her gift was an uncanny, intuitive, talent for pickpocketing. Something she, as an honest woman interested in keep her reputation. Almost never. Took advantage of. She always knew what values people she saw were transporting in their person, and where they were hidden. Which pocket or compartment, no matter how well hidden.

She never mentioned that power, it was personal, not something she would be happy to share. So, he could not be entirely sure about what had just happen. Our hero suspected it.

Srykri, one of the other two waitresses working in the place, stayed after they close in the next night. She was a young and beautiful woman, recently married. She was angry with her husband for some reason, and didn’t mentioned why. Used him in her vengeance.

Our hero didn’t complain, of course.

He knew what her unique gift was. That was no secret. She always knew if someone was looking in her direction. Who was paying attention on her or not, even in a crowded room. As if she could see in all directions, but only who was registering her, and with which level of attention. After having sex with her, he knew it too.

Our hero realized he had the gifts of those two women, after share carnal conjunction with each of them once.

In this world, or at least in this nation, they used small flat squares of ceramic for money. He was being paid in food and shelter, so he had not yet touched any coin. However, when he was living in the temple inside the palace the priestess had explained the currency to him. The coins were burned by magic, there was a Sphere of magic entirely dedicated to perform that operation, that accumulates magical energy in clay, resulting in money. A wizard can “burn” the money to take back a percentage of the energy, as “neutral” power that he can use to make spells stronger than those his body alone can support. Everyone who do not use magic, uses the coins as currency.

So, that magic Sphere is perhaps the most lucrative that exists. Also, one of those special 4.

Our hero could not steal any coins, because he had no place to hide them. No excuse to have them in his person. It would be too risky and for no advantage.

He considered if he should go back to the palace, try to speak with Sister Eknia. Or, send a message to the High Arche-Wizard Orsha. Instead, he decided that would serve his interests better to keep his gift secret for the time being.

For the moment his situation was only slightly better than the fate of some slaves in this society. Being fair, he had to admit those would be slaves living better than the average individual who shares their same status. Nevertheless, his situation was dare enough, by his own standards. Above immediate danger of violent ****, but still. He expended almost every hour of this day, when he was not sleeping, working. He would sleep in the same tavern where he worked, and had no opportunity to set a foot outside the building for the first couple of months.

His only moments of leisure were the hours of sex with Mildry and that one experience with Srykri.

Galga, the tavern owner, had a gift common among merchants, She could see the magic intensity of coins and other items. The value each coin was supposed to have was imprinted on it, but often the real value was somewhat less, because Wizards had the habit to “burn the edges” of coins for small drops of power. Nothing relevant, until the same coin had passed through the hands of too many wizards. Most money in circulation has between 2% and 5% less actual value than what is marked on its surface. However, sometimes the “discount” can be over 60%. Wizards can “feel” a large discrepancy, but only the Monetary Wizards and those with the “merchant gift” are able to precise exactly how much value is left in each coin.

They have the saying about every person being born with some gift, but that his three parts metaphor and one part hypocrisy. In reality, four in each five individuals have nothing worth that name. Our hero was starting to realize that, now.

In the palace he had met a very exceptional sample of natives. Those directly or indirectly connected to the most powerful families in this nation. Even the lowest servants were far separated from the ordinary individual in the streets.

That was still a very civilized part of this capital. Which was, in its own, a capital. Of one of the important eights or nine nations in the Continent. Less important cities, rural areas, wildlands, less important nations, the chances to find significant powers in places like that would likely go down. Powerful gifts bring opportunities to achieve most desirable positions in this world. Logically, it was more a game played by families than one played by individuals.

However, he was alone in that game. What was disadvantage enough.

Our leading character considered this. Wondering about his chances, and his options. Now that he had this powerful gift.

“I don’t want to be a warrior” he said to himself. Being recruited as champion, to fight wars and hunt dangerous beasts didn’t attracted him, as life project. Even if that would be the most likely way to obtain powerful gifts, fast.

Before he could decide what to do, a large bulky man showed up with a blacksmith hammer in one hand. He was Srykri’s husband, and he was clearly very angry.

The man was asking something, and when someone pointed in our hero’s direction he had no time to understand the situation. The man was attacking him with that harmer, and the broomstick proved to be poor defence against this attack.

Fortunately a second before the man plant his work tool in our hero’s head a woman interfered. Blocking his attack with a great-sword of dark energy.

Spirit-weapon, a manifestation of the essence of their oner. The gift runs in a few prestigious knight families, and other sorts of natural warriors. Those things are moved more by will than by muscle, and they can deliver impressive blows without seemingly weight more than a wooden stick. Nasty edges, too.

Latter, a priestess who was luckily nearby, casted the translation spell to help communication. The young waitress had accused our hero of ****, apparently, in a moment of guilt perhaps. Motivated by her husband making questions, about rumours, related to infidelity.

Men was in his rights to kill this useless outsider, no one should bother since the situation was bellow the attention of any city-delegate. Say nothing about a magistrate.

Except that, our hero was under the informal protection granted by the High Arche-Wizard.

She was still curious about his situation. Since the kind of accident that brough him to this Universe usually results in someone with some gift worth mention. Instead of no gift at all.

For the moment, the husband left unsatisfied. However, he was likely to put additional effort in avenge his beloved wife.

Uninclined to let this affect her business, the tavern owner pushed him in the streets. Recommending he should seek the help of his benefactor in the palace. Perhaps the Arch-Wizard would rescue him from this situation.

Our hero tried, but was blocked from entering. Apparently access to the Imperial Palace was not something granted universally. And his poor linguistic skills didn’t improved his position.

In the streets, without money, dressed in a ragged long shirt, his prospect were less than bright. If he survived the first night, then would be a matter of time until the blacksmith find him. And get his righteous vengeance.

His powers could help him, perhaps, but only if he acted before the night take everybody from the streets. Then he would have no pockets to reach, and nothing good was likely to came in his way.

“Would be a really stupid thing for me to die today. So much potential wasted!” says him.

Half through the second sentence he felt someone was watching.

Looking in that direction he saw only the dark shadows of a narrow passage between two buildings. “Why not?”.

He tried to move in a position from where whoever was standing in those shadows would not be able to see him. Then he run to the darkness, hoping to find out who was paying attention to him. If was the righteous husband, this move would be his ****, and he considered the risk. Nevertheless, his situation was bad enough to justify a jump blind in the darkness to change it.

At least he would not be in the same position he was, whatever happened.

But he was wrong. Because there was no one in that narrow passage. It continued, half blocked by debris and piles of garbage, a locked door here and there, but he didn’t heard anyone running, or any door closing ahead him. Until he met, face first, a brick wall. The dead end, had ended there. Maybe the person had been looking from some window. Or had escaped using some gift.

After he got past the first pile of debris something ahead captured his attention. A rat, coming from bellow a garbage hill. Some hole in the ground bellow it, likely.

The ugly thing was larger than any cat he could remember, from Earth. A missing eye, and year. Hard to say if it had been burn, melted by some corrosive substance, eaten by a mate, or if the monster had been born that way. The bring side was that this deformity didn’t affected the animal’s social life. Clearly. Because a dozen partners in crime followed him out that putrid pile of wet waste. Smaller that the ugliest by a half, but fast.

Our hero was about to be eaten by local street rats, a couple dozen meters away from the street. While the day agonized in a red and orange bed in the sky above.

And there was nothing he could to about it, except judge himself “stupid!”.