I manage to arrive at the ghost town late into the night, but I can see a few lights in the darkness. The thieves seem to be having a feast to celebrate their robbing of merchants. Wow, I’m super-lucky.

You see, thieves aren’t good at planning, and they immediately squander what they steal, which means they only have something decent right after a successful attack. And one man’s treasure is another man’s treasure. What’s theirs is mine. This is how I’ll get the funds to become a puppet master.

Anyway, I crash their feast, excited as all hell—not with a surprise attack, because that won’t make for a good practice session.

“Yahoo! Hand over the loot, scumbags!” I shriek in the middle of their banquet.

“Wh-who the hell is this puny dude?!”

I mean, I’m only ten years old. Like, duh. It’s only natural that I’m short.

“You heard me! Now fork over the goods!” I shout, punting the rude man across the room for calling me small.

The other thieves finally draw their weapons.

“Hey, keep it up, and we ain’t gonna hold back, you bra—…!”

“Take that!” I exclaim as I slice through his neck, severing his head from his shoulders midsentence.

That’s right. My sword is made of slime, which means I can draw it from my bodysuit when the situation calls for it. And it has a bunch of nifty functions.

Number one. It can elongate.

“Take that! And that! And that!” I extend my sword and slay all the dinky thieves in the vicinity.

I stretch the slime out in the shape of a whip with edges as sharp as a sword. It’s my first time wielding it, so I’m a tad nervous, but I can totally see how it might come in handy.

“And that! And that! And…huh?”

I notice the room has gone all silent as I get a little too carried away with slashing and slicing around me.

Wait, is there only one guy left?

“Wh-who are you…?”

“Eh, I guess you’ll be my guinea pig for function number two.”

“Th-the hell do you mean…?!”

“To break it down, you look stronger than the rest of them. I’m assuming you’re like their boss or something, right? Your chances of winning are squat, but if you let me practice on you, I bet you’ll live for, like, two extra minutes. Good luck.”

“S-stop playing, you brat! In the capital, I’m the—…!”

“Hey, you. Skip the speech and come at me.”

“Die, dammit!” booms the Boss (or whatever) as he closes the distance between us, taking his sweet old time to swing at me, and I obviously…don’t budge.

His sword plunges straight into my chest, and I’m thrown to the ground on impact.

“Ha-ha! That’s what you get for messin’ with me! I’ve mastered the Royal Bushin method, and… Wh-what?!”

“Ta-daa! …You couldn’t even scratch me.”

I rise to my feet as if nothing happened, and wow, I couldn’t be happier with my suit’s defenses! I mean, these weak-as-shit attacks can’t even touch me.

“I’ve heard it seems to be all the rage in the capital. Show me.”

“Damn you!” swears the Boss as he strikes me.

Yeah. No sweat. As he swings his sword with all his might, I don’t even ready mine, sidestepping and ducking to dodge him, no problem.

The Royal Bushin method, was it? I could get into their ways of wielding the sword.

I mean, it’s not every day you get to see someone fighting over something other than spirituality, old-fashioned standards, or personal beliefs in this world. This was a fight motivated by logic. I can see it from his clumsy set of attacks.

In the length of a second, a small step forward.

I see him calculate his next strike and take creative approaches. That said, his attacks leave a lot to be desired, and in the next free moment, I step just out of his range.

“Wh-why…why can’t I hit you?!”

“I mean, you’re weaker than my old man. Though I guess you’re stronger than my sister. Not that it means anything. And I bet she’ll whup your butt in another year.”

“You little shiiiiiiiiiiit!” he screeches, frantically bashing his sword in my direction.

I parry his advances before kicking him lightly in the shin—snapping my leg forward quickly as though on reflex.

“Gwah, ah! Why…?” the Boss whimpers, curling into a fetal position and clutching his leg.

Blood drips from his shin and pools on the ground.

It’s a cheap trick, you know. I have a blade as sharp as an ice pick sticking out from my toes.

The second handy-dandy feature of the slime sword is that I can wield my blade from wherever and whenever I want. I thought this tactic showed the most potential. All I have to do is get in front of the enemy and slash him with the sword in my shoe, since lower-body attacks are hard to block. I parry hits, lock blades, and give my opponent a kick. It’s nothing flashy, but it gets the job done.

“I guess we’re through.”

“W-wait…!”

“You didn’t even last two minutes,” I note before kicking the Boss in the chin with the blade on my foot.

Death by impalement.

He twitches as I roll him to the side and rummage through his loot.

“Artwork? I can’t sell that. Hard pass on food. Come on. Where are the cash, jewels, and precious metals? Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

There are several carriages’ worth of spoils. And many dead merchants.

I whisper to the corpses, “I’ve avenged you. Now you can rest, knowing your treasures will be put to good use. I hope you make it to heaven.”

I gather my haul and pray in silence. I’m guessing I found about five million zeni. One zeni is more or less equal to one Japanese yen. All this will help fund my activities as a shadowbroker. You know, the world would be a much better place if it were overrun by criminals. Oh, how I wish life were like a video game and I could encounter enemies by walking down the street.

“Please wreak more havoc in your next life,” I say to the Boss, giving him a thumbs-up, when I notice…something past my fingertip.

“Is that…a cage?”

It looks sturdy and pretty big.

“Did they have slaves? Eh, hard pass on anything I can’t trade for cash.”

But what if there’s something valuable inside? I lift its cover.

“Well, this is…unexpected.”

I’m not sure how to describe it, but this cage holds…a mound of rotting flesh. I can kinda tell it’s human maybe, but no clue as to its age or gender.

But it’s alive. Wait, it might even be conscious. I peer into the cage, and the flesh jolts all of a sudden.

I’ve heard of the Church executing these creatures. I think they’re called the “possessed.” They’re born as normal humans until their flesh rots out of nowhere, fated for death. But the Church goes out of its way to purchase them, executing them in the name of purification. They claim they’re exorcising demons, but they’re really just murdering the sick. But the ignorant masses applaud and praise them for keeping peace on earth. It’s just as you’d expect from the Middle Ages. What a friggin’ downer.

I bet I’d get more zeni than this entire load of spoils if I were to sell this to the Church, but that’s pointless to say since I can’t sell it.

Well, I guess I should put it out of its misery.

I stick my slime sword into the cage…when I notice something else.

Namely, this mound of flesh contains an abundance of magic. I’ve been training my magic since childhood, but this surpasses mine—it’s honestly beastly. And this…

“Is this wavelength…the effects of a magical overload?”

I guess a magical overload must be the reason this turned into a pile of flesh. I’ve suffered its effects firsthand before. If I hadn’t gotten it under control back then, I might’ve ended up suffering the same fate.

I know magic has certain effects on the body, which I felt all too well that fated day. I could sense its potential to raise my tolerance for magic and allow me to handle more of it, but it would be too dangerous to induce a magical overload. I’d tossed the idea.

But if I were to hypothetically conduct experiments on a product of this phenomenon…I can get closer to being a shadow commander without any risks.

“I can use this…,” I say as I reach out to the flesh and infuse it with magic.