Absolutely Do Not Touch Eldmia Egga – Chapter 2

—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
—————————————————————–

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

8 years.

It was the amount time I had spent being reborn in this world, forming new bonds and adapting to life.

It was indeed an extremely long time, but from a child’s perspective, it was far too short. Even after being reincarnated, it took 4 years for my body to mature and to properly start activities.

“It’s just so damn hard, really.”

And today marked the 8th year and 12th day since I was born in this world. It was the 3rd day since our village had practically disappeared…

“This damn body is so fucking weak.”

It was the second day since I had found a shovel head with a completely burnt handle in what used to be the blacksmith’s workshop and had to start digging graves.

“These blisters hurt like hell!”

Although there was no shortage of food and water, as there was valley water suitable for drinking, and some burnt potatoes were left in the village granary.

A child’s body was inevitably too weak.

As befitting a fantasy world, magic did exist, so if I had learned it, digging the ground would have been a bit easier.

However, the village I lived in was a rural area, so I couldn’t possibly learn such a precious thing.

Fortunately, about 3 years ago, a mage happened to visit, and I flattered him in every way possible and mimicked the act of sensing mana, but I couldn’t use magic with that skill alone.

The magician said that when he returned in 4 years, if it was confirmed that I had worked hard, he would teach me magic.

Since he said mages don’t lie, if the Demon King’s army had attacked just one year later, couldn’t I have at least used magic to dig the ground?

But what could I do? It is still only the 3rd year now.

Fortunately, the extremely fantastical act of using the mana I could feel to strengthen my body was possible.

I devoted myself to this fantastical experience that could only be described as fucking awesome and practiced tirelessly for 3 years. I could run at a speed that an 8-year-old child could never achieve, and in short bursts, I could swing a heavy longsword at a speed close to that of an ordinary adult.

But apart from that, an untrained body had its limits. The blisters on my palms were proof of that, and the pain I had to feel that couldn’t be considered muscle aches when I ran fast was proof.

As a result, I dug the ground relying solely on my pure physical strength and a shovel head. In the end, it took two days to finish digging my parents’ graves.

“Still, for an 8-year-old child, I worked hard.”

Even though my body was 8 years old, including my previous life, my mind was approaching thirty.

So I couldn’t help but know what it meant when my father, who had left the hideout saying he would bring my mother, did not return even after a night had passed. With a fucked-up feeling, I was able to find my parents collapsed together on the outskirts of the village early in the morning.

I really cried pitifully, even in my own eyes. I cried until I passed out from exhaustion. That was why it took 2 days to dig the graves, and I finished on the 3rd day.

“By tomorrow I should be able to fix together the remaining fences and finish even the grave markers.”

Although they lived as hunters now, my parents said they had once traveled the continent as adventurers before settling down.

Was that why? Both of them had passed away while holding a blood-soaked sword in one hand, which I didn’t know where they had snatched it from.

It’s embarrassing to say it was fortunate, but seeing that they were not engulfed in the fire, their corpses were not mutilated, and their hearts were simply cleanly pierced, it seemed they did not suffer greatly.

That was how I died in my previous life.

“That thought made me angry.”

I dug the graves until lunch, and tore the sacks that were luckily unburned in the underground in order to move my parents’ corpses on top of them, even that simple act made me exhausted.

Even if I used mana to strengthen my stamina and tried to move them, it was obvious that once I would finish moving them, I would collapse without being able to move a finger. So I just had to move them raw.

It was a great relief that rotting had not yet occurred, since it was well into autumn and winter was just around the corner.

“Hah. Relief my ass.”

How would an 8-year-old kid survive the winter alone? What was called a hideout was nothing more than a small cave that my father used for storing meat during the winter.

If it were a little later, there would have been at least some food stored there to get through the winter, but now it was just empty. Even if I scraped together the burnt food from the food storage, It wouldn’t last a week.

I was only doing this due to the obsession that I had to fulfill my duty as a child, but there was nothing fortunate or leisurely about it.

“I thought I was in a fantasy, but it looks like I’m going to film a survival in another world movie.”

The sun was setting. Usually around this time, I would have arrived home with my father, smelling the aroma of the stew my mother had cooked.

After turning 6, I followed my father around, asking and learning about hunting techniques and the medicinal herb knowledge he had acquired during his adventurer days. It was also nice to go to the village chief’s house and read books.

The process of simply acquiring knowledge for life without worrying about college or employment was full of a form of joy that I had never felt before, while being leisurely.

Tears flowed naturally at the fact that those happy days had passed like they didn’t even happen..

It was truly pure happiness. To the point where I should feel relieved that I was not a child and was able to fully enjoy and relish that happiness.

“Ha… Let’s go back.”

At least it was a great relief that the valley water was intact, so there was no worry about drinking water. Otherwise, I would have died of dehydration from crying.

It was clear that by the time I picked up the potatoes to eat for dinner and went to the hideout, it would be pitch dark. For now, with nothing to light a fire, there was no time to rest.

If I didn’t hurry back to the cave, wrap myself in the clothes I had scraped together, and raise my body temperature, it would be fucking cold.

As I was about to get up from my spot, I felt a subtle vibration through my sitting buttocks.

A sound I had never heard directly in my previous life, but was familiar with in this life.

The sound of horse hooves striking the ground and the neighing of horses.

“Fuck.”

It sends chills down my spine. It was the most terrifying sound of all time. I naturally took out the longsword I had handed to my parents and placed it next to me, then slightly turned my head to look at the source of the sound.

There was a group standing at the entrance of what used to be the village, with their backs to the sunset.

Even from the silhouette, I could tell they were not a normal army. They didn’t even have a single flag indicating their affiliation, which even mercenaries carried around.

Above all, their numbers were not that large.

“Fucking hell.”

They were bandits. Whether they saw that the village was burnt down or traces of the Demon King’s army, it was clear that they had come to check if there was anything to salvage.

If I ran away to the mountains now, I would be able to survive without much trouble.

But then, those fucking bastards would steal not only the swords of my parents, but also the few pieces of jewelry we had.

Even if my whole body is torn apart and I die today, I cannot stand by and watch that happen.

The bastards began to come towards the hill where I was.

I was located at a small “shrine of all gods” that “used to be” on the village hill. There was no special meaning to it. I simply thought it was right to bury them here because my parents were religious.

There were 7 of them. The ones who had approached the vicinity soon got off their horses, looked around, and were coming towards me.

At least one of them seemed to be a woman based on her figure, but she was being forcibly dragged along with an iron collar around her neck, as if she was a slave.

Their armor was shoddy. Not a single one of them was wearing a helmet, and the best-equipped one was the one leading the way with a breastplate, greaves, and gauntlets. He was also the only one holding a sword.

The rest were only holding daggers or axes, and there were no weapons like bows in sight. No. To be precise, there were bows, but they left them on the horses when they dismounted.

The tension made me feel like the blood was draining from my hands and feet. What did I have? An 8-year-old appearance. The swords my parents were holding. The stones around me.

And… mana. The mana that could strengthen my body. The mana I had conserved for 3 days without using once.

“Hey. Kid.”

The man who seemed to be the leader, walking slightly faster than the rest of the group, called out to me. He had unkempt hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed for days, but there were no scars on his face or anything.

“W-who are you?”

I asked, trembling and shaking as if hugging the sword tightly as if it were a memento of my parents, putting on a pitiful expression.

Inwardly, I was hoping they were just adventurers who would just check the situation and leave, but the chances seemed slim.

In the first place, there wouldn’t be many weird guys who would get nervous about an 8-year-old kid, but when my life was on the line, I had no choice but to put on my best act. In response to my question, the man laughed at me as if it was ridiculous and approached.

“Hehe. Fucking hell, you don’t need to know that. Just hand over that sword.”

“T-this is my parents’…”

As I turned my body to the side, pretending as if the sword was slipping out of my grip, unable to bear the weight, I grabbed the hilt.

Then the bastard scowled and bent down to waist level, shouting at me.

That’s what you were aiming for, you fucking bastard.

I swung the sword, unleashing the mana I had spread throughout my body.

“You fucking bastard, if you don’t want to die, right now… Urk?”

Swordsmanship skills? I don’t know if I have any, but my hobby in my previous life was martial arts.

During my school days, I was so into kendo that I even considered becoming an instructor.

If I have the strength to support it, I have the skill to aim for the neck and do a horizontal slash. And I had the power called mana.

“Cough. Th-this is…”

Fuck the pressure of killing someone. I was killed by a murderous robber in my previous life. I used my last ounce of strength to break his neck and kill him, but almost simultaneously, I was stabbed in the heart and died without being able to move.

This body has already committed murder before.

That’s how my reincarnation began. But even that was all gone now.

I’m a guy who can’t see anything right now but death.

“Huh? Boss?”

The guy who fell with his head buried in the ground first, gurgling in the midst of cognitive dissonance, must have been the boss.

As I pretended to be an ignorant little lamb again, shaking and trembling in anxiety, one of the guys ran over without understanding the situation and squatted down next to the guy.

“You should have paid attention to the blood on the sword I was holding”.

“Boss, what… blood? Huh?”

I took a step back to create some distance, then swung the sword aiming for the guy’s neck. The downward diagonal slashing motion neatly carved into the guy’s carotid artery, even in my eyes.

His surprised eyes looked at me, but it was too late.

“Huh? Huh? You fucking bastard, what the hell did you do?!”

That’s when the rest of the guys came to their senses and looked in my direction. But my act wasn’t over yet.

“I… I don’t know either. S-suddenly the sword just…”

The gazes of the 4 appalled bandits and one slave with a strange expression were poured onto me.

“What?! F-fucking hell, isn’t that a magic sword?”

Wow, I guess those things really do exist. What a brutal world.

I was worried they might just charge at me and try to kill me, but the guys were floundering in fear.

“Why the hell is that thing in this backwater village?!”

“B-but the Demon King’s army passed through, right?! Didn’t they drop it?”

For fuck’s sake, which idiot would drop something like that? It was so absurd that my whole-hearted act almost fell apart.

Sad thoughts. The lives of my deceased parents… Fucking hell, I really became sad. I can’t forgive these bastards.

“H-hey. Kid. F-first, hand that over.”

One guy who seemed to have relatively more guts started approaching me with a hesitant posture. He slowly bent his waist to match my height, extending one arm out as he cautiously approached me.

“Sob, t-this is my mom’s…”

“Fuck your mom. I get it, so hand it over for now! I’ll give it back later!”

He approached me, gasping for breath, as if to hand over the sword I was holding with both hands on the hilt. As if he had never held a sword in his life, he had absolutely no anticipation that I could swing the sword just like that.

He wasn’t that big of a guy. His height was probably around 160 cm? His arm length would be 60~70 cm at most.

As soon as he got close enough for the pommel to almost touch his fingertips, I swung the sword with all my might towards his neck.

“Ack!”

“Ahhhhh!”

“Aaargh fuck, Glen!!”

“It’s a magic sword! It’s a fucking magic sword!”

It seemed my act would continue a bit longer.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇