I miss being a horse-man.

The day after I left the slave-holdings, I was changed yet again.

Faye thought it was a good thing.

News of a horse-man and fox-woman who freed a lot of slaves in the country of Alaran as spreading quickly, and anyone who’d be looking for them wouldn’t be looking for who I was now which was just the average human guy.

Slightly on the slimmer side with short, dark hair.

The rest was average.

Average, average, average, recently I began hating that word.

It sucked, and I thought the way I looked now sucked too.

When do I stop looking like your typical Shinji’s, Kirito’s, Kyon’s, and Oreki’s and start looking like a Kenshiro, Baki, Guts, or even any Jojo.

...Well, maybe not any.

We could cap it at Part 4, actually.

Araki’s style really changed over the years, never really went back to the ultra manly designs.

Even Gappy was too… uh, ‘new araki’ for me.

Flamboyant to say the least, but all of the characters did have interesting designs, at least that’s what I thought.

Faye was on the same side of the coin, on looks I meant. She had reverted into something more boring, into what this world considered a ‘vampire’, which meant she had pointy teeth and pointy ears but unlike an elf, they weren’t long, just pointed.

She lost all the fur, the tail, and the ears. I’m sure she didn’t consider it a great loss.

All in all, she was as she always looked, small with purple hair.

“What are you thinking about, Faye? The world, the natural state of affairs? The gods? Maybe you miss some of your Paragon friends?” I asked her.

But as always, she didn't answer.

“Say, can you tell me if there's anything interesting happening 'round here? I cannot believe that in a fantasy world, there would ever be a moment of actual down time. Somewhere I could cause a bit of mischief, maybe?”

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“There’s a tournament coming up in the nearby city of Jento, the capital of Castirin. If you want to, you could participate in it. It would be no challenge for you at your current level, but it would serve your needs.”

“Jento, eh? What's the place like?” I asked with great interest.

"After you have told me the measurements of your world, it is exactly three-hundred-thousand-two-hundred and thirty, point, five-zero kilometers squared in size, sharing a border with Alaran in the north and only it, the surrounding territory does not belong to any recognized kingdoms or countries. It has a long history of religiously-based monarchs. The current king being a man fifty-six years of age called Luker Tola Drach-"

"I think I’ve heard enough."

I lay down with my back towards the ground and started to levitate in that position.

It may be silly looking, but this is something I always wanted to do, and somehow it felt very soothing.

Turning around mid air, stomach now facing the ground, I could see from high above the people, most likely farmers, if they were so far outside a city, minding their own business, like ants.

After a few minutes of high-speed air-based travel, I was above the city of Jento and, of course, it was just brimming with life.

I never had a strong opinion on the hustle and bustle of cities and the slickers within it, but personally, I just like the countryside more.

The only thing I would miss is ease of access to technology.

Generally, I did.

Since I was born into this world, there have been so many things I missed, but, most of all, the internet.

Man, I really miss it. King of all inventions, that's for sure.

Anyway.

I landed somewhere safely and started to walk through the city, seeing a few of the sights, but after I asked around for a bit, there was only one place to go.

The coliseum that was right in the middle of Jento, and of course it was giant, must have been the biggest thing in it.

Next to its big entrance, there was a small building, and that was my goal.

That’s where I would sign up, or at least that’s what I thought.

There was a long queue of people standing outside who looked like the type of people who would participate in a tournament, fighters, so to say.

Some armed to the teeth, lots of wizard-y looking folk with staffs and pointy hats with robes and wands, and witchy women, daggering rogues, and gas-mask wearing poisoneers, and a whole lot of beast-men and beast-women and demis attending too.

Inside the building, the queue of people lead right up to the clerk who had to be some sort of receptionist who registered the people who wanted to fight.

I pushed the sorceress, who was first in queue, aside and took her place.

“Hello my good man, I am here to fight, say in… three days? That’s when the tournament is, right?” I said, with great confidence, while looking at a poster on the wall of the building’s interior advertising the tournament.

“Is that right?” the receptionist asked rhetorically, playing with his mustache.

“Great, sign me up. Name’s Asher Burell.”

Everyone in that building suddenly quieted down.

Unsure, the clerk asked, “are you sure you want to use that name?”

“Why? What’s the problem, that IS my name, you know,” I turned around and addressed the people who were giving me funny looks, “can’t help it if I share it with shady characters.”