It’s been thirteen years since I was reincarnated into this world. During those years I have worked tirelessly to get myself independent. Today I am finally able to survive on my own. After breakfast I bow to my family. “I’m sorry for being such a burden to you over the years. I will repay you for taking care of me some day, but I can’t achieve anything in a town as small as this.” I bow to them and turn to go. 

“Son.” My isekai-dad says and I stop. 

“What do you mean burdening us?” My isekai-dad asks with a soft voice. 

“I eat your food, I use your bed, I offer nothing in return.” 

“Son, you’re a kid. That’s what parents are supposed to do. Feeding and housing you, providing a safe place for you to learn. That’s what makes a parent a parent.” 

“Why do you do it?”

“Because we love you.” 

“I don’t understand. You’re under no obligation to help me. Why do you?”

“Because you’re my son.” He gives me an odd look. “Look, Anon, I know you aren’t like other kids. You have crazy ideas, not childish fantasies, but world changing ideas. You see the world in a..” He pauses searching for a specific word. “Unique way, but even so you’re my bundle of joy. You can’t leave, you aren’t even sixteen yet.”

I was starting to understand why he kept me around. He believed that family was something and he took joy from having a family. It gave him joy to have offspring that will carry on his genes. It gives him greater joy if those genes do well. I was repaying his altruism by just living. I am still physically weak. No matter what inventions I carry with me, there is a chance they will fail and the joy he derives from my existence will end when I end. This entire world is betting on that a sixteen year old has enough knowledge and strength to have their father’s gene passed on despite environmental dangers. It felt cheap, I felt dirty. I couldn’t fully understand why it was such a big deal, but I would accept his kindness, for now. 

By “for now” I mean for three more years. It gave me time to work on my inventions. Well, the only invention I can claim is my blunderbuss. It’s a mash of modern and medieval tech. Something that only someone with the knowledge of the modern age and the technology of the  iron age could produce. It’s a flintlock-cartridge-fed-shotgun, the flint was gathered from the nearby river. Three years ago the plan was to go on foot, but I was able to dig out a canoe. The new plan is to travel by the river until I reach a city. 

Turning a log into a canoe took time, time that passed quickly. Hard work makes time go by. Just forging the tool that scrapes out the wood took three months. I was polishing my canoe when I heard screams coming from the house I lived in. I rushed toward it. Concave drawing knife, the tool used to carve out a canoe, in hand and blunderbuss on my back. 

Three horses in front of the one room house. I looked in through the window. One man was brandishing a sword at my mother. Keeping her in the corner. One was going through our belonging while the other had his wrists held by my father. From the bandit’s open palm was a small flame. My father was stopping him from throwing it. It didn’t make sense to me though. How could he have flames in the palm of his hand?

Either way, I shot the one cornering my mother first. A loud boom that made my ears scream. I ducked behind the window sill. I snapped my shot gun open, grabbing the spent cartridge and putting a fresh one in. Poking my head over the sill the thieving bandit has turned his attention to finding out what killed his accomplice. He locked eyes with me. Another shot and another loud band. I didn’t duck down this time. Fire hands saw me too. He threw the fireball out of the window towards me then turned to run for the door. I drucked, the fireball went over my head then made my way to the door. As soon as he was out I readied my blade. I brought the C shaped carving tool down on the first part of him that passed the door. My blade carved off his hand. I brought my foot to his groin. He fell to the ground in a panic, but I didn’t relent. I jumped on top of him, jamming my thumbs into his eye sockets. I kept my body low to avoid his blind punches. “Surrender!” I commanded. “Stop moving.” He stopped. I got up. My father was standing in the doorway looking at me in equal parts horror and wonder. “Rope.” I told him, he brought me some. I tied the bandits legs together and his intact arm to them. Then I took a strip of my shirt, wrapped it around his elbow joint and tied it off. I grabbed the handle of my tool and placed it in the cloth then twisted. I was applying a makeshift tourniquet to the mand. I wanted to keep him alive.  “Confirm that the other two are dead.” I told my father, who shuffled back inside. 

I had stopped the bleeding. The horses were tied to the post outside. The two dead bandits were placed at the tree line. “Son, can we talk? That was merciless, where did you learn stuff like that?” 

I was applying pressure to the man's wound. It was on the third wad of cloth and the bleeding had just now stopped. 

“Not now father. I’m saving this guy’s life.” 

“Why? He attacked our home?” 

“That’s hypocritical. Should I save him or kill him? I’m keeping him alive because I want to know how he threw fireballs. Hand alcohol.”

“Killing someone doesn’t make you a man. You can’t drink.” 

“Alcohol is a poison to the senses. I’m going to use it as a disinfectant. So his wound will heal right.” 

“Son, this isn’t like you.” Father then stops. “No this is very much like you. It’s not like what I thought my son would be though.” Father uncorks a bottle he takes a large drink then hands it to me. I pour it on the bandit’s stump. He winces in pain, but quickly recovers. 

I set the man as upright as I can with his restraints. “You conscious?” He swings his head around blindly. Both his eyes are scabbed and yellow. “What was the fire you produced from your hand?” I ask in a threatening tone. 

“What are you talking about kid?”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I jab the butt of my shotgun into his charley horse. 

“How did you make that fireball?”

“With magic.” 

I jab the butt of my gun into his other thigh. 

“How did you make that fireball? Magic isn’t real. I’ve been on this world for sixteen years. I would have seen it by now.”

Father places a hand on my shoulder. I look into his eyes. “Magic is real, it’s just not something commoners like us get involved with. It’s an evil tool of evil people requiring a sacrifice of one's soul to an evil god.” I scoff. “God’s aren’t real, tools are tools. Evil and good aren’t real either.” 

The bandit laughs. “Listen to your daddy kid, don’t get involved with evil magic and don’t mess with evil men like me.” He starts twitching his bound hand in odd ways. Ways that wouldn’t make sense unless he was doing something I didn’t know about. I slammed my weapon into his pinkie just to make sure he wasn’t summoning any more fire. He screamed. My family winced, they didn’t like seeing me interrogate this man, but something about me just mercing two bandits made them apprehensive to stop me.  I placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Here is the deal. You are going to teach me magic. I am going to treat your wounds and feed you while you do. Your eyes should heal in a few months. I will either learn magic and release you into the wild after that. Otherwise, I’m going to kill you.” 

“Son, we should just turn him over to the guards.” 

“Or we could kill him, why turn someone over to the guards? He forfeited his life when he attacked us, he’s only alive now to teach me magic.” 

“There’s a difference though. You can’t just kill people. When he was attacking us that was one thing, but he has surrendered. Plus you can’t learn magic, that’s only for evil people and nobles.” Nobles have magic? Either they made pacts with a fake evil god or they are using that as an excuse for the commoners to not meddle in it. 

The bandit laughs “From the way he talks, your son is already an evil god.” He quips. He finishes his laugh then adds. “Fine, I’ll teach you magic, kid. Just promise me you know how to heal my eyes.” 

“It was only blunt trauma. I didn’t pop them. As long as I’m vigilant for infection they will heal on their own. If they get infected then you’re done for. But I know how to prevent infection.” 

The bandit sat at the family dinner table teaching me about the magic of this world. “The first step to magic is deciding what god you want to worship. There’s twelve majors and thirty six minors. Now you might think that the majors are more powerful than the minors, but their powers are divided amongst their worshipers. So a minor god with few worshipers is able to give it’s followers more power than most major gods. The god affects what magic you can use, how you cast it, and how pure your soul remains afterwards. I follow Pyros, the underhanded arsonist. I cast with hand signs.” He hides his hand from me, expecting a ruthless person like me to immediately handicap him as soon as I learned this. I reassure him that I’m not that brutal and he slowly brings his hand back on the table. “The major gods are all what you’d expect. War, life, death, water, air, fire as in natural fire, time, space, and some others. I don’t care for them, those are the noble gods. The thirty six minors are where people like me get our powers.  I don’t remember them all by name. I know some of their concepts though...uhhh.” He pauses. “Pyros, arson. Nocturne, nightmares. Shaco, chaos. Uhhh… Nyagothelpt, hunger. The dumb king, sleep. Then there is the one for numbers, for raw magic, uhh, slavery, and…” He pauses. “Kid, I can’t remember any others.” Those gods don’t seem very interesting, the majors seem over populated and the minors, at least the ones that this guy knows, are all very evil sounding. He mumbles through the list again. “Oh, and Stirner, god of freedom. The counter part to the god of slavery.”  

“I’ll take him. He seems to align with my values.” 

“Say’s the one holding me hostage.” 

“I’m free to do so.” 

“Eitherway, just chant his name a bunch of times while meditating and he should appear to you eventually. There’s also some mana drawing techniques I can teach you, helps draw mana in from the area around you.” 

Mana is just around. It’s like yeast. It’s in the air and all you have to do is lay out some flour and water and it’ll get trapped inside, allowed to multiply. I trapped the magic inside me as I chanted the name of the god I wanted to summon. 

“Stirner, Stirner, Stirner, Stirner.” 

“What!” A voice boomed in my head. 

“Oh, shit. You are real. I was beginning to think that this god stuff was just placebo.”

“No you are correct. I am just a spirit in your head. A spook. Nothing more.” He said in the tone of voice of an obvious liar. 

“Are you a spook that will give me power?”

“What do you want it for?” I don’t know. I wanted to experience magic because it wasn’t something I had ever experienced before. 

"Your powers, I guess."

"What will you use them for?" 

"Myself." Got no other use for it. I could also use it to protect my family, but I protect them only because they are mine. I don't want to lose them. 

"Did you study for this? What am I the god of?" 

"Freedom?" 

"Freedom through selfishness. Will to power type stuff. But fine. I have judged your character and you seem like you understand who I am without even studying me. Take my power." 

"What does it do?"

"Freedom." In with that a connection in my mind was shattered. But I could feel a tickling in the back of my skull as mana flowed into me. It's weird being on a world where gods are real. Puts things into perspective. On Earth the most powerful things were governments, but you could work within or slip by them to be free. Here, if there are omniciant gods then freedom might be harder than it should be.

"Hey kid welcome back." Braz turned to me as I entered the door. He was helping father set the table for dinner. His eyes healed and he has been a welcomed part of the family in some ways. It's weird that someone can go from enemy to alley in just a few months. So weird that I asked him why that was. "Well, being a bandit isn't something anyone wants to be. My family got their house taken by a greedy noble. That's when I got in contact with Pyros, he helped me burn that fuckers mansion to the ground. Took advantage of me really. I mean, I always liked bonfires, but Pyros requires me to start fires or he'll burn me alive. Speaking of requirements, what does Stirner require?"

"Nothing, he didn't ask for anything."

"What cool magic did he give you?"

"Not sure." I state bluntly.

I looked around the room. Mother seemed apprehensive, so did father. What could they be anxious about?

"Oh, I've learned magic now, I suppose. Though it didn't do me any good."

"Good for you kid."

"I suppose I should let you loose?"  Braz stopped. "You were still holding me hostage? Thought I was your live in tutor now." 

"Nothing more to learn. I can return to my original goal. To travel the world." 

"Kid, don't you need someone to travel with you. Someone who knows the world?" 

It was supposed to be a journey for the sake of a journey. 

"My canoe only holds one person." 

"Just sell it, we have horses." 

That was a fine idea. I would prefer the lazy lull of a canoe, but the freedom of movement that a horse offers is nice.

The next morning we loaded up two of the horses and set off down the road. 

“Halt.” We stopped our horses at the town gate. “Names and reason for travel.” I cleared my throat. “I am Anon Moose, and this is my uncle Zrab Moose.” Braz looked at me funny. He was expecting a country bumpkin like me to have no street smarts. But any idiot who knows his shit would know that a bandit from this area would probably be wanted by the guard