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my magical life

Daoist27ARNX
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Synopsis
When I woke up and saw myself on the back of a jolting one-horned rhinoceros, and saw a caravan several kilometers long moving slowly, the rhinoceros gasping as high as a three-story house, and carrying a mountain of cargo on its back, my heart was like a thousand wild horses rushing past.
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Chapter 1 - 1.The new life

The caravan journeyed east for 17 months along the New Siakis Mountains, the distant rolling black peaks fading from view. According to Leipas, our guide, once we crossed those peaks, we'd escape Dwarven influence and enter the plateau of Pai. The trade papers we acquired from King Stan, one of the seven Dwarven Kings, would lose their significance, becoming as mundane as ordinary magical parchment. Rumors circulated of thousands of orc tribes scattered here, large and small, inheriting ancestral power. The atmosphere in the caravan had shifted; jokes were sparse, and everyone bore a trace of worry for the orc tribes and gray dwarf bandits awaiting us.

With each rhino carrying thousands of pounds of iron ingots, a driver atop a soft seat at the back of the rhino's head, and two deputies managing the cargo, the 70 rhinos formed a vast caravan stretching two kilometers. Dwarves, renowned blacksmiths, crafted armor and weapons distinct from human preferences. Heavy armor and shields as large as door panels, favored by dwarves, were deemed impractical on the Terran side due to their weight. Fine metal materials were the sought-after currency.

Leading the caravan were over 20 robust Bolecus horses, accompanied by two groups of adventurers—swordsmen, archers, and mysterious magicians. They followed us over the mountains of the New Siakis, rumored to hunt monsters in the Forest of Warcraft on the mountain's edge for magical materials to sell in the human world. Kuz discreetly warned me of their dangerous reputation, emphasizing the importance of not crossing paths with them. Leipas had granted them protection, promising to transport their goods to the Imperial capital; these adventurers were responsible for the caravan's safety.

Behind the Thunderbolts were 13 massive black iron wagons, resembling small houses, each engraved with intricate wind magic formations on their axles. These well-crafted wagons were pulled by four bison of wild bull blood, each capable of effortlessly towing 5,000 pounds of cargo.

Contrary to assumptions of nobility, the caravan housed a troupe from the Terran Grimm Empire's capital, invited by the Dwarf King three years earlier to participate in a commemorative celebration. The troupe, comprising over 300 individuals, including 180 dancers, chefs, tailors, musicians, waiters, and magic artists, was not the largest in the Green Emperor. It was astonishing that anyone would spend 5.6 years on the road just to witness the celebration of a certain country.

Later, I learned from Leipas about a vehicle called a magic spaceship—a massive contraption more akin to an airship, capable of carrying hundreds of people. Despite the well-established route from Stan to Grimm, the troupe opted for an overland journey east along the Neo-Siakis Mountains, to the Pai Plateau, aiming to learn the sacrificial war dances of the orc tribes, with hopes of establishing communication with tribes close to humans.

In September, the warm monsoon from the endless sea brought ample rain, transforming the land of dwarves on the western side of the land of Roland into a vibrant landscape. The snow and ice melted, and life flourished. A gentle warm wind, akin to a mother's touch, brushed across my cheek. Excitedly shedding my winter sheepskin jacket, flavored with the taste of salted fish, I watched as Kuz, shirtless, leaped onto the back of a thundering rhino, soaring seven meters high. The green grass, resembling oil, rolled beneath us like a silver carp plunging into a lake.

With enthusiasm, I embraced the cool water, employing a dive to traverse a few meters into the lake. Alternately moving my feet, I propelled my body further. The cold lake water enveloped my hot body, and every cell craved its refreshing embrace. Emerging from the water with a final breath, I found an ice floe the size of a round table a few meters away. Wet and grinning, the orc boy Kutz sat on the floe, beckoning me with his bare teeth.

He shouted in imperfect Imperial tongue, "Jiga, climb up quickly; this ice is interesting!"

Observing the floating ice in the lake, I marveled at the early spring chill. I couldn't help but envy the strength of the orc boy from the tribe. Despite the ice and cold, I dared to jump into the lake. The fire poison in my blood burned my body daily, yet I could feel the regenerative power of my blood repairing the constant carbonization and regeneration of my flesh and blood. In those moments, I didn't perceive myself as a human but rather as a thinking piece of fried meat. Only the immersion in the cold lake offered a brief respite from the relentless pain.

Reflecting on my existence, I pondered whether I carried the blood of a beast, perhaps a werewolf. The party's sole medicine man, old orc Kuru, often boasted about his youth. He claimed that the boy Kuz was not even a tenth of his strength. Despite Kuru's aged body losing its vigor, he sometimes neglected the medicine jar, preferring to call me for assistance.

Indeed, I was the smallest handyman in the entire caravan, willing to undertake any task—from running errands to delivering messages, cleaning horse manure, washing shoes, heating water, to foraging wild vegetables. As long as I could move, I had to do it if I desired my nightly half-loaf of brown bread.

Recalling Kuru's tale, I learned that he found me on the edge of the burnt-out mountains, far west of the Dwarf Kings. He speculated that I had consumed the fruit of a fruit tree, imbuing even my blood with a strong element of fire. At that time, I was already unconscious, and Kuru, initially reluctant to save me, ultimately rescued me. According to his experience, no human, orc, or dwarf could survive after eating the fruit. Known as the purification fruit, it was intended for the deceased. Consuming it led to the person's entire body turning into ashes. Legend held that the fruit's core could grow into a flame that burned the soul's pure fire, purifying it for ascension into the kingdom of God.

I placed my trust in old Kuru's words, as I took over this body following the original host's soul purification. However, the fate of the original soul's journey into the Kingdom of God remains unknown to me, leaning more towards its disappearance. The vivid memories of my past life still linger—once a chef in a grand hotel, skilled in cold cooking and carving carrot flowers. My demise occurred during a tragic encounter with a truck robber, resulting in a fatal stab to the heart.

Expecting nothing but death, I was surprised to awaken as a five-year-old engulfed in flames. Every inch of skin, flesh, and bone creaked in the intense heat, resembling a slab of fried beef. In the throes of a consciousness-shattering ordeal, an old orc, Kuru, draped his shriveled arm over my head and slashed my wrist with a small black machete. Black and purple blood spilled over me, with most of it finding its way into my mouth. Against all odds, I survived. Kuru explained that I might be the child of a traveler who, following tradition, swallowed the burning fruit before death, anticipating the body's transformation into ashes and the soul's ascension to heaven.

The power of the fire element, triggered by the burning fruit, stimulated the ancestral blood in my veins, awakening my blood and granting me the name Blue Flame. The fire's potency was lethal, but it fell short of ending my life. The reason for my soul's resistance to the purifying fire might be attributed to the burning fruit not fully ripening.

My name is Giga. A blue flame. Any future real names that awaken will be overlaid. Despite my bloodline's initial weakness, unable to withstand the burning fruit's power, old Kuru, with the regenerative abilities of his Orc race, saved me. I was deemed fortunate, a child favored by the beast God king, absorbing the self-healing ability present in my blood. The daily agony of burning was akin to a fate worse than death.

During those relentless months on Thunder Rhino's back, old Kuru diligently provided herbal juices daily. In that period, my bloodline acquired another name—self-healing—an ability coveted by Orc-wolf warriors. My body regenerated after countless destructions, revealing my innate fire resistance. The burning pain gradually subsided as the fire within my abdomen flowed through my blood, emanating from my limbs.

In the nearly two years since my arrival in this magical world, Leipas has dedicated time each day to teach me the Imperial language, though progress has been slow. Old Kuru occasionally remarked to Leipas that I might actually be a human-looking Orc child, given my more fluent Orc language. In terms of human age in this world, I'm merely seven years old. Slowly but surely, I started to assimilate into the caravan.

Leipas, the chief of our caravan and also the chief steward of the joint chamber of commerce, adheres to the principle of keeping everyone productive. No special treatment is granted solely because of my age; I am expected to contribute like everyone else.

A group of thunder rhinos gathered at the lake, with drivers guiding them in an orderly fashion to drink water and then lie down for cargo unloading. The heavy cargo is neatly stacked aside, and the rhinos, resembling the stegosaurs of my world's dinosaurs, are led to graze in the pasture by skilled shepherds. Fred, the second in command riding Thunder, interrupted my lakeside leisure, warning me about Leipas' whip and instructing me to quickly brush and dry the leather saddles while the weather was favorable.

Waving from the lake, I poked my head out of the water and assured Fred, "Got it, Fred." As I swam, Kuz, perched on the ice, gave Fred a disapproving look and whispered in Orc, "This Fred guy must be heading to his little dancer again. Giga, don't help him."

"No worries, it's not too much work. Losing in Orc slang is a blessing, right?" I replied while swimming. "Brushing the saddle won't be in vain—I'll enjoy Fred's broth in the evening. The frozen lake is a bit too cold for me, so I might as well go ashore and scrub the pommel." Glancing at the massive creature that could easily turn me into a patty with one foot, I chuckled to myself and swam determinedly towards the shore, ready to begin my assigned task.