Living in different worlds (no chanter) - The Yufuwa Talent Dispatch Life of the Regenerating Wizard

Working as a livestock in modern Japan, I had been reincarnated into another world when I realized that I was supposed to have died of overwork.

Besides, it's not a world dominated by distopia SF or mucus organisms, it's a so-called fantasy world with magic, races and slaves.

At first, you thought you were simply lucky, spreading Norfolk farming, making soap, and making it easier with knowledge cheats.

But it's necessary to be a mother of success, or that everything everyone wants is the same everywhere, so that's why.

My ambition was shattered at the age of five when the old wizard made wheat on which the farmland would not lose weight, or when commodity crops such as those replacing soap were normally distributed.

Fortunately, I am a three boy merchant who sets up a shop in a castle fortress in a local city.

I didn't have to work to get them to raise me, and if I did the four-law arithmetic properly, my parents would rise up and treat me like a prodigy.

At the end of the day, he said he was a government official or a magician, so he asked me to let him into this magic school.

It's free and has a good education.

By the way, the wizards of this world can only be the intellectual class, so most upper classes can use magic.

So just so you know, this little lady is talented or not, but we're all going to be in a magic school teaching magic and higher education.

The Wizard of Adventurers is a drop-out or a fallen house there.

That's why I'm going to a magic school in the city.

Already, I knew it.

My magical talent... normal.

I don't like attack magic to the point of being ridiculed by some super great noble children.

He seems to have some kind of weakness in his butt, and he's good at supporting magic to the point of being competitively certified by a senior aristocratic lady in drill hair.

I feel like deducting 0 because I'm good at it and I'm not good at it.

And then there's the socially-minded one, and I guess it feels hopeless as a professional soldier because it feels like a male demon mentor can't admit he can't use attack magic in this country.

I don't mind if I join the army.

The teacher told me, "If you were a woman, you might have been the chief," but even if you were the chief, my parents are a tough politician.

No, come on, it's just a house full of gold.

That's why I was a student with so many Hates and so many expectations...

I was 10 years old and came up with a new business seed.

I was an animal in my previous life.

It was something that looked with envy at officers who would slowly return in an officer car a couple of hours before closing hours while working without a day, night or overworked death line.

I'm a big chamber of commerce boy in this world.

I may be able to enjoy being under my brother with executive treatment, but maybe depending on my brother's mood, he'll be used by both company animals.

I'm sorry about that.

And most importantly, having changed my life all at once from a stuck company animal to a warm water boy, I was already reluctant to work for myself.

Maybe with my healing magic talent, I can live easy and run a treatment center or something, but I don't even like using healing magic.

I want to build a huge theater if I can and live to keep watching the monster fall asleep in the best seats.

I want to eat the rice that came out of nothing and live a fine sleep in a cool place.

I want to have a cat or something and live like a day would end if we were in the sun together.

That's where I thought.

"Let's make cheap bought slaves adventurers and live up front".

Fortunately, the city is dotted with resourceful lands of flora and fauna, and beyond the southern river lies an autonomous community with strange dungeons.

To be clear, if you make money as an adventurer, your location is so good that there is no more.

The secret to business success is the location, and I was willing to squeeze out my position as the son of a famous man on this land.

"Boy, are you sure you're okay? Don't count on my nostalgia, okay?

"I know, don't say it again and again"

I, Sawadi Schenker (10), had drawn the courtesy of the Chamber of Commerce to a slave trader who was making it a home courtesy.

It's not chilling, I've told my father, the president, the plan for today, and he's withdrawn a broken penny for a 10-year-old.

Specifically for the next 10 years, if I fail in the business I'm going to do now, I'm going to have a grey teenager.

If I can't, I might run off with a handsome horse I stole...

Oh, my God. When I was thinking about it, a slaver came into the reception room.

"Thank you for your patience, Master Sawadi, and I have been looking forward to seeing your neck long enough to make a deal with you this Perseus."

Apparently, the slaver's grandfather took care of him when he was young, and somehow everyone at my birthday party is also a duty worker, a stalker?

"Oh, I've been looking forward to buying slaves from my grandfather too, thank you for today"

"I did...... but were you sure you were a defective slave?

"Oh, a young lady slave with a flaw"

"You're young, but you have a weird hobby..."

The politeness of the house is saying something behind it, but I don't care, I'm very good at supportive magic, or ability-enhancing magic (buffs) or restorative magic.

I mean, I can fix it myself, whether it's defective or not.

Slavers are out of stock, I can buy cheap, I can sell slaves, I can contribute to society.

Seller, buyer, buyer, tripartite.

Hmm? Why is it exclusive to women?

Because I don't want to keep a man by my side.

When Grandpa slapped his hand, the naiveté of the slave trader brought three women.

Naked and standing on the wall, the women say their names and careers in turn.

"It's Berg, 26 years old, a former whore, and I've been poisoned and I don't have a nose. And then I can't see my right eye."

A woman of the people with long chestnut hair, her right eye is white and cloudy without a nose, as the words say.

"It's Bangs, 13 years old, former adventurer, no right hand, I can't even hear my left ear"

The right hand and left ear have been chopped off, a cat tribe with clumpy blue short hair tips pointing over and over.

"It's a pickle, I was 10, I was a peasant, I can't move my left back leg, I can barely see another eye"

It's a centaur with a human part with chestnut hair wavy hair on the horse part of chestnut hair, I narrow my eyes as much as I want.

"What do you think? Why don't you take a look at ordinary slaves once, too?

As I put my arms together and thought about it, the slaver's grandfather asked.

Whatever you say, I know you think you'll change your mind if you look at the real thing, but the answer is NO.

"Let me get you a pickle, put your clothes on."

"What!?

The naive is raising a surprise voice behind him.

"Boy...... I can't walk. How do you take me home by buying a centaur or something? You can't hold me up, can you?

"Don't worry."

Sign the contract prepared by the slave trader, get him to use the slave contract magic, pay far less than you could have imagined and finish.

I thought it was the first business celebration price with me, but they don't want to hold it anywhere in the first place because defective slaves are hardly for sale.

I sit my pickle down, I put my left back leg on the tip of my pen, do you have any pain? I hear.

She said she didn't feel anything, so she probably has a disorder at the spinal cord level.

From around the base of the tail of the pickle, the roots of the neck of the human area are swept away as healing magic is shed.

Part of the spine of the horse part is uncomfortable and the hand stops.

As I poured healing magic in with both hands, I would be sure that the pickle started making noise when it hurt.

The narrowed spinal cord is returning to its normal form.

Instructed him to stop releasing magic where he was no longer uncomfortable and to rise to the pickle.

"Ahhh! Move! Left back leg moves!!

Pickle moves his left rear leg piqued as he cries.

Well, I haven't moved in a long time, my joints are solidified, my muscles aren't attached, and I need rehab to walk healthy.

Nevertheless, I was able to bend and stretch for a little while, from the slave trader to the house it seemed like I could walk away if I took the time.

It's been two weeks since then, I'm a student, so the only time I get gutted about my business is two days off a week.

Pickles fluttered rice every day, performing therapeutic magic on his legs at night, and walking around the yard of the house during the day to rehab.

I tell him to walk anyway, even if his legs hurt during the day, because if he treats him at night, he can heal what he can't.

As a result, after only two weeks, the left rear leg became as thick as the other legs, with better furrowing of the horse part, and somehow grew to height.

I washed my body and did it in the employee bathroom at night, brushing it on the horse part, so we got along pretty well, probably, maybe.

I took out such a pickle and came to a workshop near the Chamber of Commerce today.

"Master Sawadi, where are we?

"This is the workshop that Osama I know is in, and I'm here to get your glasses."

"Ahhh! That's a magic fixture that makes your eyes better!

The poor eye of the pickle was not ill.

What a blessing to God and part of the blessing.

I called luxury craftsmen to make pickle weapon defenses, and everyday clothes, but he was a wizard who could use stat magic, which was rare outside of the Temple Boy.

It seems that the pickle had the protection of the earth dragon god.

"God's Protection of the Earthdragon"

Effect

· Makes digging holes very fast

· Better swimming

-The nose gets better.

-It makes my eyes worse.

It is commonly referred to as unusable protection.

If this were human, he might have made a name for himself as a hole digger, but Centaur can't dig a hole, and the beast race originally has a good nose and bigger disadvantages.

So I decided to equip the pickle with glasses in order to eliminate the disadvantages.

Pickles were quite adorable to wear the eyeglasses for the eye exam that Osama from the workshop who came to the house made me wear.

"Oh, I can do it. No."

A narrow line of Osama comes out of the back of the store with goggle-shaped glasses.

It's the type of glasses that adventurers often wear, and they stop in a band behind their head that makes it difficult to cloud and crack, so it seems to be a sloppy, hitting product.

When I sat the pickle on the floor and climbed into the chair and let him wear glasses, he began to look around the Kyorokyoro store with tremendous momentum.

"Come anytime you need another adjustment."

Don't bump into a visual look. Say goodbye to Osama, who doesn't look good, and we're on our way home.

"What do you say? The world looks good."

There was no answer.

Until he got home, Pickles was sniffing and crying.

It's been another two weeks.

Since then, I've brought pickles around to prepare heavy armor for horses, leather armor for the upper body of humans, and then hand spears, baggage saddles, etc.

Since then, Osama, a former adventurer who works at home, has been taught how to use spears and learn how to fight.

And today, the first step in my money making plan was finally taken.

The town's Adventurer Guild was not a common fantasy tempered 'rogue drinks and sleeps in an upstairs inn' building, but rather a city hall-like building lined with counters and waiting couches.

Of course there are no beautiful receptionists.

Osama and the others with arm covers stood at the reception, and Osama handed out tickets just before the reception.

"27, please come to window 2"

The guidance announcement was even the voice of my aunt.

I lost interest in the Adventurer Alliance.

"Um, Master Sawadi. What number is this?

Pickle's gonna show me the paper he gripped, and speaking of which, this guy couldn't read the letters.

"That's 27."

"27 said... ahhh! They're calling me!

Pickles rushed to the window.

The registration itself shouldn't be a problem if you have the paperwork you've filled out at home.

Anyway, I just wanted to get out of this dream building.

Waiting outside for an outdoor juice because it was so cool, a pickle came out of the entrance and exit looking exhausting and so on.

"Dear Sawadi, I told you to read this with the people at home..."

If you stretch out the paper that you've crept and read it, it's apparently a summary of prohibitions and precautions.

It was like, "Don't do anything wrong, get along with other people and ask the staff what they don't know (in their spare time)."

Let's ask our old man on the baton for more information, he's a former adventurer.

Three days later, in the morning, I was looking through the inventory of permanent requests Pickles had received from the Alliance yesterday.

This is what an official would write for me if I paid for it.

"Um, is it still herb collection at first? Oberon."

"You should also take a knife raccoon crusade with the herb collection, because if you pick herbs a day, you'll see two."

Oberon is our cautionary stick Osama, and he lost one eye and then retired from his adventurer to start working for us with childhood training and a household.

I'm going to fix you with one eye, so if you tell me to help me with my business, I'll be happy to accept you, and now you're going to be my counselor as Pickle's instructor.

"No, if you think about it, can you get Centaur to collect herbs in the first place? You can't reach the ground, can you?

"What are you talking about, boy, even regular horses live grass-fed on the ground. Centaur can afford it. Of course you can't dig deep holes."

"Hmm, I guess so. Hey, Pickles! It's settled!

A pickle came running this way, wearing armor and a saddle, wandering around the courtyard of the house restlessly.

"Take a pill collection and a knife raccoon crusade. I put a circle on it, so you ask the Alliance about the shape of the herb, where it grows, and the characteristics of the knife raccoon. If you need money, get it out of this bag."

I order Pickles to go to school.

Adventurer Running has decided for a while to turn it around in the same cycle that Oberon opinionated and Pickles worked desperately, just like he did today, deciding on the requests I would take.

My share now is not the management of slavery, it's schooling.

When I started my business, I promised my father and mother that I would go to school seriously.

I didn't care about my parents in my last life, so I couldn't get help when I became a livestock company, and I'm determined to get along with my parents in this world.

Then three months went by.

Pickles, who worked the trick while taking a break once every three days, were able to hunt stably for the vermin daily: knife raccoons and assault chickens.

By the way, a knife raccoon is a belligerent raccoon if you do, whose tail is as hard and sharp as a blade.

Assault chickens are belligerent, giant chickens that can only be hit by the body.

They both seem to be tough opponents there for unequipped newcomers, in addition to their thriving breeding power and growing like assholes every year.

About one in 50 adventurers is going to be killed by a belligerent little animal in this hand.

As more of these animals around the streets have an impact on distribution, so the city is asking the guild to reduce the number.

"Um, I make about three gold coins in a month, minus expenses, two gold coins, minus accumulated gold, and the profit is five silver coins."

By the way, when it comes to this price, it's about 1,000 yen a piece of copper coin, 10,000 yen a piece of silver coin, and 100,000 yen a piece of gold coin.

50,000 a month is a lot of kid pennies, but it's not enough as my penny.

I want to go to the playhouse with a class girl on a holiday afternoon, and I want to upgrade and pioneer the shopping shops on the way home from school.

It's also my hand to go around the neighborhood and make change with healing magic, but I thought simpler.

5 silver coins for one slave, 10 for two slaves.

I was coming with Pickles to the long time slave trade house.

Pickles hates going to the slave trade, and he has asked me if I will indeed be sold, but there is no way I will.

I brought him in as I stroked his back to find your partner.

"These are the three people I'd like to introduce you to today"

When Perseus, a slave trader, said so, naive brought a woman into a room of three.

"It's Calvo, 18, former adventurer, missing one leg"

A black-eyed dog woman with straight black hair stretched to her waist, with no right foot at the base and a cane.

"I'm Bongo, 16, ex-hunter, I can't fly without wings, I don't have a right arm"

He's a blonde birdie sitting in a chair, with no birdie pride feathers, no right arm ahead of his elbow, and nodding eyes.

"It's Gorgo, he's 14, he was a peasant, he's deaf"

She's a woman with big eyes, small, loose people, she doesn't seem to be deaf, but her body has many other fine scratches.

"Now these are the only three missing slaves, and if you don't mind, I'll look for the missing slave you want..."

That's what Perseus has said, not sure who to do it to, but I waved no.

"Not yet, let's get some bongos."

Bongo was far cheaper than Pickles.

Blah, blah. It's probably because I'm dying.

I've heard that birds die of rotting blood if they don't wing.

Maybe the buyout was pretty much a throwaway, too.

"Is this child really going to heal?

The Centaur pickle with Bongo on his back sounds anxious, but well maybe he'll be fine.

It was so pricey that I didn't care if I couldn't.

I then fed Bongo every day a liquid meal and grew a little feather from the bottom of my back with healing magic.

Bongo's hazy consciousness became quite clear in about a week, and he was able to answer the questions.

Somehow in a month, feathers and right arms grow and are fully healed, that's me, I make a whole lot of money.

I'm not gonna stop doing the missing slave business.

It's rehabilitation that's tough though.

In the meantime, like Pickles, I decided to let him do it in Sparta rather than recover being magical.

If I let it fly poorly and crash, I'll have to treat it again, but, well, it would be better than growing feathers from where it's gone.

Bongo wandered around our courtyard sprinkling his feathers from morning to evening as if he was possessed by something every day, spooking the servants.

I'll do healing magic when I get home from school in the evening, but I hear the birds are brittle enough to fly.

It's pretty painful to have a fine crack in your bones because of the bird tribe that makes the sky a place to live crawling around the ground.

Still, as the saying goes, "I want to fly..." I guess rehab is still an identity for the birds to fly.

Pickles back from the adventure seemed worried, too, and I was doing it with her rehab, which lasted until late at night.

Two months later.

The time has come for full healing with the coming of spring.

Looking up at the sky, he flies around vigorously and has the appearance of Bongo chasing with a phantom swallow.

Hi. She seems to be from a family that flies pretty fast among the birds, about twice as fast as the birds in the mail.

Well, if you crash at that speed, you're gonna lose your wings and your limbs.

Convinced.

"Hey! Come on, we're going to the Adventurer Guild -!

Beside me screaming, I'm eating open-store meat skewers like a pickle of senior adventurer slaves with a spear that I used as an outgoing summa.

This guy is 30cm taller than I bought last year, his buttocks and legs are thicker and fatter, and his spiked hooves are slightly cooler.

It's starting to look pretty tweaky, but the rank in the guild is still down there.

I've only been hunting small pests for a year.

Oberon, an advisor to this business, said, "You better not force yourself until you've got your people together," so you let it be foolish.

I'll pay you back what I invested slowly and steadily.

Still, it depends on Bongo, but from now on we'll be able to expand our adventures a bit more.

Good luck, pretty slave warriors.

Let me make plenty of money.

My dream is to have my own theater and sleep and live in the best seats every day.

My name is Sawadi Schenker.

Remember, even with the refreshing Mr. Sawadi.