*gasp*

*inhale*

*cough cough*

*big inhale*

"You bitch!" Choke an imaginary neck above me while lying on my back. "When I get my hands on you… You. Are. Fucking. Dead!"

Focus on my mitts. They look rough. Calloused. Dirty. Mature.

"Huh." Hands drop and I loudly sigh. "I'm older this time." Sniff sniff. "But I know this smell."

*blink blink*

Focus my eyes heavenward. I'm outside, under a cloudy sky. Slight breeze. Daytime, but can't tell if morning or afternoon.

Toilet tennis, look left.

Bodies. Dead bodies. One formerly living dude is right next to me. Facing me. Human, mediterranean maybe, looking but getting kind of pasty. You know, because of being dead and all.

Despite all the mud and blood, I can tell many are wearing armor. Medieval looking armor.

"Shit."

Toilet tennis, look right.

More bodies. Dead horsies too. Plus dead doggies. Big dead doggies. And dead humies. With dead not humies. But none of the not humies are facing my way. Arrow pincushions. Bent swords. Broken shields. Splintered spears. Scattered about.

No guns. No lights. No motor cars. Not a single luxury.

Goddammit.

"Son of a bitch." I groan. "Think I'd rather die than use a chamber pot again."

My hearing is catching up and it starts registering a few pained moans and cries from here and there across this battlefield.

Sweet, not everyone is dead. That’s a good thing, right? Can also hear crows but don't see any. … Body check.

Wiggle each limb then each digit. One at a time.

Hmm… Missing a couple teeth. Bruises all over. Inside and out even. Couple fractures. But I’m in one piece at least. Which is better than many of these poor bastards. … Magic check.

Senses turn inward, next outward, then both ways at once. Searching for that feeling of something… more. Been a long time but the tingle is there. A vague feeling of something “extra” in the air. Like a slight static charge. Not just in the wind either. It's in my skin too. In the ground. Everywhere.

Life creates it. Makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us. Binds us. Luminous beings are we. Not this crude matter.

Though I doubt yoda was talking about using physics's cheat code to blow shit up but… meh. Close enough. The important thing is:

“There’s mana here.”

This world has mana. … Power check.

*mumble*

Start working through every cheat, skill, spell and technique I can remember and… it's a lot.

Some. Time. Later.

Sigh.

Couldn't you have bought me dinner before you fucked me? Offered to get me drunk first? At least not scream your ex's name when you came?

Jesus Christ.

Got no recovery magic, bullet timer nor super senses. Necromancy is a bust. So is golemancy. What the fuck. Nothing for Yuetaoban and Shuanganglong. Not even Yulongyan. Thank god technomancy is sort of working. 

Huh. Maybe the problem is with using elemental and draconic magic? The mana here does smell a little… different compared to Ipra's. 

‘Nina? Are you there?’ Echoes. ‘Hello, cash back! Hello, Kevin Hart.’

Hehe.

Shouldn’t be surprised. She was hardware. Looks like only my “software” got moved again. But then where is this nanomachine feeling coming from-

“Aiyee!”

A scream in the distance.

Eh? Ow!

Turned my neck too fast and pain shot down my spine. Letting me know that it may be a while before I can tango. Or even shuffle.

*rumble*

Something far away topples. Something big enough that you can feel it crashing down through the ground. A wall maybe? Tower?

“No! Please, I have gol-ahh!”

A faint pleading carries across this ad hoc cemetery. That someone begs, but dies anyway. Causing the other whimperers to go silent. Hear almost pig-like snorts afterwards. Triggering another distant memory.

“Orcs?”

Fuuuuck. Guess this was a take no prisoners sort of shindig. Well, at least I can understand the language. Not getting any sort of auto translate vibe.

A tickle in my brain.

Whoa… memories? Sweet! But, ain't got time for that right now. Staying alive comes first.

Quick self check shows my new body was a physical guy. No spells. Very little, uh, aura? Interesting... No, stop, no time. Not now. Focus on what I can do.

Christ I wish I had my Dragons. Some 12.5mm justice would clean this mess right up.

Another tickle lights my brain. And it's coming from:

Well drop your drawers and call me Santa, you really are nanomachines. But where did you come from?

A mental tug pulls the peepers southward to see a sword laying across my stomach. A pigsticker with half its blade missing. Like something took a big bite out of it.

Flashes of memory.

Ah, right. That's what killed him, well, me… Oh! My technomancy must have kicked in when I got here and used the metal in my gut to make you little guys. And you've been patching me up? Thank you. Good work tiny dudes!

*zap*

"Ow… what was…"

Another pinch on my attention turns senses inward. To my upper right chest.

Holy shit! You built a nano factory implant!? Umm… No, that's not quite it. But it's pretty close. Still, where did you get the materials-

*snik*

A sound pulls scrutiny to the left. Luckily I remember to turn my banged up skull slowly this time. The cheekbone of my killer has fallen against his helmet because… Well, there's not enough skin or muscle to support its weight anymore.

That face looks a lot less, uh, facey compared to just a bit ago.

Pus oozes out of the corpse's orifices as an eyeball plops out of a socket. I watch the face inches from me liquify in real time. With occasional pops, sizzles and a sickening odor. Viscous fluids form a slimy trail. Inching their way to my skin. Where they get absorbed through it.

…

You know? There may not be enough hot water or bleach in the universe to make me clean again after seeing, and feeling, that.

Hey, uh, mini me's?

A getting closer scream in the distance followed by more pig laughter.

Thank you for going the, ew, extra mile and all but, uh, not sure if you noticed? But this body ain't gonna be ready to do anything anytime soon. Except lay here in numb agony as you duct tape it back together. So, any suggestions on what to do about my imminent demise?

A multitude of little giggles in the back of my mind precedes another tug. Tilting my head and eyes down towards my right hand. Where a familiar frame is forming. And quickly brings a big grin to my face.

“You glorious midget mother fuckers. Are you making me a gun?”

What’s taking shape in my palm isnt going to win any beauty contests, or design competitions. But the outlines of a firearm, a revolver, are there and growing more solid by the minute. Looks kind of like an old colt revolver you might see in a cowboy flick.

Yeah, not very high tech but right now I’ll take whatever I can-

*singe*

“Ouch!”

Like earlier, a flash of pain. Not electricity this time. Heat. Flame. Reminding me of two swords I once held. A long time ago in an isekai far far away. The nostalgia doesn’t distract me from a more important issue, however.

Uh, nano me’s? What are you going to use for propellant? 

*teeny weeny screeching brakes*

The earlier giggles stop and there are lots of little embarrassed its instead.

Seriously? You didn’t think about that?

Among the masses of shrugs, one little it tugs at my brain. Guiding my senses inside. Where I see something new in my mindscape. Two new things, in fact.

What’s all this then?

There, where my living shadows used to watch movies and bowl, float two magic circles. One has electricity arcing back and forth across its charged lines. The other burns and pops explosively along its curves.

Where did you get these?

Memories of a dagger and mace bubble up. And them being eaten by my micro minions. Who have been munching on every cadaver around me. Not just my neighbor. Including their equipment.

Damn, didn’t know you guys could do that. If we live through this? I am going to pillage the shit out of this slaughterhouse.

An outline of the revolver hovers in my mindscape with all its component parts. The bullet diagram floats next to it. And I turn my attention to it first.

“Okay,” speak to my itty bitty craftsmen, “let’s focus on the cartridge.” Rub my illusory chin. “Agree on using the 12.5mm, good call. But if we can’t make strong enough gunpowder? Before the orcs come to shishkabob me? We are just spinning our wheels.”

Feel some of the nanos pick up on my thinking. The floating 3d hologram changes. Primer, propellant and case fading away. Leaving just the bullet which stretches. Becoming three times longer. A tiny copy of the magic fire circle etched into the flat bottom.

“Hold up, you have access to my memories?" Tons of tiny frowns. "Yeah, yeah, so much crap I never got around to finishing." Sigh. "Thought I would have all the time in the world once I brought my first family back to Ipra."

Point at the bottom of the round.

"Don't forget to add a rim." A ring above the end is drawn and sinks in a little. "Good. Still need a smidgen of air and that provides enough. Makes it easier to clear jams too besides the better circle shatter pattern."

Lots of little stares.

"No, I am not mansplaining." Cross my arms. "My life is on the line here." Stare back and point. "Make sure to double the hammer weight and slope the impact end. Need to seal the back of the chamber or it'll lose a lot of propulsion."

The nanos ping me, saying it's ready. So I take one last look. Feeling like a lego master builder with the way the parts spin and highlight. 

Welp, it's now or never.

Wake out of my mindscape to find the revolver a lot bulkier than before. Has to be to cope with the higher pressure and heavier slug. Looks more like Stampede’s Long Colt now than a Colt Single Action Army.

Not to mention that I have no idea if it will even work. Yep, while I did a lot of tinkering back then? Never got around to actually making one.

The occasional screams and groans are a lot closer as the sky gets darker. So are the crows cawing and orcs snorting. Using my left hand, elbows and feet I start scooching. Up the slight slope to my right. Towards a dead horse just a few feet away. Soil is damp and loose. Still churned up from thousands fighting on it.

My god, this is taking forever.

This body is improving. Could probably even stand now. Don’t want to overdue it though. Mini me’s are doing good work. Mentally thank them again.

My right hand is gripping the gunmetal grey heavy revolver. Its cylinder has six chambers for bullets 12.5mm in diameter. Basically a short 50 caliber round. Almost half an inch across and an inch and a half long. That much jacketed lead is a hell of a lot of metal coming your way at hundreds of feet per second.

Finally reaching the deceased mount. I scoot and prop my back up against it. First thing I notice is the drop gets more pronounced further down. Second thing? Almost as far as I can see is littered with bodies. Beyond it? A burning city in the distance.

A large chunk of its wall has collapsed. Probably the rumbling heard and felt earlier. Numerous columns of smoke rise into the air. Do not see any movement though.

May not have [Super Senses] anymore but I’m plenty familiar with how a place looks after the party’s over. And that probably makes these pigs the cleanup crew. Might have lucked out. Whatever, I’ll take what I can get. Not like I have much choice anyway.

“Grah?” Ah, they see me. “Bohk i’chu.”

There’s four of them a couple dozen paces away. Downhill. One’s bigger and clearly in charge. Skin tones range from green to grey. Beady eyes, tusks and snouts make them look more hog-like than Ipran orks.

Big guy must be well over six feet and has a scarily huge cleaver. Like it couldn’t make up its mind on growing up to be an axe or a sword. So one day just said, "why not both?" One of his oinker buddies has an axe. The other a similar but smaller chopper. But the fourth carries a staff. And that’s the one the crows are following.

“Ha ha ha, snort.”

They're all having quite the chuckle at my expense I bet. Can't blame them. I do look like shit.

“Here piggy piggy.”

That stops the laughing right quick. Guess they understood it.

“Naja bu gak.” Mister piggy starts stomping towards me. “Let's hear you squeal." Oh, he speaks my lingo too. "Chach!”

Yeah, you first. Say hello to my little friend, bitch.

*click*

…

?

“Shit.”

What the fuck mini me’s. What the fuck!

Feel the argument that suddenly blows up. Sounds like there was a disagreement on measuring.

Are you fucking kidding me? Haven’t you heard? Its measure twice, cut once. Measure twice! Cut once!!!

Fuck it.

*click*

*BOOM*

Big mean and green is just a couple steps away, raising his butcher blade, when I pull the trigger a second time.

In slow mo I watch the hammer fall. Followed instantly by a bright flash as flames spit out the cylinder sides and barrel end of the revolver. Over two ounces of jacketed lead rams into the bruiser’s chest plate going way over a thousand feet per second.

The round begins to deform as it makes a quarter sized hole in the hardened boiled leather armor. Before punching into the target’s ribs. And when the bullet exits mister piggy’s back less than a second later? This time it leaves a fist sized hole behind.

A big fist.

The speed and rapid pressure change convinces chunks of rib, lung and heart to follow the lead out his body's new hole. As well as a lot of blood. Knocked back several feet by the blast but somehow still standing. Porky only manages a short squeal before flopping lifelessly backwards.

"Grug!"

The axe orc bellows a battle cry and charges. But, unfortunately, I'm standing now. And have two hands on the handle. The kick was holy crap that hurts level. Might end up breaking my own fingers. So need to dual grip this bruiser.

*BOOM*

Steadier aim let's me center mass this shot over a dozen paces away. Sending axy spinning to the ground.

*BOOM*

I may not have [Super Senses] anymore but I'm still super sensitive to mana. So picked up on the shaman looking orc's spell as soon as he started casting.

Shot number three blows his head clean off.

"Baki! Baki!"

*BOOM*

The last piggy decides discretion is the better part of valor and wee wee wee all the way home. Stupidly, he does it in a straight line.

My fourth pull of the trigger catches grey piggy in the back. Knocking him flat on his face. He doesn't get back up.

The murder of crows scattered at the first shot. And there is no sign of them coming back as I pan across this ad hoc graveyard.

"Whew… good. Then, I guess, fuuuuck!"

*shake shake*

Palm the hand cannon into my left and shake the right to lessen its numbness. Severely underestimated the recoil. Gonna need a redesign to help with that.

The noise may have traveled for miles. So better start clearing out every bit of metal I can find-

*ding*

???