The idea of a magic bag is quite simple in concept and is an extremely popular trope in fantastical settings. A bag or container which is larger on the inside is captivating to the mind and would be extremely useful in the transport of goods. This is all true to the world that JB is currently inhabiting.
However, in their creation a few flaws were discovered. The first flaw was that the bags were limited by the opening that they had, just like a regular bag. The second was that the bags required mana from the surroundings in order to run such a complex spell. The third, and most detrimental, was durability. The creation of space through sheer magical force took a toll on the materials of the bag and would inevitably result in its destruction. The larger the bag, the more rapid this process of entropy would be. On average, a magic bag the size of a purse would last around a month before becoming inert. A magic bag like the one that JB was currently inside of would probably last around a few days at most. This was also not including the cost prohibitive measures of such a device, as there were only a select few that had the necessary skill to make such a complex device. This is why merchants like Eric didn’t use them for cargo.
This was changed by the entry of the heroes into the world. Most of the heroes had decided to take powers that were combat oriented because that was the most pertinent skill for their job. This was not the case for Marcus, the hero who had chosen to take on the role of blacksmith. This was also the hero God had intended JB to kill when she ordered her to go east.
Calling Marcus a gun nut in the previous life was an understatement. If it was possible to have sexual intercourse with the concept of firearms, he would be first in line. He adored the history and mechanics of weaponry in the modern day, so having the ability to create whatever weapons he wanted in this new world was pure power fantasy.
Marcus would come to have complaints about this power, for he was unable to create his beloved guns using his new cheat blacksmith powers. God had made an executive decision to prevent him from creating firearms using his power. A world with magic didn’t need any more absurd weapons of destruction, so her blessing only granted him the ability to form and create any tool that wasn't a firearm or firearm adjacent.
Instead, Marcus spent his time using his cheat blacksmith powers to create tools and items that would far surpass those of the current civilization in the eventual hope that they would figure out some way to create guns on their own.
His hopes were technically not in vain. In the far north icy nation of Diurath, a man with too much time and not enough contact with other human beings created something very similar to a musket. Sadly, his first attempt at using this musket literally backfired and killed him before he could tell anyone about his new creation.
Because Marcus didn’t know that his hopes had been painfully splattered along the snow covered grounds of Diurath, he eventually created an invention that he believed would revolutionize travel- The Backpack of Holding Stuff, or the BPHS. It was a revolution in carrying cargo, as it was a magic bag that never decayed and didn’t drain the mana of the nearby area.
This exact bag was what JB was currently residing in when she was kidnapped.
The surface that JB landed on could best be described as gelatinous. The floor wibbled and wobbled as she attempted to orient herself inside this space. The actual inside of the BPHS was shaped like the inside of what the bag would normally be, only that it was increased a hundredfold. Her surroundings were increasingly unstable, and any attempt she made to get ground only caused her to once again fall. Luckily, the gelatinous surfaces of the backpack removed any potential dangers of face planting as emphatically as JB was. With her arms and legs firmly tied in what must have been extremely practiced knots, she didn’t have much mobility to begin with. After a few minutes of attempts, she resigned herself to simply allowing for the journey to happen. Hopefully, the location she would arrive at next would be one where there was less risk of collateral damage.
Surprisingly, the soft walls and floor of the bag were extremely easy to relax in. While the thought of it never came to mind, it was extremely fortuitous the bag had a system to pump in oxygen so any potential persons stashed inside could breathe.
Outside the backpack, the two masked men were having a spirited discussion about the hero Hayato getting slapped on the ass with a paddle. It was the talk of the town, and most people were currently guessing the exact reasoning for this public display. Some of them, such as the taller masked man, Uriel, were correct in the assumption that it had to do with Gar’s Ruination. He was one of the people who had survived the party and knew the look of a man who’d had some of the stuff. The other man, whose name was Rameus, believed it was a public display set up by the local government in order to send the message that no man was truly above the power of the state. Rameus was a prolific conspiracy theorist, and also held such absurd beliefs as that the world was oblong and that it was possible to run a state without a hereditary government.
The older man who had roped JB into this was silent. He was an aged man in a profession where most die young. It was rare for a person in the criminal underworld to reach the ripe age of 52, and he had hit that age with stride. To Uriel and Rameus, he was called Zero. To those outside of the criminal underworld , he was the Old Blade. To his mother, he was Jerry.
He ignored much of their debate and simply watched the bag with a careful eye. Her statement about the magic staff was odd. She stated that touching the tool would cause them pain, and it wasn’t in his nature to doubt her statement. He had no need to, for he had a very rare skill- Truth Discernment. Being able to know when a person was lying was a very useful tool in a dangerous profession and was what had kept him alive for so long. The only problem with having the ability turned on was that it made life extremely boring. Always knowing who was trustworthy and who wasn’t made the fun of criminality dull. Whenever possible, he kept the ability off so he could enjoy the fun of life and hopefully have someone lie to him.
There were two lies which he hadn’t figured out were lies, and both of them came from his current fling. The first was that his favorite cloak, the one he wore on the street, didn’t make him look creepy. The second was that she wasn’t cheating on him.
For JB, he understood that her warning about the staff was true, and yet he didn’t know exactly what she meant. He came to the simple decision that he would have someone else touch it later and see whatever she meant.
During all of this walk towards their hideout, JB had gotten into a comfortable position and was taking a short nap, not caring whatever came next as long as she could eventually get her hands on her .44 Sharp.
One of the most magical parts of the BPHS was the method of which items were taken out. Older magic bags were extremely inefficient in the removal of items. Rummaging inside, one would have to feel around to see something that might be the desired object, and this could take a while. The BPHS had the magical power to simply bring the desired object to the person who shoved their hand inside.
Upon purchase, the BPHS had a very clear warning placed on it which deterred buyers from shoving multiple hands inside when reaching for objects, as it could end up creating a chimera of them. Whether or not the chimera referred to the buyers or the items inside was unknown to Jerry and his cohorts.
Upon reaching inside, Jerry grabbed onto JB’s wrist to find her peacefully asleep. The soft walls of the bag turned out to make sleeping an extremely easy experience. She did wake up upon being grabbed, but sort of let it happen and was dragged out and in front of a small cage. It was wide enough for her to move around in slightly, but the top of the cage didn’t allow her to stand up past resting on her knees. As her clothes and bindings were replaced with pitiful scraps of cloth only covering the bare necessities, a heavy metal collar was placed around her neck by Jerry.
Although she couldn’t see it, the collar glowed cyan before returning to just plain metal. As the men walked out of the room and left the kidnapees to their own devices, JB pondered what decision to take. It was extremely clear that they were about to be sold to someone, be it for parts or simply as a slave. Judging by the people around her mostly being young girls, she presumed it was the latter.
They could wait and see where this path takes them, hopefully giving her the chance to kill more slavers, or try to break out now and kill the people who were in this compound. The choice to do the latter was probably better to stay close to her target.
Come back to me, rifle.
She placed her hand outwards and shouted “Recall!”
Nothing happened.
She shouted it again.
Even more nothing happened.
To the others located in the room, JB looked quite mad as she yelled “Recall!” over and over again like a broken parrot.
JB was not connected to the system of the world, but magic was still magic. Her newest accessory, the garish metal collar, prevented one from using magic. It didn’t prevent skills that used stamina, but it wasn’t like JB had those. She tugged at it to find it tightly locked, and pulling harder was painful.
She was stuck.
She decided to take in her surroundings. She was not the only caged girl, and although the room was dim, she could see that the traffickers certainly had patterns. One pattern she noted was that all of the women currently located here were human and didn’t have any obvious animal-like features.
Ah. I see why they did this in a back alley.
Human slavery was illegal, while slavery of beastmen was perfectly legal and socially accepted. Wherever JB was going to end up in the future was either going to be extremely seedy or somewhere were human slavery was legalized.
All that she could do was wait, although that wait wasn’t for very long. The door to the room opened loudly, and the older man made his way over to JB’s cage. As he crouched down and came close to her face she could only really think about how beautiful it would now look with a bullet in the middle of it.
“Hey Miss… I’ve got a few questions I’d like you to answer.” He said pensively.
“Why should I do that?”
At this, an extremely smug smirk came upon his lips. He reached his hand inside of his creepy coat and pulled out the same club from before.
“Because I can make your experience a lot more uncomfortable. I also don’t recommend lying to me. I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing when people are lying…”
I guess it can’t hurt too much? It’s not like I have any truly pertinent information.
“Sure.”
The man’s gaze looked back at the door. Although faint, one could hear the pained screams of Rameus as he nursed his left hand. JB realized rather quickly the direction this man’s questions were likely going to go.
“What’s with your staff? I’ve heard and seen of weapons like that in the past where they don’t let specific people touch it, but I’ve never seen that type of reaction. Ram over there said it was like something was melting his insides.”
JB looked at him and smiled. “It’s a soul-bound weapon that only I can use.”
Inside of Jerry’s head, he heard a small Ding! This was the noise that told him that the person he was talking to had answered his question truthfully.
“I see. I guess we can add that onto you as a bonus for the auction.”
Ah. That’s what this is. I’m going to be auctioned.
“Do you have anything else beyond that staff?” He stopped crouching and sat down on the damp stone floor, placing his hands on his knees.
“No. Just my staff.”
A loud Buzz rang through his mind, which was the sound of a lie. He was about to open his mouth to call her out, but realized the vagueness of his statement.
“Sorry, let me specify. Do you have any skills outside of those with your weapon?”
“No.”
Ding!
He relaxed his shoulders and stared at her deeply. He figured that he still may as well take a look at what those skills are. After attempting to use the skill Analyze, he found nothing.
Perception blocking stats that affect stat screens didn’t outright block them. It merely showed up with a message that said “UNAVAILABLE”. For JB, nothing showed up whatsoever. Her skills had to be high or unique, yet nothing went off when she said she didn’t have any skills outside of those with her weapon.
“Miss, what level is your perception blocking?”
JB looked the man dead in the eyes and said with a cheery smile “I don’t have a stat screen.”
Ding!
The man’s movements stopped like a broken animatronic. He’d very clearly heard a Ding, not a Buzz. To solve this situation, the man decided to use the most old fashioned fixing technique in human history.
He turned Truth Discernment off and on again.
“Say that again, please?”
“I don’t have a stat screen.”
Ding!
Jerry was an old man in a profession where most men died young. He’d learned many things in that time. He knew who to trust, what type of weapons should be used for what type of targets, the exact instructions for making the perfect cup of tea, the exact instructions for poisoning that same cup of tea, and how to do one’s taxes. There was one thing he learned in those fifty two years which had kept him alive just as much as truth discernment, and that was knowing when to walk away.
Jerry sat up and walked off to the door without saying another word, hoping that his brain would figure out what had just happened at a later date. A few of the other caged up individuals expressed confusion at this reaction, but only one of them actually voiced any thoughts.
It was a small girl in the cage directly to JB’s left, and she crawled up to her bars to get a good look at this anomalous individual.
“How did you do that?” she tepidly asked.
JB gave an apathetic shrug. “I guess I’m just hard for men like him to understand.”
She relaxed and thought about life. Her mind came back to the man being flogged in the square, and God’s content filler suddenly went into overdrive. With how she was right now, having no access to her rifle and no ability to summon it, she had no chance of killing the hero. She didn’t view this as a permanent problem per say. Once she got this ugly collar off, she’d be right back on track to killing them. God hadn’t given her a deadline, and that was enough to slightly ease her mind.
JB would spend the majority of her time inside the small cage, outside of eating the scraps of food that were given to them on occasion, praying.
The auction came two days after she was kidnapped, and she found herself suddenly tossed out of her cell mid-nap and bound in new ropes. After that, she was lugged into the BPHS, this time not alone. The inside of the pack, while still extremely spacious, was now even more wobbly than before due to the influx of individuals wobbling it about. Even with their bindings, the younger kidnapees seemed to be enjoying messing around in it. People were constantly calling out to one another to find each other in the darkness of the BPHS, turning the entire thing into one massive game of Marco Polo.
It was a small breath of levity compared to the bleakness of the room they had been stored in. Some of them even attempted to take roles of leadership to organize everyone and keep things orderly, although the constant jiggling of every single surface made this quite hard. One woman who was seemingly older than the rest judging by her tone of voice finally managed to quiet down the voices and do a head count. Inside the bag were twenty five individuals including JB. Whatever auction this was, it was going to be a large one.
JB enjoyed this time, and spent half of it praying and the other half meeting those set up to be auctioned off. Before this, she’d already had discussions with those who were close to her. Now that there wasn’t any light, it was a lot harder to tell who was who, so she mostly just focused on people who were extremely close.
The one she talked the most with was someone she had heard of. She was the missing barmaid from the Square Mug Tavern, and was what had gotten JB into this situation in the first place. The lady’s name was Sylvia, and although JB enjoyed the conversation, she would very much prefer to never interact with this woman in the future. While the exact turn of phrase didn’t exist in JB’s vocabulary, the other reincarnators would probably call this woman a Karen. After explaining the complex story of how she got kidnapped, which was her accidentally walking down the wrong alleyway, she went on a long list of complaints about the horrible and petty ways the kidnappers had treated her. Without context, it would appear as though she was giving a review of her experience.
Before Sylvia could get to her diatribe about the quality of the food, the trip was luckily interrupted by them reaching their destination. They were pulled out one by one and lined up, guarded on both sides. Outside, somewhere in the near distance, lively chatter could be heard. As JB recuperated and fell into this line, she could only guess that the voices belonged to those attending the auction. Zero/Old Blade/Jerry entered with a clipboard and a long list of names which his eyes slowly wandered down. His attention eventually fell onto that of JB, and he made the facial expression one might make when stubbing their toe.
“You’re probably going to sell for a lot.” He coyly remarked before walking off and checking the rest of the line. Soon, they were all moved to what looked like the wings of a theater. In the center stood a man in a well sewn black and white suit, wearing a nice top hat which was covering his bald head. Out of anything to be a constant between these two worlds, the outfits of auctioneers appeared to be one of those. In one hand the man held a long paper, and the other held something which looked a lot like a brand. JB was in the middle of the line to the stage, so she got some time to wait before her name was called. Now more than ever did she wish she had her rifle.
The first girl got called up, and it was Sylvia. As she stood next to the auctioneer, he began rattling off details and qualities. Then, the bidding began. The auctioneer yelled number after number as their hand flew from crowd member to crowd member until everything stopped. A loud cheer was then followed by a jealous groan as the man walked up on stage. The auctioneer handed the man the brand, and he gleefully grasped it and extended it outwards. Without any tact, he shoved the tool against Sylvia’s shoulder. She yelped, and JB could see a sickly red glow surrounding the object. When it was pulled away, an odd mark began to form on her shoulder that flowed like liquid, unable to take a stable shape. The man quickly tapped his hand on it, and the fluid mark began to settle into a spiral. He walked off the stage with Sylvia by his side and into the crowd, whereupon he taunted the other bidders.
Oh! That’s the Mark that Eric refused to explain!
This little moment of realization was snuffed out by the rest of the process of waiting and watching as more were called up onto the stage, had their qualities listed out, and then given a mark before being dragged off.
Soon, the girl in front of JB was led up to the stage and she was forced to stand at the edge of the wings. She gulped, realizing not only that she would be deprived of her freedom, but that her mission to kill the heroes was going to be put on an indefinite hold until she could figure her way out of this mess.
After the girl was marked, JB was pushed onto the stage. To her surprise, a man came from the other side of the wings with a tightly wrapped object in his hands. JB immediately recognized the shape of the object as her rifle, and a fleeting sense of hope came over her. The auctioneer was handed the object and was whispered a very dark warning by the other man before he left the stage. He regained focus on the crowd and gave his best smile as JB stood by his side.
“Well folks, we have an interesting one. This girl here is not only a beauty, but she’s an adventurer with a soul-bound weapon only she can use. If you’re looking for someone to satisfy and defend you, this is a great choice. Buyers beware, for touching her weapon without protection is going to hurt. Bidding starts at twenty.”
The crowd grew rather lively as they raised their hands and announced new bids. For some reason, JB was going to be going for a high price. After a short eternity of watching these repugnant men enjoy the process of stripping people of their freedom, the bid ended. The man who won was a lanky man with bright red hair and a face that looked like a realistic interpretation of a child’s drawing of someone else who was much more handsome. He made his way up practically skipping.
Just as the man was about to be handed the Marking tool, a rumble could be heard. The building they were in swayed like a ship in stormy waters, heaving under the pressure. To JB, this had no direct meaning other than the building being under attack. To those in the auction house, the specific sounds of explosions outside were very, very distinct.
In the distance, a declaration was heard that shook them all to their core.
“I, THE HERO OF MAGIC HAYATO, AM HERE!”
And in that subsequent moment, he burst through a wall with a grin and a severe lack of self awareness.
