On a field of finished war, from the wreckage of a dozen men, matter whispered together like a moist dream of Victor Von Frankenstein's. A boy, soon to be a man, joined like a castle of sand, filled with blood and bile.
Clothes wove themselves from the fallen soldier's uniforms and the oozing bits of monsters, all to make a t-shirt and blue jeans. In the boy's pocket a phone formed, resurrected from the materials around him. Gold and silicon, steel and lithium, crystals of magic to add spice. Then, with one last divine touch, Kami pushed a software update.
****
Jasson dreamed of dreams. Not his dreams, but the aspirations of all those people who, on his little 6.2-inch screen, managed to post confidence in minute-long videos. Jasson dreamed that, in his own shaky attempts, he had been able to capture a dream. His dream. But when Jasson went to watch the videos there wasn't anything there.
Jasson Boar awoke to attempted theft, possibly assault if he could record it.
Someone rolled him over roughly and started pulling at his shoes. Jasson swatted idly at them, grumbling. Were his brothers pranking him again?
"Oi!" A stranger's voice called, "This one's alive!"
Alive?! Jasson thought.
"Bandage him up and put him on the sick wagon then," another voice said from further away, "and don't take his boots."
"He ain't got boots!" The first voice said.
"Notty I know he's got boots," the second voice said, "else how would he get out here? Now put them back on and get him in the sick wagon."
What?! Jasson thought.
"I din't say he has not'in'," the first voice said, hurt, "Just that he ain't got boots. Some kinda cloth with laces."
"The poor bugger," the second voice said, "marching to war with cloth wrapped feet. Well, at least he came out alive."
It was at this point that Jasson decided that he was, in fact, not dreaming. He sat up and looked around, blinking. Well that couldn't be right.
I was reincarnated wasn't I? Jasson thought as he craned his neck. This isn't Hell?
Around him was a flat field of grasses which probably held scenic wildlife at one point. Now all it held was scenic wild death, in a far more graphic form than Jasson had been prepared for. The twisted corpses of men and monsters littered the ground. A few feet away, providing afternoon shade for Jasson, the enormous corpse of a dragon lay in beheaded glory.
"Oi," An ugly spotty little man leered over him, "Yo'r moovin'!"
What a meme-able face. Jasson thought. And not helping with my Hell theory.
"Ah," Jasson said, standing and looking around, "where am I?"
The carnage began to feel less real, as if the details were from some campy horror movie. If anything, the monster corpses helped Jasson distance himself from reality. Yet Jasson knew that his stomach would rebel soon, and he had to do something before the shock wore off.
"The battlefield, boy." the ugly man said, kicking a dismembered goblin, "and- what are you doing?"
When a modern teenager sees anything interesting (or powerfully horrifying) there's only one option he can choose. Jasson pulled out his phone and opened the camera, switched it over to the good lense. He started recording.
"Hey," Jasson said to the camera as he rotated, "Day one of my new life and I'm on a battlefield. This is the first person I've met so far, doesn't he have a wonderful personality? What did you say your name was again?"
YOU ARE READING
The Smartphone Saga: A Distracted Journey of Spells and Signals
FantasyTruck-kun fell from the sky. It was a terrible accident involving several casualties who found eternal rest. Unfortunately for Jasson Boar, a normal modern teenager, death was just the beginning of his problems. After a brief conversation with Kami...
