Isekai Terry: Tropes of Doom (An Isekai Adventure Comedy)

"Hey. I caught us something to eat," said Terry as he walked back to where Kelima and his pack waited.

"What is that?" asked Kelima, staring at the thing he'd dragged back from the river. "And what took so long?"

"Sharkodile? Crocoshark?" offered Terry.

He looked down at the sleek, gray-skinned creature with a long snout and lots of teeth.

"Crocoshark?" asked Kelima.

"Nope. It's definitely sharkodile. I needed to hear someone else say crocoshark to be sure. Either way, it should be good to eat. Probably."

"Alright," said Kelima, sounding anything but convinced. "That doesn't explain what took you so long. It's been hours."

"Oh, yeah. After I dealt with the fire, I went to the river to wash off. But I didn't have any dry clothes. So, I needed to wait for these to dry," he said with a gesture at his underclothes. "But then this thing attacked me, and I got all bloody. So, I had to clean up again, and then wait to dry off a second time."

Kelima looked from him to the fifteen-foot-long monster, and then back at him.

"How did you even kill it?"

"I stabbed it with a sharp rock I found."

"You just found a sharp rock and thought that it would be a good idea to stab that thing?"

"Of course, not. That would be silly. It tried to grab me and drag me into the water. That's when I punched it. Then, I found the rock and stabbed it for revenge. Well, and dinner. Mostly dinner. I'm hungry."

"How can you possibly be hungry after the smell those burning clothes gave off?"

"I killed a sharkodile. It's hungry work."

"You know what? I'm just going to pretend that we had an entirely different conversation over the last two minutes. One that made sense."

Terry shrugged and said, "You do you."

He took the time to get dressed again, while Kelima walked a slow circle around the sharkodile. Occasionally, she'd reach out to poke it. When he walked back over them, she gave him a look.

"What?" he asked.

"Are you sure this thing is safe to eat?"

"I expect so. I've found that it's pretty obvious when you run across animals that aren't safe to eat. In this world, anyway. They always have acid for blood or smell like demons or stuff like that. This beast was just mean. Low marks for personality, but probably not a commentary on how it'll taste. And it was pretty strong, so you ought to get some benefits from eating it. I'm pretty sure the core from this one is mine, though."

"Why is that?"

"Just a feeling. I might be wrong, but we won't know until we butcher this thing."

Finding the core proved more troublesome than it was worth. After cutting away what meat they could reasonably eat in the next day or two, Terry basically had to rip the entire beast apart before he came up with the core. Lifting it high into the air like a trophy, he let out a triumphant roar. Then, he looked down at himself. Gore covered him from head to foot. His arm dropped.

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"I feel violated," complained Terry.

Kelima looked at him. She looked at the remains of the sharkodile. She shuddered violently.

"If anyone was violated, I think it was that beast."

After considering his handiwork, Terry nodded.

"Yeah, that's probably true. Thank God PETA isn't here."

"Who is Peta?"

The sheer enormity of trying to explain PETA to someone like Kelima left Terry feeling exhausted. Rather than rising to the challenge, he took the easy way out.

"Nobody you want to meet. They enjoy giving lectures."

"Oh. Will we meet them?"

"Cosmic Magic 8 Ball says, very doubtful."

"Now you're just saying things you know I won't understand on purpose, aren't you?"

Heaving a sigh, Terry said, "I'm going back to the river. I need another bath. Why don't you get a fire going so we can eat sooner rather than later?"

"You want me to start a fire next to the corpse you just spread across half the forest? Really?"

"The alternative is that we trek through the forest with me like this," replied Terry, gesturing at himself.

Kelima gave him an evil grin and said, "I'm sure you'll be fine. Let's go."

Grumbling to himself, Terry gingerly picked up his pack, held it away from his body, and trudged after Kelima. Kelima wrapped the sharkodile steaks in some large leaves she'd picked up from somewhere while he'd been gone. He didn't recognize them, but she assured him that they'd help to keep the meat fresh. She didn't take them that far. By his estimate, they only walked for half an hour, but he suspected it was far enough that they wouldn't be bothered by scavengers looking for an easy meal. Not that the walk made him feel any less disgusting. She had, mercifully, not taken them too far away from the river. As he wordlessly trudged in that direction, she called after him.

"Try not to kill anything else."

"Yeah. Yeah."

The truth was that Terry was worried that they would have moved into the territory of some new water hazard. This time, though, getting cleaned up didn't include anything that might call for a stern lecture from an animal rights advocate. He did take the time to try to figure out how to use his qi to make fire appear. His efforts only succeeded in producing a small flame, but it was enough to help him dry his clothes a little faster. It was only after he put on his damp clothes that other-Terry asked him an infuriating question.

Why didn't you try to do something with water qi? If you succeeded with that, you might have been able to just pull the water right out of the clothes.

Terry groaned at the obviousness of that and asked, Is there a reason why you waited until now to make that suggestion?

You were concentrating really hard. I didn't want to interrupt.

Terry was about ninety-five percent certain that was a bald-faced lie. Yet, there was the possibility it was true. Other-Terry had been more helpful of late, which made it difficult to justify yelling Liar, liar, pants on fire inside his head. The uncertainty was enough to prevent Terry from saying anything as he made his way back to the campsite. Kelima had at least done him the courtesy of starting a fire and even some of the meat cooking over the flames on primitive skewers. In his old world, fears of undercooked meat and waterborne pathogens would have stayed his hand.

At this point, he was pretty convinced the only way he was catching a foodborne illness was by making hamburgers from a demon. He just hoped that the same was true for Kelima. From the way she kept shooting sidelong looks at the meat, it seemed that she was a little concerned about getting sick.

"How do I know when it's done?" she asked tentatively.

Terry took out a small knife and stabbed a piece of the skewered sharkodile. Pink liquid leaked from the place when he removed the blade.

"Not done yet. If you're still seeing pink, it means that it's still raw inside. If it runs clear, it's done."

"How do you know these things?" she asked.

"You don't want me to answer that."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

"No, really, it's going to irritate you," warned Terry.

"Just tell me, will you?" demanded a frustrated Kelima.

"Alright. I watched a lot of The French Chef on PBS when I was young."

Kelima gave him a flat stare.

Terry held up his hands and said, "Don't give me that look. I warned you that the answer would be irritating."

"I thought you were just being difficult."

"Why would you think that?" asked Terry before his brain kicked in. "Actually, no. I totally see why you would think that."

"If you explain that answer to me, will it make more sense?"

Terry thought it over before he said, "Nope. Not even a little bit. If anything, it would probably confuse you more."

"That seems unlikely."

"You would think so, but it's still true."

Shaking her head, Kelima stabbed the skewered meat that was closer to her and then sighed.