I was running through a forest that is familiar to me—and for reasons that make me hate this disgraceful place so fucking much.
I could hear and see bullets, arrows, and spells flying over my head from all directions, tearing through the air and destroying everything around me. I could smell the blood and burnt flesh, and I saw the slaughtered bodies of both my friends and foes on the ground as I ran—those bodies were in disastrous shape.
"Keep running, you pathetic old fool." That's what I heard all around me in this forest as I kept running toward where the battle was taking place.
I took a deep breath and used [Mana Boost], and in return, I felt my mana spread through my whole body, making me feel stronger as I ran faster.
Chaos.
That's what I saw when I reached the battlefield.
I turned my head, scanning the area. There were folks slaughtering each other with guns, blades, and spells.
It was a vision of pure chaos in battle.
Then I spotted a younger version of myself holding onto a wounded orc named Jake, who was missing both of his arms and had a slash across his chest so deep I could see his ribs. The younger me was helplessly chanting an Elvish healing spell called [Sylvara's Grace] in a soft, melodic yet rushed tone, like singing a lullaby.
As he did, I could see some of my soldier buddies come running over, trying to pull me away from the dying orc and get me out of the battle. Yet the younger me didn't allow it—he kept trying to heal Jake.
Then I saw one of my old comrades reel his hand back and slam it into the back of the younger me's hea—
BEEP BEEP BEEP
I jolted awake from the dream—or nightmare—as my alarm went off. I was drenched in sweat. I took off my tank top, turned off the alarm, and just lay there in bed, trying to calm myself from what I had just seen.
"Meow."
"Arf! Arf!"
I sat up as I heard my cat and dog rushing into the room to greet me—and, of course, to demand food. They jumped onto the bed and began licking and nibbling at my face, trying to get me up like the gluttonous little things they are. Still, they bring joy to my quiet, retired life, and I do love them.
"Calm down, you little beasts. I'm going to feed you," I told them, giving them both a few kisses before I slowly got out of bed. They jumped down and followed me as I made my way to the kitchen.
Once there, I bent down to grab their food bowls, placing them on the counter. I poured about a cup of dry dog food, added a spoonful of yogurt, and tossed in a handful of blueberries into the one labeled "Bonnie"—for my cute Rottweiler. She's a little dumb, but she's such a doll. For the cat's bowl—the one labeled "Doc"—I added about a third of a cup of dry cat food, half a spoonful of yogurt, and a half-handful of chopped strawberries. Doc is a Maine Coon with an attitude, but he can be sweet when he wants to be.
When the bowls were ready, I turned to find them both sitting patiently. I placed the bowls in front of them. They didn't eat right away because I trained them to wait for the command. After a few seconds, I said, "Eat," and they happily began devouring their meals.
After feeding them, I headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower, hoping to wash off the sweat and calm myself a bit.
I peeled off my sweat-soaked clothes and grabbed a bonnet for my hair—I wasn't in the mood to waste time styling it this morning.
A few minutes later, I walked back to my bedroom with a towel wrapped around my waist. I pulled out a tank top, a simple long-sleeve button-up, and a pair of jeans, putting them on slowly.
Once I was dressed and had tied up my long hair, I slipped on my storage ring, placing it on my right middle finger. Now, you might be wondering why I don't sleep with my storage ring on. Well, I fear I might summon one of my weapons in my sleep during a nightmare and end up hurting one of my beasts. If that ever happened, I'd break down.
Anyway, I headed to the front door—I needed to do my daily shopping for fresh foods like meats and fruits that I can't grow myself.
I put my wallet, keys, and phone in my pocket, opened the door, and called out, "You two keep the house safe while I'm gone," before stepping outside and locking the door behind me.
I walked over to my kei truck, which was shipped here from Japan by some of my old yokai friends. Speaking of them, I should visit soon—heard one of them has a daughter now. Anyway, I hopped in and started driving into town toward Bunny Burrow Café to grab some coffee before I did my shopping.
I popped a tape into the radio, and "That's Life" started playing. I mumbled along with the lyrics—my old lady used to put this song on all the time when I was younger. Speaking of her, I should probably give that woman a call.
Soon, I pulled into the Bunny Burrow Café parking lot, parked my truck, and headed inside.
A few locals were already there. Some nodded or waved, and I returned the gesture as I made my way to the counter.
One of the owners saw me and said, "Morning, Mister Brutus. How are you doing this fine morning?" as she poured a cup of coffee.
I chuckled softly. "I'm doing decent this morning, Eira," I said as I sat down at the counter. "How are you and your husband doing, dear?"
"Well, I'm just fine honestly. Ollie's being as needy as ever," she said as she placed the coffee in front of me. "But that's to be expected—we've both been having baby fever lately." Then she looked at me, blushing a little. "As you know, Ollie and I wouldn't mind if you helped us out with that."
I chuckled at that. She and her husband had been open about wanting me to be their partner for years now.
"Now, dear, are you sure you want an 81-year-old man?"
"We wouldn't mind one bit…" came a voice from behind me as I felt two slim arms wrap around my waist and a chest press against my back.
"Good morning, Ollie," I said, reaching back to gently pet his head. He nuzzled into my hand.
Now, you young folks might be wondering why a married rabbit demi-human couple is being so affectionate with me. Well, here's the thing most people don't know—rabbit demi-humans are naturally open-minded about sexual matters. They often bring a strong third partner into their marriage—someone to love, care for, and protect them. They're naturally submissive and respond best to mates who guide them.
They aren't promiscuous like people think. In truth, they're extremely loyal to their chosen mates—and they only choose people whose true nature they can sense. Like many demi-humans, they can read a soul no matter how well someone hides behind a mask.
"I'll think about it," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. I could feel Ollie playing with my hair, trying to be sneaky—but that doesn't work on me. My senses are way better than his, even if he is a demi-human.
They lit up with joy. I usually say no, so this response was new. Truth is, I've been thinking about starting a family of my own. Sure, I'll live to be at least 200, but I still want a family. And honestly, these two are my best option. I know them well, and rabbit demi-humans live to be around 150—they're only in their 30s, so we'd grow old together.
But I'm still afraid that my nightmares might cause me to harm someone in my sleep. That fear is one of the biggest reasons I've avoided relationships.
Still, we spent a few minutes chatting, with the two of them constantly flirting and touching me. Eventually, Eira asked, "Brutus, can you please use [Calm of the Twilight] for us?"
"Sure, no harm in that," I said, clearing my throat. I took a deep breath and began to sing in a soft, melodic tone:
"Lómen'varya, sîlë lómë,Elya naira, indómë só,Nai elenya mírë caure,Melme lisse, cala lótea."
As I chanted the spell, I could feel the air fill with mana, bringing a calming effect. By the time I was done, everyone in the café was in a peaceful, almost sleepy state.
[Calm of the Twilight]—or its proper name, Lómen'varya—is an Elvish calming spell mostly used by healers and peacekeepers. My great-grandmother taught it to me when I was a kid. It's a song-spell sung in the old Elvish tongue. The translation in common English is:
"Twilight's calm, soft night flows,Your sorrow fades, your spirit knows,May starlight bring a gentle rest,With loving peace, in light caressed."
"Folks, I've got to get my shopping done. How much do I owe you?" I asked Eira, pulling out my wallet.
"Brutus, you know you don't have to pay us," Ollie said, nibbling gently on my neck.
"Well, I really don't care about that," I replied, pulling out a solid $100 bill like I always do.
Eira grabbed my collar and kissed my cheek, and Ollie did the same.
"See you two later," I said as I stood and walked to the exit.
I got in my truck and drove to the butcher—I needed bison and duck for dinner.
When I arrived and walked inside, a young orc girl was cutting pork. She looked up in the mirror and smiled. "Morning, Mister Brutus. What can I get for you today?"
"Just about five pounds of bison and three pounds of duck, dear," I said, pulling out my wallet.
She nodded, grabbed a large slab of meat, and slammed her butcher axe into it. "You know the bison's a bit pricey. They were raised by Adlets in Canada—it costs to get them shipped down here."
"You don't have to say that every time I buy bison."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. But Papa insists I say it."
"I understand. Anyway, how much do I owe you?"
She didn't answer immediately—she was weighing the meat and wrapping it in butcher paper. Then she said, "It'll be about $80."
"Thank you," I said, handing her the money. I took my packages and headed for the door.
"Have a good day, Mister Brutus."
"You too, dear."
I walked to my car, whistling a tune. I put the meats on the seat next to me and started driving home.
After a few minutes of driving through the forest, I arrived at my place. I live far from town—it's peaceful out here, and I like it that way.
As I got out of the truck with my groceries, a small fox with white, black, and brown fur and earrings came walking beside me. I bent down and gently scruffed the back of his neck. He whimpered.
"What are you doing here, Kharo?"
"Good morning, Mister Brutus. Can you please put me down?" Kharo said with a sigh.
I dropped him gently. As he landed, he transformed into his human form. Kharo, a one-tailed kitsune, is a massive bookworm who stays here when he's in town. He travels often to find books on magic, spells, history, and more—things he stores in my library, which he calls his "base of operations."
"I've found so many cool things I need to show you—right now!" he said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me toward the house to show me what he had discovered.
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[AN: Hello goblins, and this is the first chapter for this fanfic so tell me how you like it.
Now about this world it have had twice as many wars that we had, this world is about 3 times more accepting than our world because all that folklore things and other shit are real here, and yes there is mpreg here but that is only for certain races like frogs can change genders so demi-humans frog can too.
Brutus Vaelorin :
Eira Mapleleaf:
Ollie Mapleleaf:
Kharo:
Anyway, I think that I am going to make the MC into the combat teacher of Hogwarts and I am going to make it take place in the third movie.
Here some info about the MC, he was born in 1944, he is 81, he joined the marines at 19 years old, he was in the marines for 50 years and he been retired for 12 years.]