Harem King Yuuta. The Mage King. The Flame That Burned Bacon.
Yuuta croaked with satisfaction from his new found power.
Then he turned slowly, his gaze scanning the desolate battleground. Broken armor pieces were scattered like trash left behind after a medieval frat party. Some were half-melted into the soil, others slick with pig blood and ash. A sword lay buried in a tree stump, still trembling from the last explosion. Guts, now dark and dried, had been flung across the rocks like meat confetti. A smear of intestines hung limply over a jagged outcrop like some grotesque banner.
Yuuta looked past it all, though. His mind was already leaving behind the death and destruction.
"…Now, where the fuck am I?" he muttered.
The sky was almost too bright, a canvas of harsh blue stretched over the cliffs with not a cloud in sight. The sun blazed down like a spotlight, as if even the world wanted to see what this weird little frog would do next. Yuuta squinted and lifted his webbed hand over his eyes, attempting to block the sun's glare.
That's when he paused.
"Oh right. I'm a frog," he muttered.
His thick green fingers looked comically small shielding his wide-ass amphibian face. "Dammit."
A moment of silence passed. Then, he sighed. It wasn't just the sun. Everything about this body still felt wrong. He could feel the thick slime on his skin starting to dry out in the heat. His throat was parched. His legs still ached from crawling. Even his magic-fueled euphoria was starting to wear off, revealing the dull exhaustion that clung to his tiny limbs like a second skin.
But still, he was alive. Alive and dangerous. And that meant the world could go screw itself if it thought he was going to curl up and die somewhere.
Yuuta straightened himself again, taking a few tentative hops to get used to his two jumpy legs. The motion still felt unnatural, but better than before. Each jump felt like springing off rubber-covered steel. This frog body might be small and ugly, but it had potential—he could feel it.
As he reached the edge of the rocky overlook and gazed out at the broader stretch of the cliffs, Yuuta was finally struck by how big the world actually was. Massive protruding rocks jutted out like nature's middle fingers. Sparse patches of trees leaned toward the sun as if desperately begging for water. Far in the distance, a wall of craggy hills formed a natural border to this wide, savage wilderness.
Yuuta let out a low whistle. "Guess I'm not in Tokyo anymore…"
Another gust of wind blew through the cliffs, stronger than before. It carried the scent of charred meat, fresh pine, and the subtle metallic tang of spilled blood. But beneath all of that was something else—an undercurrent of something ancient and wild, like the world itself was watching him. Waiting.
Yuuta shuddered, not from cold, but from the anticipation slithering up his spine.
"This world…" he said, "feels like it's made to kill things like me."
Then he grinned.
"Which means I just have to kill it first."
It was a nice little badass moment, full of confidence and drama. His frog brain was already fantasizing about future battles—lightning storms raining down on goblin armies, fireballs incinerating dragons, demon queens falling madly in love with his weird frog face...
And then—
He felt it.
Or rather—didn't feel it.
Yuuta froze mid-thought.
"…Wait."
Something was wrong. Something was off. Something crucial.
He slowly tilted his head down, his throat suddenly dry again. His webbed hand drifted downward, trembling slightly.
"No way," he muttered. "No. No. No. It can't be."
His eyes locked on the flat green expanse of his lower torso. Smooth. Hairless. Slimy. Frog skin. Nothing else.
No bumps. No bulge. No banana. No berries. Just an empty patch of glossy green horror.
"OH COME ON!?"
Yuuta let out the most horrifying, disgusted, croaking screech imaginable. It echoed through the canyon like the cry of a demon being stepped on.
He dropped to his knees—well, frog knees—and stared in utter disbelief at the blank canvas where his pride once resided.
"This is BULLSHIT!" he roared, flailing his arms dramatically. "They turned me into a DAMN SHITTY SMOOTH-KEN DOLL!"
His eyes twitched, lip curling in rage. "What kind of isekai doesn't let you keep your goddamn DICK?!"
He sat there for a moment, letting the existential horror soak in. Then he took a long, deep breath.
"…Okay. Okay. Relax. You've got magic missiles. You've got—" He paused. "No dick, apparently—but you've got magic missiles. That's something."
He nodded to himself. Trying to accept the grotesque compromise the universe had dealt him.
"Maybe when I level up more I'll unlock a card spell like—like 'Summon D' or 'Growth: Legendary Sausage'. I mean, it could happen, right?"
There was silence. Not even the wind responded.
Yuuta stared at the sky, eyes dead.
"…Please let that be a real spell."
He collapsed backward, Yuuta lay sprawled on his back, arms flopped out like a ragdoll, legs awkwardly splayed like a discarded plush toy. His slimy green back was pressed against the still-warm, blood-splattered earth. Above him, the cloudless sky stretched infinitely, its deep azure hue almost mocking.
He didn't care.
"Fuck this..." he muttered to no one, voice hoarse, cracked like gravel.
His large frog eyes stared blankly into the void, shimmering slightly. He sniffed. Not because he was crying. Obviously. It was just... something got into his eye. Probably intestinal mist.
But deep inside his bulbous, mutated green chest, a deep despair churned.
"My balls are gone," he whispered. "My precious family jewels... just gone. Vanished. Not even a stub. Flat. FLAT!"
He let out a guttural frog-croak-cry, a pathetic blend of a squeak and a sob, as he flailed his stubby three-fingered hands toward the skys in anguish.
And then...
THUD.
The ground trembled.
THUD.
A pebble nearby jumped.
Yuuta blinked. Sniffled. Sat up slowly, his webbed fingers planting into the dirt. His head cocked.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
"...Wait a minute."
The sounds were familiar. Not from this world, no. But he'd seen enough Jurassic Park films to recognize that kind of earth-shaking stomp.
He slowly got on his two froggy feet, the numb soreness in his legs whispering complaints. He squatted low, scanning the open rocky expanse. Large stone protrusions, broken bits of pigman corpses, scraps of melted armor, and stained rocks surrounded him. The wind blew softly against his moist skin.
THUD.
It was closer now. His large bulbous eyes twitched.
"Oh for fuck's sake..." he croaked. "Which bacon-faced bastard wants to get roasted today?"
He slapped his cheeks (Do frogs even have cheeks?), stretched out his stubby arms, rotated his froggy shoulders like he was about to hit a bench press.
"Come on then," he growled, cracking his nonexistent knuckles. "I, Yuuta, the shitty frog of vengeance is here."
But the thuds kept coming. Louder. Heavier. Like each one was a declaration. A funeral drum for the poor bastard who stood in the way.
He squinted toward the narrow pass between two jagged stone cliffs. The shadows danced. Dust shifted.
And then he saw it.
First, the club.
It wasn't just a club.
It was a damn monolith of pain. A massive slab of blackened metal, lined with uneven jagged spikes, some broken, most stained with rust and what looked like decades-old dried blood. Just seeing it peeking around the corner was enough to make Yuuta's knees clench.
"...That's... not normal."
The club moved.
Then the rest of it emerged.
A pigman. But not like the others.
This one made the last five look like kindergarteners in cosplay.
It was a giant. Towering at what had to be at least twelve stories tall. Its armor looked ancient, forged from black iron and animal bone, jagged and brutal. Great tusks curled from the sides of its pig snout, and its eyes—only slivers visible through the helmet—gleamed a violent red.
Every step it took cracked the ground beneath its monstrous weight.
THUD.
Yuuta froze. His skin went cold.
"Did they bring their fat pig mom...?" he muttered in disbelief.
The monster's club dragged against the rocks, carving a deep trench like a plow through soil.
Yuuta gulped.
Hard.
Very Hard.
His brain screamed at him to run. To turn tail and hop away like the green coward he should be.
But instead—perhaps from trauma, perhaps stupidity—he stood still. Something inside him, perhaps that idiotic newfound confidence from leveling up and getting his explosive Magic Missile card powered up, decided now was the time.
His hand moved before his mind did.
A sharp, high-pitched hum.
The air warped in front of his hand as a glowing orb formed. Bigger. Brighter. Pulsating with volatile energy. It danced, almost eager.
His eyes narrowed.
"Boom," he whispered.
The Magic Missile launched. A white-hot comet screaming through the air, trailing sparks and violent arcs of mana behind it.
It cut through the air like a cannonball.
And then—
BOOOOOOM.
Direct impact.
The orb slammed into the pig giant's helmet, exploding with a concussive blast that rocked the nearby cliffs. Dust and smoke mushroomed into the air. The shockwave knocked over stones. Blood and metal sparks sprayed like fireworks.
Yuuta blinked.
The pig giant stood.
Its head slowly turned.
The red eyes behind the helmet flared.
The club lifted.
Yuuta's wide frog mouth opened.
"Oh...fuck."