It is wrong to abuse psionic abilities in a Dungeon? Danmachi FF

Here's the corrected version with improved grammar, clarity, and readability while keeping the tone intact:

WN: I don't own Danmachi; it belongs to the author Oomori Fujino.

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SFX: (Grunts, moans, growls, screams, shouts, clanking, footsteps, stomps, etc.)

Thought: 'Cuteeee...'

Dialogue: "My eyes are down here."

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'I... I am...'

(Dimensional suck)

(Rain)

'I feel... cold.'

(Takes deep breaths and stands in the wooden cart)

'Am I dead? Is this Skyrim or what?'

(Moving carriage and horse sounds)

(Cough-cough)

"Where am I?" I shouted after taking a breath with some difficulty.

Wait! I have to stop this cart! the small figure thought, then he reached for the reins of the carriage and stopped the tired horses.

"I was testing poison, and then... I got sucked into a black hole created by a reincarnated Japanese protagonist's denseness?"

"Whoa! Why do I sound like that 'lucky' boy from a certain Zetsubou series?" he exclaimed after hearing his own voice.

He took a moment to look around and at himself, realizing that his body was smaller. (Classic 'unknown little hands' scene...)

Then, he sat on the cart and started practicing some Wim Hof breathing techniques—until he coughed up a pile of dark, stinking blood onto the ground below.

After adjusting to his new body, he searched for food and ended up eating some baked bread and drinking water.

'But I feel stronger... and my senses are strangely sharper.'

Around him lay bodies clad in fantasy-styled clothing, two of them wearing impractical-for-real-life leather armor with anime-colored hair.

MC POV:

Is this a dream? No! I've surely transmigrated, Sinn thought as he pulled a dagger from his belt, catching a blurry reflection of himself—green hair, and glowing purple eyes.

Looking at the bodies, I felt a strange unease. A mix of sadness and discomfort settled in when I tried to look at their faces. It was the kind of feeling you get when someone tries too hard to act normal after doing something suspicious. But... normal people don't try to act normal.

Which was odd, considering they were corpses.

As I contemplated my situation, I focused on the lack of wounds on the four bodies—no, five, counting myself in the cart. Who killed them?

I decided to try remembering the body's past, and to my surprise, it worked.

It felt like I was being pulled away from my body and submerged in a flowing river of memories. I had to grasp them, or they would slip away with the current.

Then, as if recollecting a misty childhood memory, the information slowly regained its color and meaning over time.

Sounds, knowledge, and experiences from this body's life filled my mind. I realized that I had become a half pallum—a race from the world I recognized as Danmachi.

My assumption was confirmed when knowledge of currency, language, races, magic, monsters, gods, the city of Orario, and the Dungeon imprinted itself in my memory.

I also received a flood of embarrassing memories: being rejected by multiple small Familias for being "not adventurer material."

And another, more relatable one—falling in love with a flower shop girl, only for her to vanish after her grandparents' flower shop was destroyed by "anonymous" drunken addicts.

"Sinn's Krieger," I muttered my new name while indulging in a few chunni thoughts.

From this flood of information, I finally understood what had killed the people on the cart.

It was a book—one bound with the skins of various creatures—that a half-elf had been carrying, believing it to be a rare magical treasure.

Now, that thing lay on the rain-soaked ground, its cover turned upward. I could easily read the strange rune-like text, which somehow resembled English.

"Cursed Guide for Bad Mages—Become a Baddie Hexer!" I read aloud.

Thinking that touching it might be a death sentence, I debated closing it before it could do anything dangerous. But before I could act, the book shut itself.

Then, I was hit with a wave of dizziness and almost dropped the book, but I instinctively grabbed it.

I expected something dramatic to happen, but the book now seemed... weak. It no longer radiated magic. It looked even deader than the corpses surrounding me.

Opening it again, I found that it was now filled with bad riddles and jokes in a common language.

So I have a golden finger, huh? I thought, recalling the knowledge I had absorbed. It felt eerily similar to psychometry—the ability to read an object's past.

I decided to test it.

Placing my hand on the reins again, I concentrated, just as I had with the body's memories. This time, the process was harder to "understand," but I managed to absorb the driver's intentions—how to control, maneuver, and care for horses.

Encouraged, I started testing psychometry on the equipment of the two deceased adventurers, the coachman, and the merchant. Their clothes and bags revealed their knowledge: fighting styles, bargaining techniques, and even a little insight into the forging of the young dwarf's short sword.

Feeling mentally drained, I limited my next test to just the half-elf's body. From him, I learned a little more about his fighting style—and a basic elven healing spell that technically worked without Falna. Though, given how slow and ineffective it was, I might as well just use bandages...

As I dug deeper, I uncovered fragments of his past: his eating habits, his fifteen years of sword training, the archery skills he abandoned after being mocked by drunkards in an Orario pub, and even the girl he had spent his hard-earned savings on in the red-light district last year...

I also discovered something more useful—his monster-slaying experience on the first seven Dungeon floors.

It annoyed me that it had taken him five years to reach Level 2, yet he was still considered "talented" in his Familia.

This made me realize how difficult leveling up really was. Unlike in fiction, common adventurers with Falna were thrilled if they could level up with stats above C or B after years of training and Dungeon diving.

That was concerning.

I also understood that this half-elf wasn't a genius, nor did he seek adventure. He had only ever fought alongside his team against weak monsters.

At least now, I had a clearer picture of how Excellia was earned.

Feeling exhausted, I needed to plan my next move.

I decided to take what was useful and leave the carriage before it reached the main road to Orario. That way, if anyone investigated, I could at least claim I wasn't there when they died.

Given that I had joined them halfway through the journey, the only real risk was the fact that I had traveled the same road as them—though I was from a different village.

With that in mind, I cared for the exhausted horses, ate, and then continued my journey on foot at night.

By dawn, I reached the main road, where I either had to keep walking or try my luck hitching a ride.

A day later, I found myself in a caravan heading toward Orario. Entering the city was easy—I just had to show my identification to the guards.

I made my way toward my home, located on the outskirts between the Dungeon route and the city center—near a certain abandoned church.

Observing the city and its people, I experimented further with my abilities. I realized my Aura Vision worked more like empathy, allowing me to sense emotions.

I also tested psychometry on various potions and magic items being sold at the market.

Eventually, I arrived at my "new" house—a place that felt both familiar and strange.

Even though I wasn't truly the child who had grown up here, I carried his memories.

Days passed in a cycle of training and knowledge-gathering—until one night, I decided it was time.

It was time to take my first real step toward becoming the greatest man in this world.

My plan?

To "borrow" the knowledge of adventurers and craftsmen...

And enter the Hephaestus Familia.