Omen (2)
Making someone do manual labor immediately after recovering—especially when one of his feet was still impaired.
Anyone who heard only that part of the story would probably curse me, asking whether I was even human.
But I wasn’t doing it without good reason. Despite his bad leg, Ludwig was still far stronger than me.
He was merely a person with one bad leg, and he was gradually growing accustomed to using even that.
Wasn’t it more efficient for him to do whatever he could instead of sitting around doing nothing?
Volunteer work is something you do when you can afford to.
Since we were in a place where work was directly tied to survival, everyone had to contribute even if they had physical difficulties.
Moreover, winter would arrive soon after summer ended.
Having personally experienced what happened here during winter, I needed to prepare even more thoroughly.
Now that Kkobong and the giraffe had joined us as well, we couldn’t afford to sit around doing nothing.
I don’t know about Kkobong, but building a home for the giraffe is going to be difficult.
The giraffe—a tragic animal burdened with a long neck.
Sadly, its overall body was also enormous. Even its legs were long.
As a result, designing a house—or rather, a pen—for it presented countless difficulties.
Its height alone was roughly equivalent to a two-story apartment building. I had no choice but to build something larger than the cave I lived in.
I need to consider protection from the cold too. And since Kkobong will live with it, the interior needs to be spacious.
It was practically the same as building another cave. There was a reason I had even put Ludwig to work.
First, we had to expand the site by cutting down trees and level the ground. After that, we needed to lay bricks.
And laying bricks across the floor wouldn’t be enough. We also had to prevent the cold from seeping in.
The floor should be fine if I lay down some mats... but a fireplace will be essential.
We would also need ventilation, among many other things.
On top of that, we needed an emergency exit in preparation for the immense amount of snow that would pile up.
Not a single part of the project was easy, but every part was necessary.
I also need to make an emergency exit for the cave.
The prospect would have been overwhelming if I had been working alone.
Fortunately, I now had some excellent workers.
Kkobong went without saying, and Ludwig was human.
"Apply it over there. No, you already covered that spot."
"P6#?"
"Yes, there."
We occasionally had trouble communicating, but once Ludwig understood what I wanted, the work became much easier.
Thanks to him, we finished the floor in no time. Things should be much more comfortable now.
However, we were severely lacking in sand, so I would need to travel downstream tomorrow.
"Groooan."
The giraffe seemed to realize that this would be its home and cautiously approached.
I told it to wait and logged into the Gallery.
All that remained was to find some suitably soft and comfortable mats.
"Here. Lie down and sleep on this. Kkobong, I’ll spread one out for you too."
"Groooan."
"Ooh."
Kkobong and the giraffe headed toward the mats I had assigned to each of them.
They tested the mats’ softness with their hands and feet before lying down.
"..."
"Oooooh."
Both of them seemed satisfied.
They had probably spent their entire lives sleeping on hard ground, so the softness of the mats must have felt like an entirely new world to them.
Even if they had gathered leaves and fashioned something similar, the softness itself would have been incomparable.
Come to think of it, what’s that giraffe’s name?
Ludwig was its owner, so he would probably know.
After he finished cleaning up, I approached and asked him.
"Mister, what’s its name?"
Ludwig looked at me as if wondering what I wanted.
To help him understand, I pointed to myself.
"Grylls."
Then I pointed to Ludwig.
"Ludwig."
Finally, I pointed to the giraffe.
Once Ludwig understood what I was asking, he nodded.
nodded.
"Largo."
"Largo?"
Apparently, its name was Largo. Ludwig kindly wrote the name down on a piece of paper for me.
I knew how to pronounce it, but did the name have some sort of meaning?
Curious, I asked the Gallery.
└ It means "neck."
└ Wild Grylls: Neck? As in a person’s neck?
└ Yeah, that kind of neck. Its neck must have been so remarkably long that they named it that.
└ Wild Grylls: ...
└ That’s such a lazy name, lol.
└ But you can’t deny that its neck is its most distinctive feature, lol.
The meaning was strange, but the name sounded cool, so I decided not to dwell on it.
The real question was whether the giraffe would recognize it.
I called out to Largo, who was sitting absentmindedly on the mat.
"Largo?"
The giraffe turned to look at me as if asking whether I wanted something.
Had it formed a bond with Ludwig in that short amount of time, or was it simply highly intelligent?
At the very least, it clearly recognized its own name.
It’s about time we ate.
The sun had begun to sink toward the horizon.
It was still light because it was summer, but it was already dinnertime.
As usual, I would be eating the same food as always, but Ludwig was different.
I planned to feed him fish porridge until at least tomorrow morning.
He had almost completely recovered thanks to the honey and elixir, but I couldn’t recklessly feed him the food found here.
I needed to carefully control the portions and types of food he consumed so that his body could adjust to them.
Getting him accustomed to the food was our top priority.
Otherwise, he might end up running back and forth to the bathroom all day, just as I once had.
"By the way, do you know how to cook?"
"$%&#"
I made a rough cooking gesture, and Ludwig nodded.
However, he didn’t appear particularly confident.
Then again, he was probably a combat specialist, so that was only natural.
In the end, I did the cooking myself. I would probably remain responsible for it until he adjusted.
"Let’s eat."
"Kyuu!"
"Food. Food."
The addition of just one person and one animal made mealtime feel much livelier.
Fortunately, the giraffe could simply eat leaves from the trees, so it ate separately.
I would have liked to give it a fasting pill, but I decided against it because I felt as though Namu ppareumbo would glare at me if I did.
Still, Largo was now part of the family, so I would have to give it one eventually. I would just need to watch for the right opportunity.
Speaking of fasting pills, Father Raccoon had continued bringing me medicinal herbs as repayment.
Come to think of it, what was that yellow herb he brought me before?
After the meal, I examined the yellow herb.
Normally, it should have wilted and drooped by now, yet it was still standing perfectly upright.
I had no idea what kind of medicinal herb he had brought me, but it was clearly extraordinary.
I should send it to the Heavenly Demon right away.
The Heavenly Demon would quickly identify it.
Her knowledge of medicinal herbs was every bit as impressive as the All-Father’s or the Starlight Princess’s.
Before long, I sent the herb to the Heavenly Demon, and her response arrived shortly afterward.
[Heavenly Demon: Following the snow ginseng, thou hast brought me yet another rare medicinal herb. The herb thou hast given me is called the Lesser Yang Herb.]
[Wild Grylls: The Lesser Yang Herb?]
[Heavenly Demon: It is a medicinal herb ranked directly beneath the Solar Herb. It is renowned for containing an abundance of yang energy. Though I would recommend that thou consume it thyself.]
[Wild Grylls: It’s fine. The fasting pills are more important than me eating it. I have more mouths to feed now too.]
[Heavenly Demon: Understood. However, like the snow ginseng, it would be best to sell this one as well. It is far too precious an herb.]
[Wild Grylls: Go ahead.]
As long as I could continue receiving fasting pills, I didn’t mind.
In fact, those pills might have been the most important thing of all.
After all, the decisive reason I had survived until now was the tribute I received.
[Heavenly Demon: Also, according to the rumors I have heard, the Blood Cult intends to enter the Forest of Four Seasons.]
[Wild Grylls: What? Why all of a sudden?]
While speaking with the Heavenly Demon, I received an unexpected piece of news.
The Gallery was currently overflowing with political discussions following Ludwig’s exposé.
Since almost all of them were focused on El Dorado, I hadn’t had the time to pay any attention to the Blood Cult.
[Heavenly Demon: I heard it from one of my close aides. However, it appears they are hesitating because of that holy knight’s testimony.]
[Wild Grylls: Because they won’t be able to use mana?]
[Heavenly Demon: Indeed. They may even ask thee to provide them with weapons.]
[Wild Grylls: Who do they think I am, their personal armory?]
If they actually asked, I planned to ignore them without a second thought.
The Blood Cult would probably fly into a rage, but... why should I care?
Unlike Ludwig, they were people I had never wanted anything to do with in the first place.
Even if they were insanely lucky like me and managed to survive, there was a high chance they would become my enemies.
[Heavenly Demon: An excellent attitude. Those Blood Cult vermin ought to be exterminated.]
[Wild Grylls: Did the Blood Cult do something to you too?]
[Heavenly Demon: Nothing of the sort. I simply find them displeasing.]
Why did that suddenly remind me of the recent offline confrontation?
Thanks to that incident, all the attention that should have been directed toward the Blood Cult had shifted to the Heavenly Demon.
I didn’t know whether the real-life Heavenly Demon and the Gallery user named Heavenly Demon were the same person, but it didn’t matter much.
Either way, the fact that she was a tremendous help to me remained unchanged.
More importantly, matters in the outside world could be left to those living there.
But the moment the Blood Cult entered the Forest of Four Seasons, it would become a different story.
[Wild Grylls: Thank you for telling me. Now I can prepare.]
[Heavenly Demon: It is nothing. If thou requirest assistance, tell me at any time.]
[Wild Grylls: Thank you.]
I could ignore El Dorado. Whatever happened there was their problem.
The Blood Cult, however, was different. They might enter the Forest of Four Seasons.
Furthermore, they would undoubtedly make extensive preparations based on Ludwig’s testimony as a survivor.
He said the entry itself was a problem too, didn’t he?
I had heard that people were dropped into random locations upon entering.
Ludwig had started on the grassland, but there was no telling where anyone else might end up.
If they were unlucky, they might be dropped somewhere like the volcanic region, where survival was practically impossible.
The biggest problem would still be their inability to use mana, though.
I was somewhat curious to see how the Blood Cult would deal with that.
Still, my survival was the most important thing, followed by figuring out Ludwig’s role here.
"Mister, what do you want to do now?"
"..."
I was using him as a laborer, but it would be a waste to limit him to that.
It would also be best to avoid combat whenever possible. Every creature here was a monster in its own right.
Should I teach him our language too?
Trying to communicate entirely through gestures was frustrating.
It was fortunate that Ludwig was perceptive. Otherwise, I might have lost my mind by now.
Ludwig seemed to understand the gist of my question and answered with gestures.
He mimed plowing a field and then scattering seeds across it.
Thanks to that, I quickly understood what he wanted.
"You mean this, right?"
I even drew a picture to confirm that he meant farming.
After looking at my drawing, Ludwig nodded.
It was a little unexpected, but farming wasn’t actually a bad choice.
His foot is impaired, after all.
Unlike me, it would be difficult for him to travel long distances unless he made extensive preparations.
Riding the giraffe around wasn’t realistic either.
Unlike the wide-open grasslands, this place was a densely wooded forest.
There were inevitably limits to where such a large giraffe could go.
This might be surprisingly viable. But we’ll have to wait until winter is over.
Winter would arrive soon, so farming would have to wait until afterward.
I did my best to explain this to Ludwig, though that was quite difficult as well.
The sun was blazing overhead, yet I was telling him that winter would soon arrive. Who would believe that?
Moreover, he had come from the grasslands, so it must have sounded especially implausible.
"If you really don’t believe me, I suppose you can experience it for yourself."
"#%%#"
"I’ll try to acquire the farming tools and seeds. But we’ll need to discuss where to plant everything."
If Ludwig took up farming, it would largely resolve our food problem.
After all, humanity had greatly alleviated its food shortages through the development of agriculture.
It wasn’t as though I disliked farming. Quite the opposite.
I had simply never attempted it because I lacked the labor.
Now, however, an excellent worker named Ludwig had arrived, making it feasible.
"Do you know how to farm?"
I couldn’t understand his words, but his answer was unmistakable.
He didn’t know.
He was simply someone who wanted to try farming.
It was slightly absurd, but he was fairly old, so I decided to let it slide.
Retiring to the countryside and becoming a farmer was something of a dream among older people, after all.
Let’s start by finding out what we’ll need.
At the very least, I should learn how to do it before winter arrived.
***
The succession ceremony of the Messiah Empire.
Ludwig’s survival and exposé.
The turmoil in El Dorado.
When one country fell into chaos, it naturally caused unrest in others as well.
That was especially true when those other countries had unresolved problems of their own.
Such as the Central Plains’ failure to completely eradicate the Blood Cult.
The Blood Cult had originally been devising an operation to enter the Forest of Four Seasons, but the situation had changed.
It was because of Ludwig’s testimony.
In particular, his claim that mana—in other words, internal energy—could not be used there had introduced an unexpected variable.
The members of the Blood Cult might each possess tremendous power, but that strength would become meaningless if they couldn’t use internal energy.
Therefore, they had no choice but to exchange opinions and reconsider their plans. Unlike before, hardly anyone made any recklessly foolish suggestions.
"Our Blood Cult’s martial arts will be fine! We possess enormous reserves of internal energy, so surely we can withstand the external suppression!"
Of course, there were still a few people whose brains had not merely grown rigid but completely melted.
Those people shrank back under everyone’s scornful gazes.
After extensive discussion, they arrived at a surprisingly simple yet reasonable solution.
"What if we convert all our internal energy into external cultivation?"
"External cultivation?"
Convert their internal energy into external cultivation.
At first glance, it sounded like a plausible solution.
What was external cultivation?
It referred to the muscles, skin, bones, and so forth—essentially, the body’s fundamental defensive strength.
They were not talking about strengthening the body with energy. That was still unquestionably a form of internal-energy usage.
They meant nothing but the pure physical body.
Simply put, they intended to improve their basic physical capabilities.
"Indeed. If we cannot use internal energy, then can we not simply train our bodies instead?"
"Is that even possible? If achieving an invulnerable body were easy, everyone would be unbeatable."
The elder was correct.
There was a reason martial artists focused more on internal energy than external cultivation.
Internal energy had greater potential, but external cultivation was also extremely difficult.
Moreover, the surviving members of the Blood Cult were elderly. They possessed comparatively little muscle mass.
However, the man who proposed the idea suggested an unexpected approach.
"I am not saying that we must attain complete physical invulnerability. We need only train until we acquire genuine physical strength."
"Do you truly believe such a simpleminded method will work?"
"Would you rather we all enter hand in hand and die together? If you have another solution, then let us hear it."
"..."
No one raised a hand.
They had no suitable alternative.
If they couldn’t use internal energy, they would focus on external cultivation—in other words, improving their raw physical abilities.
Was there any method simpler yet more reliable than that?
"What if we ask that man? I heard the new survivor received items from him as well."
"Do you truly believe he would give anything to us? And what if the Heavenly Demon notices? We must go in secret."
If possible, they wanted to ask Grylls for help.
All they wanted was a single sword.
But the Heavenly Demon might catch wind of their plans. The Blood Cult’s fear of her remained deeply rooted.
They had to go in secret.
That was the Blood Cult’s conclusion.
"Whew. Very well. Then we shall proceed by focusing on external cultivation."
"A wise decision. Does anyone have another opinion?"
"I have none."
"Nor do I."
They had reached a consensus.
They would only discover whether this method worked—or was utterly meaningless—after entering the forest themselves.
But did they realize it?
Even at that very moment, information about their plans was leaking like water through a sieve.
"...That is what they said."
"How amusing."
Every last detail was already reaching the Heavenly Demon’s ears.