Cocos City: Fried Chicken, Spirits, and Forest Omens
The city of Cocos, closest to the Trust Union, felt surprisingly ordinary compared to the Union itself—a place whose name meant nothing to me. Renaissance vibes, maybe? I wasn't well-versed in architecture, so who knew. Rattlings hustled about unloading cargo, while Feridae with cat ears and Canidie with dog ears sorted goods from wagons.
Now that I thought about it, even among the same species, personalities varied wildly. Rattlings all looked pretty much identical, no big differences there. But Feridae? Some had leopard-patterned hair. Still, Canidie stood out the most—like the diverse dog breeds back home. There was a muscular adventurer with wolfish fur, and a bespectacled receptionist half my size scurrying around like a small lapdog.
Once the wagon escort was done, adventurers filed into the guild to file reports: any incidents during the trip? They noted payments received, problems en route, fights between adventurers. I wondered if malicious fudging happened, but magic detected lies, and tampering was easy to spot. Magic was way too versatile...
"Ah."
As I approached to submit our formatted paperwork, a Chihuahua—no, a Canidie receptionist stood on a stool behind the counter. With tired eyes, he slowly checked the documents and handed over the fee.
"A giant murder snail appeared during the caravan... from the Dplrus Forest, right? Consistent statements, and the corpse was found—quite the headache. Could be a stampede."
"Stampede?"
"When monsters flee en masse. Like when livestock suddenly bolt—same term."
I had no clue, and my blank upward stare probably screamed "dumb human." He said it bluntly, and I couldn't deny it, so I nodded sheepishly.
"If you could make infinite fried chicken, brains wouldn't matter..."
He admitted even he'd trade lizard-level smarts for that skill. "Ahem."
The Canidie cleared his throat as Po'runga and I chatted. He rummaged through files, unrolled a map, and showed us. Above Trust Union and Cocos stretched mountains and woods labeled Dplrus Forest.
"Giant murder snails nest in caves near waterfalls and rivers on these slopes. As you see, even seasoned adventurers need two days from the forest heart to the city. It probably got ambushed or succumbed to the harsh environment on the way down. The one that hit the caravan was a lucky survivor."
"Headache."
"Why?"
"Look at the map. Plenty of closer water sources, but it fled away from water?"
Sure enough. In such a vast forest, why head to dry land? Po'runga rubbed her chin—what could scare it that bad? Predators that hunted snails before, or monsters dangerous enough to trigger panic flight.
"The guild's issued an exploration request for the Dplrus Forest perimeter."
"What do you think? Rare gig."
"Dangerous?"
"Just the outskirts. Monsters leave tracks when moving... and a chance to learn the forest, right, human?"
Fair point. I nodded. Photos would be ideal, but sketches and traces were standard submissions.
"Forest has bugs, snakes, man-eating plants popping up. Got cash, human?"
"Plenty."
"Stock basics, then... you need knife-throwing lessons too."
She ticked off a list on her notepad, grinning at all she'd teach. Reading guild pamphlets was smart if time allowed.
"Guild sells books?"
"Adventurer-compiled info. Personal or premium stuff? Try logging guilds. No library? Guild's your spot for monsters, herbs. 'Stop learning, you're retired or dead'—that's the saying."
They bought monster parts, ores, herbs at fair rates too. For top dollar, merchants or auctions.
At a guild party table, we covered basics over heaping fried chicken on clean wooden plates, sipping cool fruit juice from a nearby shop.
"Refills forever—no food worries!"
Po'runga wanted me permanent, but rank gaps blocked parties: low-ranks drag, or get used as bait/discards.
"Just a month with you—shame~"
"What if I hit C-rank?"
"Record helps, but D+ needs exams."
Monster ecology, basic geography, map-reading (longitude/latitude), emergency protocols. 100 questions, 90% pass for C.
Instant nope—I shelved the dream.
"That's why some say rank up for fame. C-ranks retire rich. Or teach in villages after learning the ropes."
More legit job than expected. Watching her savor chicken blissfully, I wrung wet wipe water into a cup. Tried hands first, but impurities worried her—she fetched wood blocks.
Squeezing wipes between blocks: "Distilled ethanol's spirits. Hero Park Chun-sik—'father of booze'—made the strongest stuff's base."
"Hero Park Chun-sik?"
"You don't know the Four Heroes legend, human? What do you know?"
I mumbled, averting eyes. She forehead-slapped: basic history—even D-rank knows. Trust's comrade Park Chun-sik? Sounded familiar... too familiar.
History mentioned gods granting heroes power. ...Isekai summons, maybe?
"Anyway, your wet wipes are ethanol—spirits, precisely."
"...Not booze?"
"Heroes unknown but booze you know? Rotten brain, human?"
Her glare stung. Worse: "Drink and die," but it would kill.
"Isn't it lethal?"
"High proof... Rattling? Heart attack. Deinous? Fire breath."
Poison level already! What constellation gift was this? [Alcohol Constellation]? No way.
Miracle of infinite spirits: joyless. Filled a cup—odorless, so taste-test. Po'runga gulped it coolly, swapping juice ice.
"Guh!"
"Burns!" She huffed, then flames shot from her mouth.
Actual fire-breathing circus act. Baffling.
"Infinite booze and chicken... insane."
"Live off it?"
"Buy empty bottles first."
"Spirits biz viable," she said dead serious. Tasted divine, godly—unmakeable here. Constellations were gods, so yeah.
The next day, inn rest over, Po'runga brought spotless empties—her scrubbing was intense. Wet wipes—no, spirits wipes? Constellation genius. Filled 'em crystal-clear.
Morning guild: quality check for sale.
"No-brand spirits... ingredients, process, environment?"
Made a wipe, wrung into cup. Frog-eyed shock, he swigged—spewed vodka-blast.
"Eugh, piss-breath."
"Po'runga... words..."
Handkerchief to booze-bombed face: please filter. Face crimson, flailing—he'd have killed a Rattling. Others swarmed.
"Verified. Cough... divine skill-made?"
"Holy booze," he eyed bottle warily. Sellable, but human's ID/drama risk. List as plain spirits.
Infinite free? Fine by us.
Is it the Constellation of Suspected Spirits after all?
Yes, Hero—your guess is right; the Four Heroes were summoned heroes.
Congrats on your first deal! First step to merchant king?
Still, can't beat the Maou with this, huh.
Acquired 1 Constellation Ticket
Goddess nailed it. Maou-slaying with booze? Nah. But 30 SP windfall—infinite? Economy breaker.
"Human, spare three more bottles?"
"Drinking?"
"Nah, breath weapon."
Fair. Forest unknowns—prep smart.
Exited for supplies, tore ticket.
[sE■h■]
Thirsty folk won't die of thirst with that mug...
(Create Water—ability to produce as much clean water as desired anytime.)
• Produces hygienic, drinkable water
• Vanishes after 1 day if unused
"......"
Perfected. Fried chicken! Spirits! Water! Star blessings—no starvation!
"This ain't the fantasy I imagined..!!"