Sidegrade (3)

A sidegrade that neither I, nor the Heavenly Demon, nor even Sword Master had ever anticipated.

It wasn't necessarily bad, but it had evolved in such an utterly bizarre direction that it left me stranded in an awkward limbo.

Would it get any better if I managed to condense it?

In the end, I had no choice but to shift the entire direction of my training. Before I could even think ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠about reaching the stage of an Aura Blade, I had to compress this monstrous aura first. The plan was simple enough in theory: cram it down until I got a feel for the density, and only then attempt to imbue it with razor-sharp cutting power.

When I floated the idea to the Gallery, however, the consensus was that even that intermediate step would be an uphill battle. As they had reminded me time and time again, stepping across the threshold toward an Aura Blade belonged purely to the realm of innate genius.

It's not going to blow up in my face, is it?

Even if I succeeded in condensing it, the uncertainty still gnawed at me. My situation was an anomaly that even Sword Master had never laid eyes on. What kind of aura would I be brandishing down the line? Would I be swinging an absurd pillar of light that pierced the heavens, or would I wield a normal, respectable Aura Blade?

...Well, becoming stupidly strong like an absolute freak isn't the worst thing in the world.

Power was power. Beggars couldn't be choosers, especially when trapped in a death world. Besides, I still had a stash of Neidans waiting to be consumed. Even if SmartFiend had gifted me a specialized preservation canister, those spirit cores wouldn't stay fresh forever. Steady, unrelenting practice was the only way forward. I had to grow stronger, no matter what shape that strength took.

"Kyuuu..."

"Hey there, Wonmo. Sleep well?"

After a while, Wonmo came tottering out of the cave on unsteady paws, his sleepy eyes blinking adorably. Fast Tree Sloth was perched comfortably atop his back as usual, wearing that same serenely vacant expression. Together, we enjoyed a quiet morning meal. The fish trap in the river had yielded three decent-sized catches.

Once breakfast was settled, I had intended to dive straight into training, but an urgent errand demanded my attention first. I pulled up the interface to message the dwarf.

I needed to ask why Mythrecon—the impossible alloy of mithril and orichalcum—glowed the way it did. Leaving aside how beautiful it looked when infused with mana, the metal sat as a dull, unassuming slab of gray silver before activation. One could easily shrug it off and say good things were just good, but since it was a brand-new material never before seen under the sun, handle-with-care was an understatement.

No inherent hazard, just dangerously exceptional. That was the dwarf's verdict. I mulled it over for a second before probing further, recalling the warning he had given me earlier.

It had been an offhand joke, but the dwarf had taken it with utter, deadpan seriousness. That alone spoke volumes about the sheer strategic value and terrifying potential of this metal. Once I finally smoothed over his misunderstanding, I brought up the real reason I had contacted him.

At this rate, the guy was going to drink himself into an early grave. Still, I had his blessing. In truth, I had half a mind to gift the alloy not just to Allfather, but to several other regulars as well.

What if I gave Princess Chaeng-gu a rod of it to use as a glowing cheer stick...? Would that be weird?

Even to my own ears, the notion sounded ridiculous. Then again, an indestructible, self-illuminating glowstick was hard to pass up. In any case, sending a sample to Allfather for scientific inquiry was the most sensible immediate step.

I sent an ingot of the alloy over to Allfather as well. As for the cheer stick for Princess Chaeng-gu... I decided to drop the matter. No matter how I looked at it, it was too absurd to execute. Going forward, I resolved to use the Mythrecon solely for tools I would wield myself. That would be more than enough.

Time to swallow another Neidan.

Moving into my martial arts training, I ingested a second inner core. As I had determined earlier, consuming them as swiftly as possible yielded the highest return. I had worried that I might collapse into a dead faint like yesterday, but my anxiety proved groundless. Once the Neidan was down, I recited the mnemonic oral formula, and that was that. No grand commotion, no blinding agony.

Other than a fresh wave of vitality coursing through my limbs, it feels almost identical to before.

Could it be that my body had already adapted to the influx of pure Neidan energy? I certainly hoped so.

The morning training slipped by in a blur, and midday was rapidly approaching. Walking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up to the riverbank to check the fish traps, the dream from the night before suddenly surfaced in my mind.

Come to think of it, there was that gigantic tree, wasn't there?

If NecromancyIsLove's diagnosis was correct, it hadn't been a mere dream, but an out-of-body astral projection. If that phenomenon had truly occurred, there was a very strong likelihood that the gargantuan tree I saw was an actual landmark within this wilderness.

Yet the distance was staggering. It would take at least six continuous hours of trekking just to get within striking distance. Factoring in the chaotic, spatial-disorienting nature of the Forest of the Four Seasons, navigating there might take even longer.

And considering how high I was floating when I saw it... reaching it on foot might require well over a full day.

I hauled the thrashing fish from the submerged basket as the thought turned over in my head. Attempting such a journey right now was unvarnished suicide. The reality was that even my modest shelter wasn't entirely secure yet. One misstep out there, and I could run headlong into an alpha predator like the Chief Gorilla. It was far wiser to master the Aura Blade before embarking on any long-range expedition.

How long that breakthrough would take remained anyone's guess, but survival always took precedence over exploration. Since I had already resolved to dig in and endure here for the long haul, there was no reason to rush.

All I need to do is keep my curiosity in check.

Curiosity killed the cat, and in this primordial forest, indulging idle intrigue was equivalent to wagering ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one's own life on a coin toss. My immediate vicinity was hardly tame. While the gorilla troop was unlikely to stage an unprovoked raid after our last clash, wild beasts could change their minds at the drop of a hat.

"..."

Perhaps because thoughts of colossal trees were lingering in my head, my eyes drifted toward the edge of the clearing the moment I returned to the shelter. There stood the sapling gifted by Let's Grow Trees. It was thriving.

Thriving so aggressively that it's actually alarming.

When I first planted it, the slender shoot had barely brushed against my kneecaps. Now, its leafy canopy reached all the way up to my chest. Barely a week had passed, and it had exploded in size like this. What would it look like in a month?

Wondering if this was standard botanical behavior or an alarming mutation, I snapped a picture and uploaded it to the Gallery. I refrained from sending a private message; unlike the other regulars, I wasn't particularly close to her. There was an unspoken, slightly unhinged barrier between us.

I honestly couldn't tell if she was playing the ultimate internet troll or if she genuinely meant every word. From the sound of things, this sapling was an invasive, ecosystem-destroying menace... yet looking at how cheerfully it was shooting toward the sky, the gravity of their warnings felt strangely distant.

Is it growing like this because the local soil is saturated with mana?

I knelt down and gathered a handful of dirt. On the surface, it looked like ordinary dark loam. But beneath the texture, it had soaked in the thick, primordial mana indigenous to the Forest of the Four Seasons for countless centuries. That realization sparked a sudden curiosity: what would happen if I planted ordinary crops in this soil?

If a World Tree sapling shoots up in days, wouldn't regular edible plants mature in the blink of an eye?

Trees were notoriously slow growers, their lifecycles measured across years and decades. Seeing this sapling shoot up like bamboo proved that the local growth cycle was warped beyond belief.

I never really planned on farming...

Yet witnessing this preternatural vitality, establishing a small plot didn't seem like the worst idea. Of course, I couldn't just blindly scatter seeds into the dirt; I would need to clear and prepare the land first. Our shelter's perimeter was already getting cramped, and carving out acreage for a farm would complicate things considerably.

So this is why ancient settlers hacked down entire forests to establish agriculture.

A newfound appreciation for ancestral history washed over me. Either I had to scout out a clearing suitable for farming, or figure out a way to transport the nutrient-rich soil elsewhere. One of those two options would work. Fortuitously, a user who appeared to be an experienced farmer had just dropped a comment in the thread. I was just about to make a new post to ask for farming advice and establish a connection, when...

A headline caught my eye—one I couldn't simply brush aside.

Even if it looked like cheap clickbait at first glance, comments were flooding in by the dozens despite the post being mere minutes old.

Isn't their theocracy currently getting completely battered by public opinion?

It defied all logic. Doubling down with an aggressive, reckless gambit in their current political state was the worst possible move. Stunned by the utter absurdity of it, I tapped into the thread.

Who was it that said old men make wars, and the young must bleed for them? I had thought that tragic reality belonged solely to the world I left behind, but human nature was identical across dimensions.

...Will they truly be able to connect to the Gallery?

Yet, reading the news, an unbidden flicker of hope ignited in my chest. The Pope was undeniably a corrupt, vile tyrant committing unforgivable crimes, but whatever his wicked motives, he had just dispatched actual living human beings into this death zone.

If only they could reach as far as my camp...

Human beings ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠truly were the most selfish creatures alive.