Spring (3)

I have never suffered particularly badly from pollen allergies.

At worst, it amounted to a few sneezes and a runny nose, never anything more severe. Throw on a mask, and the symptoms were practically nonexistent.

"Achoo! Snrrk!"

Fortunately, the pollen in the Forest of the Four Seasons was much the same. The yellow dust storm here was dense enough to rival the industrial smog blown over from mainland China rather than a mild Korean spring haze, but the physical reaction remained familiar. Donning the makeshift cloth mask gifted to me by Praise the Sun made a world of difference, even if there was nothing I could do about the dust I had already inhaled.

How on earth do wild beasts endure conditions like this?

I glanced back and forth between Fast Tree Sloth and Wonmo. The sloth tossed a chunk of firewood into the fireplace with practiced nonchalance, while Wonmo stared at me with wide, round eyes. I couldn't help but wonder how the two of them had managed to adapt to such an inhospitable wasteland.

Whatever else happens, a solid shelter isn't a luxury—it's an absolute necessity.

Survival hung on having a roof over one's head. If I hadn't managed to claim this cave, one of these seasonal disasters would have done me in long ago. Whenever I set out to explore in the future, marking temporary shelters along the way to ride out sudden catastrophes would have to be top priority.

Looks like the pollen is finally starting to clear up.

The suffocating yellow haze was rapidly thinning. When spring arrived, every plant in the forest had burst into bloom at the exact same second, unleashing that catastrophic cloud. Back home, pollen season usually peaked around April or May, but the Forest of the Four Seasons recognized no such gradual buildup. The instant spring rolled around, the entire ecosystem essentially yelled, "Hooray, it's spring!" flowered en masse, and called it a day.

Everything erupting at once is the real problem.

Leaving ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my mask firmly secured over my face, I stepped outside. My nose tickled slightly, but not enough to trigger another sneezing fit, though my nostrils still ran uncomfortably. Deciding I would need to give the cloth a thorough wash later, I equipped my gear. First on the agenda was hauling back gravel.

I brought Bbarmbo and Wonmo along for the trip, the first time in quite a while. Both of them strolled through the lingering pollen without the slightest sign of distress.

"Pff-tchoo!"

Or maybe not. Perhaps Wonmo had simply been holding it in. Seeing the little guy sneeze made me realize that tolerance varied from creature to creature. It was an allergy, after all; whether one's body reacted to it made all the difference.

Before long, we reached the river. The surface remained locked beneath a thick crust of ice, though the muffled roar of rushing water underneath hinted that the subterranean current was already thawing rapidly.

It's about time I set out the fish traps again.

This time, I planned to lay two instead of one. Experiencing firsthand just how abruptly winter could descend had taught me that I needed far larger reserves of smoked meat and fish.

Do frogs hibernate around here too?

I kept a wary eye on our surroundings as I scooped shovelfuls of river gravel into my burlap sack. There was always a chance a giant frog or some other monstrosity might burst out from the frozen bank. Fortunately, perhaps because spring had only just broken, not a single beast was in sight.

Once the sack was packed full, I hauled it back to the cave. All that remained was spreading the gravel across the churned earth and tamping it down.

Why is this mud so damn sticky?

Given the sheer size of the front yard, a single trip wouldn't cut it; I had to make several runs back and forth. Even during the heaviest downpours, the soil had never turned into such a foul, clinging swamp, but the aftermath of winter had reduced the ground to absolute mush. The deep freeze had loosened the topsoil, and the melting snow had turned everything into soup. Even with all the salt I had scattered, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠freezing had been unavoidable.

Right, the ground's taken care of. Time to start building.

It was time to reconstruct the oven and the smelting furnace that the avalanche had wiped out. This time, I intended to build them sturdy enough to withstand whatever disaster came barreling down next.

To anchor them properly, I'll need to dig down a bit first.

I excavated shallow trenches into the earth and laid a solid foundation of fired bricks. Layer upon layer, I stacked the masonry just as I had done before, carefully slathering each joint with mortar mixed from sand and cement. To wrap things up, I repeatedly slid the iron trays in and out to verify the interior clearances. Preparing the site had taken hours, but the masonry itself went quickly since I already knew the blueprint by heart.

Just in case, I should erect a reinforcement wall behind it.

Learning from the previous avalanche that had roared down the cliff face from behind the cave, I built the oven flush against the rock wall. Still, that didn't feel secure enough on its own, so I decided to erect a heavy masonry barrier directly behind the structure. That would be far better than watching it crumble and having to rebuild from scratch every time disaster struck.

Hmm... will this do?

Before I knew it, what was supposed to be a simple retaining wall had morphed into a veritable fortress barricade. The thick brick wall wrapped completely around the oven, boasting an intimidating heft. It felt like a bit of an over-investment, but since it was already mortared together, there was no turning back.

Now for the furnace.

I erected the smelting furnace on the opposite side, anchoring it tightly against the cave wall as well. Naturally, I didn't forget to wrap it in a protective barricade just like the oven. With cement applied thoroughly to every seam, it wouldn't collapse easily.

Mmm. Perfect.

Flanking the entrance of the cave sat the oven on one side and the furnace on the other, balanced like a pair of wings. I left generous clearings along the flanks to accommodate future expansion work. Well pleased with the result, I took a snapshot of the front of the cave and posted it to the Gallery.

As the saying goes, joy follows hardship. The swell of accomplishment when an envisioned blueprint turns into physical reality is hard to put into words. Practical necessity had driven the construction, but I couldn't disguise my deep satisfaction.

Hearing the blunt breakdown from GrowTall, who sounded like an actual working farmer, made me pause. He went on to add that if someone wanted an unpredictable gamble, they were better off betting on roulette at a casino than wasting their sweat on agriculture. If standard farming was already as fickle as gambling, trying it here in the Forest of the Four Seasons sounded downright suicidal.

You need fertilizer, constant watering... there really are too many variables to juggle.

I already had my hands full just keeping myself alive; heaping full-time farming onto my plate would only run me into the ground. Natural disasters struck this forest whenever they pleased. I was barely managing to preserve my own skin—how could I possibly babysit delicate crops? The only silver lining was that I had been envisioning a modest vegetable patch rather than industrial-scale agriculture.

Could I ask the Raccoon Family for help?

I abandoned that notion almost as soon as it crossed my mind. Father Raccoon was already busy foraging for medicinal herbs, and Mother Raccoon had her paws full looking after Baby Raccoon. There was no spare labor to be found anywhere.

Still, scouting out a plot of fertile soil just in case won't hurt.

It was merely insurance for down the road. Real farming would have to wait until I had genuine breathing room.

I finished up and ate a late lunch, consisting of the remaining preserved fish stored inside my iron drum. Having gone so long without fresh fish, it tasted downright exquisite.

The World Tree, huh.

Come to think of it, I had caught a glimpse of an impossibly colossal tree once before, during that out-of-body experience when Heavenly Demon imparted the second mnemonic oral formula to me. I couldn't say for sure whether that titan was truly the World Tree, but the thought lingered.

The gloves sent to me by Let's Grow Trees had indeed proven indispensable. In exchange, I had sent her an Orichalcum Guardian Core, though I had no idea what she was doing with it nowadays. She popped up in the Gallery occasionally, but every single post was her usual manic prattling about planting trees across borders.

World Tree or not, I just hope there's something useful out there.

Of course, that behemoth sat absurdly far away, making a round-trip expedition out of the question for now. I dropped a quick note of thanks to Passing Dwarf and retrieved the two fish traps from my inventory. Under normal circumstances, waiting until tomorrow to visit the river would have made more sense, but when it came to food, hoarding every possible scrap was the only sensible policy. I could break through the river ice myself to anchor the traps beneath.

Across the river... it's turned into a savanna this time.

The landscape on the far bank was constantly shifting on some bizarre cycle. I still had no clue how long the intervals lasted or what triggered the changes, but figuring out the pattern would eventually be necessary if I wanted to expand my operational range—

"...Huh?"

I stopped dead in my tracks, blinking in pure disbelief.

It was a grassland biome, so seeing wild fauna was entirely expected. Stumbling across a giraffe wasn't particularly shocking, and seeing that giraffe lashing out to defend itself against an apex predator was within the realm of nature.

What I could not simply shrug off was the sight of a human being straddling the giraffe's back, fiercely swinging a broadsword. A giraffe wasn't a warhorse, for crying out loud!

Rub, rub.

Convinced that my eyes were playing cruel tricks on me, I scrubbed my knuckles hard against my eyelids and stared across the water once more. But as luck would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have it, the precise second I looked up was the exact moment the dimensional boundary shifted. The far bank dissolved like a mirage in the desert sun.

In the next heartbeat, the sprawling savanna vanished. In its place stretched a desolate, jagged wasteland of cracked stone and parched crags.

The giraffe and its bizarre sword-wielding rider had vanished without a trace.

Was that... really a human?

A flicker of faint hope sparked in my chest, only to collide head-on with sheer absurdity.

...Riding on top of a giraffe, of all things?

And locked in a desperate cavalry duel against wild beasts, no less. Confronted with a sight so utterly unhinged, my mind completely stalled out.