Health (3)

As I mentioned before, capturing a mandrake was actually quite simple.

The moment you yanked it from the dirt, if it showed even the slightest hint of winding up for a shriek, you beat it senseless like a dog on the hottest day of summer. And if it still stubbornly tried to scream through the beating? Shoving a fistful of mud straight into its gaping mouth rendered it completely helpless.

Using that foolproof method, I dug up the most urgent root for Starlight Princess first, then took my time harvesting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠more for the other fixed handles.

The very next person I traded with after Starlight Princess was the Heavenly Demon—the one who had lent me the greatest hand when I needed it most.

Every time we spoke, it struck me how genuinely upstanding the Heavenly Demon was. People on the boards mocked her as an old fogey, but she made certain that every favor received was paid back in full. This is what a real adult looks like, I thought. Why a person like this spent time lurking on an online forum was beyond me.

Then again, judging by her regular posts, she was one of the most dedicated addicts on the Gallery. Maybe life at the top was so dull and leisurely that browsing forum boards was the only way she killed time.

So this one is the antidote, and this is the one for tinnitus.

Concluding our trade, I examined the goods she sent over. The labels were written in characters resembling Chinese Hanja, leaving me momentarily bewildered until she clarified which was which. The Gallery automatically translated text within its interface, but outside it, every realm had its own native tongue. Come to think of it, who on earth created the Gallery and built an interdimensional auto-translator into it? It was a weird world in more ways than one, but hardly something I had the luxury to dwell on right now.

I practically shoved the mandrake onto Sword Master. Why someone would turn down getting healthier was completely beyond my comprehension. Won't he regret that later?

The world was full of people who neglected their bodies only to end up six feet under before their time. Health was the kind of thing you couldn't get back once it was gone, no matter how desperately you wanted it. Taking care of it now was the only way to avoid agonizing regrets down the road.

So he's a guy. Well, looking at his username, that was hardly a surprise.

Mandrakes were everywhere in that hollow. The colony was wide enough that I could supply the regulars steadily without worry. Even so, I had no intention of harvesting them carelessly. If I drained the spot clean and ran out when an actual life-or-death crisis hit, I'd be screwed. It was best to treat them as an emergency reserve fund.

Having wrapped up the trade with Praise the Sun, I contacted Princess Chaeng-gu. She had helped me out as well, so gifting her one felt right.

Naturally, I had no clue who that was. Still, since I was getting free gear, I made sure to express my gratitude. When I first received a jersey from her, I wondered what practical use a sports uniform could possibly have in a primordial forest, but it had turned out to be an immense help. The enchanted fabric possessed incredible elasticity and breathability, moving with my body without the slightest stiffness or constriction.

I didn't root for any specific football club back home, but I enjoyed watching the sport. When South Korea, considered the tournament underdog, stunned world number one Germany, it felt like an outright miracle. And watching Argentina lift the World Cup trophy in that dramatic final had left me in pure awe. Football was a game where even the absolute best players and powerhouse teams could fall victim to an underdog's miracle. That boundless unpredictability made it the most beloved sport ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on Earth, and in a fantasy world with virtually no entertainment outside the Gallery, it was only natural that magical ball games held such fanatic appeal.

Is there anything like the World Cup here?

The Challengers Cup—or Challs—that Princess Chaeng-gu mentioned allowed clubs outside Mephisto to enter. From what I had gathered, there were domestic leagues restricted to single nations alongside cross-border tournaments where foreign clubs collided. Unlike ancient times when wars raged, modern club rosters were full of mixed fantasy races, turning matches into heated battles for club prestige. Yet an international tournament organized strictly by origin rather than club contracts didn't seem to exist.

Well, not that it's any of my business.

My own life was hanging by a thread. Having a passing interest in football was one thing, but fretting over sports tournaments while trapped in a death trap of a forest was absurd. Still, curiosity was curiosity, so I figured I would look into it later. Word was that human athletic dominance had surged in recent decades, steadily shaking the supremacy of the sport's founding nation, Mephisto.

I'll put up a question thread on the board sometime. The Gallery really was convenient for this sort of thing. I would have loved to chat with Princess Chaeng-gu longer, but unfortunately, our private dialogue window was running out of time. Word had it only the Juddak possessed the administrative authority to extend private chat durations; maybe I should file a petition later.

The conversation concluded with a cheerful cheer for her club. Now only two fixed handles remained on my list: Allfather and Passing Dwarf.

My brow furrowed at his phrasing. May I speak frankly? That sounded suspiciously ominous.

The frog's poison was terrifyingly lethal. It wasn't an acid, yet it possessed the sheer biological potency to dissolve hardwood logs in seconds. I had given Allfather plenty of warnings, but hearing that an entire high-level research lab nearly melted down meant it had been an extremely close shave.

Did this mean I had to keep buying clean water from the marketplace indefinitely? Just as that grim thought crossed my mind, Allfather followed up.

Allfather laid out the situation in detail. By analyzing the frog's venom sacs, he had isolated a peculiar stabilizing agent. If processed and introduced into my system over time, my body could build an absolute resistance to poison.

I let out a hollow laugh at his blatant opportunism. Still, the proposition was undeniably worth the trouble. Developing an innate resistance to poison would be an absurdly valuable trump card out here in the wild.

Right now, venomous critters are way more dangerous than the frogs anyway.

I could block or dodge a frog's spit with my golden shield, but vipers, toxic bugs, and poisonous thorns could strike out of nowhere. I had notoriously bad reactions to poisonous plants even back on Earth, making Allfather's offer impossible to resist.

Our conversation ended, but a faint bead of unease lingered. Building biological resistance over time meant it wouldn't offer an instant cure, leaving a glaring window of vulnerability. I'll have to rely on the antidote the Heavenly Demon gave me until then.

I didn't suspect Allfather of trying to scam me. If he intended to cheat me, he would have done so when I handed over the first frog. A man sitting on an incomprehensible fortune of tens of thousands of gold had no reason to play petty tricks, and his alchemical credentials were indisputable.

Now all that's left is Passing Dwarf.

I gifted the final mandrake root to Passing Dwarf. And what did the bearded maniac do? Within minutes, he had shoved it into a keg to brew alcohol.

I stared at his post in sheer, unadulterated disbelief. If he had cashed it in for gold, I could have understood, but steeping a legendary medicine into dwarven moonshine?

I gave up. Some poor souls were clinging to life by a thread, desperate for medicine, while this guy just dropped a priceless supreme ingredient into alcohol. The sheer unfairness of the world hit me all over again. Though frankly, being dumped unceremoniously into the Forest of the Four Seasons had already proven how unjust life was.

Regardless, having repaid the prominent forum users who had aided me, I set to work on my next priority.

Thwack! Chunk!

"Aigoo... I'm gonna die."

I swung my shovel, digging a pitfall trap right in front of the cave entrance. If I kept procrastinating, disaster would catch up to me, so I had to put in the grueling physical labor every single day. Waking up with aching joints tomorrow? Still a million times better than ending up dead.

Man, every time I sweat like this, I want a shower so badly.

For now, I had to endure. Even if the frog threat vanished completely, daily showers would remain a pipe dream. The issue wasn't the hassle of drying off—it was my clothes. Garments weren't an optional cosmetic choice in this primordial jungle; they were mandatory armor against insect stings and thorny brush. Wearing sweat-drenched, filthy clothing day after day would inevitably spawn fungal infections and disease. Washing them required vast amounts of clean water.

I'm going to need a lot of soap.

Hygiene was paramount in an environment like this. Getting sick out here was a death sentence, and illness didn't magically vanish overnight just because you popped a pill. That grim reality prompted me to halt work as dusk fell and purchase water from the Gallery's marketplace.

I washed the critical areas of my body clean of grime and dried sweat. The refreshing sensation was intoxicating, unforgettable once tasted. Spending precious copper and silver stung, but when balanced against the cost of my life, it was dirt cheap.

Is today Day 2?

After washing up, I logged into the Gallery to log my daily survival journal, just like Starlight Princess did with her chronicles.

Having built rapport with the prominent handles, most of the responses were warm well-wishes and encouragement. Even the Juddak, the head administrator, chimed in. I seemed to be drawing far more attention across dimensions than I realized. As for the anonymous fluid handles, I ignored them completely; most of them just used the boards to vent their chaotic impulses.

Though one drunken bastard was running his mouth, he was useful when it counted, so I let it slide. Grumbling and coarse as he sounded, he had felt guilty enough in the past to send me reinforced gloves and liquor unprompted.

Speaking of which, how did Starlight Princess's treatment go?

Her total silence was making me anxious. I desperately hoped she would post an update tomorrow.

I laid my weary body down onto the ground. Instead of hard stone, a soft, yielding cushion met my back—the mattress and pillow stuffed with cured straw I had bought from the marketplace.

It really is... comfortable.

Between the day's bone-deep exhaustion and the plush bedding, drowsiness dragged heavily at my eyelids. Unable to resist any longer, my eyes drifted shut, praying that tomorrow would bring nothing but good fortune.

While Grylls drifted off to sleep after concluding his chores, the Gallery remained bustling with relentless activity, knowing neither day nor night.

Normally a chaotic cesspool of random shitposts, the community's atmosphere had undergone a radical shift in recent days. The focal point of that shift was none other than the survivor stranded in the mythical Forest of the Four Seasons: Wild Grylls.

Once his location was confirmed beyond doubt, a tidal wave of continental scrutiny had locked onto him. The harvest of an adult mandrake, which should have been dismissed as an amusing forum anecdote, was rapidly snowballing into something far larger.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Far beneath the surface of casual chatter, the continental undercurrents were beginning to churn toward a dangerous, unpredictable storm.