Cultivar (4)
First a swarm of sparrows, and now a mole. Farming really was an uphill battle. More than anything, it was infuriating.
Ludwig seemed to share the sentiment. The moment our sweet potato patch was ransacked, he immediately set out to hunt down the culprit.
The first method we attempted was simple: scatter sweet potato seeds, wait for the mole to show itself, and snatch it barehanded. I asked if it wouldn't be easier to just skewer it with a sword, but he shook his head, signaling that it would be too difficult. The creature was astonishingly quick, and without the ability to channel mana, he figured bare hands offered better reaction speed.
SQUEEEE!
"Aaaargh!"
"Holy shit!"
Against all odds, Ludwig actually succeeded in grabbing the mole with his bare hands. The problem was that the beast possessed terrifying brute force—so much so that Ludwig was nearly dragged straight underground along with it. Fortunately, he managed to wrench himself free, but he certainly didn't emerge unscathed.
Dangle—
"……."
"……."
Judging by the limp way his arm hung at his side, his shoulder had dislocated. Still, having suffered dislocated joints before, he promptly popped it back into place with a sickening click. Just to be safe, I handed him an elixir. Note to self: never mess with a mole barehanded. It seemed much wiser to devise an entirely different countermeasure.
In the end, capturing the mole had to be shelved for later. Even so, there was no way I was offering up my harvest to a mole the way I had with the flock of sparrows. At least the sparrows had plundered us openly with overwhelming force, but this mole had crept in like a petty thief in the night. With the former, I could grind my teeth and bide my time for revenge. With the latter, it was treating me like an easy mark. I had to put a stop to it, no matter what.
"Mister."
"……?"
"Let's overturn this entire plot of land."
Without proper traps, catching the mole was impossible. That left only one option: excavate the entire ground and line the outer perimeter with solid stone bricks. No matter how adept a mole was at digging through dirt, it wouldn't be able to smash through solid stone. And if it somehow managed to break through stone as well, then I'd figure out another plan. In short, what did this mean? It meant brutal manual labor was about to begin.
Thwack! Chunk!
"Agh, my back."
"#%%#"
I had lost count of how many shovelfuls of dirt I'd tossed today. My lower back was already screaming in protest. Ludwig appeared to be suffering just as much, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl. For a man who usually maintained an impassive, stoic expression, looking that exhausted spoke volumes.
Still, we can't give up.
If you can't avoid it, enjoy it... No, screw that. If you can't avoid it, you face it head-on. I would have loved to enjoy things if I could, but this wasn't civilization—it was the wild. The moment you let your guard down to "enjoy" life, your head might part ways with your neck. Constant vigilance was the only way to survive.
From then on, we dug deep into the earth and walled off the entire boundary. Just in case, I laid down a double layer of bricks to ensure nothing could ever breach it. Once every preparation was complete, I scattered the sweet potato seeds once more.
Swooooosh!
Before long, thick sweet potato vines surged upward, thriving rapidly. And right on cue...
Scr-a-a-tch! Screeech!
From beneath the ground, the sound of claws violently scraping against stone echoed with crystal clarity. Between the sparrows and this mole, it was truly bizarre how they sensed the crops the instant they sprouted. Did they have some sort of built-in radar, or was it because the seeds hailed from an outside world?
Whatever the reason, now that I had confirmed the mole couldn't breach the bricks, all that remained was the harvest.
Thunk!
...Right after I butchered this damned pest first. I strode over to where the scraping originated and drove the Heavenly Demon's Sword deep into the earth. Didn't feel flesh? Then I drove it in again. And again.
Squirt!
Soon enough, the unmistakable sensation of piercing through flesh traveled up the hilt and into my palm. Simultaneously, the sound of claws tearing at the bricks stopped dead. It had been so hyper-focused on clawing through stone that it hadn't even noticed a blade plunging straight down into the soil above it.
Let's see that ugly mug of yours.
Grabbing a shovel, I dug into the dirt, curious to see what this thing actually looked like. Ludwig must have felt the same way, because instead of asking questions, he took up his own shovel and helped dig.
"……Is this really a mole?"
"……."
When we hauled the lifeless creature out from the dirt, its size was terrifying. Ordinary moles were supposed to be about the size of two clenched fists, but this abomination was something else entirely. It was roughly the size of a medium dog, comparable to the Golden Toad we had caught back at the very beginning. What the hell had it been eating to grow this massive? First things first: take a proof shot.
"Hold this up for a second, please."
I handed the giant mole to Ludwig and readied the camera. Ludwig struck a pose with the beast and flashed a solemn thumbs-up.
Now that the vermin was taken care of, it was time to harvest the sweet potatoes. As for the mole... well, Wonmo would probably scarf it down without complaint. On the off chance it carried parasites, I'd make sure to dose him with an elixir afterward.
"Alright. One, two, heave!"
Rrrrip!
As we hauled on the vines, massive sweet potatoes tumbled out of the loose dirt in heaps. Would anyone believe me if I said every single one was the thickness of my forearm? If this wasn't a bumper crop, nothing was. For the time being, food shortages were the least of our worries.
We'll have to finish eating these before winter sets in.
Grow Big and Strong had given me a clear warning: sweet potatoes were exceedingly vulnerable to the cold. Unlike normal potatoes, they couldn't withstand freezing temperatures and rotted easily—even after being harvested. They needed to be consumed before winter arrived or shortly after it began.
I should roast a few in the coals.
Nothing beat roasted sweet potatoes in the dead of winter. Conveniently, we had a fireplace inside the cave, which would make cooking them effortless. I dusted the clinging dirt from the sweet potatoes and packed them into burlap sacks. Part of me wanted to plant something else right away, but pure exhaustion washed over me.
"All done."
"Done? Then lend me a hand."
"Rest. Want."
"You talking back to me again?"
"Bad guy. Truly bad guy."
Even so, work was work. I used the cut lumber Ggobongi had prepared to construct the ceiling. It wasn't just a matter of setting logs across the top; every joint had to be hammered and secured. The dwarf hadn't been exaggerating when he called it arduous work. Still, it had to be done.
At least nails are abundant on the auction house.
To my surprise, the price of nails was astronomical. It was likely because factories didn't exist in this realm, meaning every single nail had to be forged by hand. Fortunately, I had coins to spare, allowing me to purchase as many nails as I needed. In an ideal world, I would have liked to forge the nails myself... but time was too short.
Come to think of it, didn't the dwarf mention that if you want to forge a sword by hand, you should start by making nails?
I brushed the thought aside; framing the ceiling and roof took priority. Ludwig, Ggobongi, and even Largo—everyone pitched in. Someone might wonder how Largo, a giraffe, could possibly help with carpentry.
"Largo, could you pass me that timber over there?"
"Kku-eung."
Astonishingly, he proved to be an immense help. He acted as our living crane. With a giraffe's tremendous natural strength, hauling heavy timbers was effortless for him.
Clang! Bang! Bang!
We drove nails home to secure the joints, stacked more timber, and repeated the rhythm over and over. If the ceiling ever collapsed, it would be an absolute disaster, so I made sure to build it rock-solid. The same went for the roof. I never realized that constructing a slanted roof could be so difficult.
"It's finished!"
Thank goodness I wasn't doing this alone. Gazing at the completed shelter, I couldn't conceal the swell of pride in my chest. Frankly speaking, the exterior was nothing more than a plain, blocky box, far from visually pleasing. But what was the point of obsessing over aesthetics in the wild? Utilitarian function was all that mattered.
"Do you like it?"
"Ooh! Good!"
"Kku-eung."
Once I laid down woven mats across the floor, both Ggobongi and Largo expressed their heartfelt approval. I took the time to instruct Ggobongi on how to operate the fireplace in preparation for the coming winter. Fully aware of how ruthless the cold season could be, Ggobongi listened with rapt attention.
"Come to think of it, how did you even survive winter before? You didn't even know how to build a fire."
"Just survived."
"Uh... right."
The guy wasn't just tough; his constitution was built like a stone wall. If he weren't, he would have perished long ago. Even so, he could look forward to spending a warm winter from here on out. After meticulously inspecting the structure for drafts or defects, I stepped outside. Having spent the entire day drowning in manual labor, evening had already descended.
I traded with the dwarf between tasks, agreeing to supply him with wheat and barley in exchange for cooking oil. There was a specific dish I had been craving to make with it.
"Mister, could you peel these sweet potatoes for me? I have to feed Wonmo first."
"#%#%"
I entrusted Ludwig with peeling the sweet potatoes. In the meantime, I fed our animal entourage and began dinner preparations. Having harvested fresh sweet potatoes today, I intended to serve up a special treat.
Honey should work as a substitute, right?
Sweet Potato Mattang—candied sweet potatoes. Since we lacked refined sugar or corn syrup, I substituted pure forest honey instead. First, I chopped the sweet potatoes into bite-sized chunks and thoroughly drained the excess moisture. Then, I deep-fried them in the oil acquired from the dwarf. Once they turned crisp and golden brown, I scooped them out and cleaned the pan. Normally, one would heat starch syrup or sugar to create the glaze, but I heated honey in its place.
As long as it's sweet, it should turn out fine, right?
Tinkering with recipes on a whim was typically the quickest way to ruin a dish, but since the flavor profiles were comparable, I figured it wouldn't hurt. Tossing the fried sweet potatoes in the warm honey until they were coated in a glistening sheen, the Forest of Four Seasons edition of sweet potato mattang was complete.
"Alright. Let's eat."
"#@%"
Eating only sweet potato mattang would get cloying after a while, so I prepared grilled fish alongside it. We weren't just wolfing down a single main course anymore; we actually had side dishes. Ideally, I would have loved to harvest rice as well, but that would have to wait for another day.
"Delicious, isn't it?"
Ludwig nodded vigorously at my question. Perhaps because the glaze was made from genuine Forest of Four Seasons honey, his fingers moved with alarming speed. Fearing he might devour the entire platter on his own, my chopsticks picked up the pace as well.
"Wonmo, try some of this."
"Kyuuu!"
"Ggobongi, Largo, you two have some too."
"Ooh!"
I shared bites of the candied sweet potatoes with our animal companions. And then...
"Kyuaaa!"
"One more! One more!"
"Kku-o-o-o!"
"You little brats! This is our dinner! Get back, shoo!"
War erupted.
Today, I learned firsthand what happens when you combine sweet with even more sweet. It seemed sweet potato mattang was a delicacy that needed to be strictly rationed from now on. Someone once said: if you can't avoid it, enjoy it.
"Hey, mister! Stop secretly stuffing your face and help me out here!"
"……."
There was no way in hell I could enjoy this.