Quest (3)

Originally, I had intended to receive several World Tree saplings.

Unfortunately—or perhaps as expected—there was only a single sapling to be had. As one might imagine with something as sacred and revered as the World Tree, they couldn't just be handed out willy-nilly. From the way our previous conversation had gone, I was certain I would be getting a whole handful, but reality proved otherwise.

Yet, according to Let's Grow Trees, no such hero had emerged in centuries. Countless people had attempted the feat or researched it over the ages, only to fail without exception. The primary culprit was mana. A World Tree sapling devoured environmental mana like a gluttonous pig, desolating everything in its vicinity as a matter of course. There was a good reason Alfheim, home to the true World Tree, was renowned as a land flowing with milk and honey—only a realm with that much ambient mana could sustain it.

Wait, if she brought it out in secret... isn't that basically embezzlement?

Even if it was an impractical white elephant, its symbolic value had to be astronomical. To think she had just pilfered it. I couldn't help but wonder who she actually was to walk away completely unscathed after pulling a stunt like that.

Regardless, I handed over the World Tree sapling to the Squirrel. Some might question whether I was overinvesting in a mere squirrel, but my reasoning was simple.

I can't afford to make enemies.

There were simply too many hazards lurking in this forest. If a creature could be turned into an ally or at least kept neutral, I would do everything in my power to steer things in that direction. After all, my relationship with the gorilla troop was already teetering on outright hostility.

Besides, even Bbarmbo told me not to kill it.

It might end up being a tremendous help down the line. But above all, there was one thing I desperately wanted to know: its teleportation ability. It seemed to involve that Golden Acorn, but I intended to ask for specifics.

"Hey, Squirrel."

"Squeak?"

I called out to it. Grinning from ear to ear, the squirrel was already busy planting the World Tree sapling into the soil. It seemed to recognize the true ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠worth of the sapling as well. Not a bad trade at all.

That aside, there was business to address.

"How did you teleport earlier?"

"Squeee?"

"You were popping in and out of tree hollows like you were jumping through doors."

The Golden Apple Deer had teleported on its own, but this squirrel was different. Whatever it had done to those hollows, it had completely bypassed the conventional laws of space. If Bbarmbo hadn't warned me beforehand, I might have taken a nasty blow from its ambush.

"Squeak! Chk-chk!"

The squirrel thumped its chest proudly, chattering with utter confidence. Since I couldn't understand a single syllable, I turned my gaze toward Ggobongi.

"Own power."

"...It's its own power?"

"Squeak! Chk!"

"All kin can do."

"..."

I see. So Bbarmbo had a good reason for telling me to spare it.

Even in a region where spatial dimensions shifted erratically, anchoring specific coordinates would change everything.

Does that mean the Raccoon Family has special abilities too?

Father Raccoon, in particular, always brought back astonishingly potent medicinal herbs. Add to that his fiery parlor tricks, and he was undeniably extraordinary. It appeared certain beasts native to this forest possessed unique supernatural traits. Perhaps Bbarmbo's blinding burst of speed fell into that category as well. This forest was truly terrifying.

If I could only utilize this properly...

The Deer's teleportation was strictly personal, but the Squirrel's wasn't. The tree hollows it carved operated just like the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland, linking distant locations together. If I could strike an agreement with the little guy and get it to widen the hollows, exploring this deadly forest would become infinitely easier.

This could actually work.

I didn't know what the Squirrel might demand in return, but it was certainly worth a conversation. Stroking my chin, I gave Ggobongi a pointed look, signaling him to get ready to interpret.

"Ahem. Mister Squirrel?"

"Squeak?"

Examining the sapling from every angle, the squirrel glanced back at me with a look that asked what I wanted this time. Dropping to one knee, I smoothly extended an Inedia Pill I had kept prepared for just this moment. Bbarmbo, still clinging to my back, clamped down hard on my shoulder in protest, but I did my best to ignore him.

"Care to try this? It's delicious."

"Sniff, sniff."

The squirrel took a whiff of the Inedia Pill and snatched it up without hesitation. It rotated the pill between its paws like an acorn, inspecting it, before taking a hearty bite.

"Squeee-k!! Chk-chk!"

The reaction was exactly what I anticipated. The moment the rich flavor hit its palate, an expression of sheer ecstasy washed over its tiny face. Its bushy tail snapped straight upright like an antenna.

"Well? Delicious, isn't it?"

"Chk-chk! Squeak!"

"Most delicious acorn ever. Where get it?"

Ggobongi translated right on cue.

Seizing the golden opportunity, I smirked. "I didn't get it from anywhere. I made it myself."

Well, I actually got them from the Heavenly Demon, but who cared about technicalities?

"If you help me out, I can give you these regularly. What do you say?"

"Squeak! Chk!"

"Of course. What want?"

Hook, line, and sinker. A triumphant grin spread across my face.

What I wanted was straightforward: a tunnel connecting this place directly to my shelter. Considering the squirrel's small stature, there was a good chance it wouldn't be able to make one large enough, but it was certainly worth a shot.

"Those tree hollows of yours. They're connected to other hollows, right? That's how you move around so fast."

"Squeak!"

"Did you dig them yourself?"

"Chk!"

Nodding vigorously, the creature continued to enthusiastically gnaw on the Inedia Pill. I was tempted to reach out and stroke its head, but I reined myself in.

"Could you make more of those? Preferably one large enough for my body to squeeze through."

"Squeak?"

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

"And ideally across long distances. Is that possible?"

At my question, the squirrel paused in deep contemplation. It stepped back a couple of paces and looked me up and down. To help it gauge my dimensions, I slowly rose from my knee to stand at full height.

The squirrel stroked its chin, measuring my bulk with a critical eye. Ludwig was broader and taller than me, but as long as a human body could squeeze through, it would do the trick.

Expecting Largo to fit would be pure greed.

What I needed was a waypoint—an expansion outpost. The Forest of the Four Seasons shifted spatially with every passing moment, but the distortions weren't entirely chaotic. Distinct biomes were cleanly partitioned from one another. That very consistency was what made this request viable.

"..."

The squirrel glanced back and forth between me and the World Tree sapling, scratching its head. It looked conflicted. I needed to find out what was bothering it.

"Is there a problem?"

"Chk-chk. Squeak."

"Possible," Ggobongi translated. "But need more."

"More World Tree saplings?"

My eyes widened when it indicated another sapling was required. The sapling at my shelter had been incinerated to cinders by Vanir's breath. Needing another one presented a serious headache.

"Can you explain how it works?"

"Chk. Squeak. Chk-chk."

The squirrel's explanation was surprisingly straightforward. Every tree growing in the forest possessed its own unique 'domain.' If the domain of one tree overlapped with that of another, a tree hollow could be carved between them to travel back and forth. However, this only worked between trees of the exact same species, and the domain range of ordinary trees was pitifully narrow.

"And once a World Tree sapling grows, its domain expands enormously. Is that it?"

"Chk!"

"What about right now? Is it wide already?"

"Chk-squeak!"

"Wide," Ggobongi echoed. "Reaches the river."

"Still not enough."

In the end, that meant I had no choice but to plant another World Tree sapling at my shelter.

The problem was Vanir. The ancient dragon was so hostile toward the World Tree that she had unleashed dragon breath the instant she laid eyes on the first sapling. Honestly, even planting one here carried immense risk, but for the sake of convenience and mobility, I had to take the gamble.

Wait a second. What about that colossal World Tree Vanir mentioned?

That ancient World Tree was monumentally massive, putting every other tree to shame. If I could tap into that, wouldn't I be able to travel across a vastly greater distance? Perhaps the reason Vanir couldn't utilize the World Tree was simply because they were natural enemies. You could never know the full story hearing only one side.

Of course, I had no intention of making an enemy out of Vanir.

Let's plant it first and worry later.

As the old adage goes, it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. To raise my chances of escape by even 0.0001%, this was a necessary step. Vanir would surely show some understanding. And if she didn't, the sapling would just end up as charcoal again. It sounded irresponsible, but right now, I had no other options. What wouldn't a man do to escape this hellhole? Anyone in my shoes would do the same.

"Alright. How many days until this sapling's domain expands?"

"Chk?"

"Does not know 'days,'" Ggobongi translated.

"Then how many times must the morning sun rise?"

"Squeak!"

"At least five suns."

Five days. That was surprisingly short.

Still, whether Let's Grow Trees could procure another sapling within that window remained to be seen. Furthermore, she might demand something exorbitant in return—like more Orichalcum.

It feels uneasy, but beggars can't be choosers.

Barter was the only way forward.

I asked the Squirrel if there was anything else it needed.

"Squeak."

"Inedia Pill. Give."

"Here you go."

Sparing one more Inedia Pill was no trouble at all. The little critter beamed with pure delight, nibbling vigorously at the pill with its tiny front teeth.

While it was distracted, I began gathering the scattered acorns off the ground. Then a thought struck me.

How did it make those acorns explode earlier?

I asked about the acorn bombs as well. The squirrel's answer was bewildering: they were just ordinary acorns. When it threw them with all its might, they simply exploded. Just in case, I picked one up and hurled it with force, but it merely bounced off the ground without so much as a spark.

I guess it's an innate racial trait unique to them.

What a bizarre, mystical forest. Having gathered all the fallen acorns, I bid ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the squirrel farewell. It was about time to head back, but I decided to scout the surroundings for another thirty minutes before returning.

"#$%!@?"

[He asks what you plan to do with the acorns,] Cain translated in place of Ludwig as we set out to scout.

If I had only taken the Golden ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Acorns, it wouldn't have been so strange, but scooping up every ordinary acorn in sight had clearly piqued his curiosity. If they were Korean, they would have guessed immediately, but this was a fantasy realm.

Is there a similar dish in the Central Plains?

I wasn't entirely sure. Back on Earth, I had only ever eaten it, never studied its cultural spread.

Pondering how best to explain, I offered an answer. "Have you ever heard of dotori-muk—acorn jelly?"

[Acorn jelly? What under the heavens is that?]

"It's jelly made from ground acorn starch. The Central Plains probably has something similar."

Even if they didn't have acorn jelly specifically, starch jelly itself ought to exist. Of course, I only planned to treat it as a light snack. Acorn jelly was famous on Earth as diet food—which meant its caloric density was abysmally low. It was hardly ideal sustenance for harsh survival.

Still, might as well make some while I have the chance.

To eat it properly, seasoned soy sauce was essential, perhaps with some sliced chili peppers mixed in. Older folks loved pairing it with alcohol, so I could probably send a portion to PassingDwarf as bar food.

I wonder if the Heavenly Demon would enjoy it?

Starch jelly shouldn't be unfamiliar to someone from Murim, so offering her some sounded like a good idea. Besides, I wasn't just making it with regular acorns; I planned to use Golden Acorns as well. I was genuinely curious to see what kind of dish that would produce.

Twinkle! Twinkle!

Just as thirty minutes passed and we were wrapping up our search to head home, a glimmer caught my eye. It had been obscured behind thick brush, but sharp kinetic vision allowed me to catch its faint sheen.

Parting the bushes, I found an utterly peculiar plant.

"What's this...?"

[It merely looks like an ordinary weed to my eyes,] Cain remarked.

Just as Cain noted, at a glance it looked like common grass. Yet on closer inspection, its blades resembled dense, bristling hairs rather than leaves, and dangling from the tip was a tiny silver berry.

It was bizarre beyond measure, and the entire plant was shimmering with a soft light.

I'll harvest it for now and ask the Heavenly Demon later.

Since the surrounding earth wasn't glowing, it wasn't an Earth Guardian. I carefully dug up the plant and began the trek back. Thanks to Ggobongi's meticulous management of the thread guide, retracing our steps wasn't difficult. Naturally, since I would need to return here eventually, I made sure to leave distinct trail blazes along the way.

"Phew. We're finally back."

[That was truly exhausting,] Cain muttered.

"All you did was dangle from my belt, Cain."

[Dangling like luggage is far more grueling than walking, I assure you.]

Now that we were back home, cleaning up came first. I told Tyrano and Wonmo to take an afternoon nap, promising to wake them when dinner was ready. Both young beasts must have been completely tuckered out, as they curled up in the cave and began snoring almost instantly.

"Good work today, mister. Go get some rest," I told Ludwig.

"$%%#%?"

[He says he has a request,] Cain translated.

"A request?"

It was rare for Ludwig to ask for anything. When I asked in surprise, Ludwig made a downward stroking motion with his hand and spoke a single syllable.

"$."

[A brush, he says.]

"A brush? Ah, for Largo?"

He needed a stiff brush to groom Largo's coat. At this rate, he’d probably be shoeing the giraffe's hooves next. I retrieved a grooming brush I had bought from the Auction House and handed it over.

Ludwig immediately went to work, tenderly brushing Largo's hide. Anyone could see how deeply attached the former holy knight had become to that giraffe. It was a bizarrely heartwarming sight.

I should put up a post on the Gallery first. But before that...

I decided to send the weed-like medicinal herb to the Heavenly Demon. It looked like common grass on the surface, but given how radiantly it sparkled, it was bound to possess some sort of extraordinary effect.

As expected of the Heavenly Demon, who practically lived on the Gallery, a reply arrived instantly. Chuckling to myself, I uploaded the item details.

Apparently, acorn jelly didn't exist in the Central Plains. Come to think of it, I recalled hearing back on Earth that it was a distinctly Korean culinary tradition. Still, jelly was jelly, and it would likely suit the palate of Central Plains folk just fine.

Now that I had sent the weed—er, the medicinal herb—to the Heavenly Demon, all that was left was to draft a post for the Gallery.

Wait, before that, I need to sort these acorns.

Come to think of it, I had quite a few chores lined up. Opening my sub-space backpack, I tipped it over, sending a cascade of acorns clattering out onto the ground. Gleaming Golden Acorns stood out prominently among the ordinary brown ones.

Now, to turn these into jelly... Luckily, I knew the recipe. Back when my parents were still around and well, my mother used to make dotori-muk from scratch, and I had watched her process countless times.

...Is there something like a millstone around here?

I made a mental note to search for one.

While Grylls was busy scouring the Auction House for a millstone, Yu Sowol summoned Chief Strategist Wi Seolak to ascertain the properties of the herb received from Grylls.

At a glance, it looked like nothing more than a tuft of bristly grass tipped with miniature silver bells. Yu Sowol, Wi Seolak, and even the Heavenly Demon Cult's head physician had never encountered such flora in their lives.

"We shall not know its properties until someone tests it," Physician Song ventured.

"Report to me immediately should anything occur," Yu Sowol ordered.

"As you command, Cult Leader."

Cradling the herb reverently, the physician bowed and withdrew to his clinic.

A short while later.

"...Physician Song? Is that you?"

Yu Sowol showed a rare flicker of sheer bewilderment. Her eyes widened slightly in visible shock.

And for good reason.

"Yes, O Sky above! I know I must look unrecognizable right now, but..."

Until mere moments ago, Physician Song had sported an expansive, severely receded hairline that gleamed like a polished melon.

"After conducting experimental trials with the herb, it appears to miraculously resurrect dead hair follicles!"

Now, he stood before her crowned with a luscious, impossibly thick mane of raven-black hair and a magnificent, flowing beard that would make any sage weep with envy. One look at his flushed, trembling visage laid bare the ecstatic euphoria coursing through his veins.

Looking up at Yu Sowol with eyes brimming with years of suppressed grief and bitter tears, he choked out:

"This is... this is nothing short of a divine miracle!"

"..."

Yu Sowol did everything in her power to maintain her stoic composure, desperately suppressing an awkward grimace.