Fireball (Part 2)

There was an old saying: if you don't have teeth, chew with your gums.

In other words, when your best option vanishes, you make do with the next best thing. Deprived of genuine magic, I had no choice but to find an alternative. Something that was technically magic, but seasoned with a healthy dose of physics. A spell that resembled a fireball, yet functioned quite differently.

Pop!

With a hard yank, I worked the deeply wedged cork from the neck of the bottle. The passing dwarf had kindly included an opener alongside the liquor, which was the only reason I managed it at all.

"Guh…!"

The instant the cork gave way, my face twisted in horror. I honestly didn't know how to describe the sensation. It was as though a foul, concentrated wall of pure alcoholic stench had just delivered a bare-knuckle punch straight to my olfactory nerves. It shoved its way in like a hired thug, aggressively evicting every other scent from the room.

"Kwehh!"

Even the Fast Tree Sloth clinging to my back gasped in revulsion. Seeing a creature that rarely made a peep suddenly pinch its nostrils shut told me everything I needed to know. It was vile beyond belief.

Did he really give me this to drink? It feels more like rat poison.

I genuinely wondered what the proof was. It had to be astronomical. With potency like this, I probably wouldn't even need to cut it with much oil.

Should I take just a tiny sip?

Pouring it straight out felt like a waste, so I decided to test a drop. Even if it knocked me on my ass, it wouldn't be an issue. I possessed an Internal Cultivation Art, after all. I had heard somewhere that circulating an internal energy method burned away the effects of alcohol in a flash.

Eyeing the bottle as it wafted noxious alcoholic fumes, I carefully brought the rim to my lips.

Gulp.

The moment a mouthful trickled down my tongue, an unexpected wave of sweetness greeted me. The harsh bitterness typical of hard liquor was certainly there, but the sugary aromatics were far stronger.

Hey, this isn't bad at all.

I could practically chug this like juice. That was what I thought.

For exactly two seconds.

"Guh! Arrrrgh! Ack!"

Something was horribly wrong. I had swallowed liquid, so why did it feel like my entire esophagus had been set ablaze? Did I just swallow liquid fire? No, was this pure hydrochloric acid?!

I clutched my throat, writhing in agony on the floor. In that blinding instant, the truth dawned on me.

That bastard dwarf really did send me poison!

Right on the heels of that epiphany came a cold jolt of mortal terror. I couldn't die like this. Desperately, I scrambled across the dirt, clawing around for an Elixir. But before my fingers could graze a vial, the searing torment gradually began to subside. Had the fire kept raging for even a few seconds longer, I would have cracked open an Elixir without hesitation.

"Urrgh…"

I rubbed my raw, stinging throat, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. Whatever that dwarf had handed over, it wasn't liquor. It was chemical warfare masquerading as a beverage. If it weren't, my throat wouldn't feel like I had just suffered an explosive bout of gastroesophageal acid reflux. Truly, chugging battery acid couldn't possibly hurt worse than this.

Still, it's not like the dwarf went insane and deliberately poisoned me.

Did their kind genuinely drink this sludge for fun? A profound, terrified respect welled up in my chest.

Heaving a ragged sigh, I stumbled outside to rinse my mouth. Gulps of fresh river water flowing from the intake hose finally extinguished the lingering burn.

Yeah. That stuff will definitely burn.

There was no need to fill the bottle entirely with oil. The Muscle Mushroom was ultimately a plant, which meant it was naturally prone to catching fire. If I used pure oil and the flames got out of control, I'd end up burning down the entire sector.

Let's verify its flammability first.

Returning to the cavern, I splashed a small puddle of the dwarf's moonshine onto the stone floor. I grabbed a dry twig I had scavenged earlier and struck it against the Ignition Stone. Being bone-dry, the wood caught immediately. Striking the stone directly over the puddle might have blown up in my face, so taking the extra step was essential.

Fwoosh!

"Whoa."

The instant the flame grazed the puddle, a brilliant wall of fire roared upward. High alcohol content indeed. It caught faster than gasoline. At this rate, chucking the bottle would turn anything it hit into a blazing torch.

And come to think of it, the bottle's made of glass, isn't it? Perfect.

Now that its efficacy was proven, all that remained was the assembly. Making a Molotov cocktail sounded simple on paper, but it was deceptively tricky in practice. One mistake and I'd be the one engulfed in flames. Its destructive potential was no joke; I remembered reading that soldiers had used these things to disable tanks during wars.

First, I need oil.

My plan was to concoct an optimal blend of oil and moonshine. As I'd reminded myself, filling it solely with fuel invited catastrophe. When the time came, I needed to be able to extinguish it easily.

And a handful of sand.

A mixture of viscous oil and gritty sand was an absolute match made in heaven. It clung to surfaces like napalm. I bought some vegetable oil off the auction house and dried a scoop of coarse dirt from around the shelter to mix in.

Finally, the most critical component: the wick. This part required careful thought.

If it burns down too fast, I'll blow myself up.

It needed to catch fire easily, yet burn slow and steady. Taking all factors into account, thick cloth was the best candidate. Even so, testing was mandatory. I bought scrap paper, old newspapers, rags, and various textiles from the auction house to run trials.

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

Just as I thought. Heavy cloth is the safest.

The results confirmed that a strip of dense fabric offered the ideal burn rate. Using a chopstick, I jammed the cloth tightly into the mouth of the bottle, wedging it in until my knuckles were white. Once secured, I turned the bottle upside down to check for leaks. The thick weave plugged the rim securely, with not a single drop seeping through.

My preparations were complete. All that remained was sorting out my loadout.

I left the crossbow behind, packing only the essentials. Carrying a fragile glass bottle loosely in my hands was asking for an accident, so I needed some kind of satchel. Browsing the auction house, I picked up an inexpensive leather pouch that strapped firmly to my waist. Inside went the Molotov cocktail and an Elixir, along with a spare flask of oil just in case.

I thought I was all set, until an obvious oversight hit me.

Ah. I need a shovel.

I needed a tool to shovel dirt and smother the blaze when it was over. Sword and shield held at the ready, shovel slung across my back. With that, my setup was finalized. It was time to hunt the Muscle Mushroom.

"Keep an eye on the house while I'm out."

"……"

Having hopped off my back at some point, the Fast Tree Sloth gave a slow, barely perceptible nod. Meanwhile, Wonmo was sprawled out, fast asleep without a single care in the world. He was too adorable to wake, so I let him be.

With everything in order and my nerves tightened with anticipation, I set out into the wilderness. Slaying the Muscle Mushroom was essential to securing the trail for snares and catching local game. On top of that, it would grant me access to the cavern the beast had been guarding.

I wonder what's inside?

Honestly, curiosity about the cave was driving me just as much as setting traps. There had to be a reason a beast like that chose to plant its roots right in front of the entrance.

It's not some kind of dungeon, is it? With the mushroom acting as a literal gatekeeper?

If so, I'd be poking a hornets' nest. Curiosity killed the cat, as the old saying went. Balanced precariously between nervous dread and surging curiosity, I pushed through the brush toward the western forest.

Rustle.

Suddenly, the foliage parted, and something popped out onto the trail. Long velvety ears, a petite frame, and an undeniably adorable face.

"Squeak?"

A rabbit. A wild rabbit had appeared out of nowhere.

The instant our eyes locked, the creature reared onto its hind legs, its long ears snapping rigidly upright. Its stance screamed hostility, yet the tiny twitching of its nose was ridiculously cute.

"Shoo, little guy. Go on, get lost. Shoo."

Having no intention of hunting it with a naked blade right now, I nudged ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it gently with the flat of my sword. Apparently, the little herbivore interpreted the gesture as an act of war.

CLANG!

The rabbit unleashed a lightning-fast dropkick, slamming its tiny hind paws straight against the broadside of my blade. A crystal-clear ringing sound echoed through the woods—a testament to the terrifying kinetic force behind the strike. The impact jolted my entire frame, throwing me off balance and sending me staggering back a couple of paces.

"What the hell……?"

I stared dumbfounded at the thicket where the rabbit had vanished. A single kick had nearly sent an armed, grown man sprawling into the dirt. Even a rabbit born in the Forest of Four Seasons operated on an entirely different scale. Had that blow struck my bare shin, it would have cracked the bone at the very least.

What kind of insane forest turns bunnies into martial arts masters?

Absurdity piled upon absurdity. Now even the rabbits were a lethal threat. If I wanted to catch something like that, basic wire snares wouldn't cut it; I would need heavy-duty, lethal traps designed for big game. Otherwise, those fluffy little monsters would just shatter the contraptions to splinters.

A fresh headache bloomed behind my eyes, but I pushed it down. Slaying the mushroom took priority.

"……Found you."

Retracing my previous path, I arrived at the clearing before the cavern. True to form, the Muscle Mushroom was still stationed before the mouth of the cave like a silent stone sentinel, deeply rooted into the earth. As long as I didn't step within its agro radius, it wouldn't awaken. Carefully, I slid the Molotov cocktail from my waist pouch.

Fwump!

Striking the Ignition Stone against the wick, a bright tongue of flame flared to life, licking hungrily at the cloth. I watched the motionless monster. It truly was the type to wake only upon close physical approach.

"Haaah!"

With a guttural shout, I wound back my arm and hurled the bottle with everything I had.

The Molotov spun through the air, carving a trailing spiral of flame against the dim canopy. Right up until the moment of impact, the Muscle Mushroom remained rooted, oblivious to its doom.

SMASH!

The glass shattered violently against the monster's fibrous body.

FWOOOOOOSH!

A raging tempest of fire instantly devoured the creature. Highly combustible spirits and sticky vegetable oil fueled the hungry inferno, while the coarse sand clung like boiling tar to its stalk, ensuring the flames couldn't be shaken loose.

"KUUUUOOOOH!"

Sensing extreme danger, the Muscle Mushroom let out a booming screech, violently tearing its massive, vein-ridged limbs from the dirt. I didn't waste a heartbeat. Exactly as planned, I charged straight into the heat.

The blistering air scorched my skin, but closing in for a single decisive strike was well within my limits.

SHING!

Before its thick leg could fully unearth itself, my sword severed the limb cleanly at the base. No matter how dense its muscular fibers were, losing a supporting leg instantly destroyed its center of gravity.

THUD!

The lopsided Muscle Mushroom crashed heavily into the dirt, and the flames roared higher, swallowing it whole.

POP! BANG! CRA-CRACK!

"Whoa!"

Without warning, a volley of sharp, concussive detonations ripped through the air. Had I not leaped back immediately, I would have been caught in the blast wave. Even if each pop only packed the punch of a firecracker, clustered burns could still prove debilitating.

It released its spores.

Allfather's warning had been spot-on. Driven by the primal instinct to propagate before death, the creature had spewed its cloud of spores, only for the surrounding inferno to ignite them in a cascading chain reaction.

The monster flailed frantically in the dirt for several moments, but as the fire consumed its core, its struggles grew sluggish, eventually subsiding into stillness. Because it was essentially plant matter, the burning odor wasn't putrid; oddly enough, it smelled rather fragrant, like roasted matsutake.

Not that I'd ever eat this freak.

Thanks to the preemptive strategy, the fight had been an absolute breeze. Even so, I waited patiently at a safe distance to ensure it was thoroughly dead.

Crackle… hiss…

Eventually, the Muscle Mushroom charred to a crisp, the flames dying down to embers. Deciding it was safe, I unslung the shovel from my back and vigorously scooped dirt and sand over the smoldering remains, cleanly snuffing out every trace of fire.

Wild beasts might pick up the scent.

The aromatic, roasted smell might attract unwanted predators. After a brief deliberation, I decided to drag the corpse away.

There might still be live embers inside, so I should push it somewhere with minimal foliage.

Using the shovel, I pushed the blackened husk into a barren rocky corner. Even if scavengers showed up, they would fixate on the roasted mushroom carcass rather than sniffing around the cave entrance.

With the cleanup finished, I turned my attention ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the shadowed hollow the Muscle Mushroom had guarded so fiercely.

Because the sunlight hit the cliffside at an awkward angle, the interior was pitch black. While my enhanced vision allowed me to navigate dim spaces reasonably well, a thorough investigation demanded proper illumination.

Good thing I brought extra cloth.

Scavenging a thick branch from the forest floor, I wound the spare fabric tightly around one end and struck the Ignition Stone.

Fwoosh!

A steady torch sprang to life, casting warm orange light deep into the cavern. The layout was surprisingly similar to my own shelter—spacious, dry, and offering plenty of clearance overhead. It possessed an oddly comforting, domestic atmosphere.

Not bad at all…

I panned the torch across the stone walls, then abruptly froze.

The firelight had finally penetrated the far recesses of the cavern, revealing what lay at the deepest point. It wasn't a hidden beast or a sleeping monster. Rather, it caught my breath simply because it was impossible to miss.

Glimmer! Glisten!

"……A mushroom?"

Resting upon a small dais of stone, a solitary golden mushroom radiated a brilliant, warm luminescence.

Is it poisonous?

By all appearances, it looked like the last thing any sane human being would ever put in their mouth.