The Lakeside (2)
Following the river downstream, I encountered no dangerous beasts along the way.
Rivers were usually natural watering holes teeming with all kinds of wildlife, but whether it was due to the fierce current or the lingering presence of that Golden Poison Frog, not a single large predator showed itself. That wasn't to say the banks were entirely barren, of course. Every now and then, smaller critters scurried past my boots.
Wait, is that a lizard?
[Photo: An absurdly massive lizard perching on a rock]
What species is this even supposed to be? The size is insane, isn't it?
Naturally, "small" was an entirely relative term when applied to the Forest of the Four Seasons. The lizard caught sight of me and immediately bolted into the brush.
While I was glad to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, curiosity won out, so I turned to the Gallery for answers.
Damn it. I should've bagged it instead of snapping a photo.
Regret was always too late, no matter how quickly it hit. Swallowing my lingering disappointment, I pushed forward along the shoreline.
The river murmured gently as its torrents slowed to a tranquil drift. The banks widened out dramatically, suggesting I was approaching the lower basin. Fortunately, there were no sudden spatial warps or abrupt biome shifts along this stretch.
BZZZZZZZZZZ—
Except, of course, for the super-sized mosquito buzzing straight toward me.
At first, I thought my depth perception was playing tricks on me. Only when the monstrosity leveled a needle-sharp proboscis and dived straight at my face did my survival instincts scream that this was an actual monster.
CLANG!
Panicking, I barely managed to throw up my shield in time. The Golden Shield was noticeably dented thanks to the muscle mushroom incident, but it was still more than sturdy enough to save my skin. The split second the impact rang through my arm, I drew the blade resting at my left hip.
SHING!
With a clean, decisive sweep, I slashed directly across the mosquito, which was roughly the size of a human head. Given its bloated target profile, the blade cleaved it neatly in two. It hit the dirt, twitching pathetically, leaving me staring down in sheer disbelief.
Did I get dropped into a dark fantasy world or something?
I shook my head vigorously. It was healthier for my sanity to assume this damn forest was just inherently cursed. Still, an unsettling thought crept into my mind. A mosquito this big was alarming enough, but what about bees? What kind of horrific monstrosity would a hive-dwelling swarm of giant bees be? The mere thought of a cloud of head-sized wasps descending on me sent a visceral chill down my spine.
Thank god there aren't any beehives near my cave.
Breathing a quiet prayer of thanks, I stepped over the severed bug carcass. But only a few paces past it, a sudden skittering sounded from right behind me.
Scuttle, scuttle!
Conditioned to jump at every rustle in this death trap, I whipped around in a flash, throwing my shield up defensively.
Dash!
It was the giant iguana from earlier. The scaly opportunist had snuck up, clamped the mosquito carcass in its jaws, and was currently sprinting away like a thief in the night. I watched its retreating tail in stunned silence.
No matter how long I survived out here, getting used to this ecosystem was flat-out impossible.
There's got to be even weirder crap lurking out there, hasn't there?
I could hardly wait to see what fresh nightmares awaited me. Resigned, I tramped onward downstream, keeping my sword drawn in hand so I could strike at a moment's notice. After roughly an hour of walking, the scenery remained largely unchanged, offering nothing particularly noteworthy.
SPLASH!
The only real signs of life were the fish, occasional massive silhouettes leaping out of the water before smacking back down against the surface. Unless my eyes were deceiving me, they were far larger than anything I had caught back at the pool. Being downstream where the current was sluggish, it made sense that larger aquatic life congregated here.
Maybe I could set up a fish trap around here and...
KAAA-SPLAAAASH!
The thought barely formed before something breached the water with thunderous force. It was slightly too compact to be called a whale, yet far too colossal to be labeled a fish. The creature was pitch-black from snout to tail, radiating an oppressive aura of sheer bulk as it surged into the air.
CRASH!
The titanic mass plunged back into the river, sending a towering curtain of white spray crashing onto both banks. My jaw went slack.
...Do whales even live in freshwater rivers?
A desperate urge to turn around and scurry back to my cave welled up from the bottom of my stomach. I could handle your run-of-the-mill wilderness beasts, but whatever that leviathan was, hunting it was out of the question. Even so, having walked this far, I couldn't bear the thought of turning back without seeing where the river led.
Swallowing dryly, I crept forward, nerves wound tight as a bowstring. When I finally cleared the tree line at the river's terminus, my breath caught in my throat.
"Ha. Fuck me."
The curse bubbled up from the darkest depths of my soul, less an outburst and more a weary, defeated sigh.
"Is this an ocean or a lake?"
Sprawled out at the river's mouth was an endless expanse of water. Yet calling it a proper lake felt wrong, because the water level was ridiculously, absurdly shallow. The surface was so glassy and pristine that every pebble on the bed was visible in crystal-clear detail.
It's practically stamping 'You can't escape' right on my forehead.
My morale took another heavy hit. Feeling thoroughly deflated, I decided to snap a picture and upload it to the Gallery. When life gives you lemons, sometimes you just need to complain to random strangers on the internet to feel better.
[Photo: A breathtaking, crystal-clear shallow lake stretching past the horizon]
Followed the river down and hit this lake. Pretty, right?
Now how the hell do I escape this place lololol
Come to think of it, while I had constantly worried about clothes, I had completely neglected my footwear. For a survivor forced to trek long distances across rugged terrain, durable boots were arguably the most vital piece of kit. I had considered asking Passing Dwarf, but as he had pointed out, relying too heavily on one contact was bad practice. Besides, the dwarf himself admitted shoes weren't his forte.
I never thought I'd see the day I'd miss military combat boots outside of reserve duty training.
Life really was full of surprises. More than basic durability, what I desperately needed right now was waterproofing. Slogging through water for hours in soaked shoes was an express ticket to trench foot, fungal rot, and waterlogged, peeling skin.
Let's see... Any vulcanized rubber on the auction house? Nope, zero. Should I just tough it out for today?
I wavered between soldiering on or heading back to camp. Turning back was safe, but leaving without exploring felt like leaving money on the table. It wasn't as if I had hit a literal dead end yet.
Right. Even if I need to build a raft later, let's at least recon the perimeter.
If the water got dangerously deep, I could turn around immediately. Nodding to myself, I began skirting along the shallowest edges of the lake. It felt like taking the long way around, but the vantage point was revealing.
If I keep hugging this bank, I might actually be able to cross around to the other side on foot.
I might not even need a boat to reach the far bank. Unfortunately, occasional sunken depressions meant dipping into ankle-deep water was unavoidable, soaking my sneakers through.
As I advanced with my guard raised, a bizarre sound drifted over the breeze.
"Gurgle."
"Clack. Clack-clack."
"Hm?"
The clicking noises were coming from right in front of me. Looking down, I spotted what appeared to be a cluster of large, mottled boulders huddled together in the shallows. It took me only a few seconds to realize those weren't rocks at all.
Crabs? Why the hell are there crabs here?
They were crabs, walking with that unmistakable sideways scuttle. More shockingly, they were easily the size of a grown man's torso, dwarfing even the largest king crabs or lobsters. Their stalk-like eyes swiveled lazily as their enormous pincers snapped rhythmically. I edged closer, stepping lightly.
Even as I drew near, the creatures showed zero wariness, too occupied with manipulating their claws to care about my presence.
"...A fish?"
Sure enough, the crabs were busily tearing apart the carcass of a sizable fish. I had heard crabs served as the scavengers of the aquatic world, but why a dead fish was lying in these ankle-deep flats was a mystery.
The water is barely deep enough for a minnow to swim, let alone a fish that size. Did it get washed ashore during a surge?
First things first: take a photo and identify the species. I pulled out my terminal and snapped a shot of the feast before uploading it to the forum.
[Photo: Torso-sized crabs tearing apart a fish carcass in the shallows]
Was walking along the lake and ran into these crabs having lunch.
They're roughly the size of my torso. Anyone recognize them?
In other words, as long as I didn't eat them raw, they were fair game. That was music to my ears. I resolved to drag at least one of them back to camp when I returned.
Their carapaces shouldn't be that thick, right?
Just to be certain, I lowered the Heavenly Demon's Sword and thrust downward with moderate force.
CRUNCH!
With a crisp, satisfying crack, the steel pierced cleanly through the thick carapace. The impaled crab flailed its legs and snapped its pincers in futile spasms. Meanwhile, the other crabs couldn't care less that their comrade was being skewered inches away, entirely focused on stripping meat from the dead fish.
As expected of the Heavenly Demon's Sword. Never doubt the masterpiece.
Flicking my wrist, I slid the blade free and allowed the crab to tumble onto its back. Overturned and mortally pierced, it shuddered intermittently in the mud. A fleeting pang of pity brushed my chest, but it vanished almost instantly.
"Gurgle."
"Clack. Clack-clack."
From the surrounding shallows, half a dozen more crabs began crawling toward the dying one. I stood back, watching curiously to see how they would react to their injured brethren.
The crabs encircled their overturned peer, raising their massive pincers high into the air.
CRACK! CRUNCH!
Without a shred of hesitation, they brought their heavy pincers crashing down like sledgehammers upon the flipped crab. With every downward smash, shards of carapace splintered and ruptured. Within seconds, the impaled crab ceased its twitching altogether. It was dead, swiftly reduced to an afternoon snack for its own kind.
"..."
Nature truly was ruthless. Shaking my head at the grim spectacle, I pressed on.
As I advanced, I realized the entire shoreline was practically crawling with them. Hundreds of identical Garpers Crabs scuttled through the shallows. Normally, a body of water this vast supported a rich, diverse ecosystem, which made the sheer mono-culture of these crustaceans bizarre.
How did a bunch of crabs end up conquering the entire lake?
Their pincers packed a punch, sure, but on an individual level, these things were bottom-tier fodder. Pondering the mystery, I rounded a curve in the shore and walked straight toward a massive boulder. It towered well above my height. Having such a colossal monolith jutting out of the shallows was somewhat strange, but going around it seemed simple enough.
"Clack."
"Huh?"
A muffled clicking sound echoed directly from the rock. It was the exact same gurgling rattle the crabs had made moments ago. Frowning, I halted and stared intently at the stony surface.
Rumble, rumble...
With a dull tremor that rippled through the water, thick, segmented legs bristling with spiny hairs punched out from beneath the base. Seconds later, a pair of nightmarishly gargantuan pincers unfolded from either flank.
The rock hadn't just stood up—it had expanded to nearly double its original silhouette. It was so towering that I had to crane my neck all the way back just to take it in.
"Gurgle... Clack-clack."
"..."
Two massive, glossy eyestalks swiveled down and locked squarely onto me. Instinct took over, and I instinctively took several steps backward, my boots splashing against the water.
The boulder—no, the titan-sized crab—gazed down at me for a beat, then began shifting its massive legs in rapid succession. To my immense relief, it wasn't charging toward me; instead, it slowly pivoted its colossal chassis away, apparently losing interest.
...Wait a second.
Don't crabs walk sideways?
The cold realization hit me an instant too late.
WHOOSH!
A mountainous pincer ripped through the air, descending straight for my skull like a falling meteor.
As established, crabs were nature's dedicated "scavengers."
BOOOOOOM!
"Whoa—!"
Which meant they were unapologetic, bloodthirsty omnivores!