The Departed (4)

While Chaemes United’s dramatic comeback victory was certainly great news, I was, as previously established, merely a casual fan. Rather than the outcome of the match itself, what resonated with me far more was the fact that Princess Chaeng-gu had finally escaped the ranks of the departed souls.

A few stragglers still dropped by my old comment to pay pilgrimage to the prophecy, but I paid them little mind. It was surreal seeing my offhand remark turned into a sacred shrine, though back on Earth, posts that accurately predicted the future had often been dubbed 'holy ground' as well. To think this bizarre other world not only shared the exact same terminology, but even had a whole culture around flocking to such posts and leaving prayer comments. Perhaps it was the influence of actual religion around here.

In any case, while the Gallery was thoroughly flooded with Chae-U posts, I went about my evening chores. With twilight fast approaching, it was time to prepare dinner, inspect the smoked meat, and finish the daily upkeep. Lastly, I headed down to the water to check if anything had wandered into the fish trap.

Splash! Flap!

There was a fish thrashing inside—caught a mere five hours after I set the trap. It was the striking golden-scaled variety, the kind that tasted noticeably richer and sweeter than the crimson ones.

Just having this trap completely eliminates my food worries.

Better yet, the meat was so delectable that I had yet to grow tired of it. Honestly, even entertaining the thought of getting sick of it was the whining of a man with a full belly. Barely a week ago, I had been choking down bitter Inedia Pills just to keep my stomach from gnawing through my spine. For now, the river yielded a steady harvest, but a single slip-up could plunge me right back into pill-subsistence.

Come to think of it, it’s already been almost ten days.

Today was Day Eight; tomorrow would be Day Nine. Thanks to the Gallery, I had adapted to this wilderness at a staggering pace, but complacency was fatal. Monsters could strike from any blind spot at any moment, just like that Saber-toothed Tiger had. Why, only hours ago, a gigantic fowl had been peering down at me from atop the cliff. Had a skirmish broken out, that colossal beak might have snapped my head clean off.

Returning to the cave, I tossed the thrashing catch into an iron bucket, then jogged back up to the riverbank to reset the trap in the current. Once the entire routine was wrapped up, I checked in on my companions.

“Kkyuuuu…”

“……”

Wonmo had just blinked awake from his nap, while Bbarmbo was spacing out into the void with his usual vacant, placid stare. With dusk creeping over the forest, I figured I had enough downtime for a little browsing.

I had searched to see if my handle was mentioned, only to find a fresh post directly addressing me from Allfather. It was bound to be about the heart, so I left a reply without delay.

That took me completely aback. The organ had been intact and thumping rhythmically when I shipped it out; how could it have burst? Had it literally exploded like a bomb?

The comment section had spiraled into pure madness, but the baseline fact remained unchanged: the heart had popped. How did I feel about it? Honestly, not particularly troubled. I hadn't handed it over expecting a grand bounty, and having a pulsating monster organ sitting around my shelter had been more of an eerie hazard than an asset anyway.

I had heard mention of a Dragon Heart before. If I remembered correctly, people called it an organic nuclear bomb. It contained absurd, ungodly reserves of mana, making it a nightmare to refine or harvest. Allfather had previously claimed to have consumed one, though I had no clue if he had been telling the truth or just spinning tall tales on an anonymous forum.

So Kadir was essentially some legendary, overpowered archmage. Fair enough. Still, could a transcendent figure like that really be shitposting on a forum like this? Then again, the Heavenly Demon herself lurked here whenever she felt bored. The Gallery was an equalizer; status and origin meant nothing in front of an anonymous handle.

“Hrn…”

A heavy sigh escaped my lips. That was far from comforting. Evolution didn’t happen overnight, but in a surreal death world like this, common sense was meant to be shattered. If my physiology began acting up, keeping Allfather in the loop would be my best bet.

Before long, a trade prompt popped up from Allfather. I accepted without hesitation, feeling a tingle of anticipation at the private interface.

Basically a video game inventory!

My jaw nearly hit the ground. With something like that, my daily quality of life would skyrocket. But nothing in this world came without strings attached, and Allfather ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠promptly laid out the catch.

It seemed he had gone out of his way to offer this compensation specifically to maintain our working relationship. For my part, losing Allfather’s counsel would be a massive blow; without him, I had no way of identifying the bizarre supernatural plants and beasts infesting this forest.

To think this little thing works like a game inventory…

What materialized from the trade wasn't so much a satchel as a modest cloth pouch. Peeking inside, I couldn't see the bottom at all—only an abyss of pitch-black space. To test it out, I scanned the cave floor and picked up a chunky river stone that was far too large to ever fit through the pouch’s narrow opening.

Slide!

“Oh?”

The stone slid effortlessly into the void, vanishing past the rim. Instantly, the pouch grew noticeably heavier in my grip. Just as he had warned, the pouch couldn't bypass the laws of physics; the mass remained identical. It was an item designed to push storage convenience to its absolute limit, rather than an artifact that shattered reality.

Still, this is incredible.

With this pouch, I could finally carry my crossbow everywhere without awkward straps or restricted movement. That alone was an invaluable upgrade. Allfather had gifted me an absolute gem.

Though I’ll still keep the sword and shield strapped to my body.

The Heavenly Demon’s Sword was so terrifyingly keen that fumbling inside a dark extradimensional space might slice my own fingers off. As for the shield, emergency defense required zero draw latency, so keeping it slung across my back remained the safest choice. But for stashing tools, forage, and spare weapons, the pouch’s utility was unmatched.

Where did he even acquire something like this? Is it spatial magic?

Every fiber of my curiosity wanted to interrogate him about its origin, but he had explicitly asked me to keep the transaction quiet. He surely had his private circumstances, and there was no sense in prying into an archmage's personal business. After fiddling with the subspace pouch and testing a few more items, a wide grin broke across my face.

Never running out of carrying capacity again.

It was an astronomical windfall. The tiger's heart had been utterly useless dead weight to me, and now I had pocket-sized spatial storage in exchange. Carefully setting the pouch down—tearing it would be a tragedy beyond words—I dusted off my hands.

Time to eat.

Dinner was the golden-scaled catch from earlier. By now, butchering had become second nature, and my knife moved with practiced precision. From the entrails, I teased out another translucent spirit stone.

I wonder how many more of these I can harvest.

I dropped the fresh Neidan into a clean glass vial, sealing the cork. At this rate, eating supernatural river fish every single day was going to fill an entire jar before long.

“Here, Wonmo. Have a bite.”

“Kkyu!”

With our bellies full and the cave warm, only one task remained for the night: martial cultivation. Perhaps because of the medicinal concoction Allfather had previously sent me, a subtle, warm energy continued to circulate through my veins.

Cultivating the mind art is one thing, but channeling aura is just as crucial.

Even now, my aura only flickered like a shimmering heat haze over my skin, refusing to take on a sharp, cohesive shape. According to Sword Master, compressing aura into an Aura Blade was the true threshold of genius.

Well, it’s not like I’ve even been handling mana for a whole month.

Tomorrow would only be Day Nine. And I had only begun practicing the Internal Cultivation Art around Day Six or Seven. Because every waking minute felt stretched out by raw survival tension, it felt like ages had passed, but in truth, barely any time had elapsed. Rushing into cultivation would only invite internal backlash; slow and steady was the proper path.

Crackle… snap!

“……”

I gazed blankly into the dancing embers of the bonfire. With neither of us making a sound, the cavern fell into absolute, profound silence. Bbarmbo never spoke to begin with, while Wonmo simply snuggled up against my thigh.

I ran a gentle hand over the cub’s head. Wonmo purred softly, leaning his weight against me, while Bbarmbo silently climbed onto my back and hung there. Strangely enough, despite his hulking frame, he didn't feel heavy at all.

Sitting there by the fire, I opened the Gallery once more. With nothing else to do in the dark, scrolling through the threads was the only way to chase off the eerie, hollow melancholia that tended to creep in during the quiet nights.

The Gallery, once dominated by Chae-U fanatics, was now filling up with a fresh batch of departed souls wailing from the depths of sports purgatory. I let out a quiet chuckle, though watching the board scroll by sparked a sudden, nagging thought.

Does time flow at the same rate across all these worlds?

The Gallery was packed with nocturnal creatures who posted at all hours without rhyme or reason, completely muddying my concept of time. Even across different regions of the same world, time zones naturally varied; where one place saw noon, another was shrouded in midnight.

Well… no point dwelling on it. Even if I knew, what good would it do me?

Surviving the Forest of the Four Seasons was all that truly mattered. I closed the interface and set the screen aside. Rather than aimlessly roaming an online forum, running through my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠breathing exercises one more time was far more productive.

I need to train until this mind art runs automatically, even during daily life.

Closing my eyes against the flicker of the hearth, I took a deep, measured breath. Another eventful day in the wild had drawn to its close.