Forest of the Four Seasons (Part 2)

The slender thread of hope I had managed to grasp crumbled into dust. I crossed my arms and stared bleakly down at the cavern floor.

Spread out in front of me were the compasses sent by the fixed nicks. The needle on every single one spun ceaselessly around its dial, completely haywire. There was no way all of them were defective at once. The problem had to be this place.

Is it really the Forest of the Four Seasons?

I looked up to check the Gallery. Word seemed to have spread like wildfire, because practically the entire front page was inundated with posts about me.

While many argued that erratic compasses could only be explained by the supernatural nature of the Forest of the Four Seasons, plenty of others fired back with a counterargument: if that were true, how could I still access the continental Gallery?

I wished to hell it was staged, too. A heavy sigh escaped my chest.

Much like those compass needles spinning aimlessly across their dials, my mind felt like it was whirling out of control. In plain terms, I was going crazy. I had no idea what to do next.

Still... there's got to be some hope left.

Nothing proved beyond doubt that this place was the Forest of the Four Seasons. The world was vast, and countless uncharted territories dotted the maps. I could simply be stuck in one of those forgotten regions. Everyone talked about the Forest of the Four Seasons like it was a living hell on earth, an inhuman purgatory where survival was impossible.

As an ordinary civilized man who had spent his entire life shielded by modern society, finding a way out was paramount. Doing anything was infinitely better than sitting around waiting for death.

What kind of psychotic, godforsaken forest was this place supposed to be? Either way, scouting the area was my first priority.

Venturing outside was suicidal, but with useless compasses, staying locked inside this cave accomplished nothing. The smart play was to treat the cave as a base of operations and slowly widen my search radius.

I'll need paper and a pen.

Drawing a rough map seemed prudent. Even if compasses failed, having some frame of reference was better than wandering blind. If I lost my bearings out there, I wouldn't even make it back here alive. I had to prepare for worst-case scenarios.

Do everything you can, within whatever means you have.

In any survival situation, the will to live was paramount. People who froze in despair almost always perished having achieved nothing. Dangers lurked behind every blade of grass, but taking calculated risks was mandatory. I glanced toward the darker recesses of the cavern.

Right now, there isn't a safer spot than this cave...

Since I would likely be trapped here for days, if not weeks, finding potable water took precedence over planning an escape route. A human could survive three weeks without food, but three days without water was a death sentence. And while the Gallery remained a lifeline, I couldn't lean entirely on anonymous strangers for every little thing.

A moment will come when help won't reach me in time.

I had learned that the hard way when the Mad Dog clamped onto me. I had only squeaked through because Sword Master stepped in with an elixir out of pure goodwill. There was no guarantee miracles would repeat themselves; in fact, the odds were heavily against it. In a split-second life-or-death crisis, waiting on a forum post would get me killed.

Which means... I really ought to get closer to the fixed nicks.

The problem was that I knew next to nothing about them. I mentally reviewed the few I had exchanged words with so far. Heavenly Demon was clearly someone of immense status, Sword Master was a wealthy eccentric who wielded godlike swordsmanship, and Passing Dwarf was a master dwarven craftsman.

Beyond those three, I was in the dark. I didn't even know the people who had sent me compasses.

Starlight Princess seems sick, though.

Not mentally, but physically. Every time she posted, other users showered her with wishes for a speedy recovery. She probably suffered from some chronic, debilitating ailment. As for the rest... browsing their post histories yielded nothing coherent. Their identities were an absolute mess of chaotic nonsense.

My jaw twitched slightly at the unhinged display. Princess Chaeng-gu is completely sports-brained.

A quick scroll through her history showed that out of hundreds of threads, nearly all revolved around match results.

"I wanna cry~ Why am I even a fan of Chaemeth~"

"Hehe, those sons of bitches. Conceding goals like complete dipshits~"

"As expected of Everse!! I never doubted you for a second!"

"Seriously fucking disgusting. You call this an actual squad?"

"Reor is mid-table! Reor is mid-table! Reor is mid-table!"

"..."

An all-too-familiar scent of misery drifted from this alien forum. Intense fandom in sports had a nasty habit of inducing psychosis. It was a flavor I knew to the bone. Back on Earth, my obsession with football and baseball had gotten so bad I developed stress-induced alopecia. It was only after achieving Zen-like detachment that my hair grew back.

Getting on her good side might take a while.

I didn't even understand the rules of whatever magical athletics they played, let alone the teams. For now, scouting the terrain before dusk took priority over studying the forum personalities.

Gripping the hilt of the Heavenly Demon's Sword, I popped a few Inedia Pills into my mouth. The instant I bit down, intense bitterness flooded my tongue. I washed it down with a desperate gulp of water, wondering how long I would be forced to sustain myself on these damn things.

Alright. Preparations complete.

Before stepping into the open, I decided to leave an update on the forum. I also made sure to shove a handful of Inedia Pills deep into my trouser pocket just in case.

The general mood was supportive, though that mostly came from the regular fixed nicks. The anonymous mob largely leaned toward callous indifference. A few crossed the line with blatant vitriol, but their posts were swiftly nuked by an administrator.

I wasn't sure if "striving to survive" was the right phrase when I was merely blundering through circumstance, but I appreciated the moderation all the same. Having posted what could very well be my final testament, I drew a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠deep breath and stepped outside.

A familiar landscape greeted me: towering, ancient trees bathed in mild, pleasant sunlight.

Small mercies. At least the weather isn't freezing.

Freezing cold would have spiked the difficulty into pure nightmare territory. I surveyed the surroundings before setting off, steering well clear of the bloodstained clearing where the Owlbear had devoured the Mad Dog corpse. I headed the opposite way, taking care to notch visible marks into tree trunks with my blade so I wouldn't lose the trail.

Keep your ears open.

Insects chirping in the brush. Leaves rustling under a gentle breeze. The distant, muffled roar of unknown predators. I dialed my senses to their absolute limit to catch every nuance. Tension hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. In a world where a single lapse in judgment meant gruesome death, the only thing I could place my faith in was the sword in my hand.

Skrrrrt—

A sinister scrape rasped against my hyper-focused hearing. Right above me.

Without hesitating for even a fraction of a second, I snapped my neck upward.

"SHAAAAAAAA!"

A colossal serpent plunged from the canopy, its cavernous maw agape to reveal curved, dripping fangs. There wasn't even time to scream. I jerked my upper body sideways, and its gaping jaws sheared past my ear by millimeters. In the same fluid reflex, I brought the Heavenly Demon's Sword down on its thick neck with everything I had.

Thud!

"What...?"

The impossible happened. This was the Heavenly Demon's Sword, an artifact that had sliced clean through the dense musculature of a Mad Dog like wet paper. Yet the blade bit halfway into the serpent's neck and shuddered to a dead halt. Its scales were far tougher than bone.

"KSHAAAAAA!"

Agony sent the beast into a thrashing frenzy. Hissing violently, it lunged back around, snapping its jaws toward my skull. The thing was the size of an anaconda; one solid bite would crush my windpipe instantly. I moved to strike again, only to find my right arm pinned solid.

Crunch!

"Ghhk?!"

Its massive, muscular body had already wrapped around my right forearm. When had it even coiled? Panic flared, but instinct moved faster. Right before the fangs sank into my neck, I shot my left hand forward and clamped it tight around the base of its throat.

Most snakes had slick, slimy scales, but this beast felt entirely different. Grabbing it was like gripping cold, case-hardened steel plate.

Creak! Squeeze!

"Aaargh!"

The crushing pressure on my right forearm intensified, threatening to splinter my radius. Yet I couldn't let go with my left hand. The second I released my grip, its fangs would bury themselves in my flesh. All I could do was endure the excruciating deadlock.

Think! How do I—wait!

Amid the chaotic blur, something caught my eye: the deep, half-severed gash where my sword remained embedded. The wound sat between its thrashing head and the coil crushing my forearm. In a desperate surge, I dropped my arms like someone whipping a jump rope toward the earth.

The half-severed section crashed against the soil between my feet. It was time to exert every ounce of brute strength.

Stomp!

"HRAAAAAAH!"

"SHSHAAAAAA!"

Pinning the serpent's midsection under the sole of my boot, I yanked the head backward with my left hand, determined ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to tear the wound completely open. The monster thrashed violently in agony, thrashing its skull back and forth as venom sprayed blindly through the air. At the same time, the coil around my right arm tightened further, seeking to pulverize my bones into meal.

A brutal war of attrition had begun. Yet even in that frantic struggle, an absurd hurdle blocked my path.

Dammit! Why the hell are these scales so tough?!

Even the Heavenly Demon's Sword had failed to cleave it clean through, so the hide's resilience was insane. Did I plan on giving up? Not a chance in hell. If I wanted to see tomorrow, I had to rip this bastard in two.

Rrrriiiip! Crack!

The tide slowly shifted. The wound broadened, flesh and fibrous sinew giving way strand by strand under the unrelenting strain. Leveraging the weight of my entire body against my boot, I wrenched with all my might.

SKRRRR-TEAR!

With a wet, sickening snap, the serpent's body tore cleanly in half. Severed from the brain's signals, the coil crushing my right arm suddenly slackened. I shook off the limp muscle, yanked the sword free from the dirt, and plunged it straight down through the thrashing skull.

Squelch!

The blade pinned the serpent's head deep into the earth. Even impaled through the brain, the jaws snapped involuntarily and the neck convulsed. Gasping for air, I collapsed onto the grass, keeping the blade firmly anchored in the dirt. I had heard somewhere that snakes were stubborn creatures capable of reflexively biting long after decapitation. Watching the severed head twitch against the steel proved the old tale right.

Throb! Throb!

"Ow, fuck..."

I cradled my right arm. A violent ring of mottled purple and black bruising covered the skin where the coils had contracted. Given that it nearly turned my arm into crushed gravel, I supposed a deep bruise counted as getting off easy.

What kind of metal are these scales made of?

For the Heavenly Demon's Sword to struggle was unbelievable. I pulled out my interface and uploaded a quick snapshot to the Gallery. I needed half a minute to catch my breath anyway; my stamina was utterly depleted.

So the beast was called a Steel-scale Snake. A fitting moniker. Leaving the comments to spiral into another argument, I closed the interface. Lugging a carcass of this bulk back to the cave was out of the question; putting it on the auction house made far more sense.

Considering what happened with the Mad Dog, I might as well monetize it.

Opening the integrated auction tab revealed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an endless catalogue of bizarre goods. Alongside standard equipment and reagents, people were hawking worn elf panties and unwashed socks. Truly, the multiverse was vast, and perverts existed in every corner of creation. I chuckled dryly. The sheer absurdity existed because unlike direct player-to-player trade, anyone could list items on the open market.

Wait... the listing commission is forty percent?!

Now I understood why people called it highway robbery. Still, the ability to instantly teleport items away regardless of distance made it irreplaceable. Placing a hand on the coiled body, I registered it to the auction queue under the title "Freshly Caught Snake," setting the minimum bid at 5 gold. Disposing of a corpse while pocketing cash was a win-win.

At least the deposit fee is negligible.

Creating a fixed handle had credited my account with a small starter balance, so I had plenty to cover the listing fee.

Not that I cared. The moment the listing completed, the severed torso dissolved into motes of light, leaving behind only the twitching head. Since the head was technically still alive, the system rejected it for auction. I simply shoveled a heap of loose soil over it to bury the menace.

Rough start.

What a miserable fate. Why was I suffering like this? Massaging my bruised forearm, I pressed onward through the undergrowth, silently praying that nothing else would jump me.

Gurgle, babble...

Before long, a sound snapped me to full alertness. Running water.

Water was life itself. My boots quickened. A stream not only promised hydration, but following a river downstream was the golden rule for finding civilization.

Or so I thought.

"...What the hell is that?"

The sight that met my eyes across the stream bank was not civilization. It was a desert. My mind froze in sheer bewilderment.

I rubbed my eyes and stared again. It was undeniably an arid desert, dominated by striking, rust-colored dunes sprawling under a blazing glare. On my side lay a lush, temperate woodland; across a narrow, knee-deep stream lay endless dunes of baking sand.

Every shred of common sense shattered on the spot. After standing dumbfounded for a long minute, I brought up the Gallery interface with trembling fingers.

Not a single soul offered anything resembling practical advice. A dry, ragged breath slipped past my lips.

"Haaah..."

There was only one word left in the human vocabulary that could accurately summarize my situation.

"Fuck."