The Core (1)

After a desperate, agonizing struggle, I finally brought the Guardian down. In all honesty, luck had played a massive part.

If that Guardian hadn't been constructed from Orichalcum, if Wonmo hadn't summoned the courage to charge, and if the light hadn't flickered at that razor's edge of life and death, I would no longer be among the living. Wonmo, above all, deserved the lion's share of the credit. Thanks to him, I managed to find the breakthrough I needed.

What would have happened if I hadn't brought him along? The mere thought made my stomach churn.

Being a cub, his mana capacity was probably far smaller.

A victory forged solely because countless conditions fell perfectly into place. Even the Fast Tree Sloth hadn't been able to display the terrifying might it showed during the night raid by the saber-toothed tiger. No matter how easily its claws could shear through iron barrels like tofu, solid Orichalcum was a different beast entirely. And even if it could have severed the metal, the damn thing regenerated anyway, rendering ordinary slashes utterly pointless.

"Urrgh..."

How much time had passed since the Guardian fell? I was still sprawled flat across the cold stone floor. Having my mana thoroughly drained had already plunged me into bone-deep exhaustion, and on top of that, I had scraped together every stray ember of mana left in my body, pumped it into the crystal sphere, and hurled it with everything I had. I was completely desiccated—withered away like a strip of dried squid.

Even for me, this is pushing it way too far...

It wasn't that I lacked the strength to twitch a finger. The strength was there, technically. How should I put it? It felt as though gravity had multiplied several times over, crushing down against my flesh. Weighed down by that bizarre, suffocating sensation, dragging myself upright felt like an impossible chore.

"Wonmo."

"Kkyuu?"

"Come here. At least let me pet you."

I settled for burying my fingers into Wonmo's fluffy face. The moment my hand smoothed over his coat, he let out a rumbling, contented purr, leaning into my touch with pure bliss. As far as I knew, purring was something usually reserved for cats, but right now, who cared?

Let's get some Elixir down first.

As my stamina slowly trickled back, I was able to begin pulling myself together. A single sip of Elixir, followed by measured, deliberate breaths to gently calm my internal state. While I couldn't run a full cycle of the Mind Cultivation Method in this condition, focusing entirely on my breathing gradually eased the strain.

"Oof... ouch."

Groaning under my breath, I pushed myself up from the ground. Now that the adrenaline of battle had faded, dull throbbing flared across every inch of my body—none more vicious than my stomach. Compared to the rest of me, my abdomen screamed with excruciating agony.

During the clash, the surging adrenaline and the Elixir's numbing properties had masked the worst of it. But with everything settled, the lingering pain made my face contort into an involuntary grimace.

It should ease up after a little while.

I had witnessed the miracle of the Elixir firsthand when it seamlessly mended my shattered arm after the Mad Dog mauled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it. The delay now was likely because the damage was internal rather than a simple surface wound.

"Hmm..."

Enduring the dull ache, I inspected the corpse—if you could call it that—of the felled Guardian. Unlike its former humanoid shape, it now resembled nothing more than a haphazard cairn of rubble. Protruding from the center of that rocky heap was the Heavenly Demon's Sword, radiating an unmistakable presence.

Is this really the sword of a hero?

Brushing aside the pointless thought, I gripped the hilt. With a firm, decisive yank, the blade pulled free, bringing something skewered along with it like a kebab.

Is this the core?

The heart and engine of the Guardian: its core. Having burned through its power, the radiant azure glow was gone, replaced by a dull, dark hue. I wondered if the inert lump held any practical value, but even if it proved useless, the ground was littered with scrap Orichalcum anyway. I had plenty of spoils to spare.

Time to post some proof.

I angled the skewered core so that the collapsed mound of Orichalcum showed clearly in the background, snapped several photos, and uploaded them to the Gallery. As a bonus, I threw in a snapshot of Wonmo.

After messing around on the Gallery for a bit, I got to work cleaning up the area. Calling it "cleaning up" was a stretch, given that everything in sight except for the core was solid Orichalcum. I gathered several moderately sized chunks and stowed them into my Subspace Bag along with the core. Though they carried significant heft, they weren't heavy enough to hinder my movement. My mana, too, was gradually returning to normal levels.

Maybe I should hand the core over to Allfather.

A scholar like Allfather would probably find the inner workings of an ancient core fascinating to dissect.

Mulling it over, I turned toward the mouth of the cavern... but stopped short to retrieve the Light Crystal Ball first. Despite taking a direct hit from the Guardian's beam, it suffered nothing worse than a few superficial scuffs. An artifact this durable was bound to come in handy down the road.

KingLeor basically saved my life today.

Not that this meant I'd switch allegiances and start rooting for Leor. Loyalty to Princess Chaeng-gu came first. Still, I made a mental note to repay him with a generous cut of Orichalcum.

Stepping out of the cavern into the open air, I tapped the crystal sphere twice. The gentle ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠orb of light floating in the air faded into nothingness, and the sphere in my palm went dormant once more.

The moment I get back, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I need to cycle the Mind Cultivation Method.

My reserves were bone-dry; I needed a proper meditation session to replenish them. Furthermore, the purple-black bruise spreading across my stomach meant I had to rest until it healed completely.

Which means I won't be able to catch those river crabs anytime soon.

My debts of guilt toward Passing Dwarf just kept piling up. Thank goodness I had traded him that fresh fish yesterday, or my credibility would have been completely shot. If worst came to worst, I could always soothe his temper with extra Orichalcum as an apology. He'd probably only melt it down for a distillery or a refrigeration unit, but that would be plenty for him.

Speaking of which... isn't there a crystal ball with a video recording feature?

The comment from the Gallery drifted back into my thoughts. Can't you show us the fight?

At first, I had dismissed it as idle forum chatter, but the more I chewed on the idea, the more obvious its merits became. As the old saying went, seeing something once was worth hearing about it a hundred times. Even with fixed-handle users offering guidance, relying purely on text left too many blind spots and awkward limitations.

It's definitely worth taking seriously.

Even with an awkward camera angle, having actual visual records would offer an immense tactical advantage. The real roadblock was figuring out how to record anything in the first place. There weren't any smartphones lying around out here.

I suppose my only choice is to ask the Juddak.

I needed to delve deeper into the Gallery's hidden functions and mechanics.

With those thoughts occupying my mind, I made the trek back to the shelter. Perhaps because of the grueling ordeal I had just survived, slipping back inside washed a profound sense of relief over me—it felt just like coming home.

I shouldn't get too comfortable with this place.

What if I ended up settling down here forever? Not going to happen. The burning desire to escape back to civilization had never once wavered. Above all else, I yearned to look at another human face.

Affectionate as Wonmo was, and as entertaining as bickering with the Fast Tree Sloth could be, beasts could never fill that void. Being able to exchange actual words went a long way toward staving off isolation, but right now, real conversation remained an impossible luxury.

Should I draw a face on a soccer ball and start talking to it like Wilson?

Unpacking my gear, I let out a dry chuckle. Even to my own ears, it sounded thoroughly unhinged. And yet, there was a grim possibility that such absurdity might become my actual future.

The core goes here, and the Orichalcum right beside it.

Once everything was neatly sorted, I glanced at the time. Lunch was roughly an hour away. That left just enough time to assess my physical condition.

I started by inspecting the vivid contusion across my midsection. What had previously been an angry, blackened welt spreading across my entire stomach had receded noticeably. Without the Elixir, that blow might have easily put me in the ground.

One guy scratches and claws just to survive, while the other tears the world apart with a single swing...

Unfair as it was, lamenting it changed nothing. At the end of the day, I was just a fragile, ordinary human. Gently massaging the bruised flesh, I sank back onto the cushioned sleeping mat. Whether from the brutal physical toll of the duel or the lingering mana exhaustion, heavy lethargy settled into my bones.

Even if I take a nap, I should eat lunch first.

To pass the time until then, I pulled up the Gallery interface. Curious whether anyone had been talking about my recent posts, I typed my handle into the search bar.

"Honestly, I'm Jealous of Grylls."

"Huh?"

The thread title caught my eye immediately. What kind of lunatic would actually envy me? It was impossible not to click on it.

A flood of criticism, backlash, and bitter empathy churned through the comment section. Reading through them, a peculiar, conflicted emotion welled inside me. I suppose someone out there really could see it that way.

I understood where he was coming from. The place this user inhabited was simply a different variety of hell compared to mine. The circumstances varied, but suffering was universal.

Is the grass always greener on the other side?

If anything, I envied him. He had people around him. Being surrounded by the warmth and scent of human life, even in a wretched slum, sounded incomparably better than being marooned alone in an untamed death trap.

So, I left a reply. Something that sounded less like an argument and more like an earnest temptation.

The original poster's self-pitying lamentation was completely shut down. The overwhelming consensus in the thread scolded him, telling him not to draw comparisons where none belonged.

Yet, did any of those commenters realize?

Once again, I was the only one who meant it.

I had been entirely, desperately serious.