Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Newbies Need Attention
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What’s the most important thing for surviving when the Ice Age hits?
Food to fill your belly?
Fuel to make a fire?
Or trusty companions?
All wrong.
The most important thing is the 'will' to survive.
If food runs low, catch bugs and eat them.
No fuel? Drag over a corpse and burn it.
Others might betray you anytime, so going solo is best.
With a strong mind and iron will, you can overcome it all!
I survived.
For a whopping five years rolling around in this snowy wasteland.
"Cold. Hungry. Fuck..."
But after five years, shouldn't the Ice Age be wrapping up by now?
I've clung on this desperately—why is the world still so freezing?
No more bugs to eat. No corpses left worth burning.
Outside's crawling with raiders, and at night the undead roam. Worst-case scenario.
Hunger and cold wear down your humanity, freezing ethics and morals solid. In the end, all that's left are base urges and selfishness.
"Yeah. Better to just die. No point hanging on."
Tomorrow'll be cold too, and the day after as miserable as today.
Spring ain't coming. What's the use of living longer?
One pistol saved for this final moment.
Good. Just one bullet left.
Stick it in my mouth, pull the trigger, and this cold, starving apocalypse survival ends.
Five years unscathed? I've done my part.
That's it. Game over.
Time to say goodbye to this frozen world of shattered dreams and hopes.
"But... gotta eat before I go."
Eating before you die makes for a fine-looking ghost, they say.
I set the pistol down on the table for a sec.
Almost forgot and headed straight to heaven.
Rummaged through storage, pulled out a canned tuna I'd saved from way back.
Saved it for my birthday.
Of course, I couldn't bear to eat it even then—kept it for some truly special day. My little happiness.
"Today's the one and only day of my funeral in this lifetime. Eat without holding back."
Click.
Cracked open the can, gulped down the oil inside.
Ahh, oil taste after so long. The canola flavor sliding down my throat snapped me awake.
For a split second, faces of my long-gone family flashed by like a montage. I miss them.
"Hic..."
Drained the broth, then shoveled the tuna chunks with my bare hands.
Chewing meat again after forever. Happiness was right here.
"So good... makes me wanna cry."
Already gone.
Not much, but damn tasty.
Filling the hunger a bit turned me sentimental—tears dripping down.
"I don't wanna die."
One more day? Just hold out one more?
No. One more day changes nothing.
No government caring for citizens, no rescue teams coming for me.
Survivors are all raiders slaughtering and eating each other.
'Yeah. Best to go out happy.'
Leave on a high note, right?
So, feeling good after tuna? Clean exit.
Picked up the pistol again, shoved the barrel in my mouth.
Farewell, world.
Learned a ton.
Hunger, cold, bone-chilling loneliness.
Memories of those five years endured.
Held on thinking spring would come.
But hope crumbled, and I couldn't hold anymore.
Yeah, the key to surviving the Ice Age isn't just will or mental strength.
Only at death's door did I finally grasp a truth of this world.
Will to survive can't exist without 'hope'.
What makes us human is expectation for tomorrow, dreams of the future, and hope.
"What the hell. Sage Time?"
The moment I grasped life's greatest virtue, a translucent window popped up before my eyes.
A welcome to the Sage Time Gallery invite.
Was the tuna oil rotten? Hallucinogens in the can?
What am I even seeing?
"..."
Like I was possessed, I set the pistol back on the table and hit the gallery access button.
Finger poking thin air, and boom—familiar interface loaded up.
Titles made zero sense.
Way too arcane even to grasp.
Sage gathering spot, maybe?
Curiosity hit—I tapped one post.
What is this place?
Some users post thesis-length walls no one reads, others brawl nonstop.
Their beefs? Trivial from my view.
Biased race hate, school rivalries, etc.
Petty compared to starving to death in the snow.
'Pisses me off. Some of us rolling in snow like dogs, death staring us down. Why these gallery users scrapping over nonsense?'
But raging over trivia means their lives got slack.
And this gallery seemed mage-only access.
'Then maybe I can get help from these gallery users...'
Make fire from nothing, conjure useful stuff.
Or snag aid somehow, clues to escape this hell.
Nothing to lose—ask the Sage Time Gallery users for help.
Account? No clue how, but can't request help without one.
Hit create—agreed to some info share notice, next screen.
Nickname.
Nostalgic ring from internet heyday.
Sudden flashback to five years ago—jobless, bored days rotting in my room on communities.
What nick did I use back then?
'OldFolksHomeTrollingMachine... Nah. No way.'
Too cringe.
Mage gallery with [OldFolksHomeTrollingMachine]? Instant ban. Too trolly.
First impressions matter most.
Best nick for killer first impression in this mystery gallery?
"Nickname: 'Apprentice Mage'."
Seemed perfect to me.
Dunno the vibe yet, but if sages really gather, they're all magic vets, right?
Newbie rarity might get me VIP treatment.
That was the plan.
Nick set—now I could post.
Tried asking for help...
'Too fast, got buried. Need newbie lovers...'
Gallery too feral.
Elves and others spewing hate, mods AWOL—no management.
Chaos pit—plain titles get zero clicks.
So, what title pulls aggro in this madhouse?
First impressions key, but gotta get eyes first or it's buried.
Posts vanish in reply speed, so needs to scream.
Title to scratch every resident mage.
Irk peak-magic sages into furious dives.
Ah, yes.
Magic's opposite is...
Posted it—and the gallery's scroll froze solid.
Brief silence...
Then comments exploded.