The Ruined Earth
Having crossed the dimensional rift back to Earth, Jeron did not let his guard down.
He kept his sword raised and left the portal open behind him, ready to retreat back to the Karen Continent at a moment's notice.
Unlike the Farrow Territory, where he had knights and soldiers to shield him in the worst-case scenario, no one could protect him here.
If he sensed even the slightest hint of a mutant, his plan was to flee immediately and return with reinforcements.
He swept his sharply honed senses across the surroundings.
First, he checked the yard. He detected no unusual presence.
Carefully maintaining his guard, he inspected the fence.
The main gate was broken and creaking, but the fence itself hadn't collapsed.
Once he confirmed the yard was empty, he roughly propped the gate back into place.
Screeech!
“…”
His heart leaped into his throat.
Slowly, his old survival instincts were returning.
In his past life, he had scavenged from house to house, searching for any remaining canned food while maintaining absolute focus.
He had been sensitive to the slightest noise, and if he heard a shriek, he would immediately lower his posture and find a place to hide.
He had thought those instincts had faded after so much time, but they felt even sharper now. After all, Jeron's current body was not that of a middle-aged man, but an eighteen-year-old youth.
Fortunately, nothing appeared.
If any noise-sensitive mutants were still in the area, it wouldn't have been surprising for them to swarm toward the sound.
As he looked around the yard, his chest tightened at the sight of three weed-covered graves.
To one side, a pile of old firewood lay stacked, and the warehouse door remained broken just as he remembered.
However, the small house, barely seven hundred square feet, was now hideously covered in green moss, its shattered windows making it look entirely abandoned.
“Whew.”
Jeron took a moment to compose himself.
He was getting too sentimental, and there was no need for that.
The past was already behind him.
He decided to check inside the house.
The living room floor was stained with dark, dried blood from years ago.
He frowned automatically.
It had clearly been abandoned for years. Even if he found antibiotics, he doubted they would still be effective.
Especially in Korea, with its distinct four seasons, the chances of them remaining viable were slim.
Thud. Thud.
The house felt completely devoid of human warmth.
Dust lay thick on the furniture, and various household items were scattered in disarray.
Inevitably, Jeron recalled the day he had been torn apart by mutants.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
It felt as though his PTSD was flaring up again.
“I thought I was over this.”
His struggling emotions peaked when he spotted a faded family photo.
It felt like a physical shock running through his entire body.
In the photo, a smiling couple in their mid-thirties stood with their children.
A single picture captured before the world fell apart.
Jeron pocketed the photo and stepped back outside.
He didn't have the luxury to indulge in sentimentality.
Fortunately, it was daytime on Earth.
Mutants were primarily active at night, which meant he had to move as much as possible while the sun was still up.
Leaving his childhood home, he walked down the street.
Weeds grew through the cracked asphalt.
The entire neighborhood consisted of neglected, abandoned houses.
Was there anyone left alive?
Not a single footprint marked the dust-covered ground.
Mummified corpses lay scattered along the streets. It seemed as though the mutants might have moved on, but he couldn't afford to make that assumption.
Guided by his returning memories, he walked down the familiar street.
His first destination was the pharmacy.
Given how many years had passed since the fall of civilization, it was unlikely any medicine remained.
Antibiotics, in particular, had been rare and precious even when Jeron was still alive on Earth.
Yuhan Pharmacy
The pharmacy's glass windows were completely shattered.
He peered inside.
The commercial display stands were all knocked over and entirely empty.
Even if he had the ruined Earth all to himself, it seemed there was nothing he could do about the lack of medical supplies.
Crunch!
Stepping on the broken glass made an exceptionally loud sound.
It felt that way because of the absolute silence surrounding him.
Holding his sword forward, he entered the prescription room.
As expected, the prescription room was in no better shape.
The drawers that should have held medicine were all pulled out or missing, and broken equipment lay scattered everywhere.
At best, he found a few rolls of bandages stuffed in a corner and took them.
Since they were sterile, they would be much better than boiling old rags.
The pharmacy yielded surprisingly little.
Next, he decided to check the two-story residence attached to the pharmacy.
The stairs were covered in dark, reddish-black stains.
It looked as though the stairs had been drenched in blood when the crisis first began.
It was a typical rural two-story house, and the front door was half-broken and hanging on its hinges.
He squeezed through the gap.
Here, too, he saw several dried, mummified corpses.
One corpse hung from the ceiling, making it easy to guess what had happened.
Fortunately, this place didn't seem to have been looted. He found a few cans of food in the cupboard.
Jeron decided to open a can and smell it.
If more than ten years had passed on Earth since his death, any antibiotics he found would likely be useless.
Wouldn't canned food also spoil after ten years?
A sweet aroma drifted out.
He checked the condition of the canned peaches, and they looked decent enough.
From this, he could conclude that not too much time had passed.
He checked the master bedroom.
There was a bed, a vanity, and a wardrobe.
Opening the wardrobe, a musty smell rushed out.
He began to search the room thoroughly.
“Ha, is there really nothing?”
At this point, he hoped to find at least some painkillers, if not antibiotics.
Since Baron Farrow had lost his arm, painkillers would at least ease his suffering.
Then, he found a bottle of green pills in a wardrobe drawer.
Fortunately, they were sealed and not liquid.
“Acetaminophen-based painkillers. Not bad.”
He stuffed them into his backpack.
Was there anything else?
He searched through the drawers.
In one drawer, he found a hoard of jewelry. Gold rings, gemstones, and more.
To those surviving the apocalypse, gold and jewels were worth no more than pebbles on the ground.
But what about on the Karen Continent?
“This is a decent harvest.”
He swept the jewelry into his bag as well.
He pulled out all the blankets to check them one by one and discovered a gold bar.
Running a pharmacy must have been quite lucrative.
Though it was only a 300-gram bar rather than a full kilogram, it was still a massive find.
Gold was highly valuable on the Karen Continent as well.
Then, he spotted a pill case.
Antibiotic
Active Ingredient: Penicillin
“...!”
Penicillin.
It was the oldest antibiotic, but it was highly effective.
If Baron Farrow was suffering from sepsis, this would definitely work.
The bottle was about half full, which might be enough to cure him completely.
“Whew.”
Jeron let out a long breath.
He had achieved his primary goal.
However, there was one more place he wanted to visit before leaving.
He intended to check the warehouse of the local blacksmith shop.
Chul-hee's Blacksmith Shop
There was little left on the display shelves.
Sickles and hammers could serve as weapons, after all.
He visited the workshop first.
He saw an anvil and a workbench, with various metalworking tools still hanging on the wall.
The heavy hammers used for metalworking were too heavy to be practical weapons, and the same went for the other iron tools.
Simply bringing these tools back to his territory would upgrade their metallurgy by several generations.
No, it definitely would.
Using the furnace design here as a reference to build a new forge would be incredibly useful for war.
He decided to check the warehouse connected to the workshop.
Creaaak!
The door opened stiffly, showing how long it had been closed.
And there, a feast of iron was revealed.
Piles of pig iron were stacked on one side.
There were also various other metals, including aluminum. Just taking the metal from this blacksmith shop would be enough to arm hundreds of territorial soldiers.
Their armor wasn't full plate anyway; they only covered vital areas, and only their helmets were made entirely of iron.
Of course, it was questionable whether they could properly process these modern metal products in their current state.
“This is a goldmine.”
He wanted to stay longer, but he couldn't.
The sun would set soon, and mutants might gather.
Even if there were no mutants now due to the lack of human presence, lingering here too long could result in him being surrounded and attacked in an instant.
Thus, he decided to head back for the day.
The Lord's chamber in the Farrow Territory.
Knights still strictly guarded the Lord's residence.
If the barbarians managed to breach this far, it would mean the territory had fallen, but the knights were doing their best to show loyalty to their lord.
The veteran knight, Jenald, offered a military salute.
“Young Lord, you must rest. If your health fails as well, the territory will fall into ruin.”
“It would be strange if I could sleep right now. Move aside.”
The knights parted to the left and right.
His father's condition was terrible.
His face was turning blue, and the severed arm was in a wretched state.
Jeron first ground the painkillers and penicillin into a fine powder, mixed it with water, and poured it down the Baron's throat.
Then, he removed the bandages and disinfected the wound with the alcohol he brought from Earth.
His father's body shuddered.
For him to shudder like that while unconscious meant he was in immense pain.
“Whew.”
Jeron slumped onto the floor.
He intended to nurse his father personally from now on.
The people here had no concept of hygiene. If they tried to change the bandages, they would likely cause an infection, so he had to do it himself.
Moreover, Jeron possessed sterile bandages.
He watched over the Baron all night and eventually drifted off to sleep.
Sunlight filtered through his eyelids.
He couldn't tell how much time had passed.
“Ugh...”
Hearing a groan, Jeron bolted upright.
After a night of care, antibiotics, and painkillers, Baron Farrow's condition was noticeably better than the day before.
Thank goodness. The antibiotics worked.
Furthermore, the Baron had received treatment from a priest.
Combined with the antibiotics, his recovery was remarkably swift.
Jeron felt genuine relief.
“Father! Are you awake?”
“Am I... alive?”
“Yes, Father!”
Jeron embraced his father.
He couldn't imagine what would happen to the territory if Baron Farrow died.
How could he lead a domain in this primitive world on his own?
“You saved me.”
The signs of illness hadn't entirely left his face.
However, Baron Farrow would undoubtedly recover.
Knowing his father would survive was enough.
Jeron planned to start moving the metals from the blacksmith shop to the territory starting today.