29. Is It Wrong to Try Shoveling in a Dungeon? (1)
29. Is It Wrong to Try Shoveling in a Dungeon? (1)
The sweet vacation came to an end, and we immediately began preparing for the dungeon expedition in earnest.
Curing the Hydra meat in salt, drying fish into jerky, picking every edible fruit and drying them.
It was a continuous process of drying, pickling, smoking, and preserving.
And then...
"This is fascinating. Can this really turn into alcohol?"
"Probably."
I was only trying it because I remembered seeing something on XTube a long time ago, so I had no idea whether it would work. Still, following my scattered memories, I sliced the fruit, soaked it in water, and used the precious honey we'd found in the forest instead of sugar. Honestly, I did not know whether it would really become alcohol.
It wasn't like I'd ever brewed alcohol before; I was just throwing things together based on what I remembered.
Still, if it worked, it would be a huge help.
A drink that kept for a long time was indispensable when there was no way to replenish water.
We didn't even know whether the dungeon contained a place to replenish water, so we had to carry plenty with us. But water did not keep as long as people thought.
The saying “stagnant water rots” existed for a reason.
It would probably spoil within two or three days at most, and depending on the dungeon’s environment, it might go bad even faster. The creatures crawling out of there were slow, but their numbers were horrifying. Zombies. I didn't know how zombies existed without any people around, but perhaps the dungeon worked like those in hunter stories I had read in old web novels.
After all, I had a Status Window, so I couldn't rule out the possibility that such a system actually existed.
The kind where they respawn inside the dungeon.
"How long will it take?"
"We’ll have to test it for at least a week."
It might take longer, but I vaguely remembered hearing that fruit wine could be drunk after a week, so that should have been enough. The smell would reveal it either way. I only needed to smell it.
"That's long."
"Some types of alcohol are aged for decades, so in the grand scheme of things, a week isn't long."
There was a note of unconcealed anticipation in Reni's voice as she kept talking to me.
Did she like drinking?
Did I... like drinking?
It had been ten years since I'd tasted alcohol.
I didn't even know anymore whether I liked it or not.
I still had faint memories of drinking with friends, but they had faded until almost all the color was gone.
A soju bottle... what color was a soju bottle?
Blue? Green? Was it clear?
I couldn't remember.
What did alcohol even taste like?
If we actually made some, I'd find out.
I put aside the thought and carefully sealed the barrel with the cloth I'd prepared.
Brewing wasn't a bad thing, but I couldn't get stuck on it forever.
I had to check if the fruit laid out in the sun was drying properly, craft tools from the Hydra's bones—a luxurious use—and it was about time to go snap the necks of the rabbits that were probably multiplying like rats. It was a constant string of annoying tasks, but if we wanted to eat and survive, we had to do them.
There was no welfare on this island.
"Yohan, when you uncork the alcohol..."
"Alright, I got it. Go do your work."
Just how badly did she want a drink?
Reni walked away with an unmistakable spring in her step, making me chuckle. She would be the first to taste it. She was sturdy enough that even if something went wrong, she probably wouldn't die. And if she collapsed, we had Hua Tuo—no, Karina—who could restore even someone drugged to the brink of death.
This was why people should go to medical school. Seriously.
No profession was more welcome anywhere than a doctor.
...Now that my mind had some breathing room, all kinds of weird thoughts were popping up.
Enough with the idle thoughts. I needed to get moving.
It was time to check the fruit as it dried, then visit the rabbit field and snap the necks of those adorable little rabbits.
I left the storeroom, looked over the fruit slowly drying in the front yard, and headed toward the forest.
----------------------
Whew. It had been another productive day.
I drank the broth from a soup made by slowly simmering a whole dressed rabbit. The light, pleasantly salty liquid ran down my throat and warmed my body. Then I scooped up a piece of meat and chewed. The fatigue built up over the day vanished at once. Meals truly were the best.
And a meal made by someone else was even better.
"Shall I serve you more?"
I couldn't answer with my mouth full, so I nodded. Karina smiled softly, took the bowl I held out, filled it to the brim with soup, and handed it back.
"And you, Reni?"
"I’ll serve myself."
"No. I'll serve you, Reni."
The way Reni didn't know what to do with herself at moments like that was really entertaining.
She was good at dishing it out, but surprisingly bad at taking it. I polished off my second bowl with the sight of Reni shyly accepting hers as an extra side dish.
"I'm done eating, so I'll head to the workshop for a bit."
"Okay! See you when you get back!"
Why did “See you when you get back” sound so good?
People really were not meant to live alone. At the very least, you had to draw a face on a volleyball and live with it. Anyone who spouted nonsense like "I prefer being alone!" and lived on a deserted island was a lunatic. If you lived alone, you either lost your mind and went crazy or died before you could go crazy. One or the other.
At least I had made myself an imaginary friend to talk to.
"Though it was only me talking to myself."
Yeah, in the end, it was just talking to myself.
I asked myself questions and answered them. I made jokes that didn't land. If I had not at least cracked bad jokes to myself, I could not have endured the loneliness. How many times had I thought about suicide during those ten years?
I used to think that taking my own life would be better—before I grew old and sick, before I lost the strength to even do it myself.
"I’m glad I survived those ten years..."
Tears welled up on their own. Considering everything I had endured, I could almost believe I was in heaven. Now I could die without any regre—no, I had to escape the island before I died. I had to see the world outside. Once I left, I'd finally see the world of Survival Academy that I had sometimes thought about.
...Though the problem was that it was a world practically destined for ruin.
"Shall I get some work done now?"
I looked down at the piece of Hydra bone on the workbench. A Hydra fang—or at least what I called a fang for convenience, since I didn't know whether the tooth technically counted as one. I would make a weapon from it.
"Craft."
The massive fang, as long as my arm, shifted and twisted like clay as it took shape. Because the tooth was so large, the transformation seemed likely to take some time. I folded my arms and watched it change.
Processing it into the exact shape I wanted required fine control.
After about five minutes, the fang had taken the shape of a slightly—no, pretty badly—made shovel.
The handle was lumpy, and the blade wasn't straight. The handle in particular was so jagged it looked like it would tear your hand to shreds if you grabbed it.
As expected, I could not finish it in one go.
"Craft."
A little.
"Craft."
A little more...
Only after using the skill a total of five times did I get a shape that was roughly similar to the shovel I used. It had become slightly bigger than before, but... it was within the acceptable range.
"...Let's test it out."
Having made a new weapon, how could I not test it? I immediately left the workshop and headed toward the boundary of my territory, which now served only as a defensive line.
"...It looks like we'll have to sweep up every last zombie roaming the forest before we explore the dungeon."
Even though I'd practically blocked the dungeon entrance with acidic poison and swept through once, they were knocking on the outer wall again. Did those bastards have a working nose? How did they find their way here like ghosts and show up?
Come to think of it, those bastards had somehow made it all the way here and were pounding on my wall.
The dungeon wasn't nearby, and I wasn't making noise, so why the hell were they pounding on the wall? Zombies should not have noses as sharp as dogs. I couldn't understand it. It was almost as though they knew I existed and were coming specifically to fuck me up...
...Oh, no, wait.
Those zombies... now that I thought about it, they all looked similar.
They looked like monsters stamped out by a game. After spending ten years too busy surviving to notice the incongruity, I stopped and thought.
The Alpha Bear.
That Hydra bastard.
The zombies in the dungeon.
Could an intelligent creature comparable to the Hydra exist inside that dungeon? Could it be continuously sending zombies this way? That would explain why zombies walked nearly an hour to reach this place, fell into the traps, and the survivors still made it to the wall and pounded on it.
It was a question I'd never once considered before.
"...I can catch one or two of those bastards causing noise pollution at night and dissect them."
If I dissected them, perhaps I'd find some kind of clue.
Dissecting something that was once human—not an animal—was unsettling, but it had to be done. I was a guy who cut up corpses on a daily basis anyway. If I thought of it as an extension of that, it wasn't that strange.
"This damn island—just when you think you've dug up everything, something new pops out."
I let out a deep sigh and adjusted my grip on the shovel.