Chapter 66
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Camping
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It was an unbelievably boring stretch of time.
Just running, moving.
Even when the sun hung high overhead, scorching my crown and stinging my eyes,
or when it dipped lazily beyond the horizon, scattering red sunset hues.
The carriage kept rattling along without pause.
We scarfed down hard bread or chewy dried meat for meals,
and only after the sun had fully set and darkness fell did we finally light a campfire and make something proper... well, not quite,
but at least a sloppy soup thrown together from whatever scraps we had.
Sleep, of course, was on top of the carriage.
Crammed in among the jostling cargo, catching fitful naps—that was routine.
When awake, there wasn't much to do, so free time dragged on endlessly.
Chatting, indulging the kid's whims, a bit of training.
Not just our group, but the caravan folk, porters, slaves—everyone around.
With so many eyes watching, I couldn't exactly jerk off like usual.
What can you do.
We pushed on like that for a full week.
By the time sensation left my ass and my whole body was caked in dust.
[Whoa!]
With the driver's rough shout, the endless jolting finally stopped.
[We're here.]
I pulled back the cargo cover, and a thick, musty earth smell assaulted my nose.
And right there in plain view.
In the midst of barren wasteland, a massive boulder jutted up out of nowhere.
Like someone had slathered it with red paint syrup,
a bizarre rock tinged rusty red.
The locals called it the "Red Rock."
Its striking shape visible from afar made it a landmark or signpost for coachmen.
Our actual destination—a forest beyond this wasteland—was farther still,
but this was the agreed drop-off spot.
"Up you get, you bitch. Enough sleeping."
"Mmm... sleepy......"
"Sleepy my ass."
Absolutely not.
It just finished a bit quick after inserting, that's all.
We grabbed our gear and climbed out of the carriage.
The old man was talking with the caravan leader.
"We need to head north from here, so let's part ways."
"Thanks for the ride."
Kain nodded curtly and asked,
"So, when's the return schedule from here?"
The leader counted on his fingers, folding them one by one.
"Takes us two more days to reach our destination.
Unload, reload, meet some clients... figure three days staying there."
"Busy life."
"Gotta be to make money. Anyway... two days back here."
He spread eight fingers.
"Eight days. Noon on the eighth."
Then he laid down the law,
"Time is money for a merchant like me. I won't wait forever if you're late.
One hour from noon on the eighth. If you're not under this rock by then, we're gone."
His stern face basically said "no tardiness tolerated."
"Got it. We won't be late."
"Safe travels, then. Don't die."
With that, the leader climbed back aboard.
Crack of the whip, and the four carriages kicked up dust as they rolled away.
We watched their backs in silence until the dust cloud faded.
"......What a prick."
I cleared my scratchy throat with a hack and spat a yellow glob toward where they'd vanished.
"Even if we hitched a cheap ride, that attitude.
No need to act so stiff. We paid up, didn't we?"
Actually, we'd handed over 1 gold and 25 silver for the trip here.
Plus promised 75 more silver on the way back.
Total round trip: 2 gold. Two million won for VIP treatment, yet his tone was pure trash.
"Must've had shitty upbringing as a kid. Right, old man?"
I grumbled, but
Kain pulled a canteen from his belt,
took a swig of that cheap booze, and said flatly,
"Guh... That's just how it is in this business."
"How's it 'just'? We're paying customers."
Paying customers are kings. Isn't that the norm?
But the old man showed no resentment,
"When mercenaries take jobs, how often do you think they return on time?"
He just stroked his goatee and gave a wry smile.
"Dead, injured, late—guys who stick to the schedule like clockwork are rare."
"Well... those fuckers probably deserve it."
"So from their side, not knowing if we're alive or dead,
they can't just camp out in this wasteland for days."
Made sense on reflection.
For merchants, even with a deal and pending payment,
waiting for corpses would screw their schedule worse.
No rest stops along the route either, hence this shitty rock as the meetup.
"Sigh... World's primitive enough without the trust."
Anyway, I committed the eight-day timeline to memory.
Finish everything and get back here intact within that.
Otherwise, stranded in this backwater,
walking back on my own two feet.
The thought alone was fucking horrifying.
Kain grinned at me,
"Heard that? Grab your shit, slave boy."
"......You expect me to carry all this?"
"Isn't that your job? Stick to it."
He pointed to the bulky, battered backpack strapped tight.
"......This leech is already glued to my back. Now what?"
I jabbed at Noy, but the old man snorted.
"Figure it out. Give him a piggyback."
"......"
I glanced at Baekrin beside me.
How about you... help a guy out?
She caught my puppy-dog eyes, nodded,
"Shut up and lift."
Then turned and marched off without a backward glance.
"Hurry. Time's tight."
"Yeah, keep up, worthless slave."
Thud, thud.
Their retreating backs, not even looking.
What a pair of bastards.
"Fucking hell. My life."
I sighed deeply and smacked Noy's butt on my back.
"Hey, get off."
"Huh?"
"Where else? Rooftop."
I hoisted his legs, perching him on my shoulders.
Light or not, a kid up top is a hassle.
But this useless brat didn't get it,
"Wheee! High up! Daddy, so high!"
Just thrilled.
"Yeah, fall and crack your skull, so grip tight."
"Okay! Hehe......"
Confirmed his fists in my hair like reins,
then hefted the massive pack off the ground.
Ugh—shit.
"......Fucking heavy."
Liftable, but hefty.
Full water skins, rations, tent, misc gear.
All crammed in one pack—no wonder.
Pack on back, kid on shoulders. Perfect human cart.
"Let's go... fuck."
I powered my legs and trudged after the pair.
"Slow down a bit! You heartless shits!!"
My yell got a wave from Kain without turning.
"Keep up. Forest entrance by tonight."
......Tonight?
It was just past noon.
"...How long?"
"Solid ten hours, I'd say."
"You fucks... share the load!!"
This setup for that far on foot.
Thighs and calves gonna shred like jerky. Blisters too?
Even full kit marches in my old life weren't this heavy.
"Haa... damn old man, bitch owner..."
I muttered curses but kept pace.
What choice? Orders are orders.
I'm a slave, after all.
.....
"......Here."
When Kain's voice rang out, the landscape had totally changed.
Sky pitch black, naturally,
and at some point, sparse weeds sprouted on the red dirt,
until massive trees loomed, filling the view with dark shadows.
Don't picture some manicured forest path.
No packed trail, no clear entrance—just black woods indistinguishable in direction.
Any way you hack through trees is the path, probably.
True undeveloped wilderness.
"Camp here tonight."
Kain picked the spot; I dumped the pack.
Thud.
Noy slid off my shoulders too.
"Ow, my back......"
Straightening up cracked my spine audibly.
I stretched big,
"What're you doing? No firewood?"
"......"
Damn old man, no rest ever.
So the porter-slave-misc guy started dinner prep.
.....
[Scouting around. Set up tent and food.]
Old man took Baekrin and Noy into the woods, leaving me alone.
Mission requires long stay, so check water sources,
and even at forest edge, monsters possible—securing safety, or so.
Maybe just ditching chores to goof off.
Whatever. They wouldn't help anyway.
Crackle, hiss—!
Hacked some nearby branches for a fire.
Hung the battered iron pot over the flames.
Dumped in pack rations.
Grain flour. Rock-hard dried meat chunks.
Wilted mystery veggie scraps. Water.
Less cooking, more gruel-making.
Stirred the pot with a ladle.
Bubbling up grayish foam.
Salt? Pepper? Dream on.
Only seasoning: dubious yellow powder pouch.
Caravan scam, "flavor dust" for a few silver. Smelled off.
Shake shake.
Broth turned piss-yellow.
"Whoa, fucking visuals."
Ladled a sip, blew, tasted.
"......"
Fuck.
Today I'm calorie-puke chef.
What even is this taste.
Bland water mixed with moldy sock funk.
Compared to this, Ottogi 3-minute noodle packs from my past life? Michelin three-star.
Bring any White/Black Kitchen contestant here,
see what they whip up with this garbage.
"Flavor dust my ass, those bastards..."
But what can you do.
Even the tough jerky preserved long-term into inedible rocks.
Boiling it softens it into broth.
In camp, that's "cooking."
Since dropping into this hell world,
I've rarely shoved food in my mouth thinking "damn, tasty."
Just to fill the tank, survive.
Not just us—bottom-feeders all do the same.
Decent commoners or nobles? No clue.
Never invited to Kaintrea tables.
Kain didn't care about food either.
Blew salary on booze and whores solo.
His meals: cheap slop, barely better than this.
Basically, grew up without good eats. Sad tale.
Hm. Sudden rage bubbling.
"Fuck it, jerk one off into this pot maybe."
Imagined dumping fresh tadpoles in this shitty stew.
Protein boost, nutrition up,
taste won't change much—just more jizz flavor, undetectable.
"......Nah. I'd have to eat it."
Just fantasy.
No matter how pissed, can't swallow my own cum.
No individual bowls anyway.
Only this pot and wooden spoons—all share from one.
No room in pack for extras.
Even if space, low priority—swap for water skin.
Shook my head, set ladle down,
kicked logs to smother flames.
Fire died to embers, slop bubbled gently.
Perfect simmer. Reduce broth by half, then kill it.
Reheat later when cool. Easy.
Tent up already. All done.
Now wait for the crew.
"......"
Two-three hours scouting, so another hour maybe.
No worries.
Noy useless, but two aura pros holding fort.
Any monster? Sliced like tofu.
Lucky, maybe butcher edible meat.
"Yawwwn......"
Massive yawn cracked my jaw.
Tough body or not, human-cart all day wrecked me.
Feet sore, thighs bursting, traps knotted like rocks.
"Oof, killing me."
Pounded shoulders with fists, self-massage.
Wanna eat and crash ASAP.
Bonus if Baekrin sucks one out before bed.
No need for tent privacy. Woods everywhere—duck behind any tree.
She won't let me finish solo, probably,
but fine. Tired or not, pussy-pounding's easy.
Yeah. Have her bend over logs, ass out.
Me thrusting hard from behind, smack smack...
Rustle.
Sound from behind.
"Back already?"
Faster than thought. Starved and rushing?
I whipped around.
"......?"
But emerging from bushes wasn't old man or Baekrin.
A massive silhouette from the dark.
"......"
"...Grunt."
Eyes met.
Size of four-five grown men stacked. House-sized.
Coarse gray hide. Jagged yellow tusks jutting out.
Wild boar.
Precisely, a fucking huge monster boar.
Snort—!
Hot steam from nostrils.
That beastly stench hit,
[This job's target: mid-tier monster 'Hard Boar.']
[Tough, thick hide—hard to even scratch without aura-clad strikes.]
[And their size usually...]
Kain's briefing flashed.
Matched description, scale perfect.
Got it. This guy.
Damn. First monster eyeball-to-eyeball since reincarnating here.
Figured tomorrow scouring woods...
"......Fuck."
Didn't expect it now,
alone.
Its red eyes glared,
another rough snort.
Huge foreleg lifted.
Next,
Groooaaarrr—!!
Charges straight at me.
No aura? Even first-strike mob?
......What do I do.
Save the slave.
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