Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Harsh Winter Survival (3)
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Ding-dong-ding-.
No sooner had the distant bell tolls faded than a black head popped up from the pristine white snowfield.
"Huh?"
Yuri, craning his neck like a meerkat.
A spark of interest flickered in his eyes.
'The first dropout's appeared, huh.'
Giving up after just ten days.
He was starting to get curious what kind of idiot it was.
'Or maybe ten days is actually impressive?'
If what he'd seen over the past ten days was the average for these trainee riders, then holding out that long might actually be pretty good.
But such shallow thoughts didn't last.
He ducked his upper body back into the snow and refocused on his task.
Scrape- thunk- scrape- thunk-.
Each swing of Yuri's sword carved chunks out of the frozen ground with a puff of breath.
Far faster than digging with a shovel.
It was hard to believe a sword no thicker than two fingers could excavate the earth at that speed.
After digging for a good while, Yuri paused to stretch his back.
He gazed at his beloved sword in rapture.
"Whoa! As expected of my Whitey! Look at this—not a single nick!"
And it wasn't just free of chips.
Over the past ten days, Whitey had dug dozens of pits.
Through dirt, tree roots, gravel, and all, the white steel sword remained unscratched.
'No wonder everyone raves about white steel swords!'
He'd tested its performance in a rather odd way, but Yuri didn't mind.
Good was good, right?
"Hmm~."
Humming a tune, Yuri plunged Whitey back into the earth.
Scrape- thunk-.
Soon after, he stopped digging and pulled something from the pit.
Rustle-.
What emerged in Yuri's hand was a tree root caked in dirt.
"Oh! This one's a decent size."
What Yuri had unearthed wasn't just any root—it was a tosaba, a root vegetable.
Tosaba grew well in poor soil with little climate influence, making it a staple famine crop.
But finding wild tosaba was impossible without knowing how.
Yuri, however, was different.
'Back when I was a snot-nosed kid, I dug thousands of pits just for one tosaba!'
He'd torn up mountainsides, probably digging more holes than any rabbit.
Now, a quick glance told him roughly what size tosaba he'd pull from a spot.
At this point, he could rightly call himself a tosaba master.
And as if to prove it, Yuri roamed the snow-covered forest, unearthing tosaba after tosaba.
"Hmm~."
Yuri dug with a cheerful face.
One after another, tosaba roots trailed from his hands.
Thunk-.
"Hmm..."
After a short bout of labor.
Yuri, having pulled the last one, scratched his cheek at the pile as tall as his waist.
"...Too much?"
He'd gotten a bit carried away.
This was enough tosaba to last days eating nothing else.
But he couldn't just toss it.
Yuri recalled his snot-nosed days again.
'I lucked into a rabbit, stripped it clean, then couldn't find more food... so I simmered the bones for five days straight.'
By day five, rabbit bone broth was basically just water.
The horrific taste made him shudder, and for a moment, he scolded himself for thinking he had too much tosaba.
'Too much my ass! Stockpile it, and it'll come in handy someday!'
Yuri stripped off his top layer and swept the tosaba into it.
Not missing even the tiniest root.
"Hmm~."
Humming softly, he used Cloud Steps to kick off nearby trees in alternation.
In an instant, his form perched on a branch.
Crack- thunk!
Using the branch's slight bend, Yuri shot forward.
Snow piled on the tree scattered like powder but blended naturally into the surrounding drifts.
Leaping tree to tree, Yuri swiftly departed the area.
Without leaving a trace.
* * *
Three hours later.
A boy appeared near—but not at—the spot where Yuri had dug tosaba.
The boy's name was Clarice Ban.
He pushed through the snow with quick steps.
Huff huff-.
Breathing heavily, Clarice scanned his surroundings.
'It has to be here somewhere.'
Clarice Ban was one of 503 trainee riders from a true prestigious family.
Born as the Ban family heir, he'd been raised on one creed.
[Those who don't understand hunger have no right to lead the family.]
The founding ancestor's creed, passed down to every heir.
The Ban family's tradition stemmed from its history.
About 150 years ago.
The southern region—now Tabull Territory—was barren under a frigid climate, and the Ban family began in a western village there.
A brutal drought struck the already harsh land.
A young man named Ban rolled up his sleeves to feed the starving villagers.
People drawn to the lone hero's dedication gathered, forming a faction.
That was the origin of the Ban family.
Time passed, and the family's lands escaped poverty, but descendants preserved the past with one tradition.
Family elders lived with the children in the forest for 100 days.
Even with adult help, it was no easy feat for kids in the cold woods.
Through it, Ban children learned the value of their family's protection.
They understood hunger and how to combat it from the elders.
Hunting, identifying edible plants, and more.
Ban children learned to survive, if crudely, in barren lands.
'It was brutal back then...'
Who knew that knowledge would prove so useful?
Realizing the Black Sword Troops' test was survival, Clarice nearly cheered.
Using childhood lessons, he'd handled the harsh winter survival far more leisurely than other trainees.
If the Black Sword Troops were scoring them, he'd surely be first, he thought with confidence.
...Until a few days ago.
Huff- huff-.
"Please, this time..."
Pushing through thigh-deep snow, Clarice spotted something and his eyes widened.
"Found it!"
His pace quickened instantly.
Ahead in a straight line stood a conifer with dark red leaves.
Trees with dark red leaves.
A trait of those growing in soil altered by tosaba.
'No doubt! Leaves that deep means a tosaba cluster nearby!'
Excited, Clarice strode toward the dark red conifer.
But as he neared, his steps slowed.
'N-No way?!'
Reaching the spot, a sigh escaped Clarice.
"Again... again?..."
The ground was dug up everywhere.
Anyone could see tosaba had been harvested; Clarice's eyes twitched.
The tremor spread through his body.
Shivering-.
Not from cold—from rage.
"Who the hell...!"
For days, Clarice had sought tosaba.
In this forest, it was one of the easier wild crops.
With his experience, he was confident.
He'd even found clusters easily at first.
But.
'Someone else was hunting tosaba too?'
Someone had beaten him to it.
Undeterred after the first failure, Clarice kept searching—the forest was vast.
Four days passed.
In those four days, he'd found ten tosaba clusters.
Yet every one had been stripped before him.
Clean, not even tiny roots left!
After days of this, Clarice spotted a pattern.
'Tosaba dug up, but no entry or exit tracks!'
Then he realized: one person was responsible.
And this eleventh cluster was the same—stripped clean.
Snort- snort-.
Clarice's bloodshot eyes flared as he snorted.
Unable to contain his fury, he spat it out.
"You heartless bastard! Cut it out, you greedy pig! You planning to sell tosaba or what?!"
Over days, that heartless bastard had hit eleven clusters.
Enough tosaba for one person to last the whole winter and into next.
"Arrrgh!"
Clarice's rage-filled shout dumped snow from nearby branches.
But Clarice didn't know.
The heartless bastard he cursed wasn't just taking tosaba.
Yuri's beggar instincts and shameless greed were plaguing the Forest of Beginnings.
And at that moment, as Clarice's furious yell echoed.
Rustle-.
Hundreds of Black Sword Troops began spreading across the Forest of Beginnings.
* * *
An underground cave on the forest outskirts.
Past a cleverly hidden entrance and narrow passage lay a chamber big enough for a dozen grown men to lie in.
Yuri's best hideout.
Crackle crackle-.
A campfire blazed at the center.
Yuri sat nearby, surrounded by a heap of bones.
Munch munch-.
Yuri stripped the last meat from a bone in his hand, swallowed, and flung the picked-clean remains aside.
Thud!
As it joined the bone pile, Yuri let out a satisfied belch.
Buuuurp!
Flopping down spread-eagled, he patted his bulging belly.
"Ahh... perfect."
The languid fullness, plus the campfire's cozy warmth—a winter luxury.
Stomach full, back warm: was this not true happiness?
Yuri's beaming face, lost in bliss, had plumped up since entering the forest, glowing healthily.
The opposite of other trainees turning ragged as time passed.
The reason lay behind him.
Piles of tosaba, enough for hundreds.
Smoked bird meat.
Unknown herbs or spices—grasses and roots.
Sweet-smelling tinned fruits and berries? Wait, tinned stone fruits and tree sap? No—sweet stone fruits and tree syrup? Actually: 띤 석청과 목청 – perhaps "candied stone fruits and tree sap" or specific: probably "sweet stone plums and pine honey" but naturalize: piles of candied fruits and honey-like sap.
Dried kindling, chopped small.
Unbelievable stockpile for ten days in midwinter.
All from Yuri's greed and beggar grit.
After rolling around awhile, Yuri sat up.
He eyed the dying fire and muttered.
"Hmm... this test is way too easy."
Of course, "easy" was purely subjective—for him.
Daily worsening cold.
Four-legged game vanished from the forest.
Even fish gone from streams.
Clearly, the Cradle had limited resources on purpose.
Maybe Yuri alone could call this survival "easy."
He knew it well—impossible not to.
Ten days roaming the forest, he'd seen it all.
Idiots shivering, unable to make fire, crawling into snow.
Morons hurling stones wildly at birds.
Fools ignoring clear streams, eating snow till headaches wracked them.
Dimwits grunting up low trees for leaves.
'The world's wide, and full of idiots, huh...'
Was this their gathering spot?
Every standout seemed off-kilter.
These "educated" types?
Sure, some competent ones popped up, but nine in ten were hopeless.
'Embarassing—I fretted over competing with these...'
Thanks to the morons, Yuri realized how easy his test was.
And how others suffered.
So it wasn't odd for him to call it easy.
He'd earned that right.
But his "easy" meant more than felt difficulty.
The format too.
'Is the test really just surviving a month?'
This simple?
'Something's missing... what?'
For days, nagging doubt.
Pondering it.
"......?!"
Yuri snatched his sword and sprang up like lightning.
And.
Step step-.
He glared fiercely down the tunnel whence came small footsteps.