Food Shortage (1)

A disaster had struck the Gallery.

And of all things, it was a crisis of food.

The land surrounding the rifts had succumbed to an eldritch curse, turning pitch-black. And all of this was unfolding before the chaos in Adrian had even begun to settle.

“H-Head Mod! The fields!”

“Holy shit.”

The fallout had even reached the subterranean settlement of the rabbit beastkin. With a brittle crumbling sound, the massive crops cultivated through the rabbit tribe’s extraordinary farming prowess had their vitality siphoned away, withering into lifeless husks before our eyes.

“Grrrr!”

A few of them had already mutated into demonic beasts, baring rows of jagged teeth, but the rabbits moved with seasoned coordination.

“Rally together!”

“Dig, quickly! Myo.”

Thump, thump, scrape!

“Grrroooan...”

Excavating the surrounding soil at blinding speed, the rabbits rooted out and put down the mutated crops in an instant. They managed to save roughly half of what remained, yet that survival rate was an omen in itself.

“Even with the whole rabbit clan swarming in to tend them, half of them still died?”

They might have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been hopeless in a fight, but when it came to agriculture, the rabbit beastkin were unmatched gods. And yet, half their yield had perished. There was no conceivable way the other races were in better shape. I immediately opened the Gallery and put up a thread to take stock of the situation across the continent.

The dwarves had resolved their woes through pure brute force, while the elves were coasting on host map hacks. As for Dryer, our popular registered user, getting her back on track was just a matter of having her post spicy photos again to feed on lust. In short, the other factions could manage for now.

Humans, however, were an entirely different story. The rifts had appeared more or less evenly across all territories, leaving regions without them carrying on as usual. But humanity—already teetering on the brink of famine, only to be struck by Crown Prince Frederick's apocalyptic trolling—was staring down total extinction.

They were literally one foot in the grave. I had already restocked the marketplace three times before evening instead of the usual twice a day, but even that was nowhere near enough. And the crisis soon took a fatal turn.

A confirmed death by starvation had finally emerged.

Despair began gnawing away at everyone's resolve. When all was said and done, the road ahead was pitch-black. Demonic beasts were multiplying, the fertile soil was corrupted, and the rifts kept widening—yet the survivors were too weak from hunger to muster the strength or the will to move. Humanity was walking the exact path that had led to the ruin of the Kelton Kingdom.

Right around that time, I added a brand-new item to the marketplace, having just finalized a massive bulk purchase.

The response was far more subdued than expected. Gone were the days when users clamored for new stock and celebrated whatever appeared on the shelves. Instead, self-reproach and resignation hung heavy, filling the comment section with gloom. You had to slay demonic beasts to earn dumplings, but no one had the stamina to hunt in their state. And to get food, you needed dumplings—so their despair was only natural.

There was only one reason I had pushed the listing despite knowing the dire mood.

Ever heard of budget ramen?

The marketplace's greatest bottleneck had always been price. While most everyday provisions were reasonably set at a single Mana Dumpling, the citizens of Adrian had lost all purchasing power in the wake of Crown Prince Frederick’s legendary trolling. Amidst that suffocating despair, ultra-cheap budget ramen was nothing short of a divine revolution.

“It is truly marvelous. How can wheat and the water holding it produce such rich, profound flavor...? Myo.”

Myoran, the talking rabbit, was deftly maneuvering noodles into her mouth with her dainty front paws. Though watching her, a sudden thought struck me—was it actually safe for a domestic rabbit to eat instant ramen?

“I'm glad it suits your palate, but still...”

“Look over there. Aren't all the rabbits loving it as well? It is immensely popular. Myo.”

“Huff, huff. It burns, but it's so good! It's spicy, but it tastes so sweet!”

“My tongue hurts, but it's such an addictive flavoor, mya...”

“Looks delicious.”

“Why are you staring directly at me while saying that?”

Naturally, there were degenerate rabbits lurking in the crowd who tried to slip in casual harassment, but by now, I was thoroughly desensitized. Slurping down a bowl of budget ramen myself for the first time in ages, I sat in self-imposed isolation within my bunker quarters, browsing the forum alongside Myoran.

“This emergency measure works, but the fundamental flaw is glaring...”

Self-sufficiency—standing on their own two feet—remained completely out of reach. In the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠modern world, the ramen's recipe would have been cracked open within weeks to spawn countless domestic imitators, but MSG was an alien frontier in this fantasy realm. A permanent solution was needed. Handing out caught fish would only stave off death for a day; they needed to learn how to fish.

“However, Head Mod, the humans' granaries have all rotted away. Their leadership is utterly incompetent as well.”

“Yeah.”

“How could they possibly stand on their own? Myo.”

When I laid out my thoughts, Myoran merely stroked her long, velvety ears with a troubled frown. I understood her skepticism all too well. The demonic rift corrupting the heart of the empire's breadbasket, Frederick's unhinged political sabotage, and an archaic social hierarchy rotten to the core for centuries. Yet, there existed an answer to break through every single one of those hurdles.

“Would you believe me if I told you there's magic that turns air into bread?”

Host map cheats and reality-warping exploits. It was finally time to show this dying world the true power of modern science.