Firing Clay (1)
Chester, having plunged beneath the surface of the lake, paddled his limbs and swam downward.
It's deeper than I thought!
The depths of the lake were indeed deeper than expected, teeming with countless aquatic creatures swimming leisurely through the water. Amidst them, Chester kept his eyes locked onto a single object—something wedged into the carcass of a sunken creature.
Kicking fiercely through the water, he pursued the slowly sinking carcass and stretched his arm out, grabbing hold of the object protruding from its flesh.
Got it!
But almost immediately, carnivorous fish, lured by the blood trailing from the carcass, began to swarm.
“!”
With teeth far too savage to belong to any ordinary fish, the massive predator thrashed its bulky body, attempting to devour not just the carcass, but Chester as well.
Abandoning his attempt to wrench the object free, Chester twisted his body to dodge the snapping jaws and grabbed the harpoon he had brought along for self-defense. However, he didn't draw it to strike the fish.
Hup!
For a human, whose movements were sluggish underwater, catching a fish darting freely in all directions was no easy feat. Instead, Chester thrust his harpoon toward the falling carcass.
Thunk! The harpoon embedded itself firmly in the dead creature. Chester hauled on the line, pulling the carcass back toward him.
As it drew near, the bizarre appearance of the creature came into vivid focus. It was clad from head to toe in what looked like natural armor. Whether it was an insectoid carapace or thick fish scales, he couldn't tell, but its sharp, jagged edges made it highly unpleasant to handle.
Carefully pinning the creature with both feet to hold it steady, Chester gripped the object lodged in its back and yanked it free along with the harpoon in one powerful motion.
Done.
His lungs were burning, screaming for air. Chester kicked the carcass toward the lunging predator as a distraction and surged toward the surface.
Glancing down as he ascended, he saw a feeding frenzy. A swarm of fish had descended upon the carcass, tearing it apart. Some bit straight through the bones, others burrowed deep into the soft flesh, and some sucked the leaking blood.
As the fish gathered in a tight, frantic ball, a freshwater shark suddenly materialized, swallowed several of them whole, and vanished back into the abyss.
Terrifying.
Deciding he would have to be even more cautious around the lake from now on, Chester broke the surface.
“Phew!” Chester gasped, taking a deep breath as he swam quickly to the shore. Monia, who had been pacing anxiously, rushed over to him.
“Why did you jump into the lake all of a sudden?! Are you insane?!”
“Cough! Cough! Ugh, swallowed some water. No, I had no choice.” Chester held up the object he had retrieved from the carcass. “This was down there.”
“……Huh? What is that?”
It was a blade just under fifty centimeters long, perfectly straight and sleek. It had no handguard, and the hilt, wrapping directly from the base of the blade, was finished in high-quality leather. In this wild, rugged world where everything was crudely fashioned, the silver blade alone possessed a breathtaking, pristine beauty, like a legendary maiden of peerless grace. It caught the overhead sun, reflecting a brilliant, almost blinding light.
“Ah! It's too bright.”
“Is it? Well, it does stand out a bit too much. I'll have to rub some dirt on it to dull the shine. As long as the edge is sharp, that's all that matters.”
The object lodged in the carcass that had plunged over the waterfall was none other than a machete.
“Haha, and it's a full tang, too.” Chester smiled with deep satisfaction as he inspected the machete from tip to pommel, noting the steel of the blade extending all the way through the handle.
“What's a 'full tang'?”
“It means the tang goes all the way to the end of the handle… Ah, you wouldn't know what a tang is anyway. Basically, it means it's incredibly sturdy.”
Chester walked over to a nearby thicket with the machete. Bracing his stance, he gave it a light swing, effortlessly slicing through the dense brush.
“With this, we'll easily be able to clear a path through that thick undergrowth across the river.”
“But wait,” Monia said, looking up from the machete to peer toward the top of the cliffs. “Why did this fall from up there?”
“…….”
“There's someone up there, isn't there?”
“Most likely.”
A tool like a machete was practically a lifeline.
“Another person… How could anyone be in a place like this?”
“Well, we're living here just fine.”
“That's only because I have you.”
“Oh?”
“What?”
“I never expected you to acknowledge someone else's capabilities so readily.”
“Hmph. ……I'm well aware of how useless I am now.”
Hearing the sudden melancholy in Monia's voice, Chester reached out and patted her slumped head.
“It's fine. You're not so helpless anymore.”
“……You're subtly implying that I used to be helpless, aren't you?”
“Oh, look at you, getting a bit sharper.”
Monia clung to Chester, bickering and protesting. In the midst of her complaints, her curiosity about the person above the waterfall seemed to evaporate entirely.
Above the waterfall, huh.
Until now, Chester's sole focus had been establishing a stable environment. His plan was to build a secure base and then patiently wait for an opportunity to escape this deserted island. There were several possibilities. A merchant ship might pass near the Floating Island, or the island might drift within sight of a continent. He just had to bide his time until then. He had no intention of disrupting the stable rhythm of life they had finally established.
I wonder who it is.
They certainly weren't an exiled noble, not with a machete like that. Likely someone from another country, perhaps of a different race. If they didn't speak the same language, communication would be impossible, and there was no telling if they would be friendly. No, more importantly…
For Monia's sake, it's better we don't cross paths.
Anyone who ended up in a place like this was bound to be an adventurer or, more likely, a sailor. Men of the sea were notoriously rough. Back when Monia was the Duke's daughter, she had been renowned throughout the kingdom as a peerless beauty, despite her infuriating personality. It wasn't hard to guess how a crude sailor, starved of female company for months or years, would react upon laying eyes on her.
Yes, it's best to avoid them.
If only to protect this noble lady—whose mind was still little better than a child's—from any traumatic experiences.
Chester tore his gaze away from the top of the waterfall and returned to the campfire to finish eating fish with Monia.
The man ran. Having lost the tool that could protect him, he fled, driven purely by raw terror.
“How… How… How could…!!”
How could such a creature even exist! His eyes were wide with the sheer horror and shock of someone who had witnessed something that should not belong in this world.
Since arriving on this island, he had seen many bizarre creatures that had undergone strange evolutionary paths unique to this environment. But what he had encountered here in the Upper Tier far surpassed any beast he had ever laid eyes on. Desperate to escape those horrifying monsters, the man ran blindly, looking only ahead.
“What is wrong with this island?!”
Behind his frantic cries, a massive shape pursued him in absolute silence. It had a weasel-like body covered in brownish fur with black stripes, a long tail, and four legs. Its face resembled a canine's, featuring an elongated snout. Thick, sticky saliva dripped from between the long, curved, hook-like fangs protruding from its lower jaw.
The beast moved with terrifying agility, its long limbs and supple body weaving effortlessly through the dense forest trees as it tracked its prey.
The creature was in high spirits. It felt like a lucky day. On an island dominated by small critters, it had managed to stumble upon a rare, substantial meal.
Anticipating a full belly, the beast sprinted forward. Realizing that the path ahead opened into a wide, clear space, it leaped up into the canopy. Climbing to the top of the tallest tree nearby, it paused to watch the man run. Though the man was gaining distance, the beast remained unconcerned, calmly observing his frantic flight. It was waiting for the perfect moment—when the exhausted man would finally begin to slow down.
And at last, the man burst out of the forest and into the open clearing.
In that split second, the beast coiled its body like a compressed spring, gathering its strength, and launched itself into the air. Once it reached the apex of its leap, it splayed its four limbs wide, unfurling a leathery membrane.
The basic law of nature—that flying creatures must be light—was utterly defied. Defying all common sense, the massive beast glided through the sky, riding the wind. Sailing rapidly toward its target, the beast drew close, swept its legs to tilt its trajectory downward, folded its membranes, and flattened its body.
Streamlined and lethal, it plummeted through the air like a hawk diving for a rabbit. But just as even the most skilled hawks sometimes missed their mark, luck was not on the beast's side today.
“Aaaaargh!!”
Its aim was off by a hair. The beast crashed heavily just behind the man, tumbling from the impact. Seizing the brief window, the man bolted even faster. The beast quickly shook off the shock of the fall and prepared to give chase once more, but...
Grrrr!
To its immense frustration, the man had crossed into the No-Entry Zone during that brief delay. To trespass there meant being hunted down by the Native, the true Island Owner, for disrupting the ecological balance and violating territorial boundaries. That was the sole reason this creature confined itself to this specific region, never venturing to the lower tiers or the very peak.
Licking its chops in disappointment at the lost feast, the beast turned away to search for new prey.
“Alright, shall we get to work on the kiln?”
Regardless of the newly acquired machete, Chester's current goal remained the same: making sinkers and firing clay to make pottery. And for that, building a kiln was the first step.
Chester poured water over the pile of dirt he had gathered, mixing it into thick mud, and began slathering it over the stone tower he had built for the kiln. Behind him, Monia was dancing with sheer enthusiasm.
“Cake! Cake! Cake! Cake!”
“Ah, get lost.”