Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Where Fear Hardens
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Falling into a deep sleep while camping is a big no-no. That's especially true if you're roughing it in the woods.
Even Earth's mountains—and Korea's in particular, which are supposed to be relatively safe—are teeming with wildlife.
Tigers and wolves may be extinct, but there are moon bears the government keeps releasing, wild boars, roe deer, and even feral dogs that have gone savage.
For instance, back when Hwan-in was in high school, he'd gone for a walk in the hills behind his house and run into a feral dog that had gotten spooked.
That dog ended up dying from the beating Hwan-in gave it with his stick, but still.
Just as his father had taught him during their camping trips together—and later on his solo outings—Hwan-in kept his ears perked, catching catnaps to pass the time.
'......'
A strange sensation crawled across his skin, and Hwan-in cracked open one eye just a sliver.
There, beyond the tangled tree roots, a single bright yellow eye flashed past.
A chill raced up his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath.
With every sound and presence stifled to the point where he could hear a pin drop, he strained his ears.
Silence. No bird calls, no insect chirps.
Snap... ...rustle...
Through the stillness came the faint sound of wet leaves crunching underfoot.
'Too light for a monster's steps. Probably a beast of prey.'
Was it prowling nearby? Beasts of prey might have tracked him down by his scent—his body odor clashing with the forest, not fully masked.
Hwan-in gripped the handle of the Stone Axe tucked against his chest and cautiously opened one eye. But peering into the forest floor, where not even moonlight penetrated, was futile.
All he saw was pitch blackness.
Then, through a narrow gap between thick roots, that yellow glow reappeared.
The eye wasn't fixed on his hiding spot—it was staring elsewhere. Hwan-in snapped his eyes shut.
'Eye level was about waist height.'
Recalling the landscape before sunset, that glaring yellow eye had been at his waist. Lower than the green monster he'd encountered during the day. And the shuffling footsteps had the rhythmic cadence of a quadruped.
Definitely a beast of prey.
'Size of a tiger, probably.'
Fighting it head-on would be suicide.
Scrape... rustle...
...Grrrrrr...
A low, windy rumble echoed from what sounded like a long, winding tube. The beast's breath? Or a growl?
Hearing a predator's sounds from such close range made his tense heart pound wildly, guzzling oxygen.
The tree roots were thick and sturdy, tangled so densely even a bear couldn't smash through them in one go.
Hwan-in mentally rehearsed slamming the Stone Axe into the beast's forehead if it tried shoving its head into the gap, pouring all his focus outward.
After a while, the shuffling faded into the distance.
'589... 599... 600.'
Breathing as shallowly as possible, he silently counted to 600. Then the hooting of an owl returned, followed by the chirping of crickets filling the forest.
'...It didn't find me.'
Probably thanks to hiding in the stinking tree roots and covering his front with his mud-caked coat. ...Or maybe it wasn't hunting him at all.
As he slowly regulated his breathing, Hwan-in noticed a numbness in his hand. He'd been gripping the Stone Axe handle too hard. He loosened his hold.
His palm was slick with sweat, fingers tingling from the strain.
The crisis had passed, but Hwan-in rubbed his palms on some leaves, staying vigilant.
Passing the time with eyes half-open, he dozed lightly until deep blue dawn approached, supplementing his sleep. Only when light brightened all around did he carefully extricate himself from the tree hollow.
Crack.
"Ngh."
For the first time, Hwan-in realized human joints could stiffen this badly. Feeling like a wooden log, he gingerly began stretching.
Squatting motionless for over six hours had been pretty stupid, after all.
At first, his muscles screamed, joints grinding audibly. But as he repeated the stretches, warmth built up, loosening him.
Feeling his condition improve, Hwan-in let out a loud chuckle.
The emotions he'd felt in one day in this jungle were more intense than anything in his 26 years of life.
Gurgle.
His body, now active, demanded fuel. Hearing his stomach rumble, Hwan-in first searched for traces the beast might have left behind last night.
"...Hm."
He found paw prints.
On slightly damp soil, unmistakable feline paw prints. He placed his foot next to one.
The paw pads were as big as his shoe size.
This was three or four times a tiger's size.
Following the tracks cautiously, he realized the beast from last night hadn't been hunting him—it had just been passing through.
The prints marched at regular intervals across bare ground free of leaf litter.
Fortunate amid misfortune. If a monster like that—a natural-born hunter from the cat family—had targeted him...
His hand unconsciously rose to his lips, but he noticed they were cracked from dehydration. Suddenly, intense hunger and thirst hit, making his vision swim.
It had stopped at this for now, but soon his legs might buckle, cold sweats and chills rack him, nausea rising—an extreme fast approaching.
A sign he was inching toward death.
His gaze naturally drifted to the orange fruits resembling coronaviruses, bushes of them scattered everywhere like mere weeds.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, from a bush at a safe distance, an animal the size of a squirrel—but looking like an elephant-rabbit mashup—burst out.
Hwan-in instinctively grabbed his Stone Axe and watched the little creature intently.
Overall rabbit-like, but its ears—covered in fine brown fur—were broad like an elephant's. Its front paws, as long as the hind ones, were adapted for grasping, and tiny whiskers at the end of its blunt muzzle twitched ceaselessly, sensing air vibrations.
"......"
The Rabbit-Squirrel that emerged from the bush seemed nearsighted; it didn't spot Hwan-in. It stood on hind legs, sniffing around and snuffling.
Moments later, deeming the area clear, it nimbly selected a deep-colored, large orange fruit from the bush and yanked it hard.
Fsssh, tick.
With a light sound, the bush shook slightly, and the fruit was in the Rabbit-Squirrel's grasp. Tucking it under one arm,
Tat-tat-tat-tat!
it adroitly began climbing a tree.
In seconds, it scaled over 10 meters to the nearest branch and dexterously peeled off the protrusions on the orange fruit with its front paws.
Plop plop.
Orange peels rained down for a bit, then stopped.
With the fruit neatly peeled, the Rabbit-Squirrel chomped away at the flesh contentedly.
Having watched the whole thing, Hwan-in looked down at the fruit bush.
If this were Earth, those fruits would be 'relatively' safe to eat. But this wasn't Earth. Safe for the Rabbit-Squirrel, maybe poison for him.
Staring at the ominous-looking fruit, Hwan-in plucked one similar to the one the Rabbit-Squirrel chose.
The Rabbit-Squirrel had peeled it with its mouth...
"......"
The texture was velvety soft, like touching fabric. Gripping a protrusion to peel, it came off easier than expected.
The inside resembled a blanched, skinned tomato. Slicing it in half with his Multi-Tool revealed three or four perilla-seed-sized seeds.
'Smells like citrus juice.'
After a moment's thought, Hwan-in nicked off a bit of flesh and placed it on his tongue. He rolled it around and waited...
'Seems fine.'
No numbness or paralysis. The flavor spread: mildly astringent, a bit sour, decently sweet.
Impressed by the sweetness from an unrefined wild fruit, Hwan-in swallowed the piece.
'268... 279... 299... 300.'
His father had taught him that poisoned fruits or produce symptoms within five minutes. He checked his watch and waited—no stomach pain, no tightening guts.
To be safe, he removed the seeds and popped the whole flesh into his mouth. Juice burst, flooding sweetness.
Tasty. The astringency and sourness accentuated the sweet.
Another five minutes passed without diarrhea or cramps. Hwan-in sighed inwardly in relief, pulled out his smartphone, found another similar fruit the Rabbit-Squirrel had picked, snapped a photo, and saved it.
"Lucky I just got this smartphone."
After buying it new, he'd swapped in a high-capacity third-party battery. He'd turned off battery hogs while walking yesterday, set brightness to zero, sound to silent with no vibration. Used sparingly, it should last six days.
Next, Hwan-in gathered large leaves resembling palm fronds and collected orange fruits—which he dubbed Corona Berries—while wandering.
This forest seemed to be their native habitat, so food worries were off the table for now.
Eating about ten Corona Berries quenched his thirst and hunger. Hwan-in set off again.
First goal: find signs of civilization.
There might be none, but for survival, seeking human-like intelligent life was priority one.
They might be hostile to outsiders, but that was a problem for after finding them.
Scanning the ground more closely than yesterday, inspecting countless trees as he went, Hwan-in spotted an odd-looking thicket and stared hard.
"Not good."
The irregularity was trampled grass from that beast's paws.
Comparing his foot to the new prints, these were slightly smaller.
Looking around, he'd entered hilly terrain—few flat areas, mostly undulating hills filling his view.
Corona Berry bushes dotted the landscape.
Lucky: three hours in, and Corona Berries still grew wild. Unlucky: last night's beast might not have been alone—multiple possibles.
And it didn't end there.
His eyes fixed on an especially massive tree ahead. He approached.
"Can climb trees, huh."
Staring at six long vertical claw marks—as if it'd slipped while climbing—Hwan-in scanned around and muttered.
"Maybe make a shield."
If built as planned, it'd be more like a tiny raft than a shield, but slap a handle on a flat surface and it counts.
Decision made, Hwan-in moved fast.
First, he gathered firewood-sized branches like yesterday's club. Wood planks would be ideal for shields, but his Multi-Tool limited him to small, precise work.
He could hack planks with the Stone Axe, but wasting his key weapon? No.
With plenty of branches gathered, he stripped Corona Berry bush stems for rope substitutes. Then evened out the irregular lengths of thick logs with the Stone Axe.
But then.
Thud!
Mis-hitting a rock while trimming didn't even nick the Stone Axe—instead, the rock dented.
"...What the hell is this thing made of?"
Muttering at the chipped rock, Hwan-in resumed work.
At least he'd learned by happy accident how insanely durable the Stone Axe was. A small comfort.
A sturdy weapon would last ages.
Trimming branches to length, he laid them vertically side by side, weaving bush stems crudely into a rectangular Wooden Shield.
Two hours of tinkering produced exactly what he'd envisioned.
Thanks to straight, thick branches, it was dense enough to block arrows. He'd jammed pointy twigs into gaps for rigidity—smacking a green monster with this would shred it bloody in one hit.
Of course, Hwan-in had no illusions of blocking a massive beast's assault with this crude thing.
This shield was for probing attacks, jamming into jaws to create openings.
A declaration: he wouldn't go down easy.
Slipping his forearm through the inner strap of the finished shield, he tested movements.
It barely covered his torso, no hindrance to mobility.
'Should've read up on shield fighting.'
He'd skimmed Paulus Hector Mair's manual—that medieval German clerk who'd embezzled to fund his martial arts tome—for fun, but knew nothing else.
Ignorant, but... he assumed a stance from medieval duel games.
This should cover torso and knees up. Legs splayed diagonally for frontal impacts...
'From opposite, they'd only see above eyes and below knees.'
Swinging the Stone Axe like this.
Thud.
Tough to swing with shield forward—arm caught on it when chopping down.
'Tilt shield back for attacks.'
Full tilt for backhands, so focus on overheads. Two-handing the Stone Axe? Awkward. One-handed due to poor balance stressing wrist.
Short reach bugged him too. Blind infighting risky with shield's flimsy durability.
Testing revealed flaws, so Hwan-in made another club.
This time, not a branch—a 1.5m log, thick as a man's thigh, snapped after decades of growth.
Shaping a handle with the Stone Axe, he stripped bush stem bark with Multi-Tool, wrapping the soft core tightly around the grip.
"Shouldn't slip now."
One-hand swings a few times, then adjusted for two hands.
Thanks to consistent gym time at work, one-handed was doable, but the balance rivaled the Stone Axe—better two-handed.
Left arm: Wooden Shield. Right hand: Stone Axe. Back: two-handed club.
"Hm."
Basic gear acquired, arm and leg guards tempting, but Hwan-in shook his head. No skills, no time, unsafe environment.
'Not battle—evade and survive.'
Shouldering the two-handed club, Hwan-in resumed walking.