Chapter 5: (FARM AND SALT)
The ironbeaked quail froze, its beady black eyes fixed on the walnut. The sun light caught the shine curve of its beak, the mottled brown and gray feathers ruffling slightly in the breeze. Then, for a brief moment, it squinted, narrowing its eyes as if it already knew. As if it had calculated every possibility, measured every risk, and understood the outcome before it even happened. Its tiny clawed feet dug slightly into the ground, its toes splayed.
I pressed myself against the tree, heart racing, breath shallow, whispering to the system, "Hey… system. Did ironbeaked quails become smart through evolution? Isn't this just supposed to be the novel creatures?"
[Yes, owner. They are from the original novel.]
"Then why… why does it look like it already knows it's a trap?" i murmured as I peeked from behind the cover, eyes straining to track its every movement.
The quail shifted, small claws scraping softly against the dirt as it took two slow, deliberate steps forward. Each step seemed calculated, precise, almost suspiciously careful for such a dumb creature. Its beak snapped down on the walnut with a soft Thud.
The trap sprang instantly. The rope coiled tight around its legs, the sudden tension pulling taut with a sharp snap. The quail's eyes widened in shock, feathers flaring as it flailed.
kreee-klink! kreee-klink!
It struggled violently, hopping, spinning, wings flapping, but the rope tightened against its every desperate movement.
"…."
[….]
"Sorry for doubting you," I muttered under my breath in disbelief.
[It's okay, owner.]
I crept closer to the quail, watching it struggle in the trap. Its tiny wings flapped frantically, claws scraping against the ground, feathers ruffled in panic. A grin spread across my face as I moved toward the hole where its nest. I stretched out my right hand, carefully reaching in, and retrieved a few eggs for my already late breakfast. One, two… seven in total, round and pale with feathers, mud and feces sticking on it.
I place the eggs carefully in my shirt, holding the fabric upward so they won't roll out. As I walk, I notice a few mushrooms growing near a damp log. Cremini (Brown Button) Mushrooms Their caps are brown and firm. Beside them, pale white (oyster mushrooms) i pick both kinds, shaking off the dirt and soil before placing them gently beside the eggs.
"My breakfast," I muttered, while dragging the quail, still tied, "Later, I planned to build a cage for five ironbeaked quails, and your the first resident of the farm—a small egg farm to keep my breakfast, lunch and dinner secured."
I first placed the captured quail in a corner outside the house, its legs still tightly bound. Then I gathered dried leaves and brittle branches, stacking them neatly beside me. The rough texture of the twigs scratched my palms as I arranged them, the scent of dry wood filling the air.
"Time to cook it. But... I don't know how to make a fire..."
"System, is my mana capacity able to use flint?" I asked, staring at the pile of kindling.
[Mana check complete. Requirement met. Warning: Activation will consume 70% of your total mana. Alternate cost: 50 points.]
"No thank you" I sighted.
I raised my index finger, stiffening it until it trembled slightly. I imagined a flame burning at the tip, focusing every ounce of energy from within me. Flint. A small orange flame flickered, tiny and trembling like a candle, hovering at the tip of my finger. I leaned forward and touched the leaves and branches, and the dry kindling caught fire immediately, crackling softly as it began to burn.
"Ha… ha… this is exhausting… I never knew using mana could be this tiring. It feels like I just ran a marathon."
[Mana isn't limitless. It drains both your body and mind. Just like running makes you physically tired and thinking too much makes you mentally tired—mana does the same.]
Using mana was exhausting. My arms shook, my chest felt tight, as if I had run four laps without pause.
"Finally… a fire," I said, sitting back and watching the flames grow. The orange glow licked the edges of the pile.
I place the eggs near the fire and watch them cook. The shells darken slowly, the surface turning black and brown under a thin layer of wood ash. Beside them, I impale the mushrooms on a stick and set them at the edge of the flame so they won't burn. Their skin softens, dripping clear juice that sizzles on the ash.
"They smells delicious, I can't wait"
After about twenty minutes, "its done!!!" I use another stick to pull the hot eggs away from the fire and let them cool. I take the mushrooms first—they taste earthy, nutty, simple, like regular mushrooms from earth.
When the eggs are cool enough, I lift one. Char sticks to my fingers, leaving black dust on my skin. I tap the top against a stone until the shell cracks, then peel it away slowly.
Underneath is a white, jiggling egg—softer and more gelatinous than a normal one. I bite into it. It's warm, sticky, with a strange deep flavor—its oddly fishy, but faintly nutty, like walnut.
"Taste not good or bad either," I murmur.
"System, are there any salt in the market?" I said as I chewed on the 4th unseasoned roasted egg. Its dry, with smoky flavor.
[Yes, but condiments and seasonings are extremely expensive. For a transparent, unlabeled glass bottle of 750ml vinegar or soy sauce, the price reaches over 4000 to 5000. But because you're so poor, and since I'm a good system, I can give you a special treatment—just this once, and it will be the last offer for a special item. I'll give you a 95% discount, so pay me 200 points, and I'll give you a whole pocket of salt. You can decide what type of salt you want. The pocket can regenerate an infinite amount of salt and will refill every hour after you use all the contents. However, you'll need to pay a tax of 150 points monthly.]
"This is nuts! That's my whole balance! Not only will my balance turn to zero, now you even want me to pay tax? You really know how to piss and steal from your host, huh?"
[Do you want flavor on your food or not? Or would you rather eat very bland food instead, for the rest of your time here, before entering the academy?]
I clenched my teeth, my jaw tightening until I felt the tension in my skull. My fingers twitched, my patience wearing thin. I let out a breath through my nose and said, "OK, I'll purchase it."
The moment I confirmed the purchase, a metallic clicking sound echoed faintly in the air—click!—followed by a faint shimmer of light. An old brown leather pouch appeared in front of me. A thick rope tied tightly around its mouth, sealing it shut.
I reached out, grabbed it, and slowly loosened the rope. The knot gave way, and as I opened it, there, resting within, was pure white, fine and dry salt.
I pinched a small amount between my fingers, feeling the rough grains scrape lightly against my skin. Then I sprinkled it over the roasted egg. The moment I bit into it again, the taste changed completely—the blandness vanished, replaced by a faint, satisfying savor that made the egg's flavor appetizing.
"Better," I murmured quietly, still chewing, savoring the taste as the fire crackled beside me.
I look at the quail and eat the remaining egg in front of it, I take a slow bite, yolk thick and warm, dripping down my fingers. I glance at the bird tied beside me, its feathers puffed and trembling. I chew and swallow as if telling, "what you gonna do about it?" A grin spreads across my face. The quail jerks angrily, wings flapping, claws scraping the dirt, but the rope holds firm around its leg. It can't escape.
After eating all the remaining three eggs and the mushrooms, I wipe my fingers on the grass and stand. I decide to find more holes and set four traps. This will be my egg farm. Later, I'll make wooden cages for them, but first I need more grass ropes and traps.
I kneel and twist the grass strands together until they form thick cords, smooth and tight. I make knots at each end, pulling them until they bite into my palm. The rope feels strong enough to hold. After finishing, I go into the forest to find holes—small, hidden burrows covered by leaves and thin roots. I move carefully, crouched low, looking for signs of quails. One by one, I find the holes and set the traps, adjusting the tension until the loop rests just above the entrance. Then I sit still and listen, waiting for any sound from beneath the soil.
When the traps are ready, I gather branches for the cages. I break fallen limbs, strip off loose bark, and climb a nearby tree to cut thicker ones from above. The blade bites deep into the wood with each swing, the sound echoing faintly. I drop the branches down and start building. Each cage is five feet in length, sixteen inches wide, and two feet high. I tie every joint tightly with the grass ropes, pulling until the structure feels solid. I make a small door on top, wide enough to put the quail in and collect the eggs. Inside, I line the base with dried grass, forming soft nests with my hands.
Four hours pass. My fingers ache, and my shoulders feel heavy, but the cages stand firm—secured and solid. I take the first quail I caught earlier. It struggles in my hand, wings thrashing, claws scraping my wrist, I untie the rope and push it into the cage, then quickly close the lid before it escapes. When it realizes it's trapped, it glares at me with sharp, squinted eyes, as if saying, "I will make you pay later."
I go to the holes where I placed the traps. All of them have been triggered. The grass ropes are tight, each holding quails by the leg. I gather them one by one, gripping their feet to keep them from clawing me, and drag them toward the cages. When I arrive, I notice the first one has broken its cage, splintering one side of the wood and moving toward another cage beside it. It looks at me with wide, confused eyes, as if saying, "what sorcery is this? what have you done?"—like it was my fault.
I placed the three inside their cages, the metal doors closing with a dull clang. The last one, I set beside the one that had broken the wooden wall of the second cage.
"It's done, where is my reward system?"
[Loading...]
"It's still pretty bright," I muttered. "I guess I'll go and take a look at the Vixxon ruins."
[Wait, right now?]