Chapter 23: (part 4- progress, guilt and deal)
I gently placed the heart down and picked up the frog. After removing its organs, head, claws, and skin, I carried it to one of the many shallow spring nearby to wash it.
While I was rinsing the frog, I noticed some *Mountainous Spring Moss Crabs*. There were six medium-sized ones and three large adults, all busy eating moss. One of the medium crabs was crawling around, and about fifteen smaller ones were hiding under the rocks.
They huddled together eating the *Warmvne moss Pods* an edible moss pods grow only in the spring. They soak up steam at night, causing their skin to soften and split. The inside is full of pale seeds and sweet pulp.
Then i bent down and picked up a fully grown one *Mountainous Spring Moss Crab* in the shallow spring, i carefully grab it by its rocky, rough shell. Its back felt like damp stone, cold and hard in my hand. It had long, thick legs like a king crab and large claws like a lobster's, sharp, but thinner and quicker. The crab twitched and tried to escape, clicking its claws in the air. I quickly wrapped some tough forest vines around its body, tying it carefully so it couldn't move.
It wasn't my first time finding them. I've eaten them before. The best way to cook them? Just toss them straight into the fire. I don't have a big pot to boil them anyway they are too big.
Over the past few days, I also found wild weeds and fruit that helped balance my diet and keep me healthy. Some of the bushes were full of the berries, and wild edible weeds growing everywhere.
The berries grew in bushes in drier area. They were called the *8 Colored Wild Seasoning Berries.* Each color had a different taste—some were sweet, some minty like menthol, some hot like chillies. Others were bitter, sour like citrus, spicy and pungent, aromatic, herbal, or even salty. Some were safe to eat, but it depended on their color. I had to learn which ones were good and which to avoid.
Then there were the *Random wild rooted weeds* These wild weeds grew almost everywhere. Some tasted like lettuce or cabbage, while others tasted like carrots or radishes. A few were bitter like bitter melon—and some were just plain disgusting. The leaves are five inch in length and 3 inches in width they all looked the same, so I often picked the wrong ones. But I figured out one thing: the edible ones had glossy, bright green leaves. The bitter ones had tiny bumps on the edges and gave off a faint, fermented fishy-bitter smell. That helped me tell them apart.
I picked a few *8 Colored Wild Seasoning Berries* four yellowish-green ones for their sour flavor and two pale green ones that were salty. I planned to use them to season my food later.
After gathering the berries, I pulled up some *Random Wild Rooted Weeds* to help keep me healthy and balance my diet. I also took a few of the fermented fishy-bitter smelling weeds for later, along with a handful of the glossy, edible ones.
I walked back to the cave, After putting the weeds and berries into one of my bowl, I turned and glanced. My clay pot sat near the cave wall where I left it. I picked it up, gave it a gentle tap to knock off the dirt, With it tucked under my arm.
I headed to a familiar path lined with mossy stones and tiny yellow flowers that always turned toward the light. The spring where I usually drink and wash, was more clean, The water was clear and shining like glass. I crouched and filled the pot slowly, watching the cold spring water bubbles rise and pop. up around my fingers.
"Its still clear as ever," I murmured with a smile.
Next, I unsheathed my sword and dipped it into the water, cleaning the frog's blood from the blade. Once it was clean again, I brought out the frog I had caught earlier, round, fat, and as large as a chicken.
With careful hands, I sliced the frog into even pieces and dropped them into the pot. Then I added a handful of green edible weeds, one half of a salty berry, and two plump sour berries. The frog meat floated just below the rim, it nearly filled the whole pot.
I carried it back to the fire pit just outside the cave. The three large stones I always used for cooking stood steady, forming a perfect cradle for the pot. In the center, dried branches and yellowed grass, I knelt down, dug a shallow space beneath the kindling, and placed a small rune stone in the hollow. It pulsed softly, like it was breathing. I poured a slow stream of water from a bowl onto it.
Ssshhh... Fsshhh... Woom!
The rune stone ignited, and flames started to lick the dried grass, catching the branches. I sat back and smiled as the fire get bigger.
"There we go," I whispered, placing the pot carefully atop the stones. "Let the cooking begin."
As the stew began to simmer, I reached for the tied crab I had caught this morning. It waved a lazy claw at me.
"No use resisting now," I said with a playful grin. "Soon you'll be in my stomach."
I placed it directly on the burning branches beside the pot. The shell popped and hissed as the fire get stronger.
While the two dishes cooked, I prepared the sauce. I took a bowl, sliced open a sour berry, and squeezed its juice into it. Then came the rest of the salty berry. I sliced a stalk of fishy bitter weed and tossed it in, then grabbed a clean branch with a rounded tip and began to mash everything together.
Squish... squish... squish...
The scent drifted up, fresh, salty, sour... like fish sauce with limes. It was sour, salty and pungent, but not too much.
"This is good, the sauce is ready," I whispered. "Maybe even better and healthier than what the market folk outside the city, that they sell in their jars worth 3 dollars per jar."
I leaned back, watching The stew bubbled. The crab sizzled. A breeze rustled the trees, and birds chirped above.
I smiled, the fire warm on my face, and waited. "Dinner's almost done," I said aloud, though no one was around
"If only someone were here to share this with," I muttered sadly, then smiled. "But I suppose I get to savor the whole meal to myself."
When the food was done, I picked up 2 leaf and slid it beneath the pot's side, lifting it carefully with both of my hands, before setting it down on the ground. Steam rose from the surface, and the soup still bubbled faintly. After it cooled a little, I held the pot by the rim and tilted it, pouring some of the broth into my bowl. I grabbed my fork and spoon, I fished out a few pieces of frog meat and put them into the bowl.
"Smells good," I murmured, leaning closer to breathe in the appetizing aroma.
Next, I took the crab and placed it on the leaves I had spread earlier. Its shell was charred, especially underneath. I set the sauce beside it, then broke off one of its legs. Soft, white flesh slid out easily—still steaming, its juices dripping onto the leaf.
I dipped the crab leg into the sauce and took a bite. The meat was rich and fatty, almost like cow fat, but it melted on my tongue with a flaky texture. It was savory, sweet, and slightly earthy. The sauce made it even better—sour and salty, like fish sauce but cleaner taste, without any bitterness.
"This crab meat is always good," I said quietly. "I could eat this every day. Soft, sweet, savory... it melts in my mouth. Maybe the earthy flavor comes from the forest moss it eats."
I licked the juice from my lips, then lifted my bowl and took a spoonful of warm soup.
"Ahh... this tastes so good. You can taste the frog in the broth, mixed with the herbs," I said, then took a piece of the wild root weed with my fork. It was soft but still had a faint crunch. "It tastes healthy... I miss vegetables."
Next, I speared a piece of frog meat and bit into it. "Frog really does taste like chicken," I muttered, chewing slowly. "But this one's better—juicier, softer, more flavorful."
As I ate one of the legs, I bit into something small and round, but it broke apart easily, so I didn't mind. I finished the crab first since it wouldn't taste good tomorrow, and kept the frog broth for reheating.
"Ahh... I'm full," I said with a satisfied breath. "That was a good meal. There's still frog left—maybe I'll eat it for breakfast tomorrow."
I covered the pot with a fresh leaf, placed it deeper inside the cave, and lay down on my bed to rest.
A month has quietly slipped by since the day I first came here.
I had grown too comfortable with this place. Each day I wandered farther through the trees, following trails I hadn't walked before. My body changed over time—my stomach filled out with delicious food, my arms and legs thickened with developing muscles. I had fully adjusted to living here.
On the first day of that month, something strange happened. I was relieving myself near a large tree when the grass rustled in front of me. A frog suddenly jumped out from behind a root—its skin bright green with streaks of orange. I froze for a moment before realizing what it was—one of those Poisonous Great Tree Frogs that like to hide near wet ground.
"Ahhhrgggg mother fucker!!!! I'm peeing, go away you fucking frog! My thing ain't bead worms, go away!!!!!!!!!!!" I shouted, quickly turning my back toward it while still trying to finish.
That night I was laying in my bed "He was my neighbor but he tried to... XD"
As more Days passed I started being more cautious. I always carried one book and one potion with me for emergencies. Sometimes I left my sword behind, since there wasn't much danger around here anymore. When I found new plants or creatures, I read the 1st book and observed to learn whether they were edible or not—but I never wandered too far.
Because, as I told myself, "It's not human thing to do just picking and eating, specially a specimen like us with higher intelligence than animals."
One month and five days had passed. Then the first rain came since I arrived here, and it felt strange.
I stepped outside, expecting the morning sunrise, but the sky was dark. Bellow the giant trees were shrouded in a dense mist. Thick rain clouds stretched endlessly above, The rain fell slowly, each drop larger than usual, striking the ground with a soft yet deep, heavy sound. The smell of wet soil rose, mixing with the cold, misty air.
I looked up at the sky for a while, watching the heavy raindrops slide down my face.
"What's happening..." I muttered quietly.
The phenomenon is called *VEIL 066 - Slow raindrops/The Tears of Good and Bad luck*. The sky darkened softly, and the drops fell in an odd rhythm—slow, unnaturally heavy and large. Each one hit the leaves like the tick of a clock.
I sat inside the cave, the only light i have is coming from my lantern. I reached for my books, looking at the [first journal of draconis Aeternum] I adjusted the monocle over my eye, making sure it sat firmly in place before leaning closer to the page. Beneath a detailed drawing of a water droplet, a short note was written careful: "You'll face both good and bad luck. It's uncertain but not random. Predictable yet unpredictable. A sign of fortune, but also of loss."
- Anyone Know Nothing About Good or Bad Luck.
I frowned. "What the does that even mean?" I muttered. "Lucky or unlucky—pick one."
I searched through the rest of the book page, turning each page carefully, but nothing more information appeared. The remaining pages were filled with unrelated writings and drawings. When I opened the [Second journal of Draconis Aeternum], all the words and images were scrambled—distorted beyond recognition. I tried to study them longer, but it was impossible to piece together.
I used the monocle, hoping it would translate, but instead, the letters blurred and twisted. My vision spun. dizziness hit me, forcing me to pull it off.
Then I opened the [Third journal of Draconis Aeternum]. The moment I placed the monocle over my eye, a sharp pain stabbed through my right socket, all of the sudden it felt like something had pierced straight through like a dagger. I pushed it away instantly, the book snapping shut as it fell to the ground while I gasped for air.
"Argggh!!! My eyes!!!"
"...Not touching that again," I muttered under my breath, pressing my hand against my eye until the pain faded.
But I never realized the rain was a warning — the first sign that my peace would soon turn into a nightmare, and that my view of this place would never be the same again.
The next day marked one month and six days since I arrived.
I decided to walk farther than usual. For the past month, I'd only stayed near the cave—never more than a few dozen meters away. But that morning, I wanted to explore deeper, to find something useful: food, materials, spices, or anything that could be turned into a tool.
After cutting a few branches and washing the frog I'd caught for dinner, I left my sword beside the spring. The blade rested against the wet stones, still dripping from the water. I thought it would be fine—after all, I was only going to gather berries and weeds. Carrying the sword would make it harder; my hands would fill quickly, and the pockets of my clothes were too small. The berries here were large, heavy enough to fall out whenever I bent forward. So I carried only my notebook and went on, believing it would be a short, harmless walk.
I was too comfortable. Too careless.
The first hundred meters were quiet—nothing unusual. The air smelled of damp earth and grass, the forest floor soft beneath my boots. But as I went deeper, maybe three hundred meters in, something began to feel off.
The sound came first. A soft fluttering above the trees. Then louder. Wings beating against the air—steady, rhythmic, almost mechanical. The sound didn't stop. It went on for thirty seconds, maybe more, but there were no chirps. No songs. Just the sound of wings.
I tilted my head up, scanning the branches above me. The leaves shifted slightly, and there I saw it.
A bird. Or something like it.
It perched on a thick branch, its feathers matted like dirty wet paper. Its body twitched unnaturally. And then I saw... it had no head.
My stomach tightened. My mind went blank for a moment before memory filled the gap. I had seen that illustration before, in one of the journals.
*Headless Bird* A creature born from the residue of death sin called olfactum mortem/the sin of scenting death. This birds are harmless to humans. Often found in dense, forgotten forests, graveyards or war.
"That bird that doesn't have a head," I whispered quietly, "but teeth grow from its neck. It can taste, listen and sense death without eyes. It feeds only on corpses that have decayed for three days. It does not hunt the living. It is known as the Eater of Corpses, also called the Corpse Cleaner."
And I still remember what the book say - "Where the headless bird roams, silence takes place, for even a barking dog hold their breath when death begins to listen."
My throat tightened. My face grew pale. A cold, crawling chill ran down my spine, and sweat began to gather at the back of my neck.
"If a Headless Bird was here... then something nearby had already died. Or something will die today."
My pulse quickened as I started running, branches whipping against my arms, the undergrowth dragging at my legs. The sound of my breathing filled the silence. Every step felt heavier, louder, desperate. I didn't care if I got scratched, didn't care if I tripped; I just needed to get back—to the spring, to my sword.
The forest that once felt peaceful now looked completely different. Every shadow seemed to be alive, and the sound of rustling behind me made my chest tighten even more.
I kept running, hoping I was going the right way.
I looked around—left, right, behind, and in front—hurriedly trying to find a way out of that place.
"Shit! My sword isn't here... Where's the way again!? I'm lost!!" I muttered, desperate to reach the cave.