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Ch. 139 - Squishy Jack

  Finally, the stew finished cooking.

  Congratulations! You’ve crafted [Survival Stew].

  +630XP in [Bushcraft]

  Crafting grade: C+

  Ingredients: [Exquisite Roach Meat], [Exquisite Roach Meat], [Exquisite Roach Meat].

  Item description: A nutritious, tasty meal made from ingredients gathered in the wild.

  Item effects:

  


      


  •   +1 stamina per second for five minutes.

      


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  •   +1 HP per second for five minutes.

      


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  •   Bugicidal fever: +15% damage to bugs, +10 defense near bugs (1 hour).

      


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  •   Protein surge: +30 HP and stamina for one hour.

      


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  Jack’s eyes widened as he reviewed the results. The effects of using exquisite bug meat were far superior to anything he’d achieved with ordinary meat. His meals were inching closer to the quality of those sold at the city’s food markets.

  The poor cooking grade left a sour taste in his mouth, though. I wonder why I’m getting such poor grades when I cook. Maybe I need to get some pointers from a chef. Or start watching cooking shows.

  Regardless of how much room for improvement there was in his cooking, one thing was clear: Tenderizing Repercussions was now a must-play in every battle. The skill’s ability to improve both the quality and quantity of meat was incredible.

  But it wasn’t just about the buffs. As Jack sampled the stew, the flavors melted in his mouth. “Whoa, this is so much better,” he said, savoring the taste.

  “This is incredible,” Horace added, breaking into a grin. Any hesitation he’d once had about eating insect meat seemed to have vanished entirely.

  Jack nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’m surprised too. It’s thanks to my new song—the one that made them all stagger for a moment. It improves the quality and quantity of the meat we harvest.”

  “Fifteen percent more bug damage? I’ll take it!” Horace said, flexing his arm dramatically.

  “The longer stamina bar is nice,” Marie commented

  “Well done. This level of cooking is beginning to compare to a chef. I’d say a level 2 novice chef.”

  “Is that a compliment or an insult?” Jack asked, teasing Amari.

  “A compliment. To think that bushcraft had this much potential,” Amari added. Jack caught a slight tremble in his voice, though he couldn’t tell if it was excitement at the thought of a future series of videos featuring Jack’s cooking prowess or regret for having abandoned bushcrafting as a minor in the past.

  The group ate their stew eagerly, finishing it in record time.

  “Alright, everyone,” Amari began, leaning over the map riddled with red pins. “Let’s make sure we’re all on the same page and finalize our plans. Horace, do you think you and Marie can handle the last wave on your own?”

  Horace glanced at Marie, who nodded confidently. “I think we’ve got it covered,” he said. “It’s just the first wave of the next series. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Amari turned to Jack. “What about you?”

  “I’m thinking of leaving for two waves,” Jack said. “I want to check out one of the farther packages. But we need to figure out what minors I leave with the NPCs. Horace, is Riku staying on trapping duty?”

  Horace nodded. “Yeah, if that’s okay with you.”

  “It is,” Jack replied. “Then I’ll leave bushcrafting with Esther. She can cook for you while I’m gone.”

  “No need,” Marie interjected. “I’ve still got enough rations.”

  Jack frowned slightly. “A-are you sure? Those aren’t cheap, last I checked.”

  “It’s fine,” she said with a shrug. “We need to eat them before their durability runs out anyway. Might as well use them for what they’re meant for. That’s why we brought them.”

  Jack nodded in understanding. Adventurers without a bushcrafter or cook in their party always carried rations as a backup. They lasted a long time but not forever.

  “In that case, I’ll leave [Butchering] instead. That way, Esther can loot while I’m gone.”

  “Works for me,” Horace said.

  Amari nodded. “Good. That settles it.” Pulling up his map, he tapped two pins, changing their color from red to gold. “Here are the pins I’m heading to. Everyone, mark your plans too, so we stay organized.”

  Jack observed the map. Amari hadn’t been kidding about venturing far—his pins were on the opposite side of the map. A few more pins changed color from red to orange and pink. Horace and Marie had settled with finishing exploring the forest.

  I need to decide where to go to.

  Jack’s eyes landed on the one snowy peak on the map. It was far, but not as far as Amari’s pins. There were two paths he could take to get there.

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  If I take one road going and another road coming back…

  Feeling competitive, he selected three pins: one in the snowy peak itself and the other two on the roads he’d take to go and return from it. They formed a little triangle of bright blue pins on the map.

  Horace whistled. “Someone’s trying to prove himself.”

  Jack shrugged. “It’s not a race. But if it was, you’d be losing, Horace. You’re the only one who hasn’t found any packages.”

  Horace flushed. “O-oh yeah?” He tapped four more pins at random, turning them orange. “You’re on.”

  Marie sneered. “Boys…”

  Amari looked up from the map with a faint smile. “Alright, settle down. You can collect as many packages as you want but don’t forget what we’re dealing with. Even though the waves only show up near the fortress, there are still plenty of other ways to get yourself killed out there. When you’re exploring, speed is your enemy. Take your time. Rushing into something you’re not ready for could end badly.” His eyes lingered on Jack. “Especially you, Jack. You’re the squishiest of us all.”

  Horace burst into laughter. “Haha! He called you squishy. Squishy Jack. Squishy Jack.”

  Jack clenched his teeth, feeling a vein pulsing in his temple.

  “Alright. Enough wasting time. Stay safe, everyone. I’ll see you when I get back,” Amari said. He dashed away, heading toward the far reaches of the map.

  “We’re heading out too,” Marie said, standing up. In a puff of smoke, two highlander horses appeared. Jack couldn’t help but look at them enviously. Since Horace and Marie were heading into the forest, they could use their horses, which would have plenty of pasture. Jack, traveling through the mountains, didn’t have that luxury. Snowy would have little to eat in the stark landscape of the Breach.

  He sighed but managed a grin. “Alright. See you when I’m back. Good luck.”

  “You too,” Horace said, giving a firm nod.

  Marie mounted her horse and tossed Jack a casual wave. “Don’t get yourself killed out there.”

  Jack smirked. “Same to you.”

  As he watched them ride off toward the forest, Jack tightened his fists. I’d better get ready, too.

  Jack turned to Esther, who was still eating her stew. She ignored him, keeping her full attention on the meal. He prompted her information to appear, and as he was about to deposit the [Butchering] minor on her, he paused.

  “Wait a minute. If I leave the [Butchering] minor with her, won’t all that meat spoil?”

  [Fat Preservation] was a skill that came from the synergy between butchering and bushcrafting. If he left one of them with Esther, the skill would become disabled. “Argh… What do I do now?” He turned to the NPC. “Esther… Do you have an… inventory?” Jack asked, afraid that the NPC would feign ignorance of what an in-game inventory was.

  “I can keep some things for you if that’s what you’re asking.”

  An inventory window of 5x5 appeared in front of him. Jack sighed in relief. “Good. Here is all the meat I have. Here is some salt, too. It will help you keep it fresh.”

  Jack deposited most of the fat and meat he had on Esther’s inventory and then handed her the [Butchering] skill. He turned to the gate, but as he was about to leave, he paused. Amari’s warnings echoed in his mind.

  He didn't know what was out there, but if Amari said it could get dangerous, he had no choice but to take it seriously. The thought gnawed at him—he was the only one on the team who couldn't defend himself. Horace had his shield and war hammer, Marie had her bombs, and Amari had his mad ninja skills. He could, at most, play a song to confuse adversaries. It didn’t feel like much.

  After a long pause between the gate and his flickering campfire, Jack sighed and turned back to the flames. He opened his menu, searching for inspiration among his known recipes.

  Pottery

  Bowl

  Clay Ocarina

  Clay Smoke Bomb

  Clear Glaze

  Cooking Pot

  Forest Green Glaze

  Gardening Pot

  Iron Red Glaze

  Plate

  Pot Hive

  Slip

  Stoneware Amphora

  Turmeric Yellow Glaze

  Vase

  Equipment

  Moss Cape

  Moss Suit

  Rope Hat

  Rope Overalls

  Rope Sandals

  Wooden Vest

  Weapons

  Wooden Spear

  Consumables

  Hearty Wound Dressing

  Mead

  Moss Wound Dressing

  Oil

  Survival Stew

  Specialized Items

  Basic Torch

  Clay Smoke Bomb

  Fermentation Bomb

  Molotov Cocktail

  Survivability / Bushcrafting

  Average Rope

  Basic Tent

  Low-Temperature Fire

  Mid-Temperature Fire

  Mud Hut

  Rope Basket

  Rope Mat

  Saddle Baskets

  Weak Cord

  Weak Rope

  Altogether, there were over 30 recipes—not including the list of combinations for his survival stews, which he kept in his personal notes.

  He scrolled through the list, hunting for anything that could boost his survivability while exploring the Breach map on his own.

  Some options, like clay smoke bombs, would’ve been ideal—but they required sugar and bat droppings. He’d brought sugar along, knowing it was useful for more than one recipe, but he’d been counting on finding a cave with bats for the rest.

  He shot a quick message to Amari. “Hey, Amari, have you seen any bats anywhere?”

  “Nope. Sorry,” came the swift reply.

  Better let that one go, then. Frustration pricked at him, but he pressed on.

  "I’ll start with a couple of torches and Molotov cocktails," he muttered, glancing back at the fire. "Maybe even a fermentation bomb or two. Time to get to work."

  He pulled up the recipes he’d learned the day he took on [Brewing] as his sixth minor. With the memory jogged, Jack settled into his makeshift workstation in the courtyard of the fortress.

  First, he gathered materials for the fermentation bomb casings. He grabbed some [Stoneware Clay] and began shaping the first pot. Slowly, the clay took form, becoming a mid-sized, sturdy pot with a narrow neck.

  You’ve molded [Fermentation Bomb].

  50XP in [Pottery]

  Setting it aside, he molded the second pot.

  Once the casings were molded, Jack left them to dry and ventured down into the well. The progress bars hovered above the amphorae, showing the slow crawl from tier 2 to tier 3. He sighed, knowing many batches would fail.

  He selected one amphora of mead that had soured and another with good mead, then climbed back up from the well.

  “Time to get some vase shards,” he muttered. After dumping the sour mead, he hoisted the amphora over his head and smashed it against the ground.

  The amphora shattered with a deafening crack, sending shards skittering across the courtyard. Jack winced as one grazed his shin, leaving a faint scratch. “Careful, idiot,” he muttered, stooping to gather the pieces with more caution.

  By now, the pots had dried, so he brought them to the fire for firing.

  You’ve fired [Fermentation Bomb].

  30XP in [Pottery]

  If letting the clay breathe was key for mead aging, the opposite was true here. Sealed tight and without porosity, the containers would build up pressure, ensuring the biggest possible punch. He prepared some slip and glazed the casings before placing them into the fire again.

  He checked his menu, half-expecting a system prompt. None came. Of course—it wasn’t finished yet. Without water, honey, sugar, and sealing, it was just another clay container. He tucked the half-finished bomb into his inventory, knowing he’d have to complete it on the go if necessary.

  Time to move on to something a little more immediate in case I encounter trouble.

  Jack pulled out the glass vials he’d purchased outside the pyramid. Originally meant to store water, he decided to adapt them for something more useful. With plenty of water available in the spring, he could afford to repurpose a few.

  Grabbing the good mead, Jack carefully poured it into five glass containers, leaving just enough air space at the top of each. Then he reached for a bundle of [Cloth Scraps], tearing them into strips and rolling each one tightly to make wicks.

  The faint, honeyed aroma of mead filled the courtyard as Jack worked, mingling with the earthy scent of clay. He stuffed a makeshift wick into the neck of one of the glass containers, twisting and pushing it until it felt snug. His fingers brushed against the rough cloth as he worked, silently hoping it would absorb enough mead to ignite properly.

  He took a deep breath. “Hopefully, I’m doing this right.”

  As he finished with the first glass container, a notification rang.

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