Dungeon Item Shop

The night comes to an end and once again they set off, marching towards the west in a loose grouping. Fresh does her best to stay in the front, not wanting to be the one to slow them down as they push through the forest. Despite everything, their spirits seemed to be higher now than the days before. Perhaps because now all of them have had the time to recover somewhat from the shock of their hasty exit from the northern city, or perhaps because now they were coming together more and more as a party, capable of surviving outside of the comforts of civilization.

They all do their part in a way, as their journey continues. Basil, having an eye for plants that is even better than Fresh’s, constantly finds them small bundles of herbs and leafy greens and tends to any small bumps and bruises, most of which end up on Fresh, who stumbles left and right as she hastily tries to keep up with their pace on her weak, tired legs. The man from the witch’s sect, Shamrock, ends up carrying most everything that Fresh doesn’t want to keep in her inventory, as he is apparently entirely unfazed by the weight on his shoulders and by the looks of things, not entirely unthrilled to be of use to Fresh in some form.

Jubilee keeps them on track, apparently having an impeccable sense of direction. During their idle conversations during the trip, Fresh notes that nobody else in the group seems to have the faintest idea where they were, only Jubilee seems to know exactly which way true-west lies.

They had explained to them more than once that it was easy enough, just orient yourself by the sun during the day and by the brightest stars at night. But every time that Fresh stares up towards the heavy forest canopy above them, she realizes that she can’t see any of those things at all, let alone orient herself by them. But despite that, she is happy that she herself is able to make herself useful by preparing any plants that Basil finds or any meat that Shamrock or Jubilee provide when a wayward monster finds their way.

Another day passes and then so do several more after that, all running about the same. They are all rather worn down and weary, but still hold themselves aloft, surviving well enough, if not exactly thriving. Fresh notes that her own face feels a little more taut than usual and she sees the same in Basil’s. The priestess, who was always already a little gaunt, is now close to wispy. But all of them remain in good spirits, perhaps having found a sense of enjoyment in the adventure of it all. Or perhaps that is simply Fresh’s own perception, as she walks with a bright, but closed smile on her face, much to Jubilee’s annoyance who tells her to stop being so happy for no reason.

During the next day, the starkest change begins to happen and the flat, densely vegetated terrain that they had found themselves in for so long becomes more uneven and bumpy, as small hills begin to dot the landscape, much to Fresh’s dismay as they start having to walk up the first one.

Though with the small, green hills, on which nature flourishes as if they were small islands of refuge from the forest, come small basins and small valleys in between them, in which tiny creeks and brooks run through. The fresh water is a great relief to all of them who have subsisted on old mush-mush steaks and the odd bird that Jubilee managed to skewer off of a tree now and then. Fresh isn’t sure however if she didn’t lose more water in the process of preparing them, as she had to constantly cry every time that she had to prepare one of the small creatures for herself and her friends. Especially the birds.

Another day passes in this terrain, the landscape is somewhat more difficult to navigate, yet also far more forgiving, as with the running water, come abundant amounts of fresh herbs that grow on the embankments of the small basins and ponds, as well as small, vibrantly colored fish with glistening, jewel-like eyes and soft, tender white-meat beneath their lustrous scales.

“It’s so pretty~” says Fresh, holding the rainbow scaled fish in her hands and looking down at it. “Sorry Mr. Fish,” mutters the girl as she looks into the creature’s questioning eye that stares up her way, as its lips smack and its cold body flops around in her hands, struggling to break free, struggling for its life in a beautiful, desperate fight. Fresh sets the fish gently down on top of a flat rock, biting her lower lip as she lifts the dagger high into the air. Her throat feels tight, her eyes burn. She howls as she does what she has to. Mr. Fish knows that it’s just the nature of the game of survival and so does she. But that doesn’t make the knife in her hands any lighter, or the burning in her throat any less, as she cries.

The knife goes through Mr. Fish as she makes it quick, her shaking hand pressing down against the blade to keep it steady as it touches the rock, having gone through the body.

“It never gets any easier for you, huh?” asks Jubilee from the side, shaking their head with a sigh.

“Noooo~” cries Fresh, looking at her friend as fish blood runs over her fingers.

Jubilee rolls their eyes and gets back to work, setting up a place for them to cook. “The fish is in a better place now.”

Fresh looks down at Mr. Fish’s curious, sad eye that stares back up at her and she hopes that it’s true. Though, in her heart of hearts, she doesn’t think so. It absolves her of too much. It’s another life that she’s taken and this one won’t just respawn in the dungeon next week. It’s gone forever. Asleep forever.

Sniffling, she leans forward, pressing her eyes close to the body of the fish as she makes sure to put her very best effort into preparing it right, so that not a single strand of it is wasted. She can’t do much, but she can do that for him. It won’t make it right in her mind, but it will make it better. That’s all that she wants to be able to do. For herself, for her friends and this new life that they’ve embarked on.

She wants to make it better.

Another day passes. The fish was the best one that she had ever made and she even gained a level in cooking, much to her delight, despite a small pang of guilt. She had received high compliments from Basil and Jubilee, who seemed surprised that she could cook so well despite her low cooking ability. But Shamrock had denied eating any, saying simply that he didn’t like fish. Apparently so much so, that even the witch herself offering to hand-feed him a piece, simply so that he would eat, didn’t sway his resolute conviction in the least.

Soon enough, the week comes to a close. Then, the next one begins and runs on much the same. After another two days of walking, Fresh gains an additional point of strength and dexterity during her sleep in the night, much to her delight. Making a display of it, she hikes up a dirty sleeve and flexes her bicep at Jubilee.

“That’s sad,” states Jubilee, shaking their head. “But it’s an improvement.”

Fresh scowls at her friend. Basil stands next to her and squeezes her arm. Fresh isn’t sure what she thinks is worse, the fact that Jubilee didn’t seem impressed in the least, or that Basil simply stops squeezing her arm and walks away without saying anything at all. She sighs, looking up at the man from the sect with hopeful eyes.

“Strong,” he says with a single nod and Fresh beams, happy that someone is acknowledging her.

“Thank you!” she says, beaming a bright smile at him. As she opens her eyes again, she sees her bag being given back to her and she takes it, looking at him somewhat nervously as the heavy thing, filled with glass bottles, clinks down at her feet. “Uh…”

“Strong,” he repeats, nodding again as he walks away.

“Ah!” Her eyes wander down to the heavy bag by her feet, somewhat distraught. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything at all? No. She shakes her head, rolling her shoulders as she looks at her friends who are getting ready to keep moving. Fresh bends down, placing the straps of her bag around her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she holds the straps firmly in place as she struggles to rise to her feet, the glass clinking on her back. Something pops in her lower spine and she lets out a sharp gasp, stumbling forward a few steps, almost losing her balance.

“Are you okay?” asks Basil, looking at her a little worried.

Fresh lifts her head, hiding her wince with a smile as she nods back to Basil once, as she pulls herself upright, the muscles in her core shaking as she holds herself up together with the heavy bag. “Strong!” she cries out with a pained voice.

The second week goes on as they continue further and further. The longer they go, the more monsters they encounter. Groups of goblins, packs of mush-mushes of varying colors that seem to have banded together, even the occasional giant snail finds its way to them. Fresh likes them the most, because they’re the most delicious of the creatures, though she has found a particular liking for the mush-mushes too. While the orange ones end up tasting sour and tangy, the green ones have a much more fresh and herbal taste. They even find a large, purple mush-mush, or more aptly said, it finds them as it leads a group on the hunt.

After the fight is over, Fresh stares in delight at the purple mushroom-cap. Maybe she can make something out of this?

But that’s a ‘problem’ for tomorrow. For now, they simply collect all of the loot in Fresh’s inventory and eat their fill of the forest creatures. The purple mush-mush tastes oddly sweet and almost candy-like. Fresh feels terrible about every single one however, no matter how delicious any of them end up being.

As a party, they end up working fairly well together. Especially Jubilee and Shamrock, who easily got into a flow of sorts with each other, work well off of another during the fights. She herself just mostly stands in the back and watches. Her curses are too slow acting to be of any direct use in these short skirmishes. So she just stands back, together with Basil, who also has little to do as none of them ever really get hurt, as they far outmatch the low-level monsters of the forest.

Happily enough, Fresh eventually levels up to level nine, which she was secretly dreading this entire journey, afraid that her friends would feel uncomfortable at seeing her window again. But they all seem fairly indifferent, if not curious, though for different reasons.

[Level up! You are now LEVEL 9 ! ]

{Cooking 4}{Crafting 6}{Gathering 2}{Adventuring 3}{Witch-Crafting 7}{Mercantile 5}

STATUS: ???

CLASS: [WITCH]

- of the Black-Fountain

OBOLS: 13226

SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN]

[INVENTORY]

She ends up choosing one of her newest choices in abilities, to help her cooking skill without even thinking too long about it, as the thought of it makes her happy. She never liked cooking too much, but she enjoys the praise that she receives and she really enjoys being of use to her companions. This is something she can do and apparently do well.

All food you prepare offers a bonus stat when eaten, equal to your LOV, for the duration of one day. The chosen stat varies depending on the main base ingredient of the food.

More time passes and the terrain slowly becomes steeper and more uneven, the long, rolling hills becoming nigh unclimbable in some areas. The forest slowly grows less dense hour after hour. Fresh is exhausted and dirty and worn out, just like all of her friends. But she remains in high spirits.

Then, for the first time in two weeks, Fresh sees something. A place where the trees stop. Not just for a clearing or for a small hill. But where they come to a full stop. They have reached the edge of the forest.

“Jubileeeee~” she cries softly, grabbing her friend’s shoulder, her other hand grabbing Basil’s as she stares ahead of them excitedly.

Jubilee brushes her hand off of their shoulder. “Don’t be a creep.”

Basil squirms uneasily and Fresh realizes that she isn’t holding the priestess’ hand anymore, but rather just the edge of her sleeve. The priestess, having wiggled herself free from the girl’s grasp. She scowls at them both, neither of them making eye-contact with her.

They head up the hill that rises above the forest, marching up its half-steep, grassy surface. Fresh feels air move all around her, feels the world open up again, as if they were going outside of a house for the first time in months. She raises her head to the sky above, taking a deep breath of the fresh air of the western side of this new world. But as her eyes wander up the hill, trying to find the sky above it, she realizes that it never seems to come into sight, as her gaze wanders up and along the giant mountain that towers out of the world before them, cutting into the heavens above; so high that the clouds themselves seem to crash into it, obscuring its peak.

All four of them stand there, atop the small hill as they gaze up towards it. All of them are apparently awestruck in some sense, as none of them say a word. As all of them stand there, as all of them sit down on the grass beneath themselves, tired, exhausted, as all of their eyes only ever find either the giant mountain before them, or the endless sea of waving leaves that they have left behind, the surface of the crowns of the trees that they look down upon, rippling in the wind like gentle waves of an ocean that they had finally crossed, they all find a collective sense of relief.

They have arrived in the west.

Razmatazz

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