Chapter 15: Camping
If Serie hadn't been present, the Skywing messenger probably wouldn't have paid any attention to Kurtz.
It was only because an elf was there that Lia had answered his question, and even kindly offered her warning before leaving.
Kurtz naturally understood what Serie meant; Lia had never truly looked at him from beginning to end.
The dismissal stung more than he'd expected, not because he craved their approval, but because it reminded him just how far he still had to climb in this world's hierarchy.
But Serie's analogy still made him laugh out loud.
"At least they admitted I'm human," he said, counting on his fingers with exaggerated theatricality.
"Dwarves, Elves, Skywing Clan... and let's add a Holy Order, since only they can interpret the holy scripture of the Goddess and use healing magic."
"A Holy Order?" Serie suddenly stopped, her footsteps halting immediately.
A dangerous curve appeared at the corner of her mouth under the white veil, the kind of smile that promised cutting remarks. "Are you sure you want to travel with someone who constantly preaches about the Goddess's teachings?"
"Ever wondered why Holy Orders can interpret the holy scripture bestowed by the Goddess?"
"The main reason is that they are devout enough to hear the voice of the divine. Their fanaticism burns so bright it borders on madness, consuming rational thought until only zealous conviction remains."
"Only under divine guidance can they learn and use the magic recorded in the holy scripture. Therefore, all Holy Orders are incessantly chattering fanatics! The kind who'd lecture you about divine will while you're bleeding out from monster wounds."
"Now do you still want to meet them?" Serie asked.
"Uh..." Kurtz imagined the scene, endless sermons while trudging through monster-infested territories, and quickly shook his head. "Then let's not."
He took a waterskin from his backpack, the leather worn smooth from constant use, and handed it to Serie. "Want some? I added honey to it."
This was a gift from nature along the way; simple fire magic could procure honey perfectly intact.
One of the few perks of having transmigrator knowledge is knowing which trees housed the sweetest combs and how to extract them without getting stung to death.
Serie took the waterskin with careful fingers, lifted her veil just enough to reveal the pale curve of her lower face, and took a small sip. Her expression shifted slightly in surprise.
"It's too sweet." Although she said that, she took another sip before returning it to him, her movements betraying the criticism.
Kurtz bit back a grin.
Serie's actions always contradicted her words in the most telling ways.
"By the way," Kurtz tightened the waterskin, feeling the liquid slosh inside, "is this swamp large? We're not going to spend the night here, are we?"
The humidity clung to everything like a living thing, making his clothes stick uncomfortably to his skin. Kurtz and Serie were already trying their best to stay away from the central area of the Death Swamp, but the surrounding mosquitoes and insects showed no signs of decreasing.
Their constant buzzing created a maddening drone that seemed to burrow directly into his skull. If they camped in such an environment, Kurtz couldn't imagine the torment they would suffer.
"If we speed up, we might be able to get out before dark, but only if your map is accurate." Serie's tone carried that familiar note of doubt she reserved for human competence.
With a map from a hundred years ago and the concentration of many monsters, Kurtz couldn't be sure if the terrain had changed.
Swamps were like living things, constantly shifting and reshaping themselves according to water flow and seasonal changes.
So he pulled out the map Amuro had given him and studied it carefully, tracing potential routes with his finger. "According to this, there should be a highland further ahead. If we can't get out today, we can camp there."
Serie leaned in to look, her presence suddenly close enough that he caught the faint scent of something floral beneath the travel dust.
Her golden hair, peeking out from under her hood, brushed Kurtz's cheek inadvertently, silk-soft strands that made him momentarily lose focus on the parchment.
"This area might already be occupied by monsters now."
Kurtz nodded, forcing his attention back to the map's faded ink lines.
Serie had a point; a century was more than enough time for monster populations to claim new territories.
"Then let's choose another spot. How about here? Although it's close to the central area, there's a small stream, which is perfect for camping."
A hint of disdain appeared in Serie's eyes, the kind reserved for particularly foolish suggestions. "Is there anywhere we can't see these annoying little creatures?"
Kurtz didn't answer, just smiled. The expression seemed to irritate her further, which only made his amusement grow.
After all, they were in a swamp; how could there be a place without mosquitoes and insects?
But Serie's discomfort with the tiny nuisances was oddly endearing, an ancient elf brought low by bugs no bigger than her fingernail.
Fortunately, he had already considered this point.
Kurtz patted the large bag on his back, feeling the satisfying weight of preparation. "Don't worry, I'll set up a small tent for you then."
"Tent?" Serie had never heard this word, her head tilting slightly in curiosity.
"It's fine, you'll know in a moment." The anticipation of her reaction made the heavy pack feel lighter.
The two quickened their pace, boots squelching softly in the marshy ground. The humidity in the swamp grew heavier with each step, pressing against them like a warm, damp blanket.
They encountered many monsters along the way, hulking shapes moving between twisted trees, glowing eyes in shadowy hollows, but Kurtz managed to avoid them all using his detection magic.
The spell painted red dots in his mind's eye, a constantly shifting constellation of danger that required careful navigation.
However, this also significantly delayed their journey. Each detour added precious minutes to their travel time, and it was clear they wouldn't be able to leave the swamp today.
Kurtz held a wooden stick, probing twice with each step like a blind man navigating unfamiliar terrain, fearing he might step into a hidden mud pit that could swallow him whole.
The stick met resistance, sinking into soft earth, striking something solid; each tap was a small victory against the swamp's deceptions.
Of course, he also thoughtfully avoided the puddles on the ground to prevent Serie's white robe from getting dirty, steering them around patches of particularly treacherous mud and standing water.
The care was automatic, born from months of travelling together, and Serie noticed, her gaze softening a few degrees.
"Wait!" He suddenly squatted down, pointing at a patch of relatively solid ground. "Look at this footprint."
Serie leaned down to examine it, her analytical mind immediately cataloguing details.
"It doesn't look like a monster; it should be a normal small animal, and it just left not long ago." The print was clean-edged, lacking the unnatural distortions that marked the corruption of creatures.
"It seems this swamp isn't entirely monsters. I thought all the normal creatures here had been killed." Relief colored his voice; life persisting in this forsaken place felt like a small miracle.
"That's impossible. Although monsters act purely on instinct, they can't always be in a bloodthirsty, berserk state. Most of the time, they fall into a semi-dormant state and only enter a frenzied state when they sense unfamiliar presences."
Serie's explanation carried the weight of centuries of observation, knowledge accumulated through watching the world change around her.
After listening to Serie's explanation, Kurtz gained a deeper understanding of monsters.
The revelation recontextualised everything; these weren't mindless killing machines but territorial predators with their own twisted logic.
No wonder it was only now that races like the Elves and Skywing Clan began to set aside their disputes and jointly mount campaigns against these monsters, there was this underlying reason.
Precisely because most monsters only move within fixed territories, they don't pose a threat to distant settlements. However, the emergence of the Demon Race, a type of monster with higher intelligence, has forced them to take it seriously.
"So it seems the demonic wolves that attacked Amuro's village were special monsters, then?" The pieces clicked together in his mind.
Serie thought for a moment, considering the implications, and felt that Kurtz was right. "You could say that. However, even among monsters, those demonic wolves belong to the wandering type and could emerge from any corner of the world."
"Given this, I'm curious why they haven't gone extinct yet? Do they have some special method of reproduction?"
Judging from the werewolves they dealt with earlier, they acted purely on instinct with no rationality. Creatures that stupid should have died out within a generation. So how could such creatures be spread all over the world?
Kurtz was full of curiosity, his transmigrator mind applying modern evolutionary logic to fantasy biology.
"Ordinary wolves are corrupted by the abyss and degenerate into irrational demonic wolves, while some powerful individuals among the demonic wolves evolve into what you call werewolves."
Serie's voice carried distaste for the topic. "It's a cycle of corruption and degradation."
"So that's how it is." A self-sustaining system of horror.
During their conversation, after turning past a dense thicket that seemed to claw at their clothing, a small stream appeared before them. The water moved with surprising clarity, cutting a silver ribbon through the muddy landscape.
He glanced at the sun filtering through the canopy above; although it would be some time before it set, casting the world in amber light, there was no need to rush.
Serie also cast a detection spell, her magic painting the area in her mind. "There are quite a few monsters. If we make a fire, it's easy to attract them."
The spell revealed clustering red dots, far too many for comfort.
Kurtz surveyed the threats in Serie's magical perception and said, "In that case, how about we clear out a batch of monsters around us first, and at the same time set up a warning spell?"
"Alright." The prospect of violence seemed to brighten her mood slightly.
Serie stepped forward with predatory grace; it was naturally most suitable for her to handle such things. Her magic flowed like water, deadly and precise, each spell finding its mark with centuries of refined technique.
After silently dealing with the last monster within a hundred-meter radius, leaving only the whisper of displaced air and the faint scent of ozone, Serie looked around, confirmed it was safe, and then returned to Kurtz's side.
"What are you doing?" Curiosity replaced her usual aloofness.
Kurtz was taking out some iron nail-like objects, with thick gray cloth beside him. The materials looked foreign to this world, clearly products of his otherworldly knowledge.
He was wrapping ropes around the iron nails with practiced efficiency and then hammering them into the ground with methodical precision.
"Setting up the tent, just a moment." His movements carried the confidence of repetition.
Seeing Kurtz completely engrossed in his mysterious construction project, Serie no longer disturbed him. "I'll go find some firewood."
"Wait," Kurtz quickly pulled out a cloth bag from his pack, the fabric worn but sturdy. "Take this with you, and also see if there are any edible mushrooms around. Swamps are great places for mushrooms to grow."
Serie took the cloth bag, her mouth twitching in what might have been amusement. "How am I supposed to tell which mushrooms are edible?"
Her tone suggested this was beneath her dignity, but she made no move to refuse the task.
"Any that grow on trees can be picked. Don't touch the colorful ones. I'll sort them when you get back." His instructions carried the casual authority of experience.
"You really know a lot about these things," Serie said, and for once her voice held no mockery.
"Of course!"
Kurtz was not modest either, his chest puffing with pride; after all, he had lived alone in this fantasy world for nearly half a year, which was enough to earn him the title of an expert in wilderness survival.
Every mistake had been a lesson learned the hard way, and each small success felt like a victory against the world itself.
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