Besides the usual Experience Orb and three pieces of Rotten Flesh, this fat zombie actually dropped a Potato.
This wasn't scientific, but it was very Minecraft.
Zeke remembered that in Minecraft, zombies dropped Rotten Flesh most of the time, but there was also a tiny chance they would drop Potatoes, Carrots, or Iron Ingots (2.5%).
Plague-infected Zombies = Minecraft Zombies. The Whiteshield soldier = Minecraft Villager. There was a mysterious connection here.
In Warhammer, some creatures similar to Minecraft counterparts seemed to be endowed with Minecraft characteristics.
Zeke stored the potato in his Inventory.
Next, as long as he found suitable dirt and a water source, he could try farming to secure a stable food source.
But for now, he checked his buff bar. The Hunger debuff inflicted by the fat zombie still had 30 seconds remaining.
His Hunger Bar had already dropped to two units—a very dangerous level.
Scanning his Inventory, Zeke took out the bread, then the apples, and finally switched to the Rotten Flesh.
He currently had the Hunger debuff anyway. Two negatives make a positive; eating it now meant no extra penalty.
Let's do this!
Zeke stared at the Rotten Flesh in his hand. The sour stench of rot wafted from it. Compared to this, even Corpse Starch suddenly seemed appetizing.
Zeke steeled his heart, pinched his nose, shoved the Rotten Flesh directly into his mouth, and began to chew vigorously.
Urgh. An indescribable taste exploded in his mouth.
Veins popped out on Zeke's forehead as he fought back the urge to retch.
One piece, two pieces, three pieces... In one go, he ate all five pieces of Rotten Flesh in his backpack, filling his Hunger Bar completely.
He suppressed the churning in his stomach and waited quietly for the [Hunger] status effect to fade.
As soon as his physical functions recovered, he set off toward the damaged merchant ship embedded diagonally in the earth.
The main airlock was severely deformed from the impact and couldn't be opened at all.
[Airlock Door. Composition: 80% Plasteel]
[Mining Level: Iron]
Zeke didn't have an Iron Pickaxe, so he had to brute-force it with his Stone Pickaxe.
Its hardness was comparable to Iron Ore. About three seconds later, the deformed door shattered and vanished, revealing a pitch-black corridor behind it.
He raised his torch. The light dispelled the darkness at the entrance, and air mixed with the smell of machine oil rushed out from inside.
Zeke took a deep breath. He remembered how he used to love adding adventure mods to his modpacks, which would always generate special structures.
And his favorite thing to do was explore those randomly generated dungeons.
"As a merchant ship, there should be some good loot, right?" Zeke gripped the torch tighter and stepped into the darkness ahead.
Meanwhile, back among the ruins.
The torch stuck in the ground next to the Whiteshield burned steadily, illuminating the immediate area.
An ominous hum tore through the silence as reality let out a struggling wail.
Space rippled, tearing open like silk.
Accompanied by eerie green lightning shooting from the rift, a mechanical hand reached out from the void.
"So cold..." The young Whiteshield soldier curled up, pressing himself tightly against the torch—the only thing providing him warmth.
Whoosh. The flame of the torch Zeke left behind flared up, its gentle halo turning blazing hot.
A sound of confusion came from within the rift.
Then, all anomalies were wiped away, leaving only a deathly silence, as if nothing had just happened.
The Whiteshield lay on the cold ground. As his body temperature and life force drained away bit by bit, his thoughts began to sink into eternal chaos.
Just before his consciousness was completely cut off, faint footsteps approached from the distance.
The sound of cold mechanical whirring drilled into his ears.
"Functions similar to a Blackstone Obelisk, capable of suppressing the Warp?"
"No, not quite. It feels more like a... rule."
"Incredible. Its material composition is mundane, and its combustion principle is merely the most common oxidation reaction. Theoretically, it should only be a temporary, disposable light source. How is this achieved?"
"And this... Length, width, height—precise to exactly one meter. A cube that ignores gravity and structural mechanics..."
"I didn't expect such a delightful surprise on this trip. Worthy of the collection."
The Whiteshield jolted, straining to open his heavy eyelids. The ruins before him were still empty.
However, the life-saving stone wall Zeke had built was now missing a corner, and the torch had vanished.
–
Walking inside the merchant ship, aside from the torch in Zeke's hand, the only light came from the red emergency lights flickering in the darkness—signals of machine failure.
Zeke stared at the Minimap. The structure of this merchant ship was simple.
There was a main corridor in the center, with small rooms distributed on both sides.
Zeke moved forward, trying his best to ignore the severed limbs and corpses scattered in the hallway.
He arrived at the first door. Peering through the twisted gap, it looked like a mess hall.
Zeke mined the door open with his pickaxe and stepped inside. The scene that greeted him was total chaos.
The floor was littered with various cans and jars. In the center stood a metal dining table, and further in was a row of lockers, with piles of white objects underneath.
[Grox Can]
Zeke bent down to pick up an iron can that had rolled to his feet. He remembered a joke circulating in the Warhammer community:
How do you tell a recruit from a veteran? Answer: A recruit covers his nose while opening a can, while a veteran stabs the can violently with a dagger.
The reason was simple. The raw material of Grox cans—the Grox—was a creature with such potent vitality that even when processed into canned food, its meat still carried larvae known as flesh-boring worms.
If you didn't want them bursting out of your stomach, it was best to process the food first. Methods included hacking it with a knife or axe, or roasting it with a flamer.
Unfortunately, Zeke wouldn't get to taste this delicacy.
The can in his hand had already been sliced open, its contents missing.
Looking at the cut on the can, it didn't look like it had been opened by a human, but rather by some kind of beast.
He picked up the cans on the ground one by one, but they were all empty. Zeke could only sigh with regret.
Dropping the empty can, Zeke rummaged through the garbage on the floor. Finding nothing else of value, he turned toward the row of lockers deep in the dining hall.
Only when he got close did he realize the white objects under the lockers were bones.
There were even scraps of meat on them. As Zeke approached, the bones floated up and were sucked into his Inventory.
[Bones x18]
Looking at the lockers, they were covered in claw marks. The first few had been pried open, their contents scattered everywhere.
Only the very last locker remained tightly shut. Faint claw marks on its surface told the story of the intruder's fury at failing to open it.
Strange. Zeke's gaze shifted between the last locker and the others. They were all lockers, but the last one had obviously been reinforced.
[Custom Locker Door. Material: 15% Adamantium, 80% Plasteel]
[Mining Level: Diamond]
Adamantium was one of the strongest materials used by the Imperium of Man; most ordinary weapons couldn't penetrate it.
It was often used to make the Eternity Gate or combined with Ceramite to craft Terminator Armor.
Zeke couldn't understand why such precious metal would be used for a locker door.
But that's my gain. Zeke circled around it and found that all six sides were made of the same material. He picked a side at random and prepared to brute-force it.