Chapter 11 The Forgotten Hamlet
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Unfortunately, the settlement he discovered was already deserted—a forgotten hamlet swallowed by silence. Though disheartened, he couldn’t say he was surprised. With the so-called Demon King’s army advancing, the villagers had likely fled in a panic.
There was no food left, and any valuables had vanished with their owners. Still, he managed to find some tattered clothes and undergarments.
”I’ll borrow these… indefinitely,” he muttered sheepishly, quickly changing out of his soaked uniform.
He winced, tugging on a scratchy tunic. “I’m not a looter. Just… happened to find them lying around…” he insisted to no one, justifying it more to himself than anyone else.
He rummaged through the neighboring houses.
”They probably couldn’t take everything…” he reasoned, kneeling beside a half-collapsed pantry. Inside, three hardened pieces of cheese peeked out from behind an overturned basket.
”Jackpot,” he whispered, dropping them into a burlap sack that caught his eye.
Another house, another search.
A one-handed axe leaned against the wall, worn but serviceable.
”Could be handy… if something attacks me,” he murmured, carefully picking it up.
He circled through the rest of the hamlet, collecting a few more essentials—knives, short lengths of rope, and a pouch of dried nuts.
The rope was too short to be useful on its own, so he wrapped it around the axe handle, fashioning a crude wrist strap.
”It’s not for throwing… not trying to cosplay a ninja,” he said under his breath, chuckling nervously. “Just don’t want to drop it.”
Eventually, he found straw, dry sticks, and split planks—tinder for a much-needed fire. He recalled a hearth in one of the houses. With arms full of kindling, he hurried back and stacked the wood inside.
Drawing a knife, he carved a small groove into a plank, then began rubbing a dry stick into it with desperate vigor.
Shhff… shhff…
Smoke curled up. He transferred the ember into a bundle of straw and blew softly.
Fwooo… fwooo…
The smoke thickened. He tossed the ember into the stacked wood and blew harder, chest heaving.
Fwhoom.
The hearth ignited.
”Hah—hah—hah…” he panted, collapsing back. “That was… way harder than I thought…” he muttered, still catching his breath.
He spread out his soaked uniform near the flame and waited for morning.
* * *
He awoke from a long, dreamless sleep.
Dawn crept across the sky. The sun was rising, the chill of night slowly retreating.
He stood, brushing straw from his clothes. There wasn’t much to carry—just cheese, some nuts, and a few tools. His goal was simple: find people.
Water wouldn’t be a problem if he followed the river, but food was scarce. He’d have to ration every bite.
After his uniform dried yesterday, he’d torn apart the interior walls of the abandoned homes, salvaging wooden boards. Using scraps of rope, he pieced together a crude raft. Four large burlap sacks—stuffed with straw and lashed beneath with more rope—acted as makeshift floatation devices.
Now, dragging the wobbly structure behind him, he left the forsaken village. The hamlet, once filled with life, disappeared behind a curtain of mist and memory.
At the riverbank, he frowned.
”This… probably isn’t very sanitary,” he muttered. Dipping a hemp cloth in the river, he scrubbed down his body, shivering as the cold bit at his skin.
Once clean, he rinsed the cloth, wrung it out, and folded it into his satchel. Then he pushed the raft forward, cautiously setting it into the water.
It floated. Barely, but enough.
He exhaled. “Guess it’s buoyant after all.”
Stepping aboard slowly, he tested the raft’s limits. It wobbled, but didn’t sink.
There was no proper keel or reinforcement. Its strength was questionable at best. But with the Demon King’s army on the march—and the unknown threat of the otherworlders who might come for him—speed mattered more than durability.
”If they catch me…” he whispered, fingers tightening on the axe, “I’d die in a heartbeat.”
Lingering wasn’t an option. Not here. Not with the scent of death and ash still faintly clinging to the air.
”I need to move forward, even if it’s with this junk heap,” he muttered.
Convincing himself that speed outweighed safety, he took up a wooden pole and shoved the raft away from shore.
Sploosh.
The journey began.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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