[SP-F01] Fragments of Soil | «Earning a Living: Forager»

[Scar 0]

The silence in the clearing was overwhelmingly quiet, in a way that made the rustling of the grass seem like deliberate sounds. The light that came through the trees was neither bright nor whole, as it was covered by the branches that were full of leaves and the faint digital shimmer that indicated this specific part of the floor. Jack entered the space that was revealed by the disappearance of the smoke that was coming from a campfire. The air was sweetened with the smell of roasted herbs.

In the middle of the camp stood a wagon, its structure half buried in moss and covered with vines.

He stopped and with his eyes he tried to grasp the whole picture that unfolds. His gloved hand was on the blade of his sword in a very light and casual manner, not in a threatening sense, but just by habit. Skilled observation always comes first, followed by reaction.

After that, a woman emerged.

Her clothes were a fine paradox, forest greens and earth-toned browns, both looked like they were made of natural materials but the fact that they have been lived with and not freshly made was apparent, as though she existed in the space that lies halfway between the wild and the civilized. "So, it appears you've found me," she uttered, her voice having a melodic quality that was neither of greeting nor of rejection. "I tend to move around quite a lot, but someone always finds me. I suppose you are looking for some herbs?"

Jack's expression didn't shift much. He studied her eyes, sharp and bright like cut emeralds. "Not quite," he replied evenly. "I heard you could teach me more about gathering. The real kind, not just system-level scavenging."

That earned him a raised brow and the faint curve of a smile. "Most simply expect me to forage their materials for them, but few truly care about the process itself," she mused. "You surprise me."

She took a small, polished compass out of the pocket of her dress. Its metal part was shining under the sun, very old but quite well maintained for its age. "You may borrow my compass," she said, "Dark magic has made it capable of locating an incredibly rare item called a Demonic Shard. Should you find one, and bring it back to me, you will prove yourself worthy of my teachings. Take care, and may good fortune travel with you."

Jack took the compass carefully. The needle was turning twice before it stopped and pointed to the thick forest on the other side of the camp. He followed the point of the compass with his eyes but his face gave nothing away, though his brain was already calculating the routes. The system behind this NPC was way better than the average one, too smoothly for it to be just basic quest logic.

"I understand," he answered in a low voice. "Retrieve the shard, return, and earn your trust."

Giovanna's mouth was almost smiling, with a trace of both amusement and approval. "Precisely. Have fun, Jack. Though the forest looks young, it is far from it, and it doesn't like people who walk through it without a reason."

While he was heading for the forest, the firelight, moving with the wind, was behind him and it was highlighting his figure with the colors of summer and shade. In his hand, the compass was barely noticeable, but it was doing the same thing as the steady beat of his heart, waxing and waning with it.

Every cluster of earth that was underneath his boots was telling the same thing, that truth was, like any other harvest, dependent on patience and the readiness to get one's hands soiled.

***

Spoiler

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 32/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2

WC: 622

Edited Monday at 06:22 AM by Scar

[Scar 0]

As Jack traveled deeper into the woods the surrounding world seemed to shrink. The air concentrated, beautifully smelling of wet wood and earth, a silence that muffled everything except his breath. He brought the compass back into his view, seeing the color red from the glowing light flicker slightly along with the slight movement of the needle. The tool was now very firm, indicating the center of the forest in front of him.

The path behind him had already disappeared. Roots, similarly to fingers of a skeleton, were quietly taking back the path. It seemed that the forest itself was against giving directions, only letting those who lost their way find the right one. Jack was not upset. It was a good fit for him. He operated in the manner of a slow, highly intentional person with his sight roving the land and mentally recording the facts: claws scratching the bark of a tree very lightly, a subtle indentation in the moss as a place where an animal has passed, wind whistling through hollowed out trees.

Every detail mattered.

Every pattern meant something.

He was close to a broken tree branch that had its bark stripped to reveal the wood beneath that was silver-gray in color. The decomposition was half-complete, perhaps a visual signal of an older spawn zone. Jack ran his fingers along it, feeling the soft give of moisture through the glove’s feedback system. The realism still impressed him, even after so many hours logged in. “Moisture density reads high,” he murmured quietly, noting it like an observation for a field report. “Recent rainfall event, possibly within the last in-game day.”

The compass pointed a little to the left. Jack didn’t wait to see where it was pointing, but followed him. His feet were a little buried in the earth which was still soft. The ground trended downwards towards a ravine covered in ferns that shone a little under the scattered sunlight coming through the trees’ leaves. The scented air here system was so intricately layered that even quiet had its own sort of language.

He stopped again, letting his eyes adjust. No enemies. No visible item nodes. Just the living rhythm of the forest, the kind of quiet most players would call boring. To him, it was perfect. It gave him time to think, to observe the mechanics behind the illusion.

“This zone isn’t random,” he thought. “Resource clusters are deliberate. Placement follows terrain logic, organic, but patterned. Someone designed this space to feel alive.” 

He glanced back at the compass. Still glowing. Still pointing forward.

Jack let his air out slowly and the sound was swallowed by the silence of the woods. The gathering was not the main point of the quest; it was about comprehension. Giovanna had made that clear, only those who sought meaning in process, not product, were worth teaching. 

He pressed on.

Change of leaves could be felt overhead and the slight buzz of insects had started getting louder, an ambient crescendo to the forest’s heartbeat. As he went farther down the temperature got lower and so did the mist that was coiling around his boots. It was sticking to him, cold and heavy as if it was a warning of him going into something older, deeper, and invisible. 

Once again Jack halted and lifted his eyes to the thick treeline ahead. Not far from there compass was flashing faster, like a heartbeat being heard through earth and rock. 

He didn't move closer just yet.

He simply watched, listening to the forest breathe.

* * *

WC: 591

[Scar 0]

The‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ forest had gotten darker. The weak sunlight that managed to pass through the canopy above had a dull, greenish tint, it was completely absorbed by leaves that overlapped each other like the scales of a massive creature that was lying and breathing slowly above. As Jack followed the compass' pulse which was getting calmer and the red glow turning into a very delicate ember, he slowed down his movement. It felt like the right place to begin.

He was kneeling close to some moss and removing the upper layer of damp growth with his hand to get the ground underneath. The soil was heavy, cold, and was laced with very thin veins of red light that shimmered very gently and then disappeared. His ear adjusted to the faint sound signal. The signature was weak but familiar, residual traces of the shard's influence, maybe.

"Composition seems right," he said under his breath. He took a small knife out of his belt and with its flat side moved a little earth from the side. The smell that came was quite metallic and sharp and also mildly acrid. He stopped, and his eyes got smaller as he looked at the layer brought out. The digital depiction was almost like the real thing with all its faults, lumps, little rocks, the moisture that was glistening in the right way with the light. It was not only a texture map. It wasn't just a texture map. It was behaviorally reactive.

He reached deeper, and that's when the shift acme.

The soil trembled. Barely, but enough. Not from beneath him, but somewhere close.

Jack froze.

The compass in his palm gave a faint, involuntary flicker, as though detecting something unlisted. Slowly, he rose to a crouch, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. The wind had stopped. There wasn't the sound of birds, neither that of insects. Silence was so tight that it even seemed to be his heartbeat that was making too much noise. 

Then he spotted it.

Just beyond the roots of an old oak, something stirred, a subtle sway that didn't belong to the wind. The movement repeated, rhythmic, deliberate. It was a plant that was almost a meter and a half tall and it was changing in quiet beats as if it was inhaling. At first glance, it looked like a giant pitcher plant, its trunk being covered with layers of green horror. Two handle-like vines were hanging from its sides, serrated leaves were going along them, the edges were sharp enough to cut bark.

However, what attracted his eyes was the mouth.

The center of its head was an enormous, red, open mouth and viscous liquid was coming out from it, slowly, in small, separate, and equal strands. Every time it opened, the droplets made a slight hissing sound when they touched the ground.

The tag blinked faintly in his HUD. Jack’s breathing slowed. His mind shifted gears instantly, from observation to calculation. Attack range. Reaction speed. Environmental hazards. He tracked its movement, noting how it turned toward vibrations rather than sound. 

It’s not hunting yet, he thought. It’s waiting.

He lowered his posture, one hand resting on the handle of his weapon. The situation for an attack would present itself, but not yet. Not without certainty. He saw the creature sway once more, its body dimly lit, and it seemed like it was drawing energy from the earth itself.

Momentarily, Jack’s eyes went back to the patch of earth which he had disturbed. 

Failed attempt, he thought silently. Lesson learned. Foraging required precision. Timing. Awareness. He had rushed it, focused too narrowly on detail and not enough on the rhythm of the environment. Now the forest was responding with another test of its kind. 

He slowly exhaled, his heartbeat getting steadied again. Patience first. Motion second.

So he was staying there, calm, silent, and of analytical nature, and thus waiting, the very moment when instinct and logic would be in agreement, while observing the rhythm of the ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌monster.

* * *

Spoiler

foraging.

ID: 255945 | LD: 2 | Failed

WC: 670

Edited Monday at 06:19 AM by Scar

[Scar 0]

The forest had gone utterly still.

Jack pulled his breath back very quietly. His hand that was holding the weapon tightened. The Nepent kept moving in such a unusual way. The vines were stretching and relaxing, and the mouth was opening and closing looking for food. The place where the liquid had hit hissed more with every droplet. The burned places looked as if they were smoking.

He studied its stance carefully. The movement pattern was predictable in structure, slow, with brief intervals of stillness. A patient predator. Its reaction time would likely trigger within a set proximity radius.

Jack changed his position, his hand going to his waist. The mud pressed against the sole of his boot for a second and the sound of his step was lost in the forest's noise. When the Nepent's mouth opened wide, he moved.

The first step was silent.

The second, decisive.

Shining out from the shadows of the oak, knife in hand, Jack swung the blade quickly, efficiently and to the point of severing the stem just below the head of the branch. The move was flawless if only in theory, timing was matched perfectly with the monster's breathing.

But theory rarely survived contact with reality.

The Nepent's body twisted unexpectedly at the last moment, vines snapping taut as if pulled by some invisible reflex. Staples from Jack's sword met only a couple of leaves that had been torn and the plant matter sound was cut by a hiss, the sharp intake that echoed the whole clearing.

Missed.

Before he could fully reset his stance, the creature retaliated. Its two-vine arms lashed outward in a blur of green and crimson. One was directing the blow to the place where Jack had just been, while the other was moving parallel to the ground, the leaves at its end shining with something that looked like acid.

Jack reacted instinctively, but even his reflexes were informed by analysis. With a retreat and turn he took ground off the wet earth and at that same moment, through his heel, he regained his hold. The foremost blow had fallen at quite some distance from where the aim was; the second one was done of such speed and closeness that only the swift brushing of heat through the sleeve was felt.

The monster's vines smacked against the earth with force, sending up a spray of dirt and decayed leaves. Tiny droplets of acid hissed as they landed on nearby roots.

Jack composed himself again and brought out a sharp breath through his nostril. Too reactive. Overshot the rhythm. He tightened his grip, forcing his thoughts into focus. His combat style wasn't built on brute strength, it was founded on observation and adaptation. One mistake wasn't failure. It was data.

The Nepent shifted again, its mouth opening wide as it let out a wet, gurgling hiss. The crimson liquid within it churned like boiling water. It was agitated now, but also predictable, its aggression followed stimulus.

"Alright," he murmured under his breath, tone calm and level. "Now I know how you move."

He changed the position of his foot a little, and the whole time, he was waiting for the next attack. The time when the forest was devoid of any sound seemed to be over as it now was pulsating with energy. The mist that was around was also getting denser and denser and it looked like a shapeless fight between a mentally analytical human and an instinct-driven animal was going on.

Who was going to be the fastest learner among them was going to be decided by their next ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌confrontation.

* * *

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 30/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2

Little Nepent | HP: 84/84 | DMG: 28

Spoiler

battling.

ID: 255949 | BD: 3+2 = 5 | Missed!

ID: 255949b | MD: 4 | Missed!

WC: 603

Edited Monday at 10:40 AM by Scar

[Scar 0]

Post Action: [x12] ST-I (12 EN) | A single-target sword art. 

Loot Rolls:
ID: 256007 | LD: 15 | CD: 4 | 252+168= 420 Col, Materials (2), Tier 1 Rare Trinket (1)

—

The‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ Nepent shifted its weight again, the ground softly shaking around its roots as it got ready to hit. Its moves were very controlled and calm, but you could tell it was very close to exploding like a trap. Jack could see the pattern now, the rhythm between its inhale and attack, the precise moment when its vines stiffened just before they snapped forward.

He steadied his breath. His previous miss had been a matter of timing, not awareness. This time, he wouldn't overextend.

The monster's mouth opened wide once more, the crimson liquid inside bubbling and hissing as its vines lashed out in opposite directions. Jack didn't retreat this time. He steeped forward into attack, blade raised low, his eyes fixed not on the creature's arm but on the subtle rotation of its core.

When the first vine cut through the air, he moved.

The curved blade arced upward in a diagonal slash, the first strike cleaving through the vine's edge. A bright spray of glowing fragments scattered in the air where the hit registered. The Nepent reeled, its other arm faltering mid-swing. Jack flowed forward into the opening.

The next movements came in a blur of mechanical precision. 

One strike, then another.

Two quick reversals.

A pivot and follow-through.

Each swing built upon the last, twelve clean, fluid motions that cut through the creature's body in a chain of glowing afterimages. His system-assisted combo triggered automatically, his blade flashing with faint blue light as it carved arcs through the dim forest air. The sound of impact echoed like rain striking metal, steady and rhythmic.

The Nepent spasmed once, emitting a bizarre, low-pitched scream. Its body twitched as it disintegrated into bits of code that were blown by the wind like dying coals scattered on the earth. For a very short time, the forest was again quite and you could only hear the very faint sound of particles vanishing into the air. 

Jack slowly brought down his sword, his breathing still controlled but quite heavy. He only relaxed the muscles of his upper body after the very last fragment had disappeared. He exhaled a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

That was it.

His first real victory.

Compared to his earlier encounter with the Boarlets, this had been different. Those creatures had been reckless, predictable, more tutorial than threat. The Nepent had been something else entirely: reactive, deliberate. It had forced him to think, to adapt in motion. The forest demanded precision, not mercy.

A faint pinged echoed in his ears as the system interface flickered into view.

└ System Message:                                                                     ┐
└ You have defeated [Nepent - LV.7]
└ Rewards: 420 Col, 2 Materials, 1 Unidentified Rare Trinket

The translucent window hovered briefly before him. Jack blinked once, scanning the data, then tapped the confirm icon. The items transferred to his inventory with a soft pulse of light. The trinket's name was blurred out, its stats concealed until identification. He'd deal with that later.

For now, he just let himself breathe.

He glanced at the faint scorch marks left by the creature's acid, the small craters pitted into the soil. The air still carried a tang of ozone and sap. His blade glimmered faintly under the filtered light before dimming again, the edge clean but still warm from the motion.

Jack sheathed it carefully, exhaling one last sigh. "First combat," he murmured under his breath, tone even but reflective. "Efficient. Not elegant, but efficient."

He looked toward the path deeper into the woods, where the compass's glow had steadied once again,  its light flickering faintly through the mist. The shard was still out there somewhere, and now he understood a little more of what it would take to find it. 

He straightened, wiped his glove against his coat, and moved forward, step by deliberate step, leaving behind the fading traces of his first battle in silence.

* * *

12x8= 96 DAMAGE

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 18/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2

Little Nepent | HP: 0/84 | DMG: 28

Spoiler

battling.

ID: 256005a | BD: 4+2= 6 | Hit!

ID: 256005b | MD: 2 | Miss.

WC: 646

Edited Tuesday at 02:40 AM by Scar

[Scar 0]

Post Action: Foraging for a Demonic Shard

The wood seemed to have a different vibe now; they were quieter and felt heavier, as if they had sucked in the sound of the Nepent's last moves. Jack changed the compass in his hand, letting the dim red light glow for just one more time before it stopped. The compass was pointing him firmly straight ahead, farther into the dark forest. The rush of his first fight still followed him, a slight heat in his chest, but the time of letting the adrenaline take over was done. The mission, as it was put by Giovanna, was still waiting for him: find the Demonic Shard and make it up to her that he is a worthy forager.

He knelt beside a patch of soil that appeared slightly discolored under the fractured light. Moist and soft, it shifted subtly under his fingers, but there were no unusual veins, no faint shimmer of energy, nothing to indicate the presence of the rare shard. He brushed away layers of decomposing leaves, stones, and loose moss, analyzing each fragment of earth with quiet intensity. Every pattern in the soil told a story, where water pooled, where roots tunneled, how insects had burrowed, and Jack catalogued each carefully in his mind.

He paused, taking a slow breath. Still nothing.

He stood and moved a few paces, scanning the surrounding undergrowth. Ferns with curled edges, fallen branches warped by rot, and clusters of ordinary herbs filled the clearing. Nothing here resonated with the same unnatural pulse he had sensed before. The compass trembled faintly but refused to settle, its glow indicating proximity but giving no exact location. It was like trying to read a map written in half-glimpses and whispers.

Jack crouched again and ran his gloved hand along the surface of the ground. The soil was dense in places, brittle in others, yet each change in texture offered nothing beyond ordinary forest debris. He softly hit a stone which was sunk into the ground with his finger and invited a hollow echo, but none came. His sharp mind was taking in everything: the degree of wetness, the growth of plants, the light coming through the leaves. Each observation was data, each failure a lesson.

A soft breeze stirred the leaves above, and he froze, scanning the shadows for movement. The Nepent was gone, but the forest still felt alive, vigilant. Jack's eyes moved quickly from one root to another, the slight shake of the earth making him consider whether it could be animals hiding there, water flowing, or perhaps the very faint effect of a magical artifact.

Time was dragging and was only measured in the number of breaths taken and the soft rustle of the leaves. His hand happened to touch a delicate vine and he stopped to think about its location, surface, and strength. No. Not it. Every near-candidate for the shard's location revealed itself as false under scrutiny. Even the glimmering end of a root which got a little bit brighter when it was touched turned out to be natural bioluminescence.

Jack breathed out deeply, and he balanced himself with his left hand a bit on his lower leg. "Failed again," was his quiet and calm, but somewhat exasperated, utterance. He did not linger on it. The fact that the shard was so hard to find was not a failure of one's skills but a reminder that sometimes simply watching is not enough. One would need the right moment, accuracy, and perhaps better knowledge of the forest’s quiet signs to be able to do it.

He stood and shook his shoulders, casting another careful glance around the clearing. The compass flickered in response, pulsing once as if aware of his continued effort. Jack adjusted his grip on his sword, though it remained sheathed, and began plotting a new path forward. He could only think of the Demonic Shard's location with each new failed attempt, as well as the environment, the hidden rhythms of the soil, that is, through each step he took further.

Patience, precision, observation, the forest was teaching him these lessons, and Jack intended to learn them all, one careful step at a time.

* * *

Scar regenerates 1 EN.

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 19/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2

Spoiler

foraging.

ID: 256011 | LD: 6 | Failed

WC: 694

Edited Tuesday at 08:27 PM by Scar

[Scar 0]

Post Action: Foraging for a Demonic Shard

The forest had grown quiet again. Too quiet. Even the faint hum of insects had faded, leaving only the distant rustle of branches far overhead. Jack stood motionless for a moment, the compass in his hand flickering with its dull crimson light. The light on the device was fading with each interval, not because of a defect, but as if even the instrument that it was guiding to him was getting tired of it.

He got down on the ground again, and removed some wet leaves from the floor of the forest with his sleeve. The earth was moist and stuck to his gloves like ink. He was digging gently, his fingers feeling along the roots that were buried and breaking down the hard earth in order to find something that was not like the rest of the forest, a slight glow, an unearthly rhythm that could have revealed the location of the Demonic Shard. But such things were not there.

Jack had a confused look on his face. "Still nothing," he murmured under his breath, his tone flat but edged with quiet thought. His mind replayed the pattern of his previous attempts, the coordinates, the distance from the last clearing, the way the compass needle had quivered faintly to the north. He had taken every step logically, he had considered every variable, and yet there was no difference in the outcome.

He sat back down on one knee, scanning the surroundings again. The forest stretched in every direction, thick trunks cloaked in moss, old roots rising from the earth like the bones of something ancient. The light filtering through the canopy had dimmed, taking on a greenish hue. It made it hard to tell what time of day it was anymore, but Jack didn’t need the sun to measure progress. He had data. Patterns. Repetition.

Standing again, he moved several paces forward, eyes sharp and steady. The compass needle twitched in his hand, not a full rotation, not even a confident pull, just a small vibration that hinted at direction but offered no clarity. Nevertheless, he followed the direction, believing that if the sign was faint it still counted for something. He could hear the words of Giovanna in his head: "Should you find one, and bring it back to me, you will prove yourself worthy of my teachings."

While moving his hand, which was covered with a glove, along the trunk of a tree nearby, he was realizing that its outer layer was not normal but had a spiral pattern, the kind that was made by thirty years of slow growth and environmental pressure. For a split second, he thought about the number of other players who might have passed here while looking for something, walking away empty-handed and trying again. Probably more than a few. And yet, that thought didn’t dissuade him. It steadied him.

Jack came down on his knee again and this time his third search of the location was slower, more focused and intentional. He took his short blade’s edge to lift up a little mound of earth and allowed it to fall between his fingers. Damp. Dense. No glow. No resonance. Just earth.

He sighed softly through his nose and wiped his hand against his coat. "Another failed attempt." He said. The words were not sarcastic, they were only real, spoken in the quiet way of thought. Foraging was not supposed to be easy. This system required patience and accuracy rather than luck. Every failure was a lesson for the next attempt.

He stood up straight, changed his position and looked at the compass once more. The glow steadied, faint, consistent. The shard was near. He could feel it. Not through instinct, but through deduction. Each failure was narrowing the possibilities, eliminating false leads. It was a process of attrition, and he was patient enough to see it through. 

The forest remained silent, watching, as Jack continued deeper into the unknown, each step a study in restraint and calculation.

* * *

Scar regenerates 1 EN.

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 20/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2

Spoiler

foraging.

ID: 256012 | LD: 7 | Failed

WC: 666

Edited 10 hours ago by Scar

[Scar 0]

Post Action: Foraging for a Demonic Shard

The‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ woods gave the appearance of being the same, however, the air was not as light, as if the trees had by now become conscious of his repeated interruptions. Jack was almost frozen for quite a while, the red flashing of the compass in his hand was very weak but visible. The light was very faint but it was surely the heartbeat of the compass pointing to the direction of his goal that till now had only been a mystery.

One more time, he got down to the ground and checked it thoroughly just like he had done on his previous search. Tiny roots were intertwined with each other in a totally disorderly way and there were layers of leaves covering earth so black that it looked like it was eating the little light that was coming through the tree branches. Jack removed every stone, lifted the leaves, and even tested the earth under his hand. Every gesture was perfect, every thought was recorded. Yet, the Demonic Shard was once again the underground’s unrecognizable entity.

Jack exhaled softly, the sound muted by the forest's hush. "Nothing." His tone was calm, devoid of frustration. Each failure was data, a refinement of his understanding of the environment and the subtle mechanics that governed the shard's placement. He adjusted his gloves, letting the faint friction of the leather against his palms ground his focus.

He moved slowly to another clearing, eyes sweeping the undergrowth for even the slightest anomaly. There were small mushrooms, moss in varying shades of green, and damp leaves glistening with moisture. Patterns, deviations, anything might have been a clue. But the needle of the compass remained steady, offering no flare of light, no resonance, no confirmation.

Jack knelt again, pressing fingers into the soil to feel its composition, the subtle differences in moisture and density, the minute vibrations that could indicate hidden energy. Nothing. Every detail was recorded mentally, every failed attempt catalogued for future reference, Each misstep honed his observational skills, even if it yielded no tangible reward.

The forest's silence pressed against him, thick and watchful, yet Jack remained composed. This was part of the process, the forager's trial, the discipline of patience and precision. Giovanna's words echoed faintly in his mind: "Few truly care about the process itself.. You surprise me." Even in failure, there was progress. Understanding, not just the result, was the measure of worth.

He straightened, brushing dirt from his knees. The compass puled softly, faint but steady, as if encouraging him onward. Jack's gaze swept the dense trees, the broken roots, the scattered undergrowth. Somewhere ahead, the shard waited, elusive, stubborn, and hidden. He would not falter. Each failure was another step closer, each observation another clue piecing together the pattern he sought.

He moved forward again, methodical, silent, deliberate. The forest watched, the compass pulsed, and Jack continued his search, resolute in his patience. Failure was not defeat. It was only part of the journey.

* * *

Scar fully regenerates EN.

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 32/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2

Spoiler

foraging.

ID: 256141 | LD: 13 | Failed

WC: 494

Edited 5 hours ago by Scar

[Scar 0]

Post Action: Foraging for a Demonic Shard

The forest closed in on him, the trees standing as quiet witnesses, the shadows waiting as guards. Jack tightened his hold on the pass, sensing its weak beat from his hand. The woods didn't give up their secret despite Jack's cautious walk. The Demon Shard was still hidden.

Once again, he was on the ground, looking everywhere in the dirt, removing leaves and bits of old bark. The roots were twisting on the earth as if they were snakes, thus Jack had to slow down his pace, walking carefully and intentionally. Everything was taken into account: moss on the ground, spots in the dirt, and even very faint traces of metal ores. He dug through pieces of soil, he checked the roots for sturdiness, and also he looked at slight color changes of the wet leaves. Every action was carefully thought out, accurate. Yet the shard remained elusive.

Jack exhaled, letting ten tension in his shoulders ease sightly. "Still nothing," he muttered. There was no frustration in his voice, only observation. Each failed attempt was data, an opportunity to refine his understanding of the forest and the subtle signs that could betray the shard's location.

He stood slowly, brushing dirt from his knees, and took a few steps toward a cluster of small ferns. The compass quivered faintly, a minor hint that perhaps he was moving in the right direction. But even this subtle sign did not result in discovery. The shard did not reveal itself.

The look of Jack wandered through the thick brush. He surveyed the scene for anything that might have been affected by the hidden energy, broken branches, scattered leaves, moss patches. And all of them were sitting there quietly, not giving up the elusive prize. He accounted for all his observations, and every mistake was saved for later attempts. The forest was instructing him without words: patience, focus, and accuracy were much more important than rushing or using one's strength.

He adjusted his stance again, scanning the area with sharp, methodical eyes. Every motion, every gesture, every movement of the compass needle was clue to the environment's hidden pattern. Yet, the Demonic Shard remained out of reach, teasing him with its invisibility.

Jack exhaled slowly, steadying himself. The failures were accumulating, but so was his understanding. Each attempt refined his sense of the forest, honed his awareness, and strengthened his methodical approach. He had not yet succeeded, but he had not failed in preparation.

With careful, deliberate steps, Jack moved forward once more, eyes scanning, mind cataloging, and hands ready. The forest remained patient, the compass pulsing faintly, and Jack pressed onward. Failure was not defeat, it was instruction. He would continue, relentless, until he discerned the shard’s hidden presence.

* * *

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 32/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2

Spoiler

foraging.

ID: 256142 | LD: 13 | Failed

WC: 455

Edited 3 hours ago by Scar

[Scar 0]

Post Action: Foraging for a Demonic Shard

The forest around Jack felt heavier than usual, the mist lingering closer to the ground, muffling the subtle sounds of life. Every branch, every leaf seemed to watch him as he moved carefully, his boots pressing into the damp earth with measured steps. The compass pulsed faintly in his palm, a weak heartbeat that had guided him through countless failed attempts. The Demonic Shard remained elusive, hiding somewhere deeper, just out of reach. 

He once more went down on his knees and his gloved hand dug into the earth and it removed some moss and dirt. Jack was very thorough with each and every piece of earth, taking note of the color, the water, and the density all with his head. He had already been here more than once, and yet, he would not let his repeat journey get him into the trap of being careless. Persistence was necessary, even if success was not guaranteed.

As he scraped at a small mound of earth, something hard pressed against his fingers. He paused, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing in focus. It wasn’t the shard. Not the faint glow or the pulse of magical energy he’d been searching for. But it was something tangible, a cluster of materials, partially buried under roots and decaying leaves.

Jack carefully lifted the pieces, brushing away dirt and inspecting them. The rough texture suggested they could be used in crafting or alchemy, remnants of the forest’s hidden bounty, perhaps a byproduct of the magical energy that lingered here. While they weren’t the rare treasure he sought, they were still useful. Small victories, after all, mattered as much as monumental ones. 

He let out a low exhale, a sigh of quiet relief more than satisfaction. "Not the shard," he murmured, placing the materials in his inventory, "but something nonetheless." His eyes swept the clearing again, cataloging each root, each stone, each patch of moss. Every detail was a clue, whether it led directly to the shard or not. The forest had rules, rhythms, and signs. Understanding them took time, patience, and keen observation.

Jack got up quite slowly, dusting his dirt-covered knees and fixing his coat’s strap with his hand. The compass gave a very weak signal, as if it was recognizing his determination, but it did not suggest any new way. The shard remained hidden. The things he held in his hands, however, were an assurance that his endeavors were not totally in vain. The woods are always ready to give back to those who really look, though maybe not in the manner they expect.

A faint noise from a bush near him made him lift his head quickly but it was just a little bird who was disturbed by his presence. Jack let out another breath, and he allowed his shoulders to drop a little. Every failure, every half-success, was training him, it was developing his patience, teaching him to be observant of the land, and testing his ability to endure without getting angry.

With carefully measured steps, he went deeper into the thick bushes and the beat of the compass in his hand was his silent helper. He would keep searching. There was no other option but to go on with the search, and he would be doing it until the day he would be able to see the hidden way to the Demonic Shard while he kept his account of the successes and failures. Any small success was still a step forward, and progress, however small, is always better than throwing in the ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌towel.

* * *

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 32/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2

Spoiler

foraging.

ID: 256143 | LD: 14 | Success!

WC: 592

Edited 2 hours ago by Scar

[Scar 0]

Post Action: Foraging for a Demonic Shard

PH

* * *

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 32/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2

Spoiler

foraging.

ID: 256144 | LD: 3 | Rolling

WC:

Edited 5 hours ago by Scar