Chapter 25

It feels like just yesterday that I was warming up every morning to the frosty air, but lately, those sensations have become rare.

With many skills reaching intermediate levels and leveling up slowing down, mornings without much change have become the norm.

The faint dawn of a chilly morning lingers in the air.

The grandeur of the Mithril Sprinkler moistening the ground can be seen.

Taking a refreshing sip of water after witnessing this scene clears my mind.

Seeds planted haphazardly have somehow sprouted life.

Their cheerful emergence brings joy; they will one day bear sweet fruits, proving themselves as grateful companions.

Thus, today’s farming work begins as usual.

For seven to eight hours straight, until around 3 PM, it continues.

I need to find a way to reduce this time or devise another method.

Even with breaks for meals and rest, dedicating all of morning and lunchtime leaves little room for other activities.

To match previous work hours, I’d have to labor through the night till dawn—clearly excessive.

Though gold efficiency is unmatched here, considering overall growth, this routine has proven somewhat inefficient.

Cooking has reached level two and started providing buffs.

Perhaps boosted by my advanced farming skill, cooking my homegrown crops now grants random one-hour buffs.

This morning’s stir-fried pork gave an hour-long movement speed boost—a far cry from the days when similar dishes yielded no rewards.

Progress indeed!

Lunchtime rolls around as usual when she arrives—Evangelin, her crimson steps leading to my door.

“What brings you?”

“I made some snacks using the fruit you gave me. It’s only proper to reciprocate, right?”

Her quiet voice contrasts sharply with her flushed cheeks and warm gestures—an unmistakable Evangelin charm.

“Is it in that basket?”

“Yes. Picnic-style. Spring is picnic season, isn’t it?”

“Glad to see you. How were the fruits?”

“They were delicious! Jack loved them too and said he hopes to visit again.”

“That’s an honor.”

“Perfect timing since you’re eating. I brought some desserts.”

She naturally sits beside me. With no proper seating outside my house, we settle on the small staircase.

“Is that ham on the melon?”

“Yes, it’s called Ham Melon, or Prosciutto de Melone formally.”

“Oh… I’m curious about the taste.”

“Try it.”

“Thank you.”

Among the biscuits topped with cheese and strawberries, the ham-covered melon stands out visually—perhaps because it’s unfamiliar.

The salty, savory flavor of prosciutto blends beautifully with the subtle sweetness and faint grassiness of the melon, enhanced further by a drizzle of olive oil.

In short, it’s delicious—a dish so captivating that I find myself reaching for more without realizing.

Simple though it may seem, there’s satisfaction in knowing it was handmade.

“Try this too.”

“Thank you.”

Strawberry cheesecake atop a biscuit base delivers exactly what you’d expect—delicious.

The fresh sweetness of strawberries, the crisp crunch of the biscuit, and the creamy richness of the cheese create harmony.

These would pair well with wine or beer as appetizers rather than standalone treats.

“Cheers.”

“Hm?”

“These are great drinking snacks, aren’t they? One glass wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“If you say so…”

Before I could finish, Evangelin pulls out a paper-wrapped bottle from her basket. The liquid inside glimmers red.

“It’s wine?”

“Red wine, one of our village specialties.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Wine… something I hadn’t thought about since Earth, where enjoying a drink was commonplace.

Pouring the ruby-red liquid into a glass evokes nostalgia, its aroma filling the air.

“Shall we cheers?”

“Sure.”

“Clink.”

The clear sound of clinking glasses echoes as the dry taste flows smoothly down my throat.

“How is it?”

“Delicious. It’s been a while.”

“I’m glad.”

Evangelin’s smile is undeniably charming.

Thinking about it, how do such beauties end up in this backwater village? Yet, compared to Reyvik, where such sights were nonexistent, perhaps Evangelin, Luna, Anne, and others are exceptions shaped by Valley of Starwind itself—or maybe genetics here favor beauty over time?

“Sorry for taking your time.”

“Not at all. Short picnics like these are always welcome.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll come every day.”

She grins mischievously, brushing her orange hair behind her ear—a playful yet deadpan declaration.

“Just kidding. I’m not that shameless. Still, occasional visits should be fine, right?”

“Yes, anytime.”

“You know better than to prefer gifts over me, right?”

“Never.”

“You promised.”

We hook pinkies—a universal gesture even here.

Surprisingly familiar, though unsurprising given this world’s Earth-like origins. How different could it really be?

Our brief respite was sweet.

The remaining ham melon and strawberry cheesecake disappeared quickly. Hunger aside, my growing body seems to handle food better now.

[Prosciutto di Melone]

[Duration: 08:00:00]

[Effect: Recovery Speed +1]

[Strawberry Cheesecake]

[Duration: 08:00:00]

[Effect: Defense +1]

Such is why Evangelin’s cooking excels—it grants buffs beyond my reach.

Leaning against the step, I survey the fields. Seeds remain unplanted, but no rush exists.

Buffs, however, are fleeting.

Today’s benefits mustn’t go to waste.

With Red Spider venom needed for painkillers and miscellaneous items for Mithril equipment, dungeon preparation begins.

Checking well-preserved gear and counting potions, I head north.

The northern path feels unfamiliar despite traversing it before.

The dungeon entrance remains unsettling.

Its sharp alcoholic tang contrasts sharply with earlier wine scents, mingling unpleasantly with decay.

Still, duty calls.

Step by step, floors descend.

Tension lingers, but excessive strain fades thanks to low-level monsters posing little threat.

Long swords slice effortlessly through them.

Reaching floor ten introduces Dire Wolves.

Recalling past encounters filled with defensive tactics and bleeding wounds, progress is evident.

Clank.

Now different—I feel no wild animal pressure, only confidence in overwhelming them.

Not arrogance, but calculated experience guiding successful decisions.

Grrr…

Three low growls emanate from the wolves.

My sword feels light, poised for action.

Improved reaction times and experience guide victory.

Breathing deeply, I analyze their movements.

Wolf tension, breaths, opportunities—all visible in real-time.

Holding my breath, I strike toward a wolf’s neck.

Precise slashes sever targets accurately.

Success confirmed.

Blood spurts as heat warms me briefly. Focus shifts to remaining foes—one lunging from the right, another swiping from the left.

Carrying momentum forward, I choose the easier target first based on handedness.

A slash across a face sends one crashing down, another decapitated instantly.

The last wolf hesitates, fear evident in its eyes.

Overwhelming power dominates.

Stabilizing my stance, weapon expertise enhances precision.

Finishing off the trembling beast involves sidestepping its desperate charge and splitting it cleanly.

Despite gore, cleaning the blade feels routine.

Am I becoming a psychopath? Or does accumulated experience dull shocks?

Unclear, but surviving combat proves capability.

Floor eleven hosts Goblin Archers and several Goblins—quickly dispatched.

Chain mail bears sticky blood and flesh.

Once gleaming silver armor now reeks of iron-rich scent, yet the sword remains sharp without maintenance.

Floor twelve features Skeleton-Zombie collaborations.

Floor thirteen introduces Vampire Bats—an annoying aerial menace.

Floor fourteen sees Lizardmen debut.

Their rusted axes clash against mine, inferior strength and endurance making quick work of them—likely aided by defense buffs.

Finally, floor fifteen reveals Red Spiders.

Combat follows similarly easy patterns; slicing through their leg attacks proves sufficient.

Expected fatigue and injuries never materialize, likely due to buffs and accumulated experience.

Growth feels tangible, satisfying.

Exiting the dungeon reveals my disheveled state—a walking disease vector covered in various fluids.

Quickly stashing gear, changing clothes, and heading home ensues.

As twilight vision adjusts, cleaning begins upon arrival.

Laundry follows.

Hand-washing laundry has become second nature, oddly soothing.

Drying racks hold washed garments efficiently now that financial means allow indoor drying.

Equipment cleaning involves oiled cloths and towels, chain mail requiring special attention with steel brushes.

Ending the day with thorough cleaning, I collapse onto bed.

Another fulfilling day concludes.

Day 34 ends thus.

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