Chapter Twenty-Five: An Unexpected Gain

Wade walked across the wasteland, the dim moonlight spilling down to illuminate the path ahead.

To call it a path would be inaccurate—it was nothing more than bare, coarse earth and sand.

Everywhere his eyes could reach was claimed by emptiness, deathly stillness, and desolation.

But that was not necessarily a flaw; without dense underbrush, there were no poisonous snakes or insects lurking in wait.

So long as he avoided the treacherous ravines and the patches of quicksand, traveling here was little different from walking along a well-trodden road.

For a traveler, that was a blessing.

After all, Wade was not here for a leisurely outing, seeking birdsong, fragrant blooms, or azure skies with drifting clouds.

Still, traversing this land required special attention to two things.

First: keep your direction in mind. In a place where every vista seemed the same, losing your way could spell disaster.

Wade had been lost before; when a sandstorm blotted out the moon, he had no idea where he was, blundering about aimlessly like a headless fly.

Before he transformed the cave into his new home, he’d had a shallow pit for resting, but that day, unable to find his way back, he had to settle for a random mound to sleep against.

That hard lesson taught him to mark out distinctive terrain and landmarks.

He restricted himself to familiar territory, avoiding unknown stretches whenever possible—so even if the moon vanished, he would know his location and not become lost.

The second danger was the wandering skeletons.

The odds of encountering them weren’t high; the wasteland was vast, boundless, and even though many skeletons drifted through it, they were scattered far and wide.

Not long ago, a strong wind had blown, seemingly sweeping the skeletons elsewhere—these bone-clad kin, like tumbleweeds, were carried off by the gusts.

For once, Wade had not encountered a single skeleton on his way out.

Gazing into the distance, there was nothing but more wasteland.

Today, there seemed little need to worry about a skeleton brother raising its arms and lunging for him, but Wade still called Mia back, bidding her not to stray far.

Having left the cave and entered unfamiliar ground, vigilance was essential.

Mia’s initial excitement at leaving the cave had faded; the little one now perched on Wade’s shoulder, no longer drifting about.

Wade pressed on, keenly alert. With no cover on the plains, the view was wide open. This meant he could spot anything out there—and anything could spot him.

A place that seemed tranquil could be fraught with hidden perils.

Fortunately, luck was with him; Wade reached his destination without mishap.

He halted. Before him was a valley hemmed in on two sides, and overhead an arching bramble spanned the gap like a tangled tree root. It was a colossal thing, so immense he had to crane his neck to take in its entirety.

It resembled a giant bridge, connecting the chasm’s hollows, growing in a curving arc from one patch of earth to the other.

The bramble’s surface was ash-brown, furrowed like old bark, with sharp spines jutting outward—each the size of a tiny house.

Only near the bramble forests had Wade seen such gargantuan thorns; who knew how many years they’d been growing? They seemed far older and vaster than the so-called thousand-year ancient trees.

Such massive brambles could be admired only as scenery. Wade’s real targets were the smaller branches, about the thickness of his hand bones—perhaps a little thinner, but any larger would be unwieldy and troublesome to process.

Just ahead, he could see the smaller bramble shoots, which lacked the strength to span valleys, so they grew elsewhere.

Wade climbed the slope, reaching higher ground. Before him, the tangled bramble forest unfolded like a strange tapestry—giant roots twisted and spread in complex knots, some parts hollowed out, some curled like birdcages, others resembling warped spears.

Standing among them, Wade felt as small as a mote of dust; he could even walk atop the bramble’s surface.

Though it wasn’t his first visit, he was still struck by the sensation of walking into a primordial forest from eons past—except this forest held only a single type of plant, somewhat monotonous, yet all the more unforgettable for it.

He only needed materials from the edges.

Wade had no intention of venturing deeper. It was too vast inside, the terrain too convoluted, and a misstep could mean a long, uncertain journey to find a way out, assuming he survived the fall.

Besides, who knew what might be hiding within?

He was here to gather materials to reinforce his cave, not as an explorer or scholar obsessed with uncovering ancient secrets.

He searched along the cliff face for broken bramble branches. Before long, he found one—about a meter long, its fracture worn rough and irregular by wind and sand, proof that it had snapped naturally.

From the wear, he judged it had broken in the past day or two. Likely, it had been damaged long ago, fissures forming from age and weather, and the windstorm two days prior had finally finished it off. As this was the forest’s outermost edge, no larger bramble shielded it from the gales; it was inevitably snapped in the end.

Such brambles rarely broke on their own—they were tough enough—but with so many growing here, some younger shoots simply couldn’t withstand the wind.

Like gathering firewood, Wade picked up the broken branches. Glancing down into the ravine, he could just make out more fallen limbs. Soon, the wind would kick up sand and bury them; the ravine was a natural grave, entombing them all.

It was fortunate for Wade. He had come at the right time—only after a strong wind would there be so many fallen branches. Last time, he’d found nothing useful; come much later, and these too would have been buried by drifting sand.

He quickly collected a bundle of brambles, all of suitable length and thickness.

He took a strip of cloth from his waist and tied the branches together, slinging them over his back like a bundle of firewood.

It was just as well he was a skeleton; were he alive, the bramble’s spines would have shredded his clothes and drawn blood.

Almost time to head back, Wade thought.

But then Mia suddenly darted toward a particular spot. Wade paused in surprise as her thoughts reached him—she was hungry.

There was something edible nearby?

He called her back. She had sensed something, just a short distance away, beneath the vast bramble arch.

Not far—just a few dozen meters.

After a moment’s thought, Wade decided to take a look. He left the brambles where they were, took up his warhammer, raised his round shield, and let Mia lead the way, keeping her within half a meter.

With head lowered, Wade entered the shadows.

Something was glowing there—some kind of moss, a tiny patch of luminescent moss growing in the crevice of the giant bramble.

Beside the moss, Wade saw a decayed skeleton.

Astonishingly, this skeleton still wore clothing—a linen robe faded to gray-green, with pale fungal threads sprouting from the torn cuffs and hem.

At its waist hung three slanting pouches, their openings sprouting thin roots that burrowed into the gaps between the ribs.

It even wore a pair of boots—thick-soled, pressed from bark and moss.