Chapter 4: A Muck Worm

  Adam’s POV

  As I ventured deeper into the cavern, the thrill of wielding my newly crafted spear almost made me forget that I was starving. Twirling it in my hands like a kid with a shiny new toy, it was a bit heavy, but I wanted to get used to its weight… Plus, it’s fun.

  Nove’s voice resounded in my head with a firm note of caution. “I’d recommend keeping your guard up. The monsters are used to the darkness—you are not.”

  Undeterred, I shrugged off her warning and whispered, “Relax. You can hear anything moving in a cave like this.”

  My twirling stopped as I shifted my focus to moving as silently as possible. Unfortunately, even my best attempts at stealth couldn’t stop the echoes of my steps from bouncing off the stone walls.

  “Yes,” Nove replied dryly, “but while you can hear them, they can hear and see you.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Every step sounded like a gong in the cavernous space. Silence, it seemed, was a luxury I didn’t have.

  My stomach growled loudly, as if to underline the urgency of the situation. I couldn’t stay still—I needed food, and fast. Heading deeper into the cave was a risk, sure, but what other choice did I have?

  Going back up wasn’t an option. The way out was too high, and I had no means of scaling it. Sitting around and waiting for a rescue that would never come was an express ticket to starvation.

  This spear was still a pain to use. One or two swings, and I’d probably be completely spent. But desperation has a funny way of stoking determination.

  As I pushed deeper into the darkness, I asked Nove to tell me more about alchemy. It wasn’t just because I found it confusing—it was also a decent distraction from the gnawing pain in my stomach.

  Sensing my struggle, Nove broke it down: making potions, crafting Core Nodes, refining materials. She threw in terms like "equivalent exchange," but honestly, my starving brain only half-registered the details. I nodded along, pretending to follow, while focusing more on the steady rhythm of my footsteps.

  Despite my rumbling stomach, I pressed on, soaking up whatever bits of knowledge I could retain about this strange new world.

  A few minutes later, the eerie silence of the cave was broken by a faint, rhythmic thudding ahead.

  My instincts flared, and I crouched down quickly, keeping as small and quiet as possible in the suffocating darkness. Nove, understanding the need for focus, fell silent.

  Peering into the dim cave, I spotted it—a hefty, whitish creature clinging to the cave wall. It was a grotesque mound of flesh, roughly my size—about as big as a 14-year-old kid.

  “That’s a muck worm,” Nove whispered, her tone calm but informative. “They’re large, passive creatures, but they shoot sticky webs to trap prey before devouring them with their pointy teeth. Their HP value is approximately 20 points. I’d suggest a sneaky approach to close the distance, followed by a precise thrust to finish it off.”

  Her advice was practical, no doubt about it. But as I stared at the creature, something tugged at me. Nove’s strategy was logical, yet killing wasn’t just a game mechanic for me—it was messy, personal. I’d been around it long enough to know it rarely went according to plan.

  Still, she wasn’t wrong. Sneaking up on the thing was the best shot I had.

  As my gaze locked onto the muck worm, a small green bar appeared above it, accompanied by glowing digits: 20/20. My gaming instincts activated instantly. A health bar? Seriously?

  Is this Nove’s doing? I wondered, grinning like an idiot. She was literally turning this into a game, and honestly? It was awesome.

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  The muck worm continued its sluggish climb up the wall, blissfully unaware of its impending doom. Occasionally, tiny pebbles dislodged by its movements tumbled to the ground with a soft thud, telling me the source of the noise I heard earlier.

  Drawing on years of underworld experience, I knew how to move without making a sound. But this wasn’t some back alley—this was a closed, echoing cave where even a whisper could carry. To minimize noise, I quietly removed my shoes and gripped my spear tighter, ready to strike.

  Holding my breath, I inched forward, blending into the shadows. I wasn’t sure how well this thing could see, but I wasn’t taking any chances. The rough ground bit into the soles of my feet, but I ignored the discomfort, laser-focused on my target.

  Finally, I was close enough to strike. The worm had climbed a decent height up the wall, its bulk rippling with slow, deliberate movements. The head was too high for me to reach, so I aimed for the middle of its body instead.

  With a swift motion, I leapt up and drove the spear into its fleshy mass.

  The sensation of tearing flesh shot up my arm, followed by the warm splatter of blood across my face. I didn’t flinch—this wasn’t my first dance with bloodshed.

  The worm let out a grotesque wriggle of pain as a -12 floated above the wound. Its health bar dropped to 8/20.

  With the spear stuck in its body, I dislodged it from the wall and it slammed onto the ground, it writhed and tumbled in agony but I didn’t give it a moment to recover.

  Springing forward, I gripped my spear and jumped in for the finishing blow, aiming to end it before it could retaliate.

  My spear plunged into the worm’s head, and a bright -16 floated above the wound. With a final, agonized growl, the creature’s writhing ceased, its numerous black, claw-like legs falling still.

  Letting out a groan, I collapsed onto the ground, landing unceremoniously on my backside. Sure, everything had gone smoothly, but this body of mine was far weaker than I’d expected. Even a brief scuffle like this left me panting like I’d run a marathon.

  Note to self: work on building some muscles—or at least some stamina—after I get out of this cave.

  I wiped the blood off my face with the back of my hand, sighing as I reluctantly slipped my shoes back on. The ground had already done a number on my feet, and I wasn’t keen on adding more blisters to the mix.

  “Hey, Nove,” I asked, glancing at the lifeless white blob before me, “can I really eat this thing?”

  “After processing it, yes. I’ll handle that,” she replied matter-of-factly.

  With her guidance, I approached the worm, and with a flash of energy, poof—it vanished into thin air, leaving behind only a dark, sticky pool of blood as a grisly reminder of what had just transpired.

  Exhausted, I plopped down on the hard ground, the cold stone biting into my back. My gaze shifted to my spear, and out of habit, I almost wiped the blood off its tip using my dirty shirt.

  I stopped myself with a wry chuckle. Why bother? This thing’s disposable anyway. But still, it was funny how some instincts remained the same, even in a new world. Cleaning your weapon after a kill? Yeah, that habit wasn’t going anywhere.

  Guess some things never change. Looks like I’m still in the business of taking lives, no matter where I am.

  After a brief wait, Nove’s voice broke the silence. “Hold out your hand,” she instructed.

  Curious, I obeyed—and there it was. A piece of cooked worm meat materialized in my palm, warm to the touch but not scalding.

  “While not particularly delightful, worm meat can be a lifesaver in emergencies,” Nove explained. “Additionally, we can utilize its webbing for adhesives which is a core material in many crafts, even if it’s of common quality.”

  I stared at the meat for a moment, stomach growling in approval. Not exactly gourmet, but right now, it was exactly what I needed.

  I shrugged. As long as it’s edible.

  I wasn’t exactly picky when it came to food. Back in my mob days, eating standards were, let’s say, flexible. Raw frogs became a delicacy when you were on the run for days.

  I took a cautious bite. The worm meat was surprisingly tender, though the faint stench and spongy texture weren’t exactly appetizing. Flavor? Barely there. But it did the job, filling my belly just enough to silence the relentless growling.

  I didn’t stop there. Ignoring taste and texture, I kept eating until I felt satisfied. I figured there was plenty of meat left. Turns out, I was wrong—more than half the creature was inedible, destined to be repurposed as crafting materials. In the end, only a small portion of the worm meat had been usable.

  Licking my fingers, I leaned back with a sigh of relief. For the first time in what felt like ages, I didn’t feel like I was teetering on the brink of starvation.

  Now that I feel alive again… how do we get out of this cave?

  My thoughts drifted for a moment. My gaming instincts whispered temptations to explore deeper into the cave, to hunt for rare materials or hidden treasures. But logic won out. This body was barely combat-ready, and the last thing I needed was to stumble across another monster and lose my life over misplaced curiosity.

  I groaned, shaking my head. “Ugh, if only I had more strength… or higher Metalweaving mastery,” I muttered.

  “If that’s what you’d like,” Nove chimed in, her tone as level as ever, “why not create some strength-based Core Nodes for yourself? Or feed materials to your other Nexus Core?”

  “Huh?” I replied, confused. “I know you mentioned that before, but could you explain it more clearly this time?”

  Nove didn’t hesitate. With the calm patience of a teacher, she launched into a detailed explanation, laying out the intricacies of Core Nodes and how they could be used to boost my abilities. This time, with my hunger sated, I could actually focus—and absorb the information without feeling like I was about to keel over.