So it's dead, right? And I'm alive? Ha. Haha? I want to puke. Ugh.'
As he tried to hold back whatever was in his stomach, Glenn escaped from late Father Albenas' embrace, not without difficulty. The tentacles were quite sticky, so it took a bit more time than he expected. The saliva and blood all over him wasn't helping either.
After he had extricated himself completely, he sat down a little further away from the creature's body and took a long breath while trying to calm his shaking hands. He took the time to examine his body, checking for any injuries, and took the opportunity to inspect his clothes as well. He hadn't paid much attention to them before, too busy trying not to get eaten.
Finding no urgent issues with his body besides some minor scratches and a few bruises, he turned his attention to his attire. He appeared to be wearing what resembled a medieval soldier garb.
He had some plain pants held together by a leather belt and a pair of leather shoes, all of those in a pitiful state. A scabbard was attached to his belt on his left side. Glenn looked at it, dumbfounded. He rubbed his eyes, having a hard time believing them.
'How could I not have noticed that? Did I go blind at some point?' He mused, shaking his head as he glanced at the makeshift attachment he had made to put his sword in earlier.
He had no idea of whom he might have fought for back in that place, the colors of the garb having long blended with the blood of his enemies, or his own. He was almost sure that he was a soldier, since he had a sword and was on a battlefield, but it's not like he was well-versed in the specifics of how a medieval soldier without the classic knight's armor would be dressed. Furthermore, his clothes were torn and ragged, resembling more of an old scrap than a soldier's tunic.
His entire body was coated with mucus, saliva, and a mixture of purple and red blood. He looked at his scratches with a bit of worry that they would get infected with all that filth when he realized something important.
'Wait, why isn't it healing again? Was the thing when I woke up a one-time thing? Shit, and here I thought it was the power I gained by coming here.'
'Well, I guess I'll have to find something else.'
Glenn shrugged, making a bit of the different types of blood drip on the ground.
'I need to redo my list of priorities. First, I must clean up. Given that I'm covered in various disgusting fluids, I wouldn't be surprised if I have to cut an arm or a leg later on because of an infection.'
'Next, I'll head towards the mountain. It seems high enough to serve as a good vantage point, while still within reasonable limits in terms of height.'
'Thirdly, seeing how hostile the world here is for now, I feel like I need a way to defend myself that is stronger than just a sword that I don't know how to use.'
'And finally, I should find something to eat because, damn, I just noticed how hungry I am. Oh, and the root!'
Glenn looked around and found the root that unexpectedly saved his life. He walked towards it, and while feeling a bit awkward about doing this, he built a little cairn to thank the plant, piling up a few stones before whispering a quick 'thank you'. He was a man that paid his debts, and who held his word. Even if his first promise in this different world was to a root, he had to uphold it.
Feeling satisfied, he looked back at the body of the creature he had killed. He steeled himself and grabbed the leather-covered wooden hilt of his sword. He tried to take it out, not without difficulty.
It was a particularly disturbing feeling as if the blade was being pulled or was slicing through some kind of thick glue or slime, different from the actual feeling of slicing flesh with the corpse-eating monster. When he finally pulled it out in a fountain of purple, rank blood, he discovered dejectedly that the blade had become completely corroded, the metal taking on a purple, disturbing color. It was unable to reflect any light anymore as if the steel was absorbing it.
'Is this serious? Can I even keep on using it in this state?' He mused, saddened at the state of his weapon. The sword had already saved his life twice, and he couldn't help but become slightly attached to it. Plus, a sword is pretty cool anyway.
Glenn took a more detailed look at the sword, in search of clues to what he could have been doing on this battlefield, but it seemed like a plain sword, measuring roughly eighty centimeters, counting the hilt. The handle was made of wood and was strapped in roughly cut strips of leather to ensure a better grip. It wasn't a heavy sword, probably around two or three kilograms. It suited his hand pretty well.
He sighed and tried to clean the blade on the beast's clerical robe, but the purple just wouldn't go away. After a few minutes of frenetic wiping, he did manage to get rid of all the remaining goo on it, failing at getting rid of the otherworldly hue that now colored his blade. He slid his sword back into its sheath, keeping his right hand on the pommel. It felt a bit reassuring to have it ready to be used, even if he had no idea how to do so. He resumed his pace toward the mountain, at a much slower and careful pace compared to before. He took his time, trying to listen for any sound of flowing water and looking for anything edible that could be lying around. Wild fruits or vegetables, anything that could be eaten.
He picked up some brown mushrooms, avoiding the ones that seemed poisonous, and some wild fruits and vegetables, some that he recognized, like blackberries or blueberries, even a few strawberries, as well as some leeks. The rest he had no idea what they were, but he decided that it would probably be fine to eat as long as he cooked them well. He harvested in such a manner for around a dozen minutes, filling his trouser pockets full of food.
While he was kneeling beside a mushroom with a red cap with white spots on it wondering whether it was poisonous or not, he heard the sound of flowing water. He abandoned the suspicious mushroom, standing back up while smiling. Water meant one thing: shower. Cold or not, he will take it.
Hidden behind a few trees was a clear river flowing down. He looked up the flow to see that it was coming from the mountain. This looked like spring water. He threw a few glances from behind a bush at the surrounding area, aware that water sources are often occupied by wildlife. Seeing no trace of any animals, he checked out the water to see if it was clean, before taking off his rags and jumping in. There were no traces of hesitation whatsoever in his movements.
The water was glacial; nonetheless, Glenn felt a lot better after washing himself of all the blood he had been drenched in previously. Shaking like a leaf, he laughed as he scrubbed his body from all the dirt, blood, and filth it had accumulated. Satisfied with his current state of cleanliness, he got out of the water, completely naked and with an unstoppable trembling sensation.
The sun had yet to rise, and while it wasn't particularly cold, a midnight bath might not have been the wisest choice, especially without a fire for warmth or a means to dry off—both of which, in this case, were absent. He shivered when a small wind passed in his neck, chilling his body down to a negative level from what he could tell. He clattered his teeth, as he stared at his rags on the ground. He could use them, but that would mean having to go around with wet clothes, which would amount to the same thing as not having any anyway. In both cases, he was going to catch a cold or worse, whether he liked it or not.
He didn't even want to try and think about what kinds of illnesses there were in this world. On this note, the only solution Glenn thought of was to make a fire, a thing easier said than done.
With trembling hands, he picked up some dry wood and moss that he found a little farther from the river. He then built a little campfire, making a circle with some big stones and placing the sticks in an upward manner, making a small pyramid of wood.
The young man looked around the river for a flint, swearing after throwing away yet another common stone, before finding one. He approached his campfire and drew his sword from its scabbard, striking the sword with the flint, creating a few sparks. He tried to direct the sparks toward the dry moss he had found earlier since he knew it would catch more easily than the dry wood. After a good dozen minutes of effort, he swore aloud, almost tossing the damned flint away.
'Come on, Link could do it fine, I should be able to do it too!'
After struggling and swearing for another good ten minutes while shaking naked from the cold, Glenn finally managed to produce a few sparks, lighting up a ridiculously tiny ember. He hurriedly fell to his knees, blowing carefully at the ember to try and make it grow into a larger flame. The chilling wind blew on his back, making him shiver from the cold, but Glenn didn't lose his concentration. Sadly for him, his body did lose the fight, unable to contain a cataclysmic sneeze.
"Crap!" Glenn wiped his nose, looking at the ember worriedly, before sighing in relief as the fire finally started. He put the flint near his rags, thinking he might need to light up some other fire later on.
The young man held back the desire to let out a shout of joy, and quickly snuggled near the fire, heating himself while making sure that the flames wouldn't go out. He looked at his bloodied rags, before picking them up and quickly washing them in the river. Glenn then hung them on a few sticks near the fire, making them dry faster this way.
While waiting for the rags to dry, he also skewered the mushrooms and the vegetables he found on some improvised sticks that he then planted next to the fire. He would have boiled the water if he could, but he didn't have any recipient for that. Why didn't he have a metal helmet or something by the way? Was his army so cheap they only gave swords and nothing else?
The sound of ruffling leaves made him jump on his feet, as he grabbed his sword and held it in front of him, his eyes alert but worried. He felt particularly vulnerable right now, even more since he was naked. No chance this sudden thing was going to let him dress up, right?
He waited, his whole body tense, his previous shaking from the cold forgotten. A few drops of water dripped from his wet hair, plopping on the ground. Glenn forced one breath in after another. Finally, the monstrous being revealed itself. It was...a small rabbit. Glenn stared at it, as the small animal proceeded to ignore him completely, heading for the water without any care in the world, drinking from the flow.
Glenn stared at his makeshift vegetable skewers, then at the rabbit, then back at the skewers.
A few minutes later, a poorly butchered rabbit was cooking atop the fire, Glenn washing his hands from the fresh blood. He shook his head, knowing that he didn't have a choice to survive. On the same occasion, he prepared himself for the inevitable future diarrhea and drank from the river.
The water was fresh and had a little taste of dirt. Not the best he had drunk in his life, but still certainly better than tap water. The drink cooled his insides as well as his racing mind. Having quenched his thirst, Glenn sat back down near the fire and started to think about how he got there since there was a lot to think about.