Four hundred students were dropped in the jungle.
Despite the fact that they were separated by a wide distance from each other, it wasn't long after the competition started that they were dropped one after another.
"Ugh... stomach, my stomach hurts so much. Wasn't I supposed to eat that fruit earlier?"
"Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! I drank some stagnant water from the trough earlier and it made me vomit...."
"Ouch! Ouch! I've been bitten by something, my eye is tingling!"
The competition's map, "The Red and Black Mountains of Jungle," was a harsh place in itself.
Poisonous mushrooms and fruits, contaminated water, insects armed with venomous bites, sweltering air and heavy humidity, vines and leaves that cut, sting, and sting, and the sheer density of it all was enough to keep them going for hours on end.
Sweat poured down their faces even when they stood still.
Simply holding on to the barrels of poisonous insects was a struggle.
Add to that the rapid dehydration, fatigue, and hunger, and if you eat something, you're immediately poisoned or get food poisoning.
HP was melting like butter on a hot frying pan.
The HP stored in the specially designed suit increases and decreases with the wearer's physical fitness and stress levels.
This means that the students must do their best to keep the HP in their suits from reaching zero in order to survive.
If it does, they will be forcibly teleported back to the waiting room.
Meanwhile.
"...Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm."
Grenouille des Leviathans, the vice head of the Colosseo Academy's Hot Class and a member of the aristocratic faction, was now sweating profusely and breathing heavily.
The reading on his HP suit read 74%.
Even though Grenouille hadn't fought anyone since falling into this forest, 26% of his HP had already evaporated.
"This is insane, this jungle is hell. Are jungles like this really real?"
But no matter how much he complained, nothing changed.
Grenouille stared at the rainwater pooling in the hollows of the trees.
At first glance, it looked like drinkable water, but when Grenouille put his nose to it, he smelled a foul odor.
Straining his eyes, he saw tiny thread worms squirming and floating beneath the surface.
"...ewww!"
Grenouille stepped back, suppressing nausea.
If I drink something like that for thirst, my stomach would immediately give a signal.
And I will lose a ton of water through diarrhea.
'If I do that, I'll have zero HP, and I'll be eliminated before I can do anything.'
Grenouille turned away wearily.
He looks down at his waist and sees the fish he caught earlier.
As soon as I caught it, I scooped it up and dried it myself, but the humidity was so high that it didn't dry quickly.
I put my nose and smelled it, and it smelled like it was already spoiled.
"Ugh, I can't drink water and my food is spoiled. What can I do?"
Grenouille thought he could see why his seniors considered the Jungle of the Red and Black Mountains to be the worst of the maps.
The real wilderness was terrifying enough to make Grenouille, the heir to the Leviathan, shudder.
Every poisonous mushroom or poisonous plant in the book looked a little different in real life.
They can be larger or smaller than they appear in the book, dusty, torn, upside down, dried, in the dark, or in the light.
And there are tons of variants, subspecies, and new species that aren't even listed in the book.
"...Huh, yeah. If this body, which has mastered all sorts of poisons, can't do this, I wonder what other lesser things it can do."
Grenouille wiped the sweat from his brow and turned his head to see how his teammates were struggling.
... but.
"Oh, this is delicious."
"Delicious."
"Delicious."
Over a roaring campfire.
The Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro are huddled over a bowl of white fish fillets cooked in boiling water on the trunk of a halved coconut.
And in the center of it all, a schoolboy sits with an expressionless face.
Vikir.
He was so nonchalantly, as if he were in his own home, adjusting himself to the Red and Black Mountain.
* * *
'It's been a while.'
Vikir was feeling at home after all these years.
The jungle of the Red and Black Mountains were familiar to him, both as a Balak hunting ground and as a Baskerville hound.
The blade of a leaf cutting into flesh, the sting of an insect that made the bite swell, the heat and humidity that clenched his throat, all were familiar and nostalgic.
With a familiar gesture, Vikir found a flint and built a fire, soon warming the surroundings with a glow and not much smoke.
The sticky humidity was removed with spicy ash, and meals were made by roasting fish from the nearby river, mushrooms, and berries from the trees.
Water was purified with charcoal dust and baked earth, then boiled over an open fire for drinking.
The High, Mid, and Low Brothers also reported to Vikir and sought his approval before making their move.
"Hey. Vikir. Can we drink this water?"
"No."
"Can you tell us why? It looks clear to me."
"When I went upstream earlier, there were dead elk lying around."
"I see, so even though the water looks clear, it's full of microorganisms. What about these berries? Are they edible?"
"You can eat them if you steam them to evaporate the poison. If you just eat it, you'll go blind."
The group centered around Vikir.
Grenouille was amazed that 'those Baskerville triplets' were following Vikir's instructions so obediently.
'...that one. He's a little more than I thought.'
Grenouille's gaze drifted to the fish stew Vikir was stirring.
The reddish broth was boiling hot, with all sorts of vegetables and white fish floating around.
I can't help but salivate under my chin as I stare at the spicy-looking soup.
'Oh, no, I can't beg a commoner for food.'
Grenouille fiddled with the spoiled fish wrappers in his pocket.
The thought of relying on a commoner now hurt his pride in being a member of the Seven Great Families.
In the end, though, there was no business before hunger. ...
"Hey."
At Vikir's call, Grenouille turned his head, his eyes wide open.
A bowl of hot and spicy soup in a coconut bowl was held out in front of Grenouille.
"Eat as you want. I don't know what you're doing."
Grenouille felt tears well up in his eyes as he listened to Vikir's words.
'... this commoner bastard. Maybe he's a little nicer than I thought.'
And then Grenouille brought the spicy soup to his lips.
"...! ...! ...!"
His eyes widened to tears.
'Delicious!'
Grenouille felt a shiver run down his spine at the shock of the tongue-melting flavor.
Anything tastes better when you're camped outdoors.
Was it because I was so dehydrated and hungry?
Vikir's spicy soup tasted better than anything I'd ever had from a top chef in the Leviathan family's mansion.
'I must ask him if he'd like to work in my kitchen someday!'
Grenouille gulped down the entire bowl of spicy soup on the spot.
Vikir stared at it, then threw some more mushrooms, fish, and dried worms(?) into the pot and let it simmer for a while longer.
Grenouille stared at it, drooling, as if having forgotten what he had just eaten, and then spoke shyly.
"There, there...."
"Eat more, there's plenty."
"kuh, kuh, kuh, keuhm. hm, thank you...."
Grenouille coughed a few more times, avoiding eye contact, then tilted the coconut bowl to scoop up the broth.
Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmmm...
Grenouille gulped down another fifteen bowls before letting out a long burp as if to say thank you.
His HP, which had dropped to 41%, was now 92% full.
Grenouille patted his bulging belly.
Even with all the food he'd eaten, there was still a lot of spicy soup left in the big coconut.
Grenouille scratched his head and turned to Vikir.
"Hey, commoner... Vikir."
When Vikir turned his head, Grenouille cautiously asked Vikir what he wanted to know.
"What is this fishy red stew, why did you make so much of it, from the looks of it you didn't even eat much."
Suddenly, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro turned to look at Vikir.
They didn't say anything, but they must have been wondering.
"...."
Vikir was silent for a moment and closed his eyes.
Then, stirring the coconut pot slowly with a broad leaf, he answered.
"Fishing."
Everyone's heads tilted, including Grenouille.
Vikir making spicy soup with the fish he caught, and he's going fishing again?
Vikir, in an unusual act of kindness, offers an explanation.
"I'm waiting for the prey to bite the bait."
Even now, the leaf that Vikir is slowly stirring has become a fan, spreading the spicy and savory smell of hot stew.
It was slowly spreading across the jungle, accompanied by the faint glow from the residual fire.
And then.
…Rustle!
The prey, drawn to the warmth and delicious smell, had been trapped.
The sound of their approach to the bait grew louder and louder.
Thwack!
Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro half-sheathed their swords at their hips.
Even Grenouille, who has removed his grimoire and staff, has a tense expression on his face.
"...."
Only Vikir remains calm, hiding behind a clump of bushes and watching the bonfire.
And then.
…Crisp!
A figure emerges from the bushes, drawn by the smell.
He looks exhausted and troubled, his tattered clothes covered in leaves and ashes.
The faces of Highbro, Midbro, Lowbro, and Grenouille turned in horror as they recognized the visitor.
And then.
"...?"
Vikir was just as surprised.
The voice from beyond the bushes was tired, but still clear as day.
"Whoa... what's that smell?"
It was Dolores's.