My Abyss Survival Diary

Chapter 9 Survivor Camp

The fog swirled around them, and glowing spores from the forest flickered and landed on their shoulders and hair.

Klein carried the harpoon, Anthony supported the injured Mr. Bell, and Simon dragged the hunting beast.

This beast is associated with the mysterious "Mother of Abundance" cult, and leaving it in place would likely result in it being taken back by them, so Simon decided to bring it along.

There are too many mysteries in this abyss. Perhaps dissecting the carcass of this predator will unlock its secrets.

It was very quiet all around, except for the sound of footsteps on the mud and Mr. Bell's occasional groans.

After walking for about ten minutes, the ground underfoot noticeably hardened. It was no longer soft soil; you could clearly feel pebbles and hard gravel beneath your feet, and the terrain was gradually rising.

Klein stopped in front of a fallen giant tree.

The giant tree was so thick that it would take three people to encircle it. It lay on the ground at an angle, with its trunk more than two meters above the ground, forming a natural slope. The trunk was covered with dark green moss and countless vines hanging down. On the leeward side, there was a cleared area.

On the open ground, two dark gray military canvas tents stood side by side.

In the middle of the tent, on the ground, in a fire pit surrounded by stones, orange-red flames were flickering.

A bald man was squatting next to the fire.

He was squatting there with his back to them, adding firewood to the fire. When he heard footsteps, he immediately stood up, turned around, and alertly raised his weapon.

He was a big guy, half a head taller than Mr. Bell, with broad shoulders and a thick back. He looked like a moving wall. He wore a grayish-white coarse cloth shirt, covered by a thin layer of armor, making him look like a walking tank.

He was holding a shotgun.

The gun had an extremely short barrel, a caliber large enough to fit two fingers, a stock made of rough wood, and a body covered in rust and wrapped with several strips of cloth.

The bald man's gaze swept over the crowd, lingered for a second on the carcass of the hunted beast that Simon was dragging, and finally landed on the unconscious Mr. Bell.

"That guy's gone looking for trouble again?" he asked, his voice low and deep, as if squeezed from the depths of his muscular chest.

The bearded man chuckled wryly as he placed Mr. Bell on the ground: "He's still the same as ever. If it weren't for this brother's help, he would have become the monster's dinner."

"I am Anthony, and I am happy to serve you." The bearded man winked at Simon, then looked at the bald man. "This big guy, who's as strong as a wall, is called Badar."

Badal glanced at Simon and extended his broad palm.

"Thank you for saving my friend."

Simon shook hands with him, feeling as if his palm had been stuffed into a hydraulic press. Badal didn't make things difficult for him, simply shaking hands and letting go.

Badar leaned his large-caliber shotgun against a tree trunk, easily bent down and hoisted the unconscious Mr. Bell onto his shoulder. His face remained expressionless throughout. He carried the bear-headed man straight to a tent, lifted the curtain, and casually shoved him inside.

Anthony threw his backpack on the ground, plopped down next to the fire, and let out a long sigh of relief.

"Sit down, sit down." He beckoned to Simon. "Don't stand there, warm yourself by the fire. This place is so damp, it's making your bones feel soft."

Simon released the carcass of the prey and dragged his weary body to the fire.

He sat down next to Anthony and stretched out his hands to bring them closer to the flames...

The fire is warm.

That warmth crept up my fingertips and into my bones, into the throbbing pain in my shoulder.

He stared at the flickering flames, listened to the crackling sparks, and smelled the faint smoke from the burning firewood. In this perpetually damp, cold, and perilous forest, this warmth was priceless. Whether he continued his adventures or chose to stay, he needed the warmth of the fire.

Anthony pulled a tin canteen from his backpack and handed it to Klein.

Klein took it, unscrewed the cap, tilted his head back, and took a big gulp.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and a little water spilled from the corner of his mouth, sliding down his chin and dripping onto his collar.

After he finished drinking, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed the water bottle to Simon.

Simon took the kettle and took a big gulp from the spout.

The water was warm, and after drinking it, it felt very comfortable from his throat to his stomach. It made him feel refreshed than any other beverage he had ever had, and it relaxed his constantly tense body considerably.

He took another sip before handing the kettle back.

Klein took the kettle, screwed on the cap, tossed it to Anthony, and then looked at Simon, speaking casually:

"How did you get in here?" Klein asked. "What crime did you commit to be thrown into this abyss by those people?"

This was a simple test, a test of his identity.

"I read a book, and then I was brought in," Simon replied after a two-second pause.

He was telling the truth.

Anthony chuckled.

"Are you kidding me, bro? What book? Some kind of juicy, scandalous tale about the emperor?"

Klein glanced at him, and Anthony immediately stopped smiling and focused on roasting his boots.

He turned to look at Simon, his gaze no longer cold, as if recalling some past events, his pale blue eyes noticeably dimmed.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. Everyone has a past that's hard to talk about. The most important thing is to survive in this godforsaken place."

Simon met that gaze and asked a new question:

"How long have you been living here?"

"More than two months, or to be precise, sixty-seven days," Klein stated a precise number.

"Then you must know about the flesh that serves as evidence of sin, right?"

"Of course I know," Klein said, his tone laced with disdain and doubt. "Otherwise, how do you think we've survived to this day?"

Using the flesh of sin as evidence to exchange for indulgences, and then exchanging them for supplies from the priest, is the only known way for Simon to survive in the abyss.

"What exactly is that thing?" Simon pressed. "It's not ordinary meat; it's more like some kind of creature."

It possesses its own consciousness, can parasitize humans, can learn, can imitate, and can still wriggle after leaving the human body.

Klein remained silent for a moment, the firelight illuminating his face and casting flickering shadows on his refined features.

"Bell said..." he began, a hint of impatience in his voice, "that guy said the flesh of the crime was some kind of mushroom."

"Mushrooms?" Simon repeated, frowning.

"That's right, Mushroom." Klein repeated, spreading his hands helplessly. "That guy is always like this. He knows this godforsaken place perfectly well, but he just loves to ramble on and on about some crazy things."

Simon was about to ask again—

"Fungi".

A hoarse voice came from the other side of the tent...

Everyone turned their heads.

Mr. Bell crawled out of the tent. He crawled very slowly, one hand clutching his badly injured chest. He had to pant for a long time after each step. Under the helpless or puzzled gazes of the crowd, he slowly crawled to the fire, sat down on the ground with a thud, leaned against the tree trunk, and gasped for breath.

The firelight illuminated his scarred and bearded face as he looked at Simon and earnestly repeated the word:

"A true fungus!"