I Picked Up the Fallen Earth

Chapter 24 Base Camp

Inside the 4th level of the building, there was a bit of dust accumulated, yet everything was preserved perfectly. The living room was neatly arranged with a television, sofa, and a display cabinet, and a carpet was laid out on the floor.

In front of the full-length mirror at the entrance, Jeron could perfectly make out his reflection. It was the first time in his life he could take a detailed look at himself.

“I was born with quite a decent appearance.”

Back then and even now, being good-looking had its advantages. The Farrow household genes had been excellent for generations, and this was true even in his father’s generation. Though he had only heard it through rumors, it was said that his father, Ark Farrow, was quite the heartbreaker in his youth.

Jeron’s reflection in the mirror was no different. In a world where the dignity of nobility wasn’t judged by appearance, it was still true that looking neat was politically advantageous.

His golden hair cascading down to his shoulders, sharp jawline, and distinct facial features looked harmoniously together. However, this appearance felt somewhat alien to him.

After closing the door and securely fastening the latch, the interior became quite dark. Jeron lifted one of the window shutters. Considering how thoroughly secured the windows were with shutters installed everywhere, it’s no wonder the interior was perfectly preserved.

With a thud, Jeron sank into the sofa. For a moment, he felt like he was back in the ordinary days of his past life, lost in illusion. Faces of his family flitted through his mind.

Closing his eyes, he fell into a delusion that his wife from a past life was cooking in the kitchen, and the living room seemed filled with the sound of children running around.

The TV blared noisily with children’s cartoons, influenced by their brother, the daughter swung a toy sword, and played around. On the living room sofa hung a family photo, and his favorite liquors were neatly displayed in the cabinet.

They were mostly whiskey, with 30-year-olds making up the majority. He used to sneak whiskey into the freezer when his wife wasn’t looking and have a drink now and then; the cool yet burning sensation was unparalleled.

When he returned home after a day’s work, the children would jump into his arms, and his wife would urge him to quickly wash up and eat. These blissful memories of the past briefly filled his mind.

When Jeron opened his eyes, he was greeted by the silence and tranquility of the room. The family photo hanging behind the sofa now showed completely different faces.

“Sigh.”

Jeron shook his head, clearing his thoughts. This place seemed suitable as a hideout, but also seemed like it could yield a lot of supplies for “farming.”

Especially the old whiskeys in the liquor cabinet shimmered in a way that made him want to get drunk for the first time in ages. A typical sink was placed in the living room, and dishes were neatly organized.

Opening the cabinet under the sink revealed a half-full bag of rice and containers of sesame oil, chili paste, and soybean paste. There were stacks of tuna and ham cans, and even packaged kimchi.

“Wow, jackpot.”

It was an incredible find. With the ingredients laid out here, he could easily whip up a pot of kimchi stew. There were a few packets of ramen, enough to concoct a true meal using the magic powder as a base.

He hadn’t eaten long ago, but his mouth started watering. This time, I checked the master bedroom. It was a typical master bedroom with a bed, lampstand, and a quilt cabinet.

The two small rooms were distinctly decorated in styles befitting a boy and a girl, further stimulating Jeron’s nostalgia. Toys were scattered here and there.

Judging by the dust, it seemed they had been untouched for at least three months, indicating that the folks living here until then led a life far removed from destruction.

However, seeing the corpses strewn up to the front door, it was clear how fiercely resilient the inhabitants must have been. Indeed, if Jeron had been in their position, with ample provisions and such facilities, he would have made the same choices.

Prioritizing oneself and one’s family is a common mindset among ordinary people. He realised that this place could serve as a base camp for a while. Surely, a key to the front door could be found upon a thorough search.

Jeron brushed off the multitude of emotions that naturally surged within him and sat down in a formal seated position in the master bedroom.

He had resolved that whenever he found a safe location on Earth, he would devote at least an hour to practice. Confirming his surroundings, the mana here was over tenfold compared to the Karen Continent, thus, it would indeed be helpful.

He absorbed the surrounding mana using the mana cultivation method received from Count Hanes. Whoosh. A breeze naturally formed around him. As mana flowed into Jeron, the wind swept through the room as well. The amount of mana was enormous.

As much mana as flowed in, an equal amount flowed out. Though the accumulation of mana was slow, it was over ten times that on the Karen Continent. Jeron began the process of compressing mana.

[Once you succeed in feeling and accumulating mana within, the third task is to compress it at a focal point to form a circle. The brain, speculated to be the soul’s resting place, is the most efficient for storing mana, but such a method has long been lost to practicality. Most magicians accumulate mana in their heart. The heart, being the source of life and incessantly beating from birth until death, can use this perpetual motion to start rotating mana to form a circle.]

Naturally, Jeron directed the mana towards his heart.

Thump! Thump!

An enormous pressure was felt. It was as if the mana was directly attacking his heart. Worried about possibly developing myocardial infarction at a young age, Jeron halted the compression of mana.

“Compressing mana is quite strenuous. Even if one succeeds in compressing the magic power and forming a circle, discovering actual magic or needing spells means it would be prudent to seek out Count Hanes sooner rather than later.” Jeron concluded.

Given the pressure on his heart, continuing the practice might lead to severe consequences, so seeking advice from Count Hanes, who possessed even a 1st circle mana hole, seemed wise. Jeron promptly got up.

There was still about an hour and thirty minutes left. A brief walk down memory lane had taken some time in the hideout, but it wasn’t a significant waste. Jeron left the building and made his way to the vicinity of the middle school.

As the saying goes, “Look before you leap,” he confirmed once more that there was no motion around the middle school before proceeding.

As seen from a distance earlier, three riot police buses were parked in a row in front of the school. In front of them lay corpses that appeared to be riot police, now mummified.

Through the iron bars of the windows, resembling chicken coops, polycarbonate shields were neatly lined above the seats. The doors of the riot police buses were open, and inside, dismembered corpses lay scattered.

It was clear that mutants had infiltrated the bus as well.Though there were signs of fierce resistance, the riot police would have been helpless regardless.

Upon inspecting the bus, I found plastic batons and disposable fire extinguishers in front of the back door. In the luggage compartment of the seats, riot gear and helmets were neatly organized, each labeled with a name tag.

[Bong-shik Lee, Constable]
[You-geun Han, Senior Constable]
[Soo-chul Park, Superintendent]

……

Jeron felt a pang of regret. The riot police who had boarded here must have been someone’s sons or family members, yet they couldn’t even see their families’ faces before dying.

“Tsk, why does coming to Earth always turn people sentimental?”

Jeron briefly surveyed the riot police bus before leaving. His destination today was not the riot police bus. He had planned to initially raid a stationery store before targeting the riot police bus later.

Since he had to continue operating the trading post, as part of the strategy to upscale, he needed to bring goods to the Yeongji trading post.

It was true that the current stock was far from sufficient to run the trading post. Jeron had been farming diligently for more than a month, but he hadn’t secured enough goods to upscale the trading post.

That’s why he had resolved to raid the stationery store. As planned, he headed towards the stationery store.

[Ahyeon Stationery]

It had the common signage of a stationery store that could be found near any middle school. Stores like these typically had clear glass windows to showcase the interior, but the glass had been shattered, leaving the interior fully exposed.

No human remains were visible. Although there were traces dragging out from the glass window, there were no bodies inside the stationery store.

The interior of this roughly 10-pyeong stationery store showed signs of a fierce struggle, and it seemed that many survivors had come and gone, judging by the footprints.

The counter had been knocked over, a common occurrence in any store, and Jeron examined the goods on the walls. Even in the age of destruction, there were plenty of useful items.

Among the tools and office supplies, there were items deemed necessary for survival. Goods considered essential for survival had been thoroughly looted, while those deemed unnecessary were well-preserved.

Items like A4 paper, pens, sketchbooks, watercolor paints, scissors, glue sticks, cheap perfumes, earrings, dolls, rulers, protractors, and double-sided tapes were left untouched.

Though unsure of their necessity, he swept them all into his backpack. Raiding one stationery store was hardly enough to fill more than two backpacks.

“Not bad,”

Jeron consoled himself. There were items he wasn’t sure how to sell, but he scooped them all up regardless. In his own way, rulers, protractors, and compasses seemed like they could be useful.

There were also textbooks, somewhat damaged by moisture, but still considerable in number.
The supplementary materials were of no use to Jeron, and he searched for primary science textbooks that could potentially transform the Yeongji.

“The limits of middle school textbooks, perhaps.”

After a brief thought, Jeron shook his head. Even books intended for middle schoolers could contain knowledge beneficial to the Yeongji. Without realizing, he turned his gaze towards the middle school, which resembled a scene from a horror film.

No matter how small, every school tended to have a library. Jeron remembered that the school library housed countless books. A treasury of knowledge that could bring significant change to the medieval era. Jeron saw infinite possibilities in that bleak building.