Chapitre 23: New equip
Shaun stood in front of what he liked to call his "fridge," though the name was a bit of a stretch. With no electricity and only the cool night air to help, it was really just an insulated box that slowed down the inevitable rot of his food. Every night, he'd crack it open, letting the cool jungle air seep in and preserve the meat just a little longer. It wasn't perfect, but it kept the meat from spoiling too quickly. And in a world where time was a luxury, those few extra days were a gift.
But the rest of the meat? Well, that required a little more…creativity.
Shaun turned to the sun, his relentless, dependable ally. He'd laid the remaining meat out in its rays, hoping the heat would draw out the moisture, drying the flesh enough to be stored long-term. The process was slow and tedious, the meat turning leathery under the sun, but that was the idea. It was about making it last—about squeezing as much use out of everything he had.
And then there was his latest creation, his pride and joy: a smoker. Well, "smoker" might have been a generous term. It was more of a ramshackle structure pieced together from mud bricks and scavenged wood, crowned by a crooked bamboo chimney that seemed like it would topple over with the first strong breeze. Still, it worked—or at least, it was working so far.
Inside the smoker, rambutan shells and branches smoldered gently, casting a sweet, smoky aroma over the strips of meat hanging within. Shaun had figured out that the natural oils in the shells gave off a fruity, almost candy-like scent, making the meat taste less… well, like a week-old boar. It wasn't some grand culinary feat, but it was a welcome change from the usual blandness of survival rations. The smoke curled upward, drying the meat further while infusing it with the sweetness of the rambutan—enough to last weeks, maybe even months if he was careful.
It wasn't perfect, but it worked. The rich, sweet aroma that wafted from the smoker was a rare luxury in this brutal world—a reminder that even in the chaos, a good meal could still bring a little comfort.
Shaun wiped his hands on his pants and surveyed the scene. Food was no longer an issue. But there was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind—despite all this, he still didn't have the tools he needed. The pile of bones and hides he'd collected had the potential to become something great, but his weapons? They were still crude, barely better than sticks and stones.
His spears, which had gotten him this far, were just that: simple, fragile, and unreliable. He needed something better. He needed gear that wouldn't snap in half the next time a peckish truck sized beast tried to take a chunk out of him.
Shaun's gaze drifted toward Panda, who was sprawled out on the floor, belly-up, its one back leg twitching in post-lunch bliss. The rabbit looked every bit like the poster child for laziness.
"I hate to break it to you, buddy, but we've got work to do," Shaun said with a smirk.
Panda's ears twitched, but it didn't move. The rabbit seemed content to bask in the post-lunch glow, clearly not planning to lift a paw anytime soon.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Shaun muttered.
Without any fanfare, he set a Wrap Trap beneath Panda, and before the rabbit could react, the vines shot up, wrapping it neatly like a burrito. Panda's eyes shot open, squeaking furiously. The rabbit wriggled, but there was no escape.
"Sorry, pal," Shaun said with a chuckle, hoisting the wrapped-up rabbit in his arms. "You eat, you work. Those are the rules around here."
Panda squealed, the sound echoing through the clearing, as though hoping for some unseen hero to come and save it. But the jungle remained silent. No cavalry was coming.
Two hours later, five bone spears lay in front of Shaun. It wasn't like he'd ever made weapons from bone before, but improvisation had become second nature to him. The bones of the boar and lizards had a sturdiness that wood simply didn't. They felt solid in his hands, smooth to the touch after hours of grinding and shaping. Thinner than his old wooden spears, sure, but they were far sharper. The hooks he'd carved into the tips were a brutal touch— once in, the only way it'd come out is with a pound of flesh on it.
Panda had long since freed itself from the trap and was now keeping its distance, watching him with suspicion. The rabbit let out a soft squeak, as if vowing never to trust Shaun again.
"Hey, it's not all bad," Shaun said, turning one of the spears in his hands. "At least you're not going to end up as part of my gear… yet."
Satisfied with his handiwork, Shaun turned to his next project. He rummaged through the items the old homeowners had left behind, pulling out an old, long camping bag, the kind that stretched from the head to the bottom of a grown man's back. Stripping off the unnecessary parts, Shaun started piecing together a rough frame. Using bones from the lizards, he reinforced the corners, stiffening the structure so it would stand on its own.
The real challenge came when he began skinning. He had never skinned anything in his life before this nightmare began, and it showed in the jagged patches of hide that had been haphazardly stitched together. But after practicing on the two smaller lizards, he was beginning to get a feel for it. The boss lizard's skin was tougher, but also more flexible, perfect for reinforcing his new makeshift bag.
Panda watched him with wide eyes, its body twitching as if vowing to never let itself die in Shaun's presence. The rabbit seemed to understand the danger of becoming part of Shaun's growing collection of supplies.
Once he was confident in his skinning skills, Shaun moved on to the lizard boss's hide. The material was tough, but flexible—perfect for reinforcing his new gear. He stitched the lizard skin onto the outside of the pouch, patching up any holes with the scraps he'd collected from earlier failed attempts.
With the material stitched on, the bag was starting to resemble something functional. Shaun even cut a slit into the side, turning the bag into a massive quiver of sorts. The spears could slide in and out easily, but wouldn't fall out during a fight. Not bad for someone who had never done any of this before.
With the main structure complete, Shaun reattached the original pouches, though now they were covered in lizard skin for extra durability. He smiled, pleased with how it turned out. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. If only his parents could see him now. All those years they'd scolded him for wasting money on game skins, and here he was, literally making skins.
He added two straps to the side of the bag, custom-fit to hold his trusty staff. It might've just been a piece of wood, but it had saved him more times than he cared to count. Strangely enough, it was tougher than even the bones he'd worked with. He'd spent time searching for the tree it came from, combing through the jungle below, but it was nowhere to be found. Whatever its origin, he wasn't about to leave it behind now.
The boar hide, though, was his real treasure. Big enough to cover two king-sized beds, it was soft, durable, and excellent at regulating temperature. Honestly, the way he hacked and stitched it together without any real clue what he was doing could almost be considered criminal. But after a lot of trial and error, he managed to cobble together a crude jacket and pants. It wasn't fancy—hell, it wasn't even pretty—but it worked. The thin fur lining kept him warm at night and cool during the day.
The finishing touch was the boss lizard's lower jaw, its edge lined with increasingly larger teeth, culminating in a single massive fang at the end. Just holding it to his side made Shaun shudder, imagining what could've happened if those jaws had actually clamped down on him. He wrapped a strip of boar hide around the base for a sturdy grip, feeling the weight shift forward with every test swing. The front-heavy balance gave each strike a vicious momentum, perfect for close combat. He even crafted a second one, purely for cooking—because why not?
When all was said and done, Shaun stood back, looking at his reflection in a pool of water nearby. He looked like something out of an apocalyptic video game—his gear made from the very creatures that had once tried to kill him. A bone sword, spears, a lizard-hide backpack. Fall-Out ready 1-4.
Panda, watching from a distance, let out a long, exasperated squeak. Its tiny nose twitched as if saying, Of all the humans in the world, I had to get stuck with this one.
Shaun chuckled. "Hey, at least we look good."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone