I Picked Up the Fallen Earth

Chapter 10. Diary of a Survivor (2)

It must be around midnight now.

Without a watch, it’s been quite inconvenient not being able to tell the exact time.

Today, Jeron rummaged through jewelry stores and visited various houses, dedicating himself to gathering resources, and managed to find a few watches.

However, all of them were out of power and not functioning correctly.

Next time, he thought he should stop by convenience stores, stationery shops, or supermarkets to see if there were any batteries left.

Jeron emptied a survivor’s bag thoroughly.

Swish.

A mix of items poured out.

A camping pot set, a lamp burner, a lighter, a water bottle, two books, several canned foods, a compass, and more were scattered on the ground.

“Not bad for a haul.”

Among other things, the lighter and compass seemed extremely useful.

With a Zippo lighter and a can of lighter fluid, it would come in handy for starting fires in the field if he went to battle.

As for the compass?

It goes without saying.

In this primitive world, compasses did not exist.

Most people found their way by looking at the direction of the sunrise or sunset, or by the stars. Hence, having a guide was essential for travel.

Having a compass would make orientation much easier, which would be revolutionary.

“I should check if there are any magnets at the stationery shop.”

Thinking that items from Earth could be used, his rigid thoughts loosened, and ideas started flowing continuously.

With just a magnet, by carrying a needle, he could use it as a makeshift compass.

Rubbing a needle with a magnet to create a north and south pole would make for an easy compass.

Floating such a treated needle in water would function as a compass.

While it would be inconvenient to have to mark the north and south pole on the needle, that issue could easily be resolved by slightly burning one end to indicate north.

The items he had could easily be transformed into marching gear with a few additions, not a bad outcome at all.

Jeron then took out what seemed to be the least necessary item, a diary.

Come to think of it, carrying a diary and a pen might not be such a bad idea either.

If he could stop by a fancy goods store to get a pen, that too could be a valuable item.

“Ideas are overflowing.”

He felt almost guilty for having cursed the guardian dragon at first.

There were evidently many useful items for Jeron, even if they weren’t heavy or bulky.

Looking at the items from Earth, he wondered how he managed to survive 18 years in such a primitive society.

Flick.

Without much thought, Jeron flipped through the diary.

July 30, 2030.

The invasion of the mutants intensified.

No, they were flocking to the cities and merely hunted us on their way.

Though their numbers decreased compared to before, their physical abilities were enhanced.

How could such immense strength come from those gaunt bodies?

August 3, 2030.

Mr. Kim’s team who went to find food did not return.

Climbing up to the roof to observe the surroundings, mutants were still seen running around.

Some seemed to be settled in this small village continuously hunting.

Could the mutants have developed intelligence?

September 30, 2030.

Today, Ms. Chae went out for recon and claimed to have seen a mutant emitting a blue light.

A blue light?The damned things accelerated momentarily as if they had been injected with some sort of drug the moment they were engulfed in a blue hue.

The survivors believed that these monsters had begun to evolve. My thoughts aligned with theirs. …

July 2032. Most of the survivors who remained in the village had perished. For the past two years, I had been hiding and dodging the mutants that stayed.

It was truly a tiresome game of hide-and-seek. A few days ago, another mutant entered. The two began to fight, and eventually, the one that originally belonged here won.

The survivor roamed around, screaming madly. August 2032. …Chayeon, my love, I’m sorry. It seems I can’t hold on any longer. Now, we might be able to meet….

“Ha!” Jeron exclaimed aloud. The diary was a record of one man. It could also be said to be a journal. After Jeron died in his previous life, it roughly outlined what had happened.

The early parts of the journal made an effort to objectively convey facts, but as it progressed, it became more emotional. It turned irritable and succumbed to loneliness, eventually choosing suicide.

The last entry was scrawled in a nearly illegible hand, suggesting the author might have been drunk, desperately fleeing into the night.

Ultimately, the village’s last survivor did not die from lack of food, but from losing his mind to loneliness and letting go of life. The man’s feelings were understandable.

Having lost all his family and living alone, Jeron, too, had attempted suicide countless times. However, at that time, Jeron could not bring himself to end his life for good.

He was afraid to die, preferring the hellish life on earth over what might await him next. After a moment of silence for the diary, Jeron briefly documented the situation on Earth in Korean.

1. The mutants had all flocked to the cities, sweeping through the outskirts and wiping out the survivors.

2. Though their numbers had decreased, they had evolved.

3. With the reduction in the mutants’ numbers, a sort of territory seemed to have formed, much like wild beasts claiming their own domains.

4. There was a possibility that the mutants had used mana.

5. Venturing into the city now would be a suicide mission. It was impossible to gauge the strength of the surviving mutants.

“It was wise not to go to the city.” It seemed the rural villages were safer. While it was uncertain whether any mutants still survived in the cities, Jeron saw no reason to risk his life.

If he could somehow gain magical powers and lead an army-sized force, he might consider it, but entering the city to farm at this point was suicidal.

***

A warm vitality pervaded the entire domain. Over the last month, Jeron had been alternating between farming and managing the domain, gradually filling his own storehouse.

During that time, he had scoured the entire town and gathered usable items. The collected items were mostly canned foods, jewelry, batteries, alcohol, and several types of seeds; when pressed for time, he even resorted to taking scythes, hoes, and plows from the smithy.

It was becoming time to move on from this neighborhood. There had been a major shift in the domain. Baron Ark Farrow had truly handed over his title to Jeron.

Retreating to the position of a retired lord, he built a house in front of the lake and declared his intention to enjoy his old age with Ophelia.

In this era, being in your forties could be considered old age, but for Jeron, who had lived on Earth, it was absurd.Being in your 40s is considered the prime of life, and to think of retiring already?

The dissonance arose from the locals’ lifespan being a mere 50 years. Jeron, who had inherited his domain somewhat forcibly, became Baron Farrow and seized control of all its powers.

Of course, there were no significant changes as a result. The domain remained poor, and no dramatic changes had yet occurred. But he was determined to initiate changes from now on.

“Lord, I’ve brought the serfs!”

“Greetings to you, milord!”

The loyal knight, Sir Jenald, didn’t harbor any doubts and brought the serfs who would farm on the Lord’s land.

The number of serfs tilling Jeron’s land was in the hundreds.

War slaves were mobilized for hard labor, whereas the serfs, having been slaves to the lord’s family for generations, lived relatively unproblematic lives.

They knelt at Jeron’s feet, trembling. A casual glance at a noble’s eyes could cost them their heads. With the knights glaring menacingly, as they had been directly involved, raising one’s head before Jeron was an impossible feat.

“Village chief.”

“Yes, milord!”

The village chief crawled over. Despite his old age and probably ailing knees, he almost came over on his belly. Regrettable as it was, keeping the customs as they were seemed best.

“Plant these.”

“Yes, yes.”

Jeron handed over the seeds. No explanation was needed. A serf was not a serf for no reason. Their status was below that of the other villagers, treated solely as the lord’s property. It was impossible for them to question the lord.

“Don’t water them too much and take good care of them. If you do it right, there will be a great reward.”

“Would there, could there be any objection?”

The village chief expressed his reverence by thumping his head on the ground. The serfs took the seeds as if they were carrying a golden jug. And why wouldn’t they?

It was an explicit command from their lord, and losing the seeds could literally mean losing their heads.

While other knights quietly followed Jeron, Sir Garcia couldn’t contain his curiosity and asked,

“Lord, why would you bother with farming? Isn’t that something to be left to the lower classes?”

“So, you have a complaint?”

“It’s not a complaint; isn’t it curious to you, commander?”

“It’s not our place to harbor curiosity about the lord’s affairs.”

“Did you hear that?”

“Please, just tell us what it’s about.”

“It’s nothing special, just seeds. They are set to be the main product of our domain going forward.”

The knights had ambiguous expressions. They couldn’t understand how planting flowers could yield a profit since, in this era, flowers were considered near-luxuries, and the idea of selling them was even more perplexing.

However, this was ultimately a matter related to the management of the domain, not something the knights needed to be concerned about. After handing the seeds to the serfs, Jeron made his way back to the lord’s castle.

Today, Baron Romid from the Countdom of Hanes was visiting. Over time, Jeron had been steadily farming gold from Earth and selling it; today, the food, which was the first payment for the sale, was arriving.

And today.

Jeron had planned to present a ‘relic-grade’ item to the viscount.