The morning started with a glow.
Literally.
When Evan opened his eyes, something shimmered faintly above him—not sunlight, not Silas's silver hair glinting in the dawn, but floating letters.
[Mission Complete: Foraged 5 Edibles!]
[Reward Unlocked: Map to Salt Lake (Hidden Cave, Jungle Northwest)]
[Bonus: 10 Herbal Plant Entries Added]
For a groggy second, he thought he was dreaming again. Then the translucent map unfolded before his vision, tracing a glowing line through the jungle like a GPS that had decided to cosplay as divine prophecy.
"…Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he muttered, blinking at the tiny cave symbol pulsing at the end of the glowing route. "How can I forget this...."
He sat up so fast he nearly scared the cubs sleeping in the corner. Salt! That one word was enough to make every nerve in his food-deprived human body celebrate. No more bland stews! No more unsalted roasted roots that tasted like betrayal! This was salvation. Seasoned salvation.
"Salt," he whispered again, grinning like a mad scientist who just invented fire 2.0. "Cooking just got real."
---
By the time breakfast rolled around, Evan had failed approximately thirty times to look normal.
He hummed while cutting fruit. He grinned at the firewood. He might have even winked at the dead prey.
Silas, stirring the morning stew, glanced over. "You look… suspiciously happy."
Evan froze mid-smile. "Happy? Me? Nooo, just… appreciating the joy of life. "
He coughed into his hand. "Say, Silas, completely unrelated question—if we had real salt, even just a handful, how much better would this taste?"
Silas raised a brow. "Salt? A lot. But we don't have any."
Leo, half-awake, piped up with his mouth full, "What's salt?"
"Oh, it's—uh—like… crushed rocks that make food delicious." Evan leaned in conspiratorially. "The gods' own seasoning."
Milo gasped. "Rocks you can eat?!"
"Technically, yes." Evan paused. "Though, don't actually eat random rocks. I made that mistake once as a kid."
Silas chuckled quietly. "You have strange childhood stories."
Evan tried not to grin too hard. "Oh, you have no idea."
....
After breakfast, Evan casually tried to steer the conversation toward his newly acquired treasure map.
"So… I want to ask ," he began, "is there, like, any place around here with weird water? Like a lake where plants don't grow? Maybe the animals avoid it? Shiny? Suspiciously mysterious?"
Silas frowned, thinking. "There is such a place, west of here, past the old cliffs. Nothing grows there. Even the snakes avoid it. The elders say it's cursed."
"Cursed?" Evan's eyes lit up. "Or maybe not!"
"What?"
"Nothing! I said… um, is it really cursed."
Silas's expression turned distant. "They call it the Dead Lake. Bitter water, heavy air. I went there once, long ago. The mud around it sparkles, but it's too harsh to drink. I wouldn't go near it again."
Evan's grin turned sly. "What if I told you that… in a dream, I saw a place like that? And that maybe—just maybe—it holds something precious."
Silas studied him with quiet suspicion, then nodded slowly. "Dreams are not meaningless. Some are omens."
" You get visions,"
"If you wish to follow it, I will guide you."
Evan blinked. Wait. That worked?
Apparently, "mystical vision" was the perfect cover story in a primitive world. Who needed a system tutorial when you had plausible superstition?
....
While they cleaned up breakfast, Evan decided to dig for details.
"So… where do people even get salt here?"
Silas gave a short laugh. "Salt belongs to the sea clans. They guard it fiercely. Once every changing season, they trade with the inland tribes. Furs, bones, medicinal herbs —for a handful of crystals."
"Wait, you mean people have to trade entire furs just for salt?"
Silas nodded grimly. "Last year, I was late. The best was gone. The little we had, I shared among the other clan members for some materials , but it ran out quickly. For most of the year, many tribe lives without it."
Evan gaped. "That's barbaric!"
Silas gave him a blank look. "That's… normal."
Evan groaned, rubbing his face. "Okay, nope. Nope nope nope. I refuse to live in a world where seasoning is a political resource. We're fixing this."
Milo blinked. "Fixing what?"
"Our taste buds, my little buddy."
Leo tilted his head. "So… we're going to fight the sea clan?"
Evan choked. "No! No fighting! We're just going to… reclaim culinary independence."
Silas:" Culinary independence, what's that?"
Evan:" that...t.. nothing don't mind"
Silas sighed, though his eyes softened. "You're strange, Evan. But your strange often helps us."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
---
Evan couldn't stop thinking about the map glowing behind his eyelids. A hidden salt cave.
A chance to break free from the trade system.
And, maybe more importantly, to finally make soup that doesn't taste like despair.
He clapped his hands together. "Alright! New plan. We're going on an adventure."
Leo cheered. "Adventure!"
Milo bounced up and down. "Where are we going? Hunting? Monster fighting?"
"Better." Evan grinned. "We're going to find magical white crystals that make food taste good."
Both cubs gasped as if he'd just announced a journey to the moon.
Silas crossed his arms. "You want to go to the cursed lake."
"Yes."
"And take the cubs."
"Yes."
"…And collect cursed water."
"Yes!"
A long pause. Then Silas sighed in that long-suffering way only parents and husbands knew. "What can I do now..."
---
Their "expedition" took an hour to prepare.
Evan made a checklist out loud because the system refused to offer one:
"Ropes , baskets, stone pots, flint, extra food, and Leo's boundless energy—check! Milo's enthusiasm—check! Silas's skepticism—check!"
Silas rolled his eyes. "And your common sense?"
"Temporarily unavailable."
The cubs giggled as they helped pack. Leo carried the small pot, declaring himself "chief crystal collector." and how he will help his mama with Milo.
By the time they set off, the morning light filtered through thick jungle canopy, scattering golden spears across the forest floor.
Silas took the lead, his beastman form effortlessly cutting through the dense foliage. The cubs followed with gleeful chatter, while Evan brought up the rear, swatting bugs and muttering, "So much for the romance of adventure."
---
The journey west wasn't particularly long—but it was loud.
At one point, Leo yelled, "Monster!"
Turned out to be a bush.
And at least twice, Evan screamed because of "something slimy," which Silas discovered was just wet moss.
"Females are strange," Silas commented dryly.
"Correction," Evan said, panting. "I am not a female ,I am a human male.Humans are civilized. Civilization means not touching suspicious slime."
Milo peeked up. "Then are we… uncivilized?"
Evan hesitated. "Uh—no! You're… wilderness-enhanced!"
Leo beamed. "That sounds cool! but what does that mean"
Silas chuckled under his breath. "You really do talk like you fell from the sky."
"Technically," Evan muttered, "close enough."
---
As they walked, Silas spoke softly about the land—how the sea tribes ruled salt trade, how inland tribes like theirs relied on hunting and herbs and sky tribe adventurs. Evan listened, fascinated. Every detail was a window into this world's rhythms: barter instead of currency, superstition instead of science, and stories instead of written records.
"Tell me," Evan asked, "why do they fear the Dead Lake?"
Silas's tone grew cautious. "Because it's lifeless. The water burns the tongue, the air feels heavy. They say it's cursed by the gods for swallowing a greedy tribe long ago."
"Ah, classic myth with a sprinkle of actual chemistry," Evan muttered. "Probably mineral concentration."
Silas blinked. "What?"
"Uh, nothing. I said 'definitely mysterious and terrifying.' Yup."
The cubs looked awed. "The lake eats people?!"
Evan waved his hands quickly. "No no no—it's fine! It only eats… bad cooks. So as long as you eat your vegetables, you're safe."
Milo gasped. "I'll eat two!"
Silas gave him a side-eye. "You're encouraging terrible logic."
"Motivational logic," Evan corrected proudly.
---
By midday, the trees began to thin. The vibrant greens faded into muted grays. The air itself felt different—thicker, dryer. Even the birds quieted.
Evan slowed his pace. The glow from the system map pulsed faintly in his mind's eye, leading them closer.
"Almost there," he whispered.
They stepped out from the jungle, and the sight ahead stole everyone's breath.
A dark cave with no plants around it.Then they entered the cave.After walking some distance inside they saw a wide, shallow basin spread out before them—a lake that shimmered unnaturally pale under the sunlight coming from a crack on the caves roof. The edges were crusted with powdery white, like frost that refused to melt. The air smelled faintly sharp, metallic.
It was both eerie and beautiful.
Leo whispered, "It's glowing…"
Milo crouched, poking the ground. "It's dry and crunchy."
Evan squatted down, scooping a pinch of the pale dust between his fingers. His heart hammered. It sparkled faintly—salt. Actual salt.
He bit his tongue to stop himself from squealing.
Silas approached warily. "No creatures. Even the air feels wrong."
"That's not wrong," Evan said softly, staring at the landscape like an artist at a masterpiece. "That's chemistry."
The cubs exchanged confused looks. "Mama's talking weird again."
"Let him," Silas murmured, scanning the lake. "Dreams or no dreams, this place holds something.I think we should go back."
Evan couldn't help the grin spreading across his face. Oh, it holds something, alright.
He imagined the stew they'd make tonight—with salt. Real salt. Civilization in a sprinkle.
"This," he whispered reverently, "is our culinary revolution."
Leo blinked. "What's a 'culinary'? Is it dangerous?"
"Only to bland food," Evan said gravely.
---
After examining the water they set down their baskets and pots at the edge of the barren bank. The sunlight reflected off the shimmering crust, throwing silver streaks across Silas's face. Even he seemed momentarily awed.
"Alright," Evan said, rolling up his sleeves dramatically. "Let's see what the cursed lake has to offer."
But before he could step closer, Silas held up a hand. "We test nothing until we set camp a safe distance away."
Evan sighed, hands on hips. "You take the romance out of science."
The cubs giggled.
Evan huffed, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "Fine, fine. Camp first. Science later."
As Silas led them toward a small patch of shade to set up, Evan turned once more toward the strange, glittering lake.
He could almost hear the faint hum of the system in the back of his mind, like a whispering promise.
Salt. Hope. Change.
And perhaps, for the first time since falling into this world, he felt… home.
---