In every humble beginning, build its foundation from the chasm of wanderlust. The paramount of one's mark through the untold journeys.

  Where untamed lays bear, a new tender warmth will replace its place with care. A wildered land gleams with hope. The cradle of rise, slow but a whispered promise to greatness.

  Klean felt a sudden warmth, vividly sinking in the moment, maybe from the uncultivated land, he was the sole owner of this land, or maybe from the further future of tomorrow. He didn't immediately nor abruptly settle down.

  Klean pondered to find the perfect place to settle. The open mountainous woods are the battle grounds of beastly predators, a sentence of death without the sturdy shelter to speak of. Neither near the Night Tale River nor the newly opened entrance of the enclave he had discovered, even though it acted like a natural fortress.

  “A cautious hunter must know the entirety of his den before settling in” Klean muttered thoughtfully while pondering his possible options.

  With that in mind, Klean approached then hauled the large boar carcass into the chasm’s gaping mouth. Dragging it away from the open wilderness.

  He tactfully sorted the boar’s carcass to begin the temporarily preserving method.

  "Securing’ and ‘Preserving’ food is the first primary priority to survival. A wastage of food reserved means death in any ruthless expanse of wilderness.

  Wielding the Blacktoise Axe high in the air, Klean began the butchering process, sorting out meat and organs orderly and categories with care.

  Slash!.. Rip!.. Chunk!..

  With an audible cleave, the hardened bluetoise sharp edge bit deeply into the thick, mud-caked fur of the four-hundred-kilo beast. Klean's pale green eyes, narrowed in sheer concentration. While wielding the Blacktoise Axe with calculated chops and stroke.

  Butchering a beast of this magnitude was no simple feat for a fourteen-year-old , yet his D+ Dexterity and D+ Strength guided his hands with the practiced fluidity, and to add to that, the experience imparted to him by a season huntress, well.. Whose roughly teaching, taught him the ropes of things.

  Klean moved methodically, his axe wielding mastery fully in display, butchering the Hound Boar into manageable, hefty proportions. Sectioning the broad torso, prime cuts separated in precise ratios, until he had four big chunks of meat carved out from the body of the meaty boar. ay.

  “Now for the organs” He only collected the most vital, beneficial organs according to the phrases of the certain huntress.

  “The bonafide nutrient of all hunters: ‘The heart. The liver. And the lungs”as she skilfully dissected each organs. And the rest of the innards the intestines, the spleen, and the rest what knows what, its throwable that attracts the wildness of noses were.. well... not so keen for my liking (stomach).” as the huntress mumbles to herself.

  Dragging the unwanted remains toward a shallow depression near the enclave's rocky wall, Klean used a sturdy broken branch and his lizard boots to dig a deep ditch. He casually throws out the leftover organs. As for the 2 heavy, pointy arc, rusted-red tusks he kept them in his person, for they have their crafting uses.

  He covered the ditch, and scattered a dense layer of pungent wild plants, pine needles, and crushed moss over the top, to completely mask off the blood stench from the predators of the forest.

  “Wooo..”

  With a proud sigh, while he wipes the droplets of sweat from his forehead, a satisfied smile forms on his mouth.

  But Klean didn't stop there, as the preservation of the meat is next, an exposed meat practically begging for spoilage when the winter nearing its end and the warmth of spring was nearing; The scent from the freshness of the meat attracts hungry predators that would not hesitate to ravage, with nothing left for him.

  Afterward, Klean began to scout the perimeter, letting his gaze wander, as his eyes darted across different bushes, foliages, and budded trees, His C- Perception leaving nothing out.

  Closing in the Night Tale River, a faint translucent shimmer caught his eyes, near the Night Tale River edges.

  [Ding] [Blue Veiled Reed: a blue like flower reed thriving near the challenge moisture of mountain springs,river and lake. When processed and squeezed properly, the sap significantly slows the spoiling process of fresh meat for 1 week.]

  “Slows the spoiling process, ohh.. nice find” He happily muttered.

  But the sap alone wouldn’t be enough, a binding agent is needed to balance out the potency of the spoilage process, still keeping freshness of the meat.

  Scanning further into the wild bushes and foliages, his eyes locked onto a cluster of reddish gold colored stems of a wild plant.

  [Ding] [Scarlet Dew : a herbal stem containing potent antibacterial properties. When mixed with other herbs or agents, it creates a detergent mixture with added medicinal effects, also helps meat stay fresh and tender.]

  "Perfect," Klean grunted, harvesting bundles of the Blue Veiled Reed and several thick Scarlet Dew. He brought his ‘herds of herbs’ back to the smooth, bowl like stone he had used the previous night, to grind and create his healing paste.

  Using the blunt end of his axe handle, Klean began to crush the ingredients together. The blue sap of the reed hissed slightly as it mixed with the powdery red extract of the root, creating a thick, bubbling paste.

  Klean, still not satisfied, scavenged the perimeter of wild mountain thyme, hauling handfuls of the fragrant herb into the mix. The thyme would act as a mask and a repellent, concealing the tender scent of the meat from predators and act as a natural insect repellent, -

  “Those pestering flying insects.. its always them” Klean lowly grumbles

  Klean snatched two massive, umbrella-like leaves from a cluster of ancient ferns growing near the water, fashioning them into a makeshift leaf bowl. then scooping up the paste mixture.

  He smeared the herbal paste over boar meat, generously covering every part and inch of the juicy meat. Then, the meat immediately took on a slightly bluish purple hue, the smell of blood entirely replaced by the sharp, earthy aroma of thyme.

  Afterward, Klean ventured slightly past the medium size willow tree, he gathered massive, umbrella like leaves. He layered the leaves over the smeared meat, wrapping each of the four meat chunks tightly, until they resembled a bundle of large, green parcels.

  As for the finishing touches, walking toward the glassy waters of the Night Tale River basin, Klean waddled with effort into the shallows. His rock-scaled lizard boots sank slightly into the riverbed. He dug his hands into the water, pulling up dense, gray clay and chunks of chalky limestone resting beneath the riverbank. He hauled piles of the material back to his camp.

  Mixing the clay and crushed limestone with a small amount of river water, he created a thick, cement-like sludge. Carefully, Klean began cocooning the four big bundles of leaf-wrapped boar meat inside the clay-limestone mixture. He made sure to smooth out any cracks to ensure an airtight seal.

  Klean didn't forget to separate two small chunks of boar meat for immediate consumption, ready to cook a tender meal.

  “For now, it looks like a clay boulder, but truthfully it has meat hidden within.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Boulder brute endures the wild unknown, For others it's not known, a feast sealed within a stone”

  [Ding] [A bundle of cocoon encasement. A combination of cradling meat preservation, of nature's plant and mudded mold of earth, A ingenuity at its finest.]

  [System Evaluation: Very time consuming and resource costly, A very handful.. Prepared by an overly cautious lad, brutish crude lord with odd hobbies. But nonetheless…….. Effective.]

  Huh? Klean can’t help wryly squint, by the system front insu-… ahem…Evaluation.

  Now comes the matter of transporting the cocoon meat boulder. Clay-bound chunks were incredibly heavy, far too cumbersome to carry, Klean knew of this issue.

  “Hmmmm…”

  As Klean pondered how to solve this issue, he suddenly remembered seeing a free farmer riding an ox in the field with a yoke attached to the ox neck, but rather than attaching two animals, how about a 2 meter horizontal plank or a strong branch with plant fiber and animal sinew to strengthen and act as supporting anchor for the encase boar meat.

  Klean moved and approached a nearby fallen cedar tree. With precise, heavy cleaves of his Blacktoise axe, he chopped two large and sturdy branches, stripping them of their smaller 2 meter poles.

  Using the leftover dried plant fiber and animal sinew from his other small rabbit pouch, he intricately tied the four big bundles two on each end of the two branch poles.

  Klean had crafted himself a makeshift lifter, a primitive but highly effective shoulder transportation method, that could be hoisted on both of his shoulders.

  He crouched low, sliding his shoulders beneath the intersecting wooden joints. With a grunt that strained his jaw, still feeling the throbbing from his gush back.

  Klean still held true, due to his D+Constitution combined with his D+Strength. His D+ Strength strained against the monumental weight, his muscles burning with the accumulated labor of the morning. From battling the Hound Boar, butchering, preserving, and now hauling. Yet, his D+ Dexterity kept the load perfectly balanced, his footsteps sure and unwavering.

  He needed to understand this place. Truly understand it. The enclave was a natural fortress, yes, but even fortresses had weaknesses. Hidden dangers. Blind spots where death could fester unnoticed until it struck with the suddenness of a viper.

  The chasm opened before him like the throat of some primordial beast, all jagged stone and shadowed recesses. Towering walls of gray slate and granite curved inward, forming a massive, bowl shaped clearing perhaps fifty meters across.

  The upstream waters of the Night Tale River cascaded gently down the far wall, pooling into a crystalline basin before flowing out beside the rocky entrance the very choke point he had traversed to enter.

  A dead end for the hunted, but only if the hunter knew every stone, every crevice, every potential threat that might lurk in the darkness.

  Klean moved methodically, venturing deeper into the enclave. His Sensory Horizon, the C-Rank Perception ability that painted the world in subtle, radar like pulses of awareness, sensing a fifty-meter radius around him.

  It hummed quietly in his mind, picking up the scurry of mountain rodents in the high walls, the shift of loose gravel under his boots, the subtle drip of water finding its way through ancient stone. No immediate threats registered. Nothing large, only subtle droplets from the stalactites drop, from time to time.

  He ventured deeper, his boots finding purchase on the damp stone. The chasm was like an ancient tomb of earth, long forgotten and untouched. The walls layered with sedimentary stories the creation of natural formation of earthen mountains. Stalactites hung like frozen tears from hidden recesses in the high ceiling, and the air grew cooler, denser, carrying the distinct mineral scent of wet stone and ancient silence.

  Five minutes of careful, agonizingly heavy scouting brought him to the far western wall.

  The chasm seemed to end here, a solid curtain of slate that rose sheer and unbroken to the shadowed heights above. Klean frowned, his instincts prickling beneath his skin. Something felt... incomplete.

  The air was too still. A space this size, this deep within the mountain, should have felt more oppressive, more stagnant.

  Then, he felt it. A cold, breathy breeze caressed his cheek like the brushing tail of a silver wolf.

  Klean stopped dead in his tracks, his pale green eyes squinting into the gloom. The heavy pole lifter, clay bound meat swayed precariously on his shoulders, tracing where the breeze is coming from.

  He trailed the chilly breeze with the methodical patience of a bloodhound. The Sensory Horizon pulsed sharply as he approached the western wall, not warning him of danger, but of space the subtle distortion of air movement where solid rock should be.

  Closing in cautiously, he discovered it.

  A narrow, jagged fissure, barely wide enough to admit a grown man's shoulders, concealed entirely behind a thick curtain of weeping willow vines, twisting petrified roots, and hanging, moist moss at the far end of the enclave.

  The vegetation was ancient, gnarled, having grown in this hidden pocket of moisture and dim light for untold centuries. It was a literal wound in the mountain's flesh, hidden brilliantly behind nature's own bandaging.

  Klean's wry smile emerged, cracking his usual stoic mask. "Well, well. The mountain has its own secrets to hide."

  He gently lowered the heavy yoke of meat to the ground, his shoulders screaming in relief. Stepping forward, he tried squeezing through the claustrophobic passage, but to no avail, the roots had grown too thick, the stone too jagged, even for his lean fourteen year old frame. The fissure breathed that sweet, cold air like a promise, and Klean was not a boy who ignored promises, especially those whispered by the earth itself.

  He brandished his Blacktoise Axe, feeling the familiar, reassuring weight of the crafted weapon. The hardened bluetoise edge caught what little light filtered through the chasm, gleaming with a dark, predatory sheen. His Axe Mastery currently sits at a respectable- Skilled rank [178/500]. With a calculated whoosh.

  Klean decided to snap and chip his way in.

  Drawing back his arms, he unleashed a flurry of calculated strikes and slashes.

  Sheesh... whoosh... whoosh!

  The hardened bluetoise edge slash viciously into the stone, sending bright sparks and fragmented shards of granite flying into the damp air. Each impact was precise, no wasted motion, nor brutal strokes without a targeted purpose.

  He hacked at the petrified roots, his mastery allowing him to strike with pinpoint accuracy. The ancient wood splintered beneath his assault, revealing rings of growth that predated his birth by centuries.

  Every swing was a testament to his ignited conviction, chipping away at the barrier that stood between him and the unknown. His pale green eyes, rimmed with feral red, narrowed in sheer concentration. Adaptation was survival. Survival was the purpose.

  Crack! Suddenly, with a loud, resounding crack, the oppressive slated rocks and thick, tangled roots gave way.

  A rush of pure, sweet air washed over him, completely blowing away the stagnant, damp smell of the cave. It was air that tasted of green growing things, of pure water, of vast open spaces hidden perfectly within the mountain's heart.

  Klean stepped through the breached fissure, dragging his makeshift pole like a yoke with cocoon meat attached at each ends, his breath catching in his throat as he ducked beneath the last hanging curtain of willow mossy vines.

  A breathtaking expanse laid before his eyes.

  A hidden valley unfolded before him, a verdant secret entirely enclosed by towering, impenetrable mountain ranges. The oval basin stretched perhaps two kilometers across, its floor carpeted in grass so vibrant, so untouched, that it seemed to emit its own soft luminescence. Wildflowers dotted the emerald expanse—clusters of silver-bell blooms and star-shaped petals that seemed to catch the dim light and reflect it back in faint, bioluminescent whispers, much like the Flickering Star Marrow of the river outside.

  Towering cedar and silver birch ringed the perimeter, their ancient trunks standing sentinel against the encircling walls. The valley breathed with a life that felt separate from the brutal world beyond, a self-contained ecosystem thriving in its sealed perfection.

  However, the most astonishing spectacles that seized Klean breath entirely.

  At the far eastern end of the valley, a magnificent waterfall erupted from the mountain peak. It was a sight of unparalleled, painted beauty. It was as if the mountain had a heart vein made of liquid silver; the water surged from an internal spring deep within the rock, cascading down the sheer cliff face in multiple tiers of moss-covered stone, to form a deep, crystalline pool.

  This pool, overflowing with pristine water, fed the very Night Tale River on the other side of the eastern mountain through an underground channel Klean could easily deduce.

  The sound was not noise, but music: the mountain's own heartbeat made audible, thundering yet serene, powerful yet somehow gentle in its constancy.

  Klean stood frozen, taking in the serene spectacle. This was not just a secluded enclave; this was a paradise untouched and unturned. A fortress within a fortress, with its own water source, its own timber, its own flora. The valley was a world entire, sealed away from the dangers of the Southeastern Reaches, hidden so perfectly that no map would ever mark its existence.

  Klean's astounded smile emerged, replacing his exhaust stoic face. "Hidden from the outside world, truly a brilliant surprise of nature, you never know what you encounter on your travels.”

  He turned his gaze back toward the breached fissure, calculating the defensive choke point. “I’d say a valley with its own mountain spring is a bit more than a secret. A clever escape route or a hidden card caught intruders out of their guard."

  Klean gently lowered the heavy pole, falling with a heavy Thud. His shoulder ease with relief, every muscle screams with relief, while he now leisurely stretches with relief, to release the tense muscle fibers on his being.

  “Even this place is a safe haven, an impenetrable shield from the outside dangers, it still brought hidden dangers within, the surprise elements that what we call ‘the cycle of nature“