(For all of you who are ready to enter the pit, please be sure to read "Works Related" first to understand the background.) ）

Snow, thin soil, no word monument.

He buried everything in the past with an empty tomb.

From a frustrated clerk who died suddenly to a medieval nobleman who was hunted down and retained with his memories, he has been reviling for a year in the jungle of this strange barren valley of Central Europe.

A year allowed him to slowly integrate into this known as the darkest era, and also completely melted into this body that retains the memories of the original owner and inherits the abilities of the original owner, the former name has been selectively forgotten by him, and his current identity is Art Wood Wells, the son of a Lombard baron who was stripped of his land, and a hunter who wanders in the barren valley forests in the south of the Count of Burgundy.

Three years earlier, the original owner of the body, Arte Wood Wells, who was mortally wounded at the age of eighteen, followed his father, who had been stripped of his title, all the way north to escape the enemy's pursuit and flee into the dense forest.

In the early winter of last year, the original owner Art accidentally fell off a cliff while hunting with his father, causing serious injuries, hiding in the valley and lacking medical treatment, and soon the original owner died in a dark night because he could not be treated, and at this time, he died suddenly in another time and space, and he attached his soul to the body of the remnants of memory.

Art's breath miraculously survived again, but Art's father died soon after with the hatred of slaughtering the family, and before dying, the elder Wells handed the knight's sword that had accompanied him all his life to the soulless Art, making him vow to wash away his shame and revive the family......

For a year, he has been living in this forest with the instinct of the original owner, and survives by hunting.

He couldn't predict the world he was in advance, because in his previous life, he was not familiar with the history of this era at all, and he vaguely found that this world was just a similar time and space, everything was plausible, similar but not.

Coming to such a world, maybe he can only spend his life hiding in the barren valley and dense forests like this......

It wasn't until a serious illness two days ago that he struggled at the gates of hell several times and almost died again, and after a catastrophe, he suddenly woke up and finally decided not to linger for a second life......

…………

Leaning over to wipe the last handful of snow on the grave, he touched the wooden tablet and said in his heart: "Buried in the past, from now on, I am Art Wood Wells, and I will belong to this era." Then the Soul Piercer, who took the name of Yat, picked up the horned bow leaning against the tablet and walked towards the dense forest without looking back.

No matter what ambition you have, the most important thing right now is to live first......

......……

A pair of eagle-like eyes under the wolfskin felt hat quietly observed the surroundings, and suddenly, raising his hand to pull out a horned step bow, an armor-piercing arrow came out—

"Poof~" A wild boar whose eye socket was pierced by a sharp arrow was so excited by the severe pain that it jumped out, and kept wailing as it ran.

Art put away his hunting bow and followed quickly.

After running for a long time, the wild boar finally grabbed the arrow into his head due to the chaotic collision, and fell into a snowdrift with a thud, twitching his limbs.

Art adjusted his rapid breathing, lunged forward, pulled out a hunting knife with a dark red metallic sheen, and stabbed the boar's neck into the boar's heart, and in an instant, the snow was dyed a maroon......

A figure carrying a boar and a fir branch disappeared into the depths of the jungle, leaving only a series of footprints blurred by the branches......

A wisp of smoke is rising. At this moment, by the stream in front of a wooden hut deep in the forest, Art cleaned the liver of the wild boar, and the biting water of the stream hung into ice in his long bun.

Arter buries most of his internal organs immediately after slaughtering his prey, but he usually keeps his liver.

He turned and walked into the hut with the cleaned boar liver, which was surprisingly warm compared to the bitterly cold outside, the rough and thick walls of the log walls, the impermeable roof of winter thatch, and the roaring fire in the hearth of the stone strips in the middle of the hut made the heat rise in the small wooden house.

In the innermost part of the hut was a wooden bed covered with hay and animal skins, and on the walls hung a horn bow and an oak single bow, a leather quiver filled with arrows hung on one side, and a short sword about two feet long hung on the wall, and the walls around the hut were covered with the skins of various animals.

A few pieces of wild boar meat boiled in a clay pot, gurgling and bubbling.

Yate casually threw the pork liver into the pot, and after the broth boiled, he took out a small packet of coarse salt and crushed it into the pot, then picked up the wooden spoon and scooped up the soup, put it to his mouth and sucked it......

A sumptuous pork feast made him feel extremely satisfied when he was recovering from a serious illness.

As night fell, the forests of Central Europe became even quieter.

Art dragged a large wooden box from under the bed, opened the iron lock, and slowly lifted the lid of the box, and a delicate set of chain mail lay quietly in the box, shining silver against the background of the jumping bonfire. He lifted the heavy chain mail in both hands, feeling its coldness and power.

A sheet of linen soaked in hot oil wiped each ring of the chain mail as his thoughts drifted away, contemplating how to fulfill his master's long-cherished wish......

The howl of wolves outside the house interrupted Art's thoughts, and he got up to remove the dagger from the wall, picked up a one-and-a-half-foot hunting knife on the table, wrapped it in a bearskin jacket, got up and went out, and opened the traps around the wooden fence around the hut one by one.

Back at the wooden house, I patted the snow on my head, closed the wooden door, walked to the center of the house, picked up a few pieces of firewood, and threw them into the fire.

Continuing to the wooden box, he picked up the chain mail and gently placed it on the bed, revealing a white cross blouse, a leather belt, a leather armor on the upper body, and black boots at the bottom of the wooden box. A three-and-a-half-foot-long knight's sword lay there quietly, the blade of the Uzi steel forged sword was covered with fine lines after being forged by a heavy hammer, and the dark gray metallic luster could not hide the brownish-black blood shadow......

............

The morning light and cold air penetrated the cabin, and the reddish charcoal still remained in the burned fire.

Art lifted the wool blanket, got up and put on a linen underlined shirt, wrapped the bearskin jacket at the head of the bed, came to the wooden poke full of clear water, held the cold water in both hands, and slapped it on the face~

"Ah~ comfortable!"

After a loud scream, Art was sober.

The clay pot boiled the broth left over from the previous night, sprinkled a handful of black, hard bread crumbs and soaked it in the soup, and the fragrant pork bread soup in the wooden bowl gave Art a hearty breakfast.

Art looked out of the fence, where centuries of division and warfare in the empire had made the valley forest a terra nullius and an animal kingdom where brown bears, timberwolves, elk, wild boars, goats, wild foxes, hares and other animals thrived.

Throughout the autumn before the long winter, Art shuttled through the jungle and wrestled with the beasts and foxes, the months of hard work was worth it, all kinds of furs have been hung all over the walls, including a bear skin and two fine deer skins, unfortunately the wolf skin has been damaged, the ferocious wolf was trapped in the trap for three days and still broke out with ferocity, in the desperate struggle Art had to use a hunting knife to keep stabbing the wolf in the abdomen...

Art rarely leaves the valley, one because the enemy has not stopped chasing the "remnants" of the Wells family for all these years, and there is a lot of danger outside. The second is because the outside world is not easier than in the valley, especially for a "foreigner" who lives only on the remnants of the original owner's memories.

But the long winter is coming, and Art must prepare salt, barley, bread and some daily necessities for the winter before the snow covers the mountain.

At the end of a moor on the north side of the barren valley, five days from the valley, the county town of Tignets was the southernmost town of Burgundy, and the closest to the valley's habitat, a castle with a free market, where Art had the only connection with the world, from which everything that could not be produced in the valley had to be obtained.

After breakfast, Art began to pack his bags, he took off the furs from the wooden wall and laid them out on the flat ground at the door of the wooden house, and arranged them one by one, and wrapped nearly forty furs of all sizes in shabby linen, and then tied them into a thick stack with ropes made of vines, and turned into the wooden house, and took off a piece of smoked venison weighing about thirty pounds that hung from the overhanging beam above the fire pit, wrapped it in birch bark, and put it on the fur.

After all this, a thin layer of sweat oozed from Art's brain.

After a short rest, Art came to the wooden bed, bent down and dragged out the wooden box from under the bed, opened it and took out a money bag made of sheepskin, and in the jingling money bag was the little money that Art had left over the years—ten large silver marks, twenty-four small silver deniers, and a pile of copper plates.

Art took out five marks, ten deniers, and a handful of Fennigh and put them into another leather purse. Then he took out a thick package of linen, took out the last of about three pounds of miscellaneous wheat bread from the clay pot of grain, and cut off with a hunting knife a piece of wild boar from a wooden beam that had not yet had time to be smoked, and a small packet of salt wrapped in leaves, and packed it with food for the journey, and then turned and took the short sword and tied it to his waist, and put a horned bow and leather arrows on his back, and a dark and shiny hunting knife into the scabbard, took the rabbit-skin felt hat at the head of the bed and fastened it to his head, put out the fire, and went out of the hut, and tied it to the wooden door with a strong rattan rope. Carrying a large bag of fur, he embarked on a journey to the Tignets leather trade......

…………