Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 59: Lunamarite Mutation

Chapter 59: Lunamarite Mutation

Shennong winced, staggering forward as pain flared through his ribs. Blood dripped from a cut above his brow, mixing with the grime on his face. His eyes, however, burned with relentless determination.

Before him, the mountain of mud he had dropped on the gelatinous monstrosity lay still... but something felt wrong.

Too quiet.

It was too quiet because he didn’t even hear any dying sound or any whimper from the creature.

A low tremor pulsed beneath his feet. He froze.

"...No... not now."

Cracks spiderwebbed across the mud mound, and before he could react—

BOOOOOM!!

A geyser of mud erupted into the air like a volcanic explosion. Shennong instinctively shielded his face with his arm as a wave of sludge slammed into him, knocking him off his feet and coating everything in sticky filth. When the storm settled, the mountain he had created was gone.

He coughed, blinking through the grime, and slowly lifted his gaze.

"What... the hell...?"

Where the blob once stood was now a towering figure, easily five times his size, bathed in a haunting midnight glow. It pulsed with veins of deep, luminous blue—familiar... unmistakable.

"Lunamarite..." Shennong breathed.

But this... wasn’t just material. It was alive.

The creature radiated overwhelming energy, its surface crystalline and jagged, glimmering with ethereal light. Dark mist coiled around it like an aura of death.

The Collector within him shrieked with ecstatic hunger.

[!! ALERT: Unique Entity Detected !!]

[Name: CORE]

[Type: Biome-bound Guardian Entity]

[Origin: Lunarite Mutation - True Form]

[Rank: B]

"A Core..." Shennong whispered, eyes wide. "So the blob... that was just a roaming form. A decoy."

He clenched his jaw, the strain of the moment etched into every tendon in his neck.

"And now..." he whispered, eyes narrowing, "it sees me as a threat. I guess it’s done toying with me."

A guttural roar shattered the silence of the cavern. The Core’s howl was monstrous, a deafening bellow that rattled the very bones of the earth. Dust and shards of glowing blue crystal rained from the cavern ceiling, and the walls groaned in protest. From across the chamber, two burning eyes—slits of molten blue flame—locked onto him, searing into his soul.

Shennong couldn’t help it—he chuckled. Low, dry, borderline mad. Sweat trickled down his temple, mingling with a cut just above his brow.

"Earlier," he said, voice hoarse but laced with grim amusement, "I wanted to add you to my collection..."

He took a step forward, meeting the Core’s gaze head-on. His own eyes gleamed with manic hunger.

"Now?" His grin sharpened. "I definitely need you."

But the grin faltered as a wave of crushing pressure rolled over him like a collapsing avalanche. Raw force—not physical, but primal—pinned him in place. His knees buckled slightly, and he staggered, clutching his side. His instincts screamed—run. Survive.

"This pressure..." he muttered, breath short. "B-rank... just one below Yenissa..."

His pupils shrank.

"This thing could actually kill me."

As if answering his fear, the Core stomped forward. Each movement was cataclysmic, the cavern floor cracking under its massive feet, sending tremors echoing through the stone.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

"Shit—!"

Shennong turned on his heel and sprinted, his injured arm flailing behind him uselessly, like dead weight. His thin greatsword—more decorative than practical against something like this—rested against his shoulder, slipping slightly from his bloodied grip.

Behind him, the Core thundered after him like a locomotive from hell, a living landslide of rage and molten magic. With every step, the very world quaked. Shards of Lunamarite burst from the walls as the monster’s aura tore through the environment like a cyclone.

"Run. Run. RUN!" he barked at himself, lungs burning, vision narrowing to a tunnel of survival.

I can’t fight it head-on. My sword... won’t even scratch Lunamarite—let alone a creature born of it!

His heart pounded in his ears, each beat like a war drum. His ribs ached—one of them was definitely cracked—and his legs were screaming from the sprint.

Think. THINK, DAMMIT.

He grit his teeth, fighting panic.

That leaves one option—

"My pickaxe..." he hissed between breaths. "Where is it?!"

He skidded around a sharp bend, nearly losing his footing as a jagged shard of glowing crystal shot past him. It tore a deep scar into the tunnel wall, spraying sparks and dust. Another second later and it would’ve taken off his head.

"That thing... it’s not just chasing me—it’s aiming to crush me underfoot..."

But then his eyes landed on something familiar—a brittle stretch of cavern floor, faintly etched with his marks in white chalk from earlier. The spot he’d marked during his mapping, just in case. he couldn’t find the place where he came in from.

"There." He stopped cold.

He faced the wall, every nerve in his body screaming at him to keep running. He reached for his sword—not to fight, but to store it—and sheathed it into his inventory with a flicker of magic.

Behind him, the Core roared again—closer, angrier. It shifted its momentum, turning its massive body toward him like a battleship changing course.

"That’s it... come on," Shennong muttered under his breath, every muscle tense.

The beast surged forward.

He didn’t move.

"COME ON!" he roared, sweat streaming down his jawline.

CRAAAAACK!

The Core rammed straight into the weakened wall. The brittle Lunamarite structure shattered like glass, exploding in a burst of azure light and dust. The shockwave blasted through the cavern.

But—Shennong was gone.

The Core stumbled slightly, its massive form confused, slow to register. It snarled, scanning the surroundings with its blazing eyes, searching for the prey that had just vanished.

Then—a tug.

It looked down.

A glint of steel reflected the light from its flaming body.

A grappling hook, buried in the dense, rocky muscle of its left flank.

From it dangled Shennong—bloodied, gasping for air, one arm limp, the other gripping the hook’s handle with all the strength he had left. His body swung wildly with every step the Core took, like a fly caught on the side of a beast.

"Ghhhaaa—dammit... hurts... like... hell..." he growled, every breath a lance of pain through his ribs. He coughed, spat blood, and wiped his mouth on his shoulder.

"Note to self," he wheezed, eyes tearing up from the pain, "grappling onto a living mountain while at full sprint..."

Another violent jolt as the Core spun, trying to shake him loose.

"...never a good idea."

He laughed—half pain, half madness.

But in his eyes, behind the bruises and blood, a spark remained.

Determination.

"This... this is one hell of a creature. Damn... you’re making me so hard, you shiny bastard."

The Core roared in rage, a guttural, otherworldly sound that shook the cavern walls and echoed through the stone like a war drum from the depths. Its entire body convulsed, trembling with fury, as it leapt into the air and slammed back down, trying violently to dislodge the figure clinging to its armored surface.

Shennong’s grip faltered for just a second, fingers slipping against the slick, heat-seared scales. But he gritted his teeth, muscles straining, arms burning like they’d been dipped in lava. His breath was ragged. His bones screamed with every jolt, every shudder. Something in his left shoulder cracked—but he didn’t let go.

"Just a little longer—hold, dammit!" he hissed through clenched teeth, sweat and blood mingling in rivers down his temple. His vision swam.

Then, he saw it.

A hollow. A crater, almost like a wound, gaping wide and pulsing with inner light. It glowed a deep, unnatural gold, embedded in the Core’s chest—a weak point? No. Not just that.

It was calling to him.

His heartbeat quickened. Without thinking, he began to climb toward it, pulling himself hand over hand, each movement a test of willpower. His right leg dragged limply, injured from an earlier fall. His left hand was half-numb, the nerves likely shot. But he didn’t stop.

"That’s it... come on... don’t give up now," he muttered, breathless. The world around him shook as the Core bucked again, but he kept climbing, refusing to be thrown off.

As he neared the hollow, heat blasted against his face like a furnace, but Shennong forced his body forward, teeth bared in determination.

Then, with a final push, he dropped into the opening.

The Core let out an agonized shriek, like a beast trying to claw out its own heart. Inside the chest cavity, everything twisted—walls of crystal and muscle convulsing around him, flashes of light like lightning trapped in flesh. The air was thick with searing energy and the stink of molten rock.

But then, he saw it.

At the center of the chamber, embedded within a tangled nest of crystalline tendrils, was the glint of gold. A warm, steady pulse echoed from it, like a heartbeat syncing with his own.

Shennong’s breath caught. He knew that shape. He didn’t dare believe it.

"...No way..." he whispered.

He dropped to his knees and crawled toward it, his limbs trembling with exhaustion and disbelief. The object was half-buried in a sheath of crystal, like a relic sealed in amber. His hand stretched out, fingers brushing the warm metal.

A surge of familiarity and power shot through him.

"...You..."

His voice cracked with emotion.

With shaking hands, he gripped the handle and pulled.

The crystal resisted—but then, with a sharp crack, it gave way. The object slid free with a sound like splitting stone. He staggered back, cradling it.

The golden pickaxe.

Pristine. Radiating a silent strength. The very same one that had vanished thanks to the slime he was fighting against. The one no scanner could track. The one that no creature—not even Yenissa—had been able to use despite it being a regular pickaxe for them.

Shennong stared at it, awe-struck.

"...You’ve been here all this time," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He turned the weapon in his hands, the polished metal gleaming with a soft, ethereal light. The shaft thrummed with energy, not just reacting to him—but recognizing him. The glow around it flared as if rejoicing at being held once more.

"This... this explains everything," he muttered, gaze drifting around the chamber. "Why the Lunamarite layer couldn’t form properly here... why the readings were scrambled..."

He ran his thumb over the edge of the tool, feeling every ridge, every familiar mark.

"You’re not just a weapon, are you?" His voice was low, reverent. "You’re... a part of me. Something I still don’t understand."

Something ancient stirred in the back of his mind—fragments of dreams he never remembered, symbols he couldn’t translate. The pickaxe shimmered in his grip, resonating with something deep inside him.

Shennong stood slowly, the pain forgotten for a brief, blinding moment of purpose.

He raised the pickaxe.

"Time to dig."

But before he could swing, a sharp, burning lance of agony ripped through his side.

"GHH—!" He doubled over, coughing violently.

SPLAT!

A thick spray of blood splattered across the Core’s inner crystal walls.

"No... no—no, not now—!" His hand clutched his side, fingers wet with warmth.

The world tilted. The golden glow dimmed. Everything spun in slow, nauseating spirals. His knees buckled.

He dropped the pickaxe.

CLANG. It echoed, angry and hollow.

His vision faded at the edges, going black with every blink. Still, he forced out a smile, weak but triumphant.

"I... I did it..."

He crumpled forward, body finally giving in, his consciousness slipping like sand through trembling fingers.

"...But not without cost..."

And then—silence.