Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 62: Ruined Civilization

Chapter 62: Ruined Civilization

Shennong stepped lightly through the fungal underbrush, the soft glow of the Lunamarite embedded in the giant walls casting long, eerie shadows across the terrain. Enormous mushrooms loomed like parasol towers, some reaching high into the dim cavern ceiling, their undersides dripping with pale bioluminescence.

The ruins of long-dead Cores lay scattered, half-swallowed by moss and twisted roots. Some resembled broken statues, others little more than rusted spires embedded in the spongy ground. One of them, oddly familiar, caught his eye—the same Core that had nearly taken his life just hours ago.

It looked... hollow now.

"Lifeless," Shennong muttered, his voice swallowed by the humidity. "You were a beast before. Now you look like you could collapse if I breathe too hard."

He let out a weary chuckle and staggered forward. The blue glow of the Lunamarite pulsed faintly from everywhere, illuminating every inch of the strange ecosystem. The cavern he had fought in was just the mouth of something far greater.

As he walked deeper, his eyes widened in awe. Massive trees with bark like slick obsidian rose alongside clusters of glowing plants that swayed as if touched by wind—though there was no breeze down here. The air was thick, stifling. He paused and took a shallow breath.

"...Low oxygen," he observed aloud. "No way surface creatures could survive down here. So how are they...?"

A flicker of movement caught his eye. From behind a spongy stalk, a mutated deer emerged. Its antlers were jagged crystal, and its fur had grown in darkened patches of scale and mold. Nearby, what looked like boars with tusks like swords rooted at the base of a glowing tree, their skin mottled with glowing spots.

Even fish swam in underground streams, their translucent bodies showing internal veins that pulsed with that same blue hue.

"...Mutated," Shennong whispered. "Everything’s been changed."

The ecosystem was thriving—but not in any way he recognized. It wasn’t just life—it was transformed life.

He kept moving, each step more agonizing than the last. His right arm hung limp, broken at the elbow. His ribs throbbed, each breath stabbing his insides. He could feel the internal bleeding, warm and wet beneath his skin. If he had fought those direwolves earlier—

He shuddered. No. He’d been lucky.

The creatures had prowled the fungal valley like phantoms—sleek, lean, their eyes glowing with pale fire. Direwolves, but not like any he’d ever read about. Their claws left faint trails of energy as they moved.

He had barely made it to a high branch, grappling up a bioluminescent tree just before they sniffed the air and prowled past.

"Too strong for me like this," he muttered. "Not until I heal."

The Lunamarite pulsed again, as if it was alive.

His thoughts wandered as he limped forward.

This thing... is it even natural? He looked down at the Lunamarite in this inventory. Why does it glow like this? What kind of stone emits this kind of energy?

The answers were lost to him, buried like the civilization these Cores belonged to.

And they were everywhere now—ruins spread like scattered memories across the biome. Forgotten towers, sunken altars, glyphs half-swallowed by the earth. Some Cores had even fused with the natural elements, becoming more moss and mushroom than machine.

"An entire civilization," Shennong breathed. "Buried under the surface... how long ago did this happen?"

And more importantly—why hadn’t the animals died with it? If this place was sealed off from the surface, if it had sunk... then how did it continue to exist?

He didn’t have the strength to think too long.

His stomach growled, a savage reminder of his limits. He paused beneath a squat tree with glowing blue fruit—bulbous apples, swaying in a windless hush.

"I swear if this thing kills me..." He reached for one, hesitating for a heartbeat, then bit in.

The explosion of juice was unlike anything he had tasted. Sweet, refreshing, cold like rainwater from a mountaintop.

"...Oh gods." He took another bite. "I needed this."

He devoured three more, then leaned against the tree, panting, letting the warmth fill his aching frame.

Time passed. Minutes or hours—he couldn’t tell.

Eventually, something caught his eye in the distance.

A structure—unlike the ruins scattered around. This one was still standing.

Made entirely of Lunamarite, the small hut shimmered with the same ethereal glow, nestled between thick mushroom stalks. No vines, no wear—pristine.

"...That’s not old," Shennong said quietly. "That looks very well maintained."

He crouched, instinct on high alert, and crept forward. His hand hovered over the hilt of his blade. Closer and closer—until the outline of a figure inside became clear through the shimmering walls.

Someone was sitting on a chair.

Motionless.

Shennong’s heart pounded.

"Is he...?" He reached the entrance and stepped in, sword half-drawn.

The man inside stared upward, eyes unfocused. His limbs were limp, his chest unmoving.

Shennong’s instincts screamed—but the stillness of the man calmed them.

"Dead," he whispered, relaxing slightly.

The hut was cluttered. Shelves of glowing items, strange devices that hummed quietly, and blueprints—dozens of them, covered in markings and language Shennong had never seen.

"Schematics?" he murmured, turning one over. "This isn’t our language... what the hell is this?"

He flipped through them. Weapons, machines, Core-like armor... even blueprints for entire structures, all labeled in a language that danced before his eyes like a code meant to be locked.

"What was this guy working on...? This looks like it is the schematic to Core..."

Then, a cold chill slithered up his spine.

The air shifted.

A presence.

He spun around—too late.

A hand gripped his throat like an iron vice.

His eyes went wide. The man from the chair stood before him, eyes blank, face utterly emotionless. The chair behind him lay tipped over, silent witness to his sudden resurrection.

"Wha—!" Shennong gasped, but the hand squeezed tighter.

His sword clattered to the floor.

He clawed at the man’s wrist, struggling, legs kicking. Pain erupted through his chest. His vision blurred.

No... no! I didn’t come this far to die like this!

The man didn’t blink. His eyes weren’t angry, or cruel.

Just empty.

As if he were obeying a command.

"Y-You’re... dead...!" Shennong croaked.

The pressure increased.

His vision began to tunnel. His body, weakened from injury, screamed in protest. The Lunamarite in his chest flickered wildly.

He could feel it responding—surging, fighting against the force choking him.

The man’s face twitched slightly.

Just a fraction.

And then, for the first time, a sound escaped the stranger’s lips.

"...You... have it."

The voice was gravel and smoke. Ancient.

"Give... it... back."

Shennong’s lips parted. "What—"

"You have...me...give it back,"

***

Cassandra stood alone on the wide marble balcony, the evening breeze brushing gently through her loose curls. The sun dipped low over the rolling hills of their barony, casting long golden shadows over the courtyard below. Her hands clutched the railing, fingers tightening every now and then.

"He said he’d take me to his home..." she murmured, her voice soft, almost swallowed by the wind. "But it’s been a whole day."

She turned her head slightly, as if willing him to appear at the gates. But no horse rode in. No familiar figure emerged along the path. Shennong was still gone.

It wasn’t like him.

Her brow furrowed. He always keeps his promises...

"Did those succubi do something to him?" Cassandra murmured, the worry creeping into her voice.

At first, the idea of him being surrounded by succubi had terrified her. But the more she heard—the way they spoke of him, the way they acted—it became clear they truly cared for Shennong.

She had seen the proof with her own eyes. And it wasn’t just them. Since she’d begun working with Shennong, the land itself had changed. The fields were greener. The sick were recovering faster, thanks to improved healthcare. The people... they were thriving. Working together in a way they never had under her former husband’s rule.

She blinked, as if that name had become a shadow now—distant, unimportant.

"I barely even remember his face," she whispered to herself.

Her chest felt lighter when she thought about it. She didn’t feel guilty anymore. Why should she? Shennong had shown her another path. Not just survival—but pride. Possibility. She had been nothing but a noble’s pretty wife. Forgotten, ignored. A fixture in a room, not a woman with thoughts, feelings, dreams.

But now...

She smiled faintly. "Shennong said I could be more."

And she was. She was managing affairs of the barony, helping the people with real issues. Not just sitting on a velvet chair. And every time she doubted herself, he was there—quiet, confident.

Still... she knew he would never be hers alone.

But it wasn’t like that man. Her husband had cheated behind her back, left her feeling hollow and broken. Shennong, though—he didn’t lie to her. He was honest from the beginning.

"I’m not meant to belong to just one," he had said once. "But those I choose, I choose with all my heart."

And she was one of them. That alone was enough.

"He gives me so much..." she breathed, a soft warmth flushing her cheeks. "So much life, so much... love."

It wasn’t just the touches, the kisses. Sometimes it was the way he looked at her when she was talking about something important. The way he listened, really listened. The way he—

She giggled suddenly, covering her mouth. "That meat pie."

One evening, she had been feeling down—exhausted after handling a dispute between two stubborn farmers. Shennong had asked, casually, what her favorite food was. She had laughed and said, "A simple meat pie. One like my mother used to make."

And then... he actually cooked it.

He brought it to her room, piping hot, the crust golden and flaky, the scent pulling tears to her eyes.

"I didn’t know you could cook," she had said, amazed.

"I learned. Just for this."

And then he fed her, piece by piece, with a gentle smile on his face, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That moment—sitting by the fire, him kneeling by her side, both of them laughing as she got sauce on her cheek—that was when she realized.

"I felt... loved," she whispered now, holding her chest. "Like no one else in the world."

But that warmth was interrupted by the knot of anxiety that returned. Where was he?

She turned away from the railing and stepped back into her room, pacing slowly.

What can I do? Should I send someone? Should I wait longer?

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

She turned quickly. "Yes?"

A butler stepped in, head bowed, holding a silver tray. "A letter for you, my lady. It bears the insignia of Sturgon Academy."

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.