3

The surface for the first time in 200 years—or so I said, but to me it felt more like two days.

Judging from the sun’s position, it was probably just before noon.

The weather was clear—perfect for setting out on a journey.

Whether I would actually be going anywhere was another question.

I would have liked to bask in the sunlight, but unfortunately the area around me—no, everywhere I looked—was dim.

Why?

The answer to that question came at the same time as another thought I couldn’t help voicing:

“Where the hell is this?”

Outside the facility, all I saw was green, green, and more green—not a forest so much as untouched, raw nature.

(Did a place like this exist in the Empire? I’ve never heard of the Empire having land this rich in nature.)

Could this be the result of 200 years passing?

Did the Empire perhaps gain new territory?

I shook my head. “No way,” and observed the area more closely.

(All the plants are ones I’ve seen before… Position-wise, I should be somewhere not far from what used to be Imperial territory.)

After all, I had been moved here while unconscious.

Whether my body was already like this or not, I doubted anyone could easily prepare something as large as a cryogenic chamber just anywhere.

That meant this was almost certainly still former Imperial land.

There was no point in some massive prank on this scale, so I could confirm at least that much—I had indeed been asleep for 200 years in that cryogenic chamber.

(Which means there’s some reason this place is overgrown with greenery—ah, I really wonder how the war ended. There’s no way the fighting just continued while leaving this place like this. And if it’s someone else’s territory now, it’s hard to imagine they’d let so much land sit idle… unless it’s the West. No, I can’t make that call—too little information. Maybe I should set aside some time to investigate the facility’s surface area.)

I stood there for a while, groaning in thought, but no conclusion came.

“Thinking about it won’t get me anywhere,” I decided, and chose to move first.

But if I was going to move, I needed information—especially my current location.

No matter what I did, knowing the terrain and where I was would be essential, and would guide my future decisions.

I also needed to secure water and food.

I wasn’t feeling hunger or thirst yet, but if that was just because my enhanced body dulled such feelings, it could put me in danger at any time.

I had been asleep for over 200 years, even if it was in cold sleep.

Regardless of the sleep part, I had gone without eating or drinking the whole time, so I needed to secure those as soon as possible.

With all this nature around, there should be something edible, but given my huge body, I doubted wild berries would fill my stomach—and I didn’t even know if they were edible.

It might be better to hunt an animal outright.

But then, would I eat it raw? That raised the problem of how to get fire.

(That’s right—maybe I should go back and find something I can carry supplies in.)

With that in mind, I returned underground to the facility…

Only to find the gate buried under rubble.

Even if the gate itself was intact, the surrounding structure must have been in severe disrepair; when I dug that side tunnel earlier, it must have pushed it past its limits.

The 60-meter fall probably finished the job.

The gate I had struggled so much against was now just faintly visible under the dirt and rock, the way back to the research facility completely gone.

It was impossible for anyone to see that and think it could be dug out.

If I tried, I’d risk burying myself, so I sighed and gave up.

“Gohaaaaa…”

Letting out a deep sigh, I at least searched the area for anything useful.

After about an hour, here’s what I’d found:

Backpack – Couldn’t wear it, but I could carry all small items in it. Found in a sealed locker, still usable. Green color.

Empty bottles – Former liquor bottles. Could be used for water. All with lids, relatively clean. Three in total.

Matches – All the lighters were unusable, but I found three new, unopened matchboxes. I hoped they still worked.

Yes, that was all I found in an hour.

Don’t call me incompetent—most things were rusted or too damaged to be usable.

(After 200 years, of course hardly anything usable would remain.)

Finding even this much could be considered lucky.

I would have liked a usable blade, but I couldn’t afford to be picky.

I tried slipping my arm into the backpack straps… but ended up just holding it, then climbed the vertical shaft toward the surface.

Looking around the facility’s aboveground section, I saw ruins completely overrun with greenery. Unlike the underground, I could tell at a glance that searching here would be a waste of time.

Still, there might be some clues about the situation, and ignoring that wasn’t an option.

My oversized body made the surface area of the facility cramped, making real exploration difficult, but the gamer brain in me couldn’t stand the idea of “missing something.”

So I decided to quickly check the facility’s outer perimeter—looking for signs like bullet marks or evidence of explosions on the outer wall, which might help me make guesses about what happened.

But after a full circuit, I found nothing of the sort. The facility had simply been left to decay naturally.

(I guess my only choice is to find records or something inside.)

But expecting to find paper documents in good enough condition to read was unrealistic—especially with how much plant life had invaded the place.

If there were intact papers in this state, it’d be pure fantasy.

I moved back far enough to see the whole facility.

Hopping over a partly crumbled concrete wall, I spotted something—a broken gate, covered in greenery, with something stuck to it.

It was a metal plate, clearly something that had once borne writing.

I pulled off the vines and leaves, exposing the remains of what must have been a sign.

Most of the text was gone, but with the fragments and the “No Entry” mark, it wasn’t hard to guess what it had said.

In short—

“Entry prohibited: Contaminated area.”

Filling in the unreadable parts, it probably read: “This area is designated as heavily contaminated. Closed to all entry.”

I immediately stopped my search and left the ruins at full speed.

Well, that was an unfortunate discovery.

I was surprised by how fast I could run—probably could go faster once I got used to this body.

“Contaminated”—which meant chemical contamination… and given that this was former Imperial territory, there was only one suspect.

(Oh, my dear homeland. What the hell were you doing?)

The northern Kingdom of Canaan did dabble in science, but far below Imperial standards—hardly worth considering.

The eastern nation of Seizeria was a magic state.

In a science-obsessed nation like the Fullretos Empire, there was no way heavy magical contamination would occur unless the terrain itself was drastically altered.

The same went for the west, whose elf nation worshipped nature; their causing contamination was virtually unthinkable.

That left only the southern Reberen Republic and the Haile Federation…

Reberen was too small to have the ability, and Haile, greedy for land, had been attacked by Seizeria during the war—they would never have had the resources to do something like this on Imperial territory back then.

So there was only one answer.

(Self-inflicted Imperial disaster. No doubt about it.)

Yes, that’s how much I trusted my homeland.

In the war with Canaan, they’d churned out outrageous weapons one after another, and every time, there were repeated “accidental” explosions—so it was easy to believe this was the same.

I could only wonder what kind of mess they’d made to cause such heavy contamination.

Could it be that this entire forested area existed only because the contamination drove everyone away?

If so, the whole region was unsafe.

And if the Empire—largest nation on the continent—was in this state everywhere, that would be one hell of a reforestation campaign.

It made me uneasy, but if contamination still remained, there should be visible abnormalities in the plants.

So far, I’d seen nothing unusual—just familiar plants and insects, no deformities—so it was possible the contamination was a thing of the past.

And maybe, hopefully, my body was now resistant to chemical contamination.

Either way, rushing was dangerous. I’d stick to my original plan: figure out the terrain and my location first.

Exploring the facility further wasn’t necessary now that I had a rough idea of the cause.

I looked around, but even with my height, the forest was too dense to see beyond.

So I decided to put my body to use and jumped straight up.

With a loud thump, I launched myself off the ground, smashing through branches until the clear blue sky filled my view.

To my surprise, I’d jumped about my own height again.

(Is my landing going to be okay?)

I trusted my strength to support my increased weight, but fear was fear.

Looking ahead, there was no conveniently high vantage point—just forest. So I ruled out that direction.

I landed with a thud, no pain or numbness—just some startled birds flying away.

“Well now, what a sturdy body I’ve got,” I thought in admiration.

Turning 180 degrees, I jumped again to check the opposite direction.

And there it was—a small but steep cliff.

It looked high enough to see over the area, and not too far—maybe 20 or 30 minutes’ walk.

Running full speed was impossible; the trees were too dense. Earlier, my overly broad shoulders kept bashing into them during my sprint.

With the density of trees here, it was better to move at a jogging pace.

I wasn’t sure calling this four-limbed movement “jogging” was correct, but it felt about right.

I optimized my running as I headed for the cliff.

As expected, it was completely different from what I was used to.

Not just the center of gravity—my physical ability was absurdly high, and controlling it took so much focus that I couldn’t properly keep track of my surroundings.

As a result, I kept bumping into things, occasionally destroying nature just by moving.

This made me realize I couldn’t just “wait to get used to it”—I had to actively train myself.

I wasn’t worried about losing to normal wildlife, but monsters or groups of humans might attack.

And if humans decided I was a dangerous creature, they might hunt me regardless of losses.

I’d rather avoid that.

Once something happened, it’d be too late.

So my conclusion, as I jogged along, was that I should spend time getting used to this body.

Eventually, the cliff came into view.

Close enough now to roughly judge its height.

(Hmm… better than trying to jump that high.)

A bit disappointing, but from there, I might spot something useful.

First, I had to climb it.

I searched for footholds for about a minute—easier than I thought.

It was basically a giant set of three steps, each about two or three meters high. With a jump, I could climb them easily—child’s play for my current body.

Each step was wide enough for stable footing, leaving no reason to worry.

Looking around, I realized this area’s shape was strange—like only this spot had been pushed upward.

I was curious how it formed, but now wasn’t the time. I climbed each step carefully.

Now then, hopefully there’s something familiar to see from the top.