Muck, the book. Day 3
Day Three
Fred sat atop a small hill, eating the last of his Slurbon Shrooms from the chaotic villager incident of the previous day. He had looted a lot of good stuff, including a map. The crumpled parchment showed the layout of the island… and in the far distance, a drawing of what looked like a boat.
"A way out?" Fred whispered, eyes glimmering with hope.
He had two choices: stay here, fight for survival, and probably get ambushed by more angry villagers, or follow the map, find the boat, and escape this forsaken island. It was an easy choice. He dusted himself off, grabbed his Rock of Destiny (which, despite all the upgrades, he still carried because it was goated), and set off toward the boat. As Fred ventured deeper into the wilderness, the land became rocky, with giant boulders scattered across the terrain. He stopped for a moment to collect some Mithril Ore, feeling like an actual miner.
Then one of the boulders moved. Then another. Then three more.
Fred slowly looked up to see towering Stone Golems, their massive bodies made of rough stone and rage.
"Ah. That’s… not ideal," Fred muttered.
The nearest Stone Golem let out a low rumbling sound before HURLING a rock the size of a refrigerator at Fred.
"AJKSDHLAKJSDHLAKSJD!" Fred screamed, narrowly dodging as the boulder shattered behind him. He grabbed his new weapon, the Night Blade, and charged.
WHACK!
The blade barely scratched the Golem’s rocky skin. The Golem looked down at Fred, unphased, and responded by SMACKING him across the field like a discount ping-pong ball. Fred groaned as he skidded across the grass. "Okay… new plan. Run!"
He ran like his life depended on it (because it did). As he fled, he grabbed any Mushrooms he could find—Sugon, Gulpon, Ligon, all of them. He didn’t know what they did, but he was now a professional Muck Biologist. The Stone Golems eventually gave up the chase, returning to their boulder naps. Fred took a deep breath, stuffing a Ligon Shroom in his mouth.
As he continued toward the boat, Fred spotted something unusual in the distance. A wooden cart, just sitting in the middle of a field.
He approached cautiously. The cart was loaded with chests—big, golden, loot-filled chests. Fred’s hands started sweating. This was either a gift from the Muck Gods… or a trap.
He slowly reached for one of the chests. Silence. Nothing attacked him. Fred grinned. "This is my lucky d—"
ROAAAAAAAR.
Fred froze. It was not his lucky day.
Behind the cart, a Guardian materialised out of thin air, glowing with pure, murderous energy.
"OH COME ON!" Fred yelled, throwing his hands up.
The Guardian wasted no time and blasteed a laser straight at him. Fred barely managed to roll out of the way, feeling the heat singe his hair and accidentally giving him the hardest haircut of all time.
There was no time to fight. There was only time to loot and sprint. Fred swung open every chest, grabbing everything he could—Coins, Obamium, more rare weapons, and a suspiciously large stack of dough and bread.
Then, without looking back, he ran like diddy was after him with the baby oil. The Guardian chased him for a while but eventually lost interest (probably realising Fred was too pathetic to be worth its time). Gasping for breath, Fred collapsed near a river. He took out the map and traced his finger toward his destination. The boat wasn’t far now.
"I just gotta thug it out…" he whispered.
He chewed on some Bread, gripping his Rock of Destiny tightly.
Tomorrow would be another challenge.