The shattered spelljamming ship rose in the distance like a low hill.
It was a wooden spelljamming ship. When intact, it would have measured up to seventy-five feet long. Two pairs of dragonfly-like wings extended from both sides of the hull, made from canvas stretched over wooden frames. They could beat rapidly, giving the ship the maneuverability needed to roam through space.
The entire vessel was shaped like a plump dragonfly. Now it had snapped in two at the middle. The bow section still drifted in Wildspace, while the stern section had crashed into the asteroid.
Skyl recited an incantation, his fingers hooked as he gently plucked at the all-pervading Weave. Feeling magical energy gather, he became both a weaver and a harpist. The warp and weft of the Weave twisted together in his palm. Following his murmurs, the magical power hidden beneath the material ocean surged out through the strands of the net, forming a breeze that lifted the warlock and carried him floating toward the shipwreck.
Although he was not moving quickly, he was now someone who had grown wings and could soar through Wildspace. He was no longer troubled by the shortcomings of an ordinary mortal body.
The wreckage of the spelljamming ship had been drifting for several days, and it had long since attracted Wildspace creatures to move in. Before Skyl even arrived, he could already see shifting lights and shadows behind the portholes. Inside the torn openings of the hull, silver-blue filament space jellyfish drifted gracefully back and forth.
Skyl floated down onto the deck. Several gray cold lizards had spread their sticky claws and were crawling across the deck, preying on the glowing grubs that had grown out of the ship's body. Those grubs fed on the residual magical energy inside the spelljamming ship. They had bored tunnels through the hull in all directions, not to escape, but purely to absorb more nutrients. They were bottom-level producers so lazy that even when eaten, they could not be bothered to resist.
He also caught a few glowing ship grubs to test for poison and eat. Their texture was much better than the light-moths. When chewed, they tasted like tender salted grilled loin.
Otherworldly Knowledge: You've heard that if you chew beef jerky and peanuts together, it almost tastes like a cheap steak dinner.
"Where am I supposed to get beef jerky and peanuts?" Skyl muttered with a laugh. Then his eyes fixed on the gray cold lizards that had fled into the corner. They studied the uninvited guest with icy eyes.
He hit one with Eldritch Blast, skinned it, tested it for poison, then chewed it together with the ship grubs, and it became absolutely disgusting.
With a dark expression, he swallowed the food in his mouth.
After a brief meal, Skyl wandered across the deck in search of usable supplies. Two wooden crates tied down with ropes, along with the tarps wrapped around them, looked like treasure to him. He pried open the crates with Eldritch Blast and saw one oil-paper packet after another inside. When he tore one open, it contained black medicinal powder that smelled sharply foul.
Otherworldly Knowledge: This is black powder. You think of firearms, cannons, bombers, screaming soldiers, homeless civilians, and collapsed mines. Enjoy this primitive, pure violence.
"Good stuff." Skyl left it alone for the moment and headed toward the stern cabin. That was usually where the core of a ship was located. The captain's cabin and the helm were both concentrated in that area. He hoped he could find a star chart, or some other valuable letters.
Before he even opened the door, Skyl heard faint noises from inside the stern cabin, as if some creature were scurrying around in there.
The newly minted warlock quietly started thinking about retreating. After he noticed his own mindset, he secretly mocked himself. Look at you. When you had nothing but a rotten life, you weren't afraid of anything. Now that you have the hope of studying spells and becoming stronger, you've started valuing your life again.
He did not think there was anything wrong with that mindset. The most important qualities in wilderness survival were calm and caution. All those who overestimated themselves and fantasized about fighting heaven and earth would be swallowed by nature and turned into a pile of bones.
So Skyl planned to peek in from outside the window and check the situation first.
The round window had a cross-shaped frame, and the glass fitted to it had already shattered. The upper right and lower left sections were completely empty.
Inside the first-floor hall of the stern cabin, the magical lamps on the ceiling gave off dim white light, illuminating the scene within.
Tables, chairs, and benches floated in the air. There was a huge hole in the wall of the hall, and a fat scorpion-tailed boar-crocodile had crawled in through it. At that moment, it was sprawled on the floor laying eggs.
Sticky crocodile eggs wrapped in brownish-green mucus slid out of its cloaca like balls of dung, while the crocodile mother's cruel scorpion tail slowly lashed through the air. Floating objects were struck by the long tail and knocked around with heavy bangs.
Skyl slowed his breathing.
He quietly backed away, looked at the black powder in the crates, then looked back toward the stern cabin. A straightforward plan surfaced in his mind.
Blow up that space-mutant crocodile. Eat its meat. Eat the eggs it had laid. Turn its hide into clothing and bedding. Use its bones to make spears and roof supports. Use its tail stinger as a spearhead.
Survival gave him no second option besides killing. If Skyl had the ability to charm this monster, he could have tamed it as a hunting assistant and gained considerable long-term benefits.
Skyl did not act rashly. Igniting explosives required a source of fire. He quietly left the spelljamming shipwreck, found a fissure cave, crawled inside, opened The Guide, and began studying the 0-level spell [Fire Bolt].
Fire Bolt was a useful cantrip. Aside from its respectable damage, its greatest use was lighting fires.
After a period of study, Skyl already had a certain foundation in magical theory. With one thing leading to another, learning [Fire Bolt] no longer required hours of intense research. He understood how to hook into the warp and weft of the Weave, clearly recited the incantation, and tried it several times. Soon, a burning magical flame appeared in Skyl's hand. He casually threw it out. The firelight shot forward like a thread, struck the cold surface of the asteroid, and dimmed in an instant, leaving a scorched mark behind.
Since he was going to fight, Skyl could no longer be stingy with the resources he had on hand.
The daily practice tasks issued by The Guide had provided him with Essence of Dittany, which could heal injuries. That was also the confidence he needed to dare to fight. In the wild, injury was the most terrifying thing. Animals that could not receive treatment often died. The reason intelligent life could rise from savagery was also that it knew how to care for the wounded and unite its strength.
Otherworldly Knowledge: You think of saharans persistence hunting. Skilled hunters wound their prey, then run after it until it exhausts itself and collapses. Hunting is like this. It tests courage, patience, and luck.
Skyl practiced a hundred times, completed today's training task, and received another bottle of Essence of Dittany. His use of Fire Bolt had also become fairly practiced. Within 120 feet, it could be said that wherever he pointed, he hit. Even against moving targets, his accuracy was decent.
He returned to the spelljamming ship.
Skyl took out the black powder.
In the engineering books he had been studying, he had seen that fuel burned more completely after being atomized, and that if solid combustible particles were evenly dispersed through the air, forming a suspended cloud inside an enclosed space, ignition could produce a powerful explosion.
So he controlled Mage Hand, grabbed packet after packet of black powder, and guided them through the window into the stern cabin.
The scorpion-tailed boar-crocodile stared with confused eyes at the powder packets flying inside. The invisible ghostly hand shook the powder loose, scattering it evenly through the air.
A full three pounds of black powder were poured into the first-floor hall of the stern cabin.
The thick smell of saltpeter made the monster inside restless. It guarded its eggs and did not leave this soon-to-explode furnace of flame.
After finishing all this, Skyl already felt extremely tired. Although 0-level magic did not consume spell slots, communicating with the Weave was still exhausting work.
The final strike.
[Fire Bolt]
The warlock floated high in the air, watching as the flash of fire in the window abruptly vanished.
Did it fail?
No.
It succeeded.
The sturdy wooden stern cabin burst like an exploding balloon. Orange-red streams of fire shot out, and the enormous shockwave tore the ruined hull apart once again.
Boom!
A muffled thunderclap rang out.
Skyl was blown away by the wild wind. He thought to himself that the yield really had been a little too high.
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