Surviving the Apocalypse with Crafting Skills

“Umm….”

Everyone except me and Ms. Sarah had a subtle smile on their faces, and it didn’t sit well with me.

At this rate, we’re going to unravel completely.

“I’ll get up first.”

Ultimately, whether because of the uncomfortable atmosphere, Ms. Sarah got up from her seat with her bowl and left.

The loud clang of the iron door painfully struck my ears.

“Did you do something to Sarah?”

“Perhaps, siding with Ms. Dieterich was the problem.”

“… Huff.”

“You have no right to laugh either, you little brat.”

As Ms. Dieterich sipped her soup with a chuckle, she nodded her head at me.

“I appreciate you standing up for me. Ah, and… I also wanted to apologize to all of you. Would that be all right?”

“Apology?”

“In truth, when people were dying during the escape, it made me quite uncomfortable. While explaining my thoughts to Mr. Xuan Woo… I ended up making remarks that diminished what all of you did for me.”

“Why do you feel the need for such a grand apology? What did you say exactly?”

“Perhaps there was another way. Perhaps it didn’t have to be a situation where the people chasing us ended up dead… That is… to borrow the phrase of our granddaughter, probably ‘spoiled talk,’ right?”

“That’s right. Spoiled talk indeed. Still… it’s the first time I’ve met someone who knows how to apologize after having spoken such words.”

“Are you not angry?”

“Lady Dieterich, we were soldiers of the United States. In the land of the free, where everyone has the right to live freely and the authority to protect that right with our own hands. If we plugged our ears and refused to listen to such talk, how would that be any different from Nazis or the Reds?”

“To put it simply, at least everyone has the right and opportunity to grab the microphone.”

Mr. James said this while puffing up his chest.

The effort in his muscles made the veins stand out prominently.

“Of course, whatever happens after speaking is entirely one’s own responsibility.”

As Ms. Dieterich swallowed, the expressions of Mr. Curtis and Mr. James softened.

“Since you’ve apologized, it’s fine. At least, we don’t take particular joy in taking others’ lives…”

“Lack of joy, huh? You mean you didn’t feel any guilt when you destroyed the Nazis?”

“Well, I mean, even they are humans…”

“They’re not human. They’re killing machines. They shoved Jews and Poles into gas chambers like parrots, following orders from above. Do you expect me to treat those who call themselves the ‘Zero Empire’ as the same kind of humans?”

“Father…”

“That’s the way it was in my time, right?”

“This again…”

“You don’t need to listen, that’s all right. But these two here—”

“To talk about Nazis in front of a German person? Your face has gone stiff, hasn’t it?”

“That’s why we need to do something about it! Until you can no longer regard Nazis as humans, right?”

It seemed like unpleasant things kept happening to Ms. Dieterich.

As she turned her head in anxiety and opened her mouth to speak, suddenly…

“No, Mr. James, and Mr. Xuan Woo, I’m fine. I’d actually like to listen. It’s the story of someone who’s directly experienced that war.”

“No need to push yourself if you’re not comfortable.”

“It’s an apocalypse, right? A time when there’s neither law nor rules, almost like a battlefield. A survivor of such a time might have something to teach us, don’t you think?”

Saying this, Ms. Dieterich nodded at me, and her face seemed much more at ease.

Did it pay off that I defended her, despite receiving a cold stare from Ms. Sarah?

The reason about the apocalypse seemed to resonate well with Ms. Dieterich.

“See? There are always people who enjoy my stories. So, where shall I start?”

At that moment, watching Mr. Curtis settle into his seat and rest his chin on his hand, I felt a heavy hand land on my shoulder.

It was Mr. James.

“Would it be alright not to check on Sarah?”

“Ah.”

“Go and help her ease up a bit. And apologize.”

That’s right.

The bigger issue was that I hadn’t adequately apologized for not siding with her, despite her risking her life to save mine.

But judging by the drop in her goodwill….

“Would a gift help?”

“Gift? What kind of gift… Ahh, never mind. Does someone who makes everything not prepare at least one proper present?”

With his eyes slightly wide, Mr. James muttered and slightly nodded his head before giving me a little push.

“Go on. Leave the old man to me.”

Watching him pull out a glass and a bottle from his bag and resume feeding alcohol to Curtis, I left the room.

This time, with some flexibility, we could afford to spread out our living areas, which meant there was more we could do.

And one of the designated areas had already been decided.

Farmland.

***

I remember reading somewhere that in Africa, they make bricks using cow dung and mud.

Excrement.

Or poop.

…This too, in an apocalypse, could serve multiple purposes.

For instance, coating a dagger or sharp weapon with it could cause an infection. Sure, it’s messy.

Pouring it all over the pathways enemies use could lower cleanliness and also mess with their psychological state.

I recall a story where someone infiltrated the “Zero Empire” and turned the entire area into a poop field.

In the end, the one who spread the disease by infecting everyone with the poop also died, if I remember correctly.

It wasn’t karma but “poop-retribution,” I think, and I’m not sure why I’m remembering it now, but anyway…

“Here.”

The bunker’s restroom has a storage unit for collecting excrement.

Though someone might wonder why we don’t simply wash it away with water, that would not only waste water but also risk water pollution—something we must avoid at all costs.

It’s much better to process it hygienically for various uses.

And the most representative use? Fertilizer.

“Whoohoo.”

Equipped with a gas mask, I lifted the lid to greet the residue of our meals.

…Apparently, gas masks don’t block out the worst odors, as I’ve heard.

It’s not a good idea to allocate sleeping or dining areas near such disposal sites; it drastically decreases satisfaction levels.

“Pour sawdust here.”

I scattered the byproducts from cutting and hollowing out wood, then stirred them thoroughly with a metal spade.

Back in the days of gaming, all of this was done by just clicking the mouse, but now doing it manually was killing me.

Making prisoners do this is not without reason. Not at all.

Breathing through my mouth, I cautiously pulled out the spade, tapped it twice to shake off the remaining residue, and deposited it into a prepared iron drum.

I closed the lid of the storage unit and turned up the heat.

By heating it for two to three days, sterilizing, and then transferring it to a separate section of the storage unit to mix with more sawdust, all while periodically stirring for a week, the process is complete.

Thinking it through in my head is easy enough.

Thinking it through in my head…

I rinsed the shovel and drum clean with water from the pre-rigged hose and left the room, moving toward the room designated for farming as I removed my gas mask while on the way.

I’d be glad if this pungent smell hadn’t permanently embedded itself into my body.

“Alright.”

There stood the roughly finished results that I could show Ms. Sarah, such as…

Sections divided by wooden planks.

Sacks of soil ready for agriculture.

Barrels filled with soil collected while installing pipelines.

An improvised water sprinkler patched together from leftover parts.

Given that I had closed off this area previously by citing a “large construction project,” it was now time to…

“Ugh… the smell.”

“Ms. Sarah?”

When she came in, pinching her nose lightly, her expression was quite amusing—but why?

Didn’t I mention it was hazardous?

“Well, it’s dangerous in the sense that it could kill your sense of smell, right?”

Step by step, Ms. Sarah examined the various prepared items and occasionally glanced in my direction, sometimes smirking.

It seemed she didn’t need an explanation about the purpose of this place.

“How’s it look? Of course, I haven’t found any seeds yet.”

“There’ll be seeds somewhere. If we raid a few more warehouses, we’ll surely find some.”

“It’s not big enough. We won’t be able to grow wheat or rice here. Of course… maybe later.”

“Later?”

“Eventually. We’ll need more people than we have now, but it should be possible.”

“Hm…”

This was my gift, born out of her wish to eat fresh green vegetables.

She seemed somewhat interested.

“You haven’t really… given your thoughts on it yet.”

“Do I really need to put it into words? You’re always extraordinary, whether in weapons or in crafting useful items. Even this sprinkler.”

“It looks a bit off though.”

Certainly, the hole made with a nail was a mess, and the handle was made by simply welding three iron rods.

“Still, a sprinkler is a sprinkler, regardless of how it looks.”

Ms. Sarah now wore a completely gentle smile as she approached me.

“An apology like this deserves to be accepted with both hands.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“But such earnestness must have a special reason, doesn’t it? Hmm?”

Reason…

What special reason could there be?

I answered without hesitation.

“Righteousness?”

---