Leveling Up By Surviving Alone - L.U.B.S.A Chapter 75

 

The skill granted by a creature that had transformed its very identity from cephalopod to plant—

 

**‘Assimilation!’**

 

By this point, even an idiot would’ve figured it out.

 

**Assimilation** was the skill that allowed him to learn the **unlearnable**.

 

*‘Then… should I test it?’*

 

If his body was going to change regardless, avoiding it wouldn’t help.

 

*‘It’s fine… I won’t die…!’*

 

So, very cautiously, he activated **Camouflage (F)**.

 

—

 

**- Camouflage (F)**

 

…?

 

Yeonwoo looked at his skin.

 

No visible change.

 

But then, his left palm itched—and when he glanced down, his **left hand was gone**. No, not gone. The skin had **blended seamlessly** with the sandy ground he was leaning on, creating the illusion of disappearance.

 

Instinctively, he realized he could wrap this skill around his entire body to become the **Sandman**—or more accurately, **Sand-Colored Skin Man**.

 

*‘Later.’*

 

For now, **not getting caught** was the priority. Deactivating Camouflage, Yeonwoo gritted his teeth.

 

*Gulp.*

 

His mouth went dry.

 

His hand drifted toward his left chest.

 

*‘Then… has my heart already turned into an octopus’s?’*

 

**Octopus Heart** was a **passive skill**—meaning it should’ve already taken effect. If his theory was right, his heart was **no longer human**.

 

So… was Yeonwoo still human, or had he become part octopus?

 

Lost in these grim thoughts, a system notification chimed in, as if reading his mind.

 

—

 

**- Due to Assimilation (F)’s low rank, Octopus Heart (C) has not yet been applied.**

 

—

 

*‘W-Wait, really?’*

 

That was a relief.

 

At least until **Assimilation** ranked up, his identity remained **human**.

 

But if the skill leveled up, his heart would **become an octopus’s**.

 

So… should he avoid using it?

 

What if it was a **growth-type skill** that leveled up the more he used it?

 

*‘But it’s so useful…’*

 

Of course, agonizing over it wouldn’t give him answers.

 

And Yeonwoo wasn’t the type to waste time worrying when he could instead take **one more bite** of the food in front of him and savor the happiness.

 

He’d eaten ramen, stir-fried root octopus, and sashimi—**plenty of it**.

 

But “plenty” didn’t necessarily mean “enough.”

 

As if to prove it—

 

*Grrroowl.*

 

His **tireless digestion** and **insatiable appetite** reminded him he was **still hungry**.

 

“Anyone else… still peckish?”

 

—

 

**- The Watcher claims they’re full.**

**- Says they won’t need squid or octopus for a while, sounding content.**

 

—

 

The Watcher seemed satisfied.

 

Well, after a bowl of ramen, stir-fry, **and** sashimi, it made sense to be sick of one ingredient.

 

Kim Kkokko and the Chicks were likely the same, even without asking.

 

But Yeonwoo **hadn’t cooked everything**.

 

Why?

 

Because he’d left room for **dessert**.

 

From his crudely dug storage pit, he pulled out something **smaller than a fist**.

 

“Guess you won’t want this, then?”

 

In his hand was the **Battle Sweet Potato**.

 

They’d eaten the **arm-thick main tuber**, but the **smaller offshoots** it had initially produced still remained.

 

—

 

**- The Watcher’s eyes bulge.**

**- “Sweet potatoes are a different story!” they say, leaping up.**

 

—

 

“Pfft! I thought you couldn’t eat another bite?”

 

—

 

**- The Watcher scoffs. “Stomachs for meals and desserts are separate!”**

 

—

 

“Heh… Well, if you say so. What about you guys?”

 

What was the point of asking?

 

**Even before he spoke**, Kim Kkokko and the five Chicks hadn’t taken their eyes off the sweet potato in his hand.

 

*‘So cute…!’*

 

Six pairs of eyes tracked his every move as he playfully waved the potato.

 

Like this, the Chicks were **undeniably** Kim Kkokko’s children.

 

Though she always grumbled at them, they often ended up huddled together like this.

 

*Whooosh!*

 

The bamboo-shell stove roared to life.

 

He missed modern stoves—adjustable flames, precise heat—but this makeshift one worked well enough.

 

Wrapped in aluminum foil, a dozen sweet potatoes began roasting over the crackling flames.

 

*Snap, crackle—*

 

The bamboo shells burned fiercely, their crimson glow contrasting with the darkening sky. A crescent moon watched over Yeonwoo’s little family as they gathered around.

 

*Rustle…*

 

The sound of waves, smooth as unfurling silk. The shimmering, colorful fish dancing within them.

 

If asked to name the **most perfect moment of peace**, Yeonwoo wouldn’t hesitate: **this was it.**

 

Strange, really.

 

Just hours ago, he’d been fighting for his life. Now, he was sharing freshly roasted sweet potatoes.

 

—

 

**- The Watcher says they’d like to hear you sing again.**

 

—

 

“Huh? My singing?”

 

—

 

**- The Watcher backpedals. “I never said that!”**

 

—

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

They might not have **said** it, but they’d definitely **thought** it.

 

Well, why not?

 

A melody spilled from Yeonwoo’s lips.

 

Not his father’s 18-track medley this time—but still a golden-oldie Korean ballad, his taste forever stuck in the past.

 

*“I want to soar high up—”*

 

A song about **life as a journey**, facing unknown hardships with a smile and a whistle.

 

The lyrics weren’t sad, yet something about it always made Yeonwoo’s chest tighten.

 

*Kko-kko-kooo~*

*Pee-yaaaaa~*

 

Kim Kkokko harmonized between verses.

 

Noticing her, Hanari tentatively joined in. When Kim Kkokko didn’t react sharply, the others followed, their mismatched but oddly fitting harmonies weaving into Yeonwoo’s voice.

 

It wasn’t just the animals enjoying the music.

 

*Rustle, rustle…*

 

The **vegetable army**—scallions, onions, even oranges—swayed gently to the rhythm, their leaves glossier, roots stronger.

 

Of course, Yeonwoo didn’t notice. He just kept singing.

 

*“Sometimes I fall, but I rise again—”*

 

A low, steady voice.

 

But that made the emotions it carried all the more tangible.

 

—

 

**- The Watcher is moved to tears.**

**- They’re shocked at themselves. “Why am I crying? It’s not even sad!”**

 

—

 

Yeonwoo grinned.

 

“Wow, I thought it was just me! I cried to this as a kid too. You’re so sensitive—like a teenage girl. Hehe.”

 

—

 

**- The Watcher flushes red.**

 

—

 

Only after finishing did Yeonwoo realize something.

 

He’d picked the song randomly, but somehow, it had voiced feelings **he hadn’t even acknowledged**.

 

His gaze drifted **behind them**.

 

There, an **endless cliff** stretched into the distance.

 

*‘Well, not **truly** endless.’*

 

Yeonwoo looked up.

 

When the Giant Root Octopus was still the Battle Sweet Potato, it had **thrown him** toward that summit.

 

Up there lay a **snowfield**—pristine, lifeless, its horizon blurred.

 

He didn’t know what lay beyond, but he **knew** he had to climb.

 

*‘I’ll cross it.’*

 

For the first time in a while, his eyes turned serious.

 

Yeonwoo had grown stronger at sea—hunting, cooking, learning.

 

Though not the deep ocean, he’d proven himself by defeating the cliff-dwelling root octopus and even **inheriting its throne**. That was enough to satisfy **himself**.

 

So… **when should he cross?**

 

That required careful thought.

 

But it wasn’t a problem to dwell on **while roasted sweet potatoes sat before him**.

 

*Nom!*

 

The sweet, creamy texture melted in his mouth, drawing a smile.

 

He wasn’t the only one enchanted. Everyone ate with **renewed vigor**, despite having feasted just 30 minutes prior.

 

—

 

**- The Watcher raves about the taste.**

**- “Even after all that, this still hits the spot!”**

**- But it also reminds them of the Golden Sweet Potato, casting a brief shadow.**

 

—

 

“Ugh… true. That one took a **week** to grow. Think we can eat it again next week?”

 

His smile faltered.

 

They were all eating together so happily—but **not everyone was here**.

 

The family had grown.

 

“Ah…”

 

A somber mood fell. At least for Yeonwoo.

 

What had been pure joy now carried a **sting**.

 

Even the origin of these sweet potatoes resurfaced in his mind.

 

—

 

*“Sweet potatoes? I’ll give you these—spare me!”*

 

*“I can’t promise that. What if they taste bad?”*

 

*“Tch, these sprouts are too small! I want ones as thick as my arm!”*

 

—

 

“Sorry…!”

 

—

 

**- The Watcher asks why he’s apologizing.**

 

—

 

“I-I just…!”

 

Yeonwoo shared his realization.

 

Hearing it, the Watcher’s mood similarly dipped.

 

—

 

**- “Ah… right,” they murmur, gloomy.**

**- “I don’t think I can manage a fifth serving now,” they sigh.**

 

—

 

“……”