Modern Weapons Cheat in Fantasy World-Chapter 4: Camping

Marcus hopped out of the carriage as the wheels creaked to a stop. The horses snorted and stamped against the dirt while Vance’s men moved with routine efficiency.

Two of them unloaded bedrolls and canvas sheets from the rear wagon. Another pair dragged fallen branches into a small clearing just off the road. One man knelt and arranged dry twigs into a tight cone while another struck flint against steel.

Sparks spat into the bundle of tinder.

They blew gently. Smoke rose first, thin and gray. Then a small orange flame caught and spread along the dried fibers. Within seconds, the fire steadied, crackling as thicker sticks were placed over it.

Marcus watched in silence.

They worked fast.

A few men set wooden stakes into the ground and tied rope between them, stretching rough canvas to form a windbreak. Others rolled out blankets in a half-circle around the forming bonfire. A folding wooden table was assembled beside one of the wagons, its legs locking into place with a dull thud.

Leila climbed down from the carriage carefully, clutching the edge of the door before hopping onto the ground. One of the guards handed her a small bundle of cloth.

"Stay close to the fire," the guard said.

She nodded and shuffled toward the growing warmth.

Marcus adjusted the sling of his rifle across his chest and scanned the tree line out of habit. The forest was darker now. The canopy swallowed most of the remaining light. Only the fire gave the clearing shape.

Vance approached him, wiping sweat from his brow.

"You don’t have to be on alert, Sir Marcus. We will be the one responsible for security. You can take a rest."

Marcus smiled after hearing those compassionate words.

"It’s a habit of mine to look out for something," Marcus said. "So you are a soldier for hire right?"

"No, I’m an adventurer, and so are those men," Ivan corrected as he gestured to the men.

"I heard that you lost four people? My condolences," Marcus said.

Vance’s jaw tightened slightly. He gave a short nod.

"Two were brothers," he replied. "Joined the guild together last year. Well, it’s the job. It pays well but one mistake and you are out of this world."

Marcus didn’t say anything after that. There was nothing useful to add.

He saw Ivan and Leila approach the table. Ivan seemed to be holding some sort of duffel bag. It was small so he wondered what’s inside of it.

Then when he opened and pulled something out from it, his eyes widened.

A baguette.

Not a small loaf. A full-length one, nearly the span of Marcus’s forearm.

Ivan drew it out vertically from the small duffel bag.

Marcus stared at the opening.

The bag wasn’t deep enough.

There was no way that bread fit inside without snapping in half.

Ivan set the baguette on the table and reached back in.

His hand disappeared past the wrist.

Past the forearm.

The leather didn’t stretch. The stitching didn’t strain.

Marcus stepped closer without thinking.

Ivan pulled out a wrapped slab of smoked meat. Then a block of cheese. Then a clay bottle. Each item larger than the bag’s dimensions allowed.

Marcus narrowed his eyes.

"How big is that bag?" he asked.

Ivan looked up, confused. "This? It’s a standard storage pouch."

"That thing is barely the size of a satchel."

"Yes."

"And you just pulled half a bakery out of it."

Ivan blinked, then smiled faintly.

"Ah. You truly have lost your memories."

"Wait so you are saying it’s common here?"

"It’s a spatial magic bag," Ivan said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "It can fit as many objects as its internal capacity allows. The inside is not... here."

"I see, I didn’t know that," Marcus said in awed. Then he realized something, if they have that spatial magic inventory, then it wouldn’t be hard for him to explain that his modern weapons came from his inventory as well.

This information is convenient. Because in the future, when he starts bringing out the big guns, they would ask where it came from. He has the answer now.

"Please sit, Sir Marcus as Leila will prepare our meal," Ivan said.

Marcus flickered his gaze to Leila who was already prepping their meal.

She moved expertly. The knife in her hand rose and fell in steady strokes, slicing the baguette cleanly before trimming strips of smoked meat into equal portions.

She laid the slices out on a wooden board, then cut the cheese into thick wedges. The clay bottle was uncorked and a sharp scent drifted out—fermented, slightly sour.

One of the men set metal cups on the table. Another ladled stew from a small iron pot that had been hanging over the fire. Steam rose into the night air, carrying the smell of onions and herbs.

Leila worked her way around the circle, handing out bread and meat first, then returning with bowls of stew.

When she stopped in front of Marcus, she held the bowl carefully with both hands.

"Please," she said softly.

Marcus removed his gloves and took it.

The bowl was warm against his palms.

Up close, he could see chunks of root vegetables, slices of meat, and bits of green leaves floating in a thick broth.

"Thank you," he said.

She nodded and moved on.

Marcus sat on one of the rolled blankets near the fire. He kept his rifle leaning within arm’s reach, muzzle angled away from the group.

He tore off a piece of bread first.

The crust cracked under his fingers. The inside was soft and slightly warm from sitting near the fire. He brought it to his mouth and took a bite.

It was chewy, as expected of a bread.

Then he scooped some stew with the wooden spoon provided and brought it up.

The broth was heavier than he expected. Savory. The meat inside was tender but fibrous, not like beef. The vegetables had a mild sweetness.

It’s a decent food. He had expected the food in another world in a medieval era to taste stale. He guessed that this is another world so culinary must have evolved differently.

He chewed slowly and swallowed.

"This is good," he said.

Leila’s ears perked up slightly.

"I’m glad," she replied. "I put dried herbs in it."

"What herbs?" Marcus asked.

"Field thyme. And crushed rootleaf," she said, pointing at the green flecks floating in the broth.

Ivan nodded. "Rootleaf helps with stamina recovery. Most adventurers carry some form of it."

Marcus glanced at the bowl again.

That made sense in a world where people fought monsters for a living.

Across the fire, Vance sat down heavily on a rolled blanket. One of his men handed him a cup. He took a long drink, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

After dinner, Marcus was surrounded by Vance’s men, praising his battle feats on how he defeated the ogres. Of course, Marcus entertained them and answered some of their questions, which consisted mostly of how he fights, his style, or if he has some training regimen.

After that, Marcus was given a bedroll.

Vance carried it himself.

He stopped a few steps from the fire and unrolled a woven mat onto the ground. It was made of coarse fiber, tightly braided, edges reinforced with stitched leather strips. He placed a folded wool blanket on top.

"This belonged to Armin," Vance said. His tone was flat. "He won’t be needing it."

Marcus looked at the mat for a second.

The fabric was worn at the center. The wool had been patched once near the corner.

"I’ll return it once we reach the city," Marcus said.

Vance shook his head. "Keep it. We’ll settle his belongings with his family when we return. Tools and weapons matter. A mat does not."

Marcus nodded once.

"Understood."

He removed his boots and set them beside the mat. The Belleville soles were still clean compared to the dirt-stained footwear around him. He unslung the rifle and placed it within arm’s reach, muzzle angled toward the tree line. He removed the magazine, checked it by touch, then seated it back in place. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Out of habit.

He lay down on the woven mat.

It was thin, but better than bare ground. The earth underneath still held the day’s warmth. The wool blanket scratched slightly against his forearms as he pulled it up over his torso.

The fire popped loudly.

Two men took first watch, positioning themselves at opposite ends of the clearing. One leaned against a tree, sword resting against his shoulder. The other paced slowly along the perimeter, eyes scanning beyond the firelight.

Marcus stared upward.

The canopy broke in patches above him, revealing fragments of the night sky. Stars looked sharper here. No light pollution that hid the beauty of the sky.

This is his first day in his new world, and he already found companionship with these strangers. Well, he knew they’ll part the moment they reached the city, but it was giving him hope that this new world might not be as bad as he expected it to be.