Chapter 11: Ch 11: Slow Progress- Part 4
After about an hour of lying still in the cave, Fenrir finally felt his strength beginning to crawl back.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to sit up.
He leaned against the wall, rummaged through his inventory, and pulled out a dull-looking pill. Without hesitation, he popped it into his mouth and chewed with a grimace.
"F-class garbage."
He muttered as the bitter taste coated his tongue.
The pill gave a small jolt of energy to his system—barely enough to lift his arms without aching.
He sighed, reached for another one, and swallowed it down as well. A sluggish warmth crept through his limbs, enough to push him into motion.
It wasn't impressive by any means, but at least he could move.
There wasn't much point in complaining anyway. He had already checked the system's store—twice.
There was nothing higher quality available for his level. The market, while crowded and vast, seemed ironically empty when it came to actual skill-based production.
"Twice the population as my old world. And yet, not even one percent of the craftsman skill level."