But before that, she had to make another stop to collect some wood.
Even with her inventory now filled with Winter Fruits, Monica knew full well that food alone wouldn't keep them alive.
Without firewood, they'd freeze long before they had a chance to eat.
The winter cold is the biggest enemy they have had to face compared to any other cold beasts.
She doubled back through the path she'd taken earlier, moving faster this time.
The snow had deepened slightly, but her tracks were still visible.
Her body had warmed from the exertion, but she could feel the fatigue starting to set in—her legs ached from climbing, her hands slightly stiff from the cold.
Still, she pushed forward as she took out some winter fruits she kept aside and ate them as she moved, determined to make one last stop before she returned back..
Soon, she found the Red Frost Tree she'd marked earlier—her crude X still etched into the bark, glowing faintly red beneath the layer of frost.
The sight gave her a strange sense of comfort, like returning to an old promise.
Monica circled it once, slowly, scanning her surroundings with practiced eyes.
Every tree nearby was still. The snow lay undisturbed—no new tracks, no signs of movement.
The only sound was the whisper of the wind between trunks and the soft hiss of falling snow.
No disturbances.
She pulled her axe free, adjusted her grip with both hands, and stepped into the marked space she had cleared earlier.
Unlike the Winter fruit tree, the Red frost tree is very tall, without any large branches, however, the trunk itself is about three meters thick.
Even on Earth, it's very hard to cut trees about that size without modern equipment, not to mention the trees in this world have obviously evolved.
Looking at the thick trunk, she began to remember the memories of her father instructing her multiple times.
Edward had always emphasized this—"Don't just swing. Plan your ground. If something goes wrong, you need space to move. To dodge. To run."
Monica knelt briefly, brushing aside snow to check the thickness of the ice layers encasing the base of the tree.
The sheen was thick, at least several centimeters, glittering like polished crystal.
Her fingers tapped lightly across the surface.
Multiple layers. A sign of age..
She remembered her father's voice, low and serious: "The first enemy isn't the tree. It's the ice."
"The older the tree, the more the ice has melded with its surface. Some get so hard they're stronger than ordinary Iron. Cut that wrong, and your blade bounces back—and breaks your wrist with it."
Monica had learned that the hard way.
She winced slightly, remembering the memories of her very first attempt, guided by her mother.
One careless swing, and a hairline fracture had left her fingers swollen and her pride shattered.
"Chopping trees in this world isn't just about cutting wood."
"It's training. A form of survival-cultivation that breaks you down until you're strong enough not to break."
To even attempt it, one needed at least ten points of physique—a base strength of over two thousand five hundred kilograms.
Monica hadn't had that back then, just over two thousand kilograms.
But now, thanks to her system-bound Iron-headed Axe, she did.
"I could do this." Taking a deep breath, she stepped back and raised the axe with both hands.
The frost-resistant edge gleamed coldly in the faint red light. Then she swung.
CRACK.
The blade struck true, biting into the ice with a clean, efficient motion.
Shards of frozen crystal scattered with each rhythmic strike, glittering as they flew into the air.
CRACK…CRACK…CRACK
Cracks began to spread with each swing. Monica was very much surprised at what she was seeing, she knew that she didn't use much strength in her previous swings.
But, without much effort, the ice on the tree began to break.
Only then did she understand how powerful the additional effect of frost-resistant edge was.
"Hahaa…" Watching the ice crack, she felt like winning another lottery.
She worked steadily, chipping through the outer shell, clearing the marked spots she had chosen earlier.
Cracking the ice cover made her work half easy.
Every movement was deliberate. Every swing is calculated.
She didn't rush.
When the ice finally gave way to reveal the striated red bark beneath, Monica adjusted her stance.
The real challenge begins now.
She widened her legs slightly for balance, anchored her boots into the snow-packed earth, and exhaled slowly through her nose.
A cloud of hot air came out… spreading into the cold atmosphere.
Then she gripped the axe tightly and swung again—this time aiming for the wood.
THUD.
The impact reverberated up her arms, through her shoulders, and down her spine.
A shockwave of force rippled through her body and grounded itself through her boots into the soil below.
"That's it. This is the real training." She muttered as she began to adjust her body.
With every strike, she could feel her muscles resist the rebound—forcing her to stabilize, balance, and endure.
Upgrade panel didn't register any experience points, but Monica could feel it—her heart engaging, her arms absorbing and directing the counterforce. Her legs braced like pillars.
This wasn't just simply chopping wood.
With every deep breath she took, her body began to heat up and burn the energy produced from the winter fruits she had eaten not long ago.
The process of chopping helped her temper and strengthened her internal blood flow and body.
She fell into a steady rhythm—cut, breathe, reset, and swing again.
Snowflakes caught in her lashes. Her breath came out in white clouds.
Her gloves grew stiff with ice, but she didn't stop, even if each swing only did minimal damage.
However, with a basic strength of two thousand kilograms, large chunks of wood fell down around the tree.
As time passed by, Monica began to change in different directions and various angles, but she didn't stop until the Red Frost Tree began to groan in protest, its foundation weakening under the weight of her effort.
Honk…Honk…Honk
Despite the Red Frost Tree's relative softness compared to Iron Wood, it was still massive, thick as a tower, and it demanded everything Monica had to give.
If not for the continuous energy absorbed from the winter fruits, which kept her blood warm and muscles fed, she would've faltered long ago.
Most others from the camp wouldn't have lasted half this long, thanks to her development potential being twice that of any others.
Thanks to that, she was easily able to absorb the energy from the winter fruits.
Still, she wasn't foolish enough to waste time cutting the entire tree down.
She remembered Edward's lessons and moved methodically.
First, she carved more than half the way through from one side, angling her blows to weaken the structural integrity of the trunk.
Then, crossing around the back, she began to carve into the opposite side—her swings precise, each one aimed to complement the internal damage already done.
Chop… crack… thud…
Splinters the size of daggers fell to the snow.
The sound of the blade grew deeper, more hollow with each impact.
The Red Frost Tree began to groan, its massive frame shifting ever so slightly with every blow. Frost fell from the trunk in sheets.
"Almost there." A vibration ran through the roots. Monica felt it in her boots.
She stepped back, studying her work.
A deep wedge had been carved into both sides, the structural support compromised.
One more push was all it would take.
Gripping the axe tightly, she pulled it back with a final, full-bodied motion—and slammed it deep into the final weakened point.
CRACK—RRRNNKK!
A low, thunderous groan tore through the forest. Snow exploded off the branches as the massive tree swayed, leaned, and—
BOOOOOOM—!
The Red Frost Tree crashed to the earth in a shower of snow and splinters, sending a rush of icy wind and powdered frost outward in a ripple.
The impact shook the forest floor.
Monica stood over the fallen giant, chest heaving, axe lowered. Her arms trembled—not from fear, but from exertion.
She didn't smile this time. She simply let herself breathe.
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