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Wrath Farmer

Betrayed by his family for the benefit of his brother, Atom has been forced to take the Farmer class. Forever at the bottom of the social hierarchy and cast into the mana dry, wild dungeon filled territories of Rasputin, Atom wants the life he should have had. To do that he needs to master the art of digging even furrows into the earth, scarring off goblins, and building a fence a strong breeze can't knock down. At the bottom of the social hierarchy he will learn how to deal with the people at the top and why a strong peasant is undesirable.

UBMars · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
47 Chs

CH21

Day 19

 

"Hear me out; there is no reason to get crazy with this," Veronica said.

 

I jabbed at my tablet while glaring at the updated toolbar in my architect app. While I would have preferred to have a skill for the building I had planned, my increased attributes changed everything. Or that would be the case if a change hadn't occurred. Some UX designers decided it would be cute to change the shading on my toolbar. What once was white had become a dark grey that continued to draw my attention.

 

When I tried to focus on hallways, stairwells, wiring, and outlets per room, I got distracted. Maybe it was insane to go from living in a tent to designing a megaplex. We had no water towers, sewage treatment plants, or infrastructure of any kind. A wiser man would have built the chickens a shack and stuck 20 to a room. That would have been a solution, but not the one I would want.

 

I had the strength, agility, and dexterity to do the work of a dozen beginner carpenters. While I didn't have the class or skills for the work, there were apps to make tasks easier. Developers have long since led teams of enchanters and artificers who dealt with the software of enchanted items. Perhaps when I reached level 100 I would take one of those classes.

 

My fist lashed out as my eyes latched onto the grey toolbar. A swift wave of fell energy no different that fire followed my strike and hit the heavy bag. It struck, and a small cyclone sprang up, tearing the leather bag and pouring pieces of heavy silicon on the ground. Air currents shook my tent, threatening to rip it off its pegs as I crushed the cyclone.

 

"Perhaps we should start small. I'm still the only one here." Veronica said.

 

"That won't be the case forever. Sure, three of you sleeping in here won't be too bad, but what about twenty. I'm sure there are other scenarios in the dungeon with your species. Talking near human monsters are useful for all kinds of events that dungeons love to produce. Who knows what theme the dungeon will choose?" I said.

 

"You're under a lot of pressure, I understand. Why don't you calm down and take a seat? Let your pet hen take care of you, and maybe if you aren't busy, you could bring me back some more exotic bugs. If all I eat are the fat worms after your corn, I'll get fat."

I remembered seeing a praying mantis in the deep woods with arms like scythes, red chitinous armor, and hungry eyes. The cute bug looked bored while it ate the rank 2 bird it captured. I shook my head before the idea planted itself. Catching something like that with only a chainsword and a dream wouldn't be easy, and I had to keep myself in top shape. Guests would arrive soon enough.

 

"Maybe I'll find something good in the dungeon. If not, I do have a full gym. Lift some weights, run, or punch," I sighed at the disheveled state of my heavy bag. "Tape up the heavy bag and practice your kicks." She grabbed my hand and it was odd touching her soft hand.

 

"Your hand feels as rough as my feet. Maybe you should soften them up sometimes with lotion. I could really use some for my poor feet."

 

Her orange feet showed off a 6-inch spur on each foot, fully capable of gutting a man or monster. Chickens that fall under her area of rank 2 had options. Still, they needed far more attributes to rank into anything with high or peak potential in rank 3. If I was a proper tamer I would give her the training skill and work her on the heavy bag in the morning, math at noon, and weight training in the evening. Her rank 3 would be one of the rare flightless birds at the peak of her rank. Her Rank 3 skills would turn intelligence into more physical power and defense against mental attacks. From there, I would work only to train her intelligence as she gained all the physical attributes she needed from leveling. From there, I would purchase a skill to cover her long-range weakness and something to take care of artillery skills. Veronica would be a complete nightmare for mage-like monsters and match any physical of the 3rd rank blow for blow unarmed.

 

Veronica, the battle chicken, was giving me an odd look as I contemplated what I would do for her if I were a tamer. It really wasn't my business what she decided to do for her rank. She was a tall white chicken with red feathers that descended from her head, long and poofy in places, almost like human hair.

 

I shook my attention concentrating back on the problem at hand. There was level ground for the project, but the building, even if I did it myself, would put me back 150,000W from building materials alone. Really, what I wanted to do was more what was expected from a late-stage city rather than a farm out in undesirable land. The only people who could live comfortably in Rasputin were those with enough Willpower to resist waves of constant fell energy.

 

No, my megaplex had to wait until I had more built and reliable allies.

 

While Veronica was a resource, she was also someone I felt friendly with. A more cutthroat farmer would consider her livestock's ability to talk or not. A pristine Battle Chicken body was sold for 100W per pound.

 

In contrast, her eggs would sell for 20W each, and she laid 5 the night before. More battle chickens just like her, and I could see a steady revenue stream. They could very easily defend themselves, and my corn attracted more than enough bug monsters for her to feast on. There were actually too many bugs for her alone.

 

"I'm going into the dungeon. I'll be back soon," I said.

 

I tossed her my tablet with the wrong-colored toolbar as I prepared to leave. My clothes had been washed twice, but the blood stains wouldn't leave. Nearly everything I owned had been dyed in gore, leaving them with a rust-colored hue.

 

"Don't cluck up," Veronica said.

 

I raised my eyebrow at the curse.

 

"I'll make sure none of the bugs eat your precious corn or peppers. Have you thought about growing something that will attract something hardier?" Veronica asked.

 

"I'm not growing corn to attract bugs."

 

"You could have fooled me. Neither one of us seems to like corn much."

 

One of my stalks hissed and slapped a massive beetle away as it hovered silently. I revved up my chainsword and threw it in a spinning wheel of death. The blade lodged itself into the beetle's shell and poured gore out away from the handle. When the bug fell, roots from the corn stalk rose up and started pulling the beetle under.

 

"Hey, stop that. I need my weapon."

 

The corn monster hesitated as I glared at the scrawny thing. When I approached, its roots shied away from the corpse long enough for me to rip my weapon free. After inspecting it, I saw a crack in a few of the teeth and the blade itself. "Cluck," I said.

 

Monster roots rose and pulled the beetle underground, and the corn stalk shivered in delight as the soil stirred, mixing bug guts with the dirt.

 

Veronica walked up, keeping within my sight. "You used my curse."

 

I nodded. "Sorry, did you want to eat that one?" I said.

 

She slapped her thigh for emphasis with barely a ripple. "No beetles like that give me constipation. Unless you want to reach in there to pull beetle shells out, I shouldn't touch them." Veronica said.

 

"How attractive," I said.

 

She scratched up a bone in one of the furrows. "How many monsters are buried here for corn to rank up? Why am I taking calcium pills when I could peck at bones?"

 

I rolled my eyes at her selfishness. My pretty bird with thighs to snap a grown man's spine could seem very human at times. Only the reality of her situation and appearance broke that illusion.

 

 

The dungeon entrance hadn't changed much except for gaining enough teeth and what appeared to be bone matter to form a humanoid face. A long pink string attached to the bone flexed when I neared the macabre doorway; when the string twitched, it moved the jaw slightly. I stood in front of the entrance, transfixed by the changes and completely in the dark of what they could mean. On the edge of the entrance, a little above the teeth, I saw a hint of red that smelled like Mai's lipstick. When I looked more carefully, I saw a tiny black strand of what must have been hair.

 

Something was going on with the dungeon, and for the first time since diving into it, I hesitated to enter. Was this going to be the moment all hell broke loose? I carefully checked my bag and took out a health potion before placing it in a loop on my belt. The red elixir in the potion might be the difference between life and death if something happened inside.

 

I wasn't the only one entering the dungeon. Monsters that evaded my fence line were able to get attracted by the dungeon's mana. I didn't mind how else the dungeon was supposed to grow without a mountain of bodies to feed on. That and the ridiculous amount of mana stored in my soil from monster corpses. Anything I ended up killing was buried on my property when I had the time to drag it outside the dungeon.

 

My actions had given the dungeon a passive mana gain. So, I didn't feel bad about slaughtering the creatures inside it. This was the rent the dungeon owed me.

 

I entered the dungeon, stepping on a red carpet that looked to have tastebuds. The view was much more inviting when the dungeon had been a hole in the ground. Some of the dungeon entrances looked like the formation of a skull. There were wrinkles on the ceiling filled with spiderlings that looked like the hard palate of a mouth. I didn't see stairs at the entrance, only a moist cavern undulating.

 

The dungeon already had a theme, and I believed it was my fault. Flesh and bone the dungeon appeared to be forming its body into a human or at least flesh and blood body.

 

I traveled through the throat of the dungeon and felt it squeeze around me like I was swallowed by some beast. The path to turn back constricted until only a fleshy wall stood behind me. Forward on my path, the world opened bit by bit like I was a big hunk of food.

 

The weapon in my hand had seen better days. Oblivion Alpha would need to be replaced, but it felt too soon. I tried to take care of my weapon, I really did, but until that monster shell, my chainsword hadn't met a foe it couldn't easily grind through.

 

I ran through the fleshy tunnel, never staying in one place very long for the risk that gravity would take me and I would plummet to the bottom. Soon, the dungeon's esophagus opened to a forested area with riders carrying torches through the woods.

 

A sudden updraft turned into a cyclone, slowing my descent until I landed lightly on a branch. The tree barely moved as I stopped the flow of air around me. Wisdom was the attribute that controlled the mental side of skills, and it had grown recently. More control meant every greater application, and that included my Crow Step. Making my body lighter went hand and hand with all my fell skills. Fell Mastery had taken my skills to new heights, and it felt like I was only getting started. True flight was only a few dozen skill levels away. Wind Mastery was the other half of my fell skills that would increase their growth even more.

After I had enough of congratulating myself on figuring out the basics of skills. I paid more attention to the riders. They were battle chickens riding giant lizards facing off against an army of bunnies dressed in heavy armor riding giant foxes.

 

I sat down and decided to watch the proceedings; it looked like great fun, and I could always loot the battlefield later. Some of the weapons and armor looked like they might fit me.

 

When a large spider with a woman's head replacing its own peered at me from the shadows, I felt a little worried. Then others joined in, crawling from holes in trees and under the canopy of leaves.

 

"Hello and welcome to the land of Rip or Tare, depending on who wins this war. Choose a side and join Rip is the side of the Battle Chickens, those who firmly believe in the power of the finest steel alloys. Tare's people are Chimera Rabbits, our poor deluded cousins. For them, it isn't the metal of the blade but the enchantments that matter. We are the lore keepers, and only one side can win this war. Will it be the strength of the material or the might of enchantments?" A spider woman said.

 

Her breath smelled like fresh blood, and between her ruby-red lips was a tongue shaped like a hypodermic needle at its end. I smiled slightly.

 

"Don't lose your composure. We aren't here to hurt you, only to record your decision in the great tapestry. Who do you believe is in the right?" The speaker asked.

 

I stood up and held my hands behind my neck with my elbows out. Really, the answer was obvious. I hated it when someone gave me a false choice and framed a situation like I had only two options. The spiders might as well have proclaimed themselves my enemies when they disturbed my fun.

 

Powerful winds stirred all around me, slow and gentle at first, as I gathered my base. While I would always love slashing monsters into meaty chunks, that wasn't my build. My greatest weapon was all about building up a powerful storm and then standing in its center while everything died. I actually loved my Fell skills. Wielding the wind made me feel free despite being trapped under a mountain of debt.

 

After giving it some thought, I did have a single psychic skill, Psy Bolt. My lack of use had left it weak even as I used its reaction to empower my Fell Wind to greater and greater heights. More wind gathered, and the torches beneath us blew in all sorts of directions. A smile spread across my face as a gust threw a rider from their fox.

 

"Why would I ever choose one over the other?"

 

"Only one can win, and the other must be extinguished. The union of master smith and enchanter must never come again." The spider woman said.

 

I approached her and patted her face gently.

 

"Get him." She yelled.

 

In the darkness under a heavy full moon, my smile flashed as black winds tore limbs and spiders from trees. With barely a throb from my head, the world erupted into swirling cyclones and broken spiders.