Panic erupted as a sudden swarm of locusts descended without warning. Farrs scattered in all directions, like chicks separated from their mother.
Amidst the chaos, Clayton remained calm, not the least bit flustered. He had been preparing for this day for a long ti.
The locusts spread rapidly across the farmland, including Clayton’s fields. Without delay, he deployed an old technique: unleashing waves of high-viscosity fluid—thick enough to slow and weaken the insects mid-flight.
As the locusts flew through his land, the sticky liquid clung to their wings, weighing them down until they dropped from the sky, one by one. So pushed through, but were soon caught in the nets Clayton had installed earlier.
At first glance, it seed only a few had been caught. But upon closer inspection, the sheer number trapped in the nets was staggering—a clear sign that the attack had been far more intense than it appeared. Seeing this, Clayton felt reassured. Buying those nets had definitely been the right call.
His smooth, thodical movents shocked a few distant observers. So even felt envious. They longed to be as composed as him, but the truth was—they were still in disarray. None dared disturb him.
The contrast was stark. Clayton’s farm stood firm amid the chaos, while the surrounding fields were in ruins. With two alert skeleton assistants by his side, he had every reason to stay relaxed.
With things under control, he scanned the area. Not far off, he saw a group of struggling farrs. They looked overwheld, their faces twisted with frustration and despair—as if the locusts had personally destroyed their lives.
Among them were familiar faces: Arthur, Equus, Liora, and her father. Though clearly panicked, they still fought back with discipline and teamwork. In contrast, others like Bravus and Rodent were flailing in blind panic—missing their targets and even damaging their own crops.
Clayton sighed. He chose not to judge and turned his attention back to exterminating the pests with his skeletons.
anwhile, Rodent was in full-blown panic.
He had once believed honest farming could save his finances—especially after receiving a "blessing" from that mysterious blood-drinking cult. At the ti, he’d felt powerful, reborn, even hopeful.
But everything unraveled with the locust attack.
His body still hadn’t adjusted to the strange effects of the blood. Lord Blood had called him "special," and the blood’s power had intensified unnaturally within him. Rodent had been thrilled at first.
But in reality, his body had grown weaker, struggling to cope with the transformation.
Now, none of his spells worked effectively. The locusts tore through his field with ease.
He realized that if this continued, he wouldn’t just fail to recover—he’d lose everything.
Dark thoughts crept into his mind. He had searched so long for solutions but found nothing. The more he delayed, the worse it beca.
His frustration ignited physical changes—veins bulged, pupils turned to glowing vertical slits, and fangs protruded from his lips. He began to growl, frothing slightly as his rage boiled over.
Just as he was about to snap completely, his eyes landed on Clayton—calm, efficient, expertly managing the chaos.
At first, Rodent assud Clayton’s fields had been spared. But the piles of dead locusts made the truth obvious—Clayton had simply handled it all with preparation and skill.
A mix of awe and envy surged within him. He had to admit—Clayton possessed the most advanced farming setup in the entire district. With the help of those two skeletons, it was no wonder he remained in control.
Suddenly, an idea sparked in Rodent’s mind.
He approached Clayton with a forced smile and an overly polite tone.
"Clayton! You really are a farming genius. No wonder everyone calls you the best farr around here!"
Clayton turned to him with a flat expression. "Thanks, Rodent. I just read a bit more than most people."
Ignoring the cold response, Rodent cut to the chase.
"Clayton, I don’t know how to say this, but... could I ask for a little help?"
Clayton frowned. His voice turned icy. "If you know it’s a bother, maybe don’t say it. I’m handling a pest outbreak. Shouldn’t you be doing the sa?"
Rodent faltered, caught off guard. He felt humiliated. His body started shifting again—eyes reddening, veins rising to the surface—but he held himself back.
With a desperate tone, he pleaded, "Clayton, just this once. Please. I swear I’ll never forget it. I’ll repay your kindness a hundredfold!"
Clayton looked at him—his face drawn, tired. A flicker of pity passed through him.
He suddenly rembered the original owner of his current body. His father. He had once worn that sa broken expression during hard tis.
Clayton almost gave in.
But then he rembered all the tis he’d been used by people he’d helped.
His heart hardened.
"No, Rodent. I’m busy. Can’t you see more locusts are coming to steal my wheat?"
Rodent stood frozen, stunned by the rejection.
Humiliated. Rejected by a re boy who dared say no.
Anger surged within him. For a mont, he even considered killing Clayton on the spot.
But before he could act, Clayton added,
"Don’t you have better things to do? A bigger swarm is coming. Focus on saving your field."
Rodent glanced in the direction Clayton pointed. At first, he saw nothing.
Skeptical, he almost scoffed.
But monts later, a thick black cloud erged on the horizon—approaching fast.
He was stunned. Once again, Clayton’s tech had predicted it.
But now a new wave was coming, and Rodent had no idea what to do.
Clayton’s patience wore thin.
"What are you waiting for?" he snapped. "Going to let your field get destroyed without even trying?"
Rodent clenched his teeth and turned back to his farm, reluctant but with no other choice.
Sadly, it was already too late.
His attacks were weak, inaccurate. The locusts overwheld him completely, devouring every last crop.
Rodent stood motionless, hollow. His hopes crumbled as the swarm erased the final traces of his harvest.
Through the rising haze of despair, he looked once more at Clayton—still calmly tending to his land.
Jealousy twisted into rage. He blad Clayton for his failure, never once realizing it was the result of his own choices.
And when his fury peaked—Rodent snapped.
With his judgnt clouded by hatred, he spat out an incantation, fueling his magic with blood.
A surge of red energy erupted, racing forward—
—headed straight for Clayton’s farm.
Clayton, still calmly working, had no idea that disaster was about to strike.
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