[Farmer] Mage

The skill he chose must be balanced. Cal wanted to select the skill that would extract the most value from what he saw himself doing in the future.

However, it needed to help enough in the short term so it wouldn’t be a complete dead weight until the distant future.

That unfortunately meant [Animal Empathy] had to be discarded as a choice. There simply was no way for it to be of immediate help where he currently was, even though the possibility of taming wild creatures could have been invaluable… eventually.

It left him with [Nature’s Whisperer] and [Perfect Match], enviable choices to pick from.

Being a [Farmer], it seems almost obvious that [Nature’s Whisperer] is what I should pick. After all, what [Farmer] wouldn’t want to have a green thumb? And I would have chosen this skill if my [Class] was normal. However, it is not.

Cal now saw a future that was more than just a peaceful, quiet life in a small mortal town. Of course, he still wanted that, but wanting to live a content life didn’t mean he should shun all opportunities for power. It just wouldn’t be his main focus.

The description of [Perfect Match] mentioned nothing about the skill only applying to farming tools. It just said ‘tools,’ which implied anything that Cal equipped would be eligible. It would be a balanced skill that benefitted his [Farmer] class while extending to tools outside his [Class].

He tightened his grip on the tool he was holding. [Perfect Match] would eventually make this [Basic Pickaxe] glorious. If he advanced his [Tier] to a high enough rank, he would undoubtedly own a tool with the ‘Rare’ quality.

All items—potions, weapons, tools, artifacts—were divided into separate quality ranks ranging from ‘Basic’ at the lowest to ‘Divine’ at the highest.

The Celestial Order—a third-rate guild—only had a sword classified as ‘Rare.’ The Guildmaster owned it and treated it like an irreplaceable treasure.

Cal chuckled as he imagined the guild’s reaction to a Rare Pickaxe.

I know what I need to select.

Three skill options hovered before him, but Cal was only focused on one. He reached out with an extended finger and tapped on [Perfect Match].

The red interface disappeared as the pickaxe in his hand pulsed red before returning to normal.

Cal could feel a faint tether to the pickaxe, but it was too vague for him to know anything about it other than it existed. There was way one to improve that—break apart more stones.

I’m a [Farmer], but I’m breaking stones. I never expected this… but I can’t say I’m unhappy about it.

He moved to another stone embedded in the ground and went to work. Sharp, metallic clinks of the pickaxe slamming into the stone rang out repeatedly. He didn’t let up until the stone shattered and broke into small pieces.

Cal took deep breaths as he inspected the pickaxe, checking it to ensure it hadn’t deteriorated. Thankfully, it wasn’t affected much. However, breaking the stone had taken far more time than the first.

Maybe I didn’t strike the stone correctly the second time.

It didn’t escape him that his [Tier] hadn’t increased this time. An expected yet disappointing result. Of course, it just meant he had to find another stone to demolish.

Not that it would be difficult. They were everywhere.

The barren area was filled with the repeated sound of Cal bringing down his pickaxe onto stone. The sharp clink rang out until a stone shattered into pieces, only to start again when he moved to another stone.

Cal clenched his teeth as he brought down the pickaxe on the fifth stone, feeling satisfaction spreading through his body when it cracked under his blows.

Your [Tier] has increased by 1 level.

Your skill [Perfect Match] has increased by 1 level.

He took deep breaths as he checked his interface—his body was not in shape to do this type of manual labor. It would be something that would slowly improve as he did more of this type of work.

Name: Cal Maddox

Class: Farmer (Special)

Tier: Initiate 3

Skills:

[Perfect Match: Novice 2]

The skill level increased, but the pickaxe wasn’t upgraded. It seems like those two things aren’t directly correlated.

Cal trudged his way to another nearby stone. He was more exhausted than he assumed. He couldn’t see himself destroying more than a few more stones before he was utterly incapable of lifting the pickaxe.

I never realized how unused my muscles were.

He grunted as he slammed the tip of the pickaxe down, shivering in happiness at the metallic clink that resulted from it. He was afraid that he was gaining an unnatural complex to the sound, but since this was now the sound of his strength increasing, he would accept it.

Cal lifted the pickaxe again—high above his head—and brought it down swiftly with another grunt.

The stone shattered. And so did the pickaxe.

He flinched at the metal shards that bounced off his body and stared in shock at the deformed pickaxe head.

[Basic Pickaxe] has degraded to Trash Quality. Further use of the tool could cause it to break completely.

Cal let out a resigned sigh. It was already a miracle that it hadn’t given up earlier, but at least he had used it well before it happened. Discovering the quirks of his [Class] was a worthy trade-off.

He glanced at the stones he had shattered. He would need to remove them and set them aside to make the ground smooth and flat. He still didn’t know if it was possible to plant anything in such barren-looking soil, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

All that mattered was his progress. He could worry about the rest when that progress slowed or halted.

I have no choice but to get my pickaxe repaired. I should also buy other tools and equipment to make clearing the field easier.

Cal stumbled back to the small storage shed with the broken pickaxe in hand. If he set out right now, it would be possible to return before sunset.

The borders are guarded by Apprentices—guild members one rank higher than Initiates. Still, I vaguely remember some incidents in my previous life of bandits entering the territory and causing havoc after dark. It's better to be where the guild expects me since I have no doubt there’s some type of watch where new Initiates are stationed.

He entered the shed to pick up the shovel and plow, wincing at the additional weight straining his exhausted body. He would have to endure until it became commonplace.

In my previous life, I single-mindedly focused on mastering my mana to the limit. I will do the same with building my body for farming.

Cal exited the shed and shut the door behind him. The closest mortal town to the Northern Wastes was located in Oracle Shores. Two well-known towns that should have smithing services were Mariner’s Rest and Gale’s End, but Cal had no idea which was closer.

He had been to neither in his past life since he didn’t see the need, so he would have to hope there were markers on the path that would point him to the closest town.

***

Cal huffed—wheezed, really—as he stopped at the first markers he had seen in nearly an hour, the last being the fork that directed him toward Oracle Shores.

Mariner’s Rest - 1 mile

Gale’s End - 6.2 miles

Not too much further. Maybe fifteen minutes till I reach Mariner’s Rest.

He would have preferred to continue, but he was out of energy. He was more likely to fall flat on his face rather than take another step.

Cal dropped the tools he had been carrying to the ground before sitting on the dirt path with a relieved groan.

I just need a few minutes of rest. Then I’ll start again—

“Why are you sitting on the road?”

He snapped his head toward the unexpected voice. A girl several years younger than him—perhaps fifteen years of age—stared at him curiously.

She looked to have sun-tanned skin—though with the dirt sprinkled everywhere on her, it was hard to tell—and her attire indicated skulking through the forest was an everyday activity. So did the bow in her hands and the quiver of arrows on her back.

She’s a hunter.

Cal eyed the bow warily and turned a question back to her. “Why are you sneaking around?”

“I’m not!” She bristled like an angry cat and glared at him. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t hear me walk up to you.”

I think she means no harm… to me, at least.

“That’s fair,” Cal raised his arms in surrender. “As for why I’m sitting on the road, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m resting.”

“But you look like a guild member,” she stated with confusion.

He found that interesting. Even though the Celestial Order’s territory was fairly small, most mortals would go through their lives without meeting a guild member.

“Only by technicality. I’m just a farmer, nothing special,” Cal waved off his status as a guild member. “My name’s Cal. Who do I have the pleasure of seeing me in such an embarrassing state?”

She smiled—white teeth peeking out beneath her dirty face. “I’m Seris! And there’s nothing to be embarrassed about… I think.”

Seris’s puzzled expression at the end made Cal laugh unintentionally. “No, I guess there isn’t. I have to start somewhere. Unfortunately, my ‘somewhere’ is at the bottom when dealing with physical labor.”

“Oh,” Seris shifted awkwardly in place for a second. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it?”

“Wait, where are you heading?” Cal asked before she could walk away.

“Why?” Seris narrowed her eyes, back to looking like a ruffled cat. Her bow rose slightly in warning.

I made myself far too suspicious.

“I’m heading to Mariner’s Rest to buy some supplies,” he offered his destination first. “If you’re heading the same way, I would be thankful if you could help me carry my tools. I’ll pay for the trouble, of course.”

Seris glanced at said tools before looking even more confused. “Why would you bother carrying broken tools? You can just buy new ones in town.”

“I wasn’t sure if I would find replacements. It wasn’t a big deal to carry them, so I didn’t see a reason to place my expectations on the hope of the town having the tools in stock.”

“… That makes sense, I guess,” Seris expression didn’t match her words. She was unconvinced since it looked like a big deal. “So you want me to carry those, and you’ll pay me for it?”

“Correct,” Cal nodded. “Do we have a deal?”

“Five copper,” Seris held out an empty palm.

… Copper? I don’t have any of those.

“Er, I would prefer to pay you when we reach town. I think that would be fair to both of us.”

“I don’t like that,” Seris declared, though she continued before Cal could counter, “but I’ll trust you anyway.”

“Really?” He was genuinely surprised. “Great! Let’s get going now.” He recovered enough energy to stand without making sounds like an old man.

“I have rules,” Seris didn’t move from her spot. “You have to walk in front of me. And if you make any sudden movements, you’ll get an arrow in your back. Agreed?”

I doubt those arrows can do me much harm. I might be physically weak, but my mana still makes my body much more durable to damage by mortal weapons. Still, this means the girl isn’t naive. That’s good.

“Fair enough,” Cal said, picking up his precious, damaged pickaxe before stepping several feet away to put space between him and the other tools. It would hopefully settle Seris’s paranoia.

The pickaxe was the only one he was attached to. [Perfect Match] already started to work on it and he would keep the pickaxe unless there happened to be one of a higher rank in town.

“Alright, let’s go!” Seris chirped, the plow and shovel strapped to her back.

It was impressive. The plow was of the variety meant for an individual, but it was still fairly heavy. Cal had no doubt that Seris would have been able to handle carrying it, but not with the ease she was showing.

“Let me know if you need a break. I can afford to stop if you need to take a breath.” Cal commented, turning to lead the way when Seris nodded casually.