Intruders in the Cornfield
The Cornfield was exactly what its name suggested—an actual cornfield. Just as I had hunted rabbits and pigs for food, the maze wasn’t populated solely by dangerous creatures. Yet this very lack of threat had proven poisonous to explorers. When most users first laid eyes on the two-meter-tall corn stalks swaying across the farmland, fear crept in. Even without biological dangers, the inability to secure a clear line of sight was enough to unsettle any human. Early users therefore avoided venturing deep into the field, content to pilfer only the outer stalks.
Human greed, however, knows no bounds. When repeated theft of corn produced no consequences, users grew bolder. Full bellies and easy success dulled their caution. With only a sliver of wariness remaining, they stepped inside—and received a far greater gift. The interior teemed with soccer-ball-sized locusts. Those who dared cheered in delight. No matter how delicious corn might be, one cannot survive on plants alone. Even giant locusts were little more than rabbits to users who had reached Stage 4. The heart of the Cornfield offered both flora and fauna—a veritable paradise.
Of course, danger still lurked. Deeper in stood a lone house inhabited by a giant. The creature never emerged unless someone approached its home. Because of this, the Cornfield had initially been rated merely “hazardous.” As long as one avoided provoking the farmer, no lethal threats existed, and food was plentiful. Even other native creatures steered clear of the area, perhaps because of the farmer. Many Stage 4 users were starving, and the supposedly safe zones nearby—the Quiet Plain and Pinwheel Village—offered no sustenance. High risk, high return. Despite the looming threat of the farmer, the Cornfield remained an irresistible option for countless users.
That was when the problems began. Users who normally explored new areas arrived with powerful forces and heightened sensitivity to danger. They avoided reckless actions and focused on gathering information. But what could be expected from those who had merely skimmed a community post before migrating? They raised toasts in their new home, devouring corn and hunting locusts with abandon. Some even lit campfires and posted proof online. Thanks to them, everyone finally learned the Cornfield’s true danger.
Only small amounts of corn recommended during daylight hours.
And I was witnessing the reason for that warning right now.
Thud— Two bull zombies pinned the fallen scarecrow’s arms to the ground. The massive straw monstrosity stood four meters tall and had wielded enormous scythes in each hand. I had subdued it with ease, but to ordinary Stage 4 users it would have been a calamity. Its height exceeded the surrounding corn, yet it could still track prey through the stalks. Because the scarecrows only moved at night, complacent users died before they could even post a warning on the community boards.
“Finish it.”
A storm of axes hacked the scarecrow apart. Once its limbs were severed, it reverted to ordinary straw.
“On to the next one.”
After the existence of the scarecrows became known, ordinary users fled. New visitors arrived in their place—stronger than mere explorers. The true powerhouses who had smashed through each stage came simply to observe the scarecrows. They succeeded in hunting them, but an unexpected problem arose: there were far more scarecrows than anyone had anticipated. Many strong users attempted the hunt, only to give up midway. The creatures offered no special rewards. The recorded maximum was forty-two kills, meaning at least forty-two scarecrows roamed the field at night. Eliminating every last one was now my goal. After all, I stood to gain a high-grade Fruit of Good and Evil.
“Alright, time to light a fire.”
Clearings dotted the field—perfect spots for camping and, unfortunately, perfect for drawing the scarecrows’ attention, just like those community idiots had done. I sat before the crackling flames and followed the direction the red snake indicated. Its head pointed straight toward the farmer’s house. While I roasted locusts, the scarecrows would come of their own accord. Tonight would be nothing but repetition of that cycle. Individually they were manageable, but in groups they became troublesome. Legend claimed that attacking the farmer would cause scarecrows to pour out from every corner of the field.
I had high expectations for the farmer—on par with a high-grade artifact. Other users might see him differently, but to me the giant humanoid was simply a powerful zombie waiting to be claimed. Even without a high-grade item, the prospect was too sweet to ignore.
While roasting my fifth locust over the campfire, Baengnae began to whine.
“Baengnae is bored.”
“Then go catch more locusts.”
“Bored.”
She had enjoyed herself moments ago, but the locust-hunting game had already lost its charm. Fortunately, I had a plan. I handed her an uncooked locust.
“Then let’s play the leg-ripping game.”
I grabbed the hind leg of a dead locust and tore it off with a wet rip, showing it to her. She clapped and giggled. As expected, she loved it. Baengnae seized a leg of her own, spun it around, and yanked it free with a satisfying pop. I watched her play for a moment, then roasted the leg I had torn off and lay back down. What else was there to do while waiting for scarecrows? Tonight was an all-nighter training session.
‘Still, something feels off…’
I reviewed the situation again. Everything was proceeding smoothly. The bull beastmen were auto-hunting the scarecrows, and I could step in if needed. The farmer’s strength remained unknown, but I doubted he would pose much threat to someone who had absorbed an Exit. Even so, an inexplicable sense of foreboding refused to fade. It felt like the same irrational dread I had experienced back when I was framed for a crime I never committed and dragged before that dog-like judge. The same feeling of senseless injustice.
‘Strange…’
Yet such things could no longer happen. If anyone tried that nonsense again, I would rip the judge’s head off on the spot and feed it to Baengnae as a snack. I shook off the baseless unease. Exercise was the best cure for idle thoughts.
‘It’s probably nothing.’
At the edge of a cliff in Stage 6, the Horse Summoner Choi Giryang slowly turned to face his approaching nemesis, Park Gibeom. The latter let out a low chuckle.
“So you came after all.”
“Heh? You knew I would?”
“My patron informed me. Some ruffian has been preying only on those weaker than himself. And that villain would soon come looking for me.”
“Kya. Still spouting that idiotic old-man speech? Not entirely wrong, though. I came all this way to crush one particular Horse Summoner weaker than me.”
“Why live such a short life that way? You remain as irredeemable as ever…”
“Filthy bastard pretending to be clean.”
“Let us end this. A man like you holding power would only harm humanity. Even if it stains my hands with blood, I must stop your evil here.”
Choi Giryang clicked his tongue and began summoning horses around him. Armored horse beastmen rose from the ground. Unicorns with golden horns, pegasi with azure wings, and all manner of mythical and spiritual beasts filled the area. Park Gibeom feigned surprise and admiration.
“Oho… Quite the menacing display.”
“I deliberately stayed in Stage 6 instead of advancing, waiting for you. It is time you returned to the underworld.”
Park Gibeom laughed. The idea that his opponent had waited without realizing this was his own grave was hilarious. Had Choi Giryang climbed higher, capturing him might have been far more troublesome.
“Has it been about forty years since we last met? Well, there’s no place for someone like you in the world I’m building.”
Each issued the order to annihilate the other. Horses and puppets collided. Choi Giryang himself drew a massive lance and mounted one of his summons. The finest item obtained in Stage 5, a body strengthened through each stage, and the enlightenment gained in Stage 6—Superhuman Choi Giryang charged at Park Gibeom like lightning.
“Disappear!”
Several hours later, Park Gibeom hurled Choi Giryang’s bullet-riddled corpse over the cliff.
“Couldn’t stand the sight of you.”
Choi Giryang had indeed been no easy opponent. Half of Park Gibeom’s puppet army had been destroyed or crippled in the battle. Still, there was nothing to worry about. Recycling Choi Giryang’s resources and the corpses of his horses would allow far greater growth than before.
“Whew… I’ll need about five days to reorganize. Still, that pent-up frustration is finally gone! Refreshing! Khahaha!”
External summoner has invaded.
‘What…?’
A brief message appeared before my eyes, but I was in the middle of combat and dismissed it for now. I shouted another command.
“Surround it! Attack all at once!”
I was currently facing the master of the Cornfield—a being that closely resembled the scarecrows. Its enormous body and fireballs it hurled proved it was no simple farmer, contrary to what the community idiots had claimed.