The Farmer
The pinnacle presiding over all demons, an incarnation granted directly as a fragment of the Evil God.
An entity who bent reason and natural law to his whim, twisting them to his liking.
The one known as the Demon King.
"─Oh?"
A soft curve traced the lips of the being writhing in deep, ancient boredom.
"Someone dared seal a curse harboring a piece of myself? Amusing. It should have been impossible with the current capabilities of humanity... What kind of trick did they use, I wonder?"
His eyes, gleaming with curiosity, turned toward a distant realm—a land that rejected and denied demonkind.
"I do hope I'll be entertained..."
Laced with anticipation and yearning, his voice settled low, bleak and sinister.
Invitation of the Forgotten.
A Unique Grade relic sculpted in the grotesque likeness of warped flame, its function was... entry into a hunting ground. Yeah, exactly the kind of grind spot used for farming levels in games. Of course, it didn't just generate a single hunting ground, and the swings in difficulty were rather extreme... but compared to its sheer utility, that hardly mattered. Now that it was reality, even less so.
"With this thing, leveling up will be child's play."
Extorted from the Church of the Goddess, this artifact was, astonishingly, practically the only Unique Grade relic obtainable in the early stages of a first playthrough. Perhaps that was because a game like Origin World placed far greater importance on adventuring, clearing quests along the way, and earning various skills and dating-sim elements rather than pure levels. In the end, it was a matter of player preference. For the record, I used to love both: overpowered, god-tier runs where you maxed out from the start, as well as patient, step-by-step progression builds.
In any case, the one using this obviously wouldn't be me, but the protagonist. The real issue was whether a leveling system actually applied here in reality... and not having a status window was driving me up the wall. In web novels, status windows were a dime a dozen, so why did things have to be so absurdly unfair for me?
...Well, whatever. He was the protagonist, the hero—if I ran him ragged, he'd figure something out.
I tucked the Invitation of the Forgotten into a drawer.
"Muriel. Remember that I put this in here for me. Oh, and its name is 'Invitation of the Forgotten.'"
"Understood. I shall commit it to memory, Young Master."
Watching her bow politely, I grinned with satisfaction. Having someone sharp who could be easily put to work was truly convenient.
"Phew... I can finally move around properly."
I rolled my shoulders and stretched out my limbs, taking stock of my unbandaged body. Just a few days ago, even the slightest movement sent sharp throbs of agony shooting through me, but now everything moved smooth and supple.
"You may consider yourself fully recovered. Congratulations, Lord Aljen."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Next time, I implore you not to attempt anything so preposterous."
"......"
Honestly, I had nothing to say in my defense. Pissing on the Duke of the household—a man who had attained the realm of a Demi-God—was something even I considered utterly deranged.
"...Now that I think about it, shouldn't you have stepped in to protect me when Father was beating me? You're my bodyguard."
"Fufufu. Lord Aljen, please be reasonable."
Sliding onto the sofa beside me, she nestled close, smiling serenely as her fingers tidied my hair.
"I dare not oppose His Grace. Not in martial might, nor in spirit."
"Hmph. Then if Father ordered you to kill me, would you obey?"
"Well now... I would have to give that some thought."
With a playful look, she snuggled even closer, wrapping her arms around mine and pressing her chest firmly against my side.
"......"
For the past few days, her behavior had grown increasingly brazen. What started as casual physical contact had steadily escalated in frequency, and now she was cranking up the heat. From the way she glanced at me, it felt like she was testing the waters... but since I couldn't fathom what was going on in her head, it was frustrating as hell.
"I've asked this several times already, but what the hell are you doing, Muriel?"
"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean."
"Did Father put you up to this? Telling you to wrap me around your finger?"
"Do you truly believe Lord Urtega would issue such an order?"
"Hmm... Doesn't really sound like the old man, but the moment he raised Shadow Knights, any trust I had in that regard went right out the window..."
At my words, Muriel's beaming expression stiffened slightly. Resting a subtle hand on my thigh, she leaned her face in close.
"Lord Aljen, you are mistaken."
"About what?"
"Lord Urtega is a gentleman of rare and noble character."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Brainwashed proper, aren't you?"
She shot me an irritated glare.
"It is true that the path to becoming a Shadow Knight was brutal, harrowing, and cruel. But it was a necessary trial to grasp the Shadow Arts that govern darkness. Moreover, it was what every single one of us desired."
"Desired?"
Intrigued, I took a gulp of liquor. Muriel naturally picked up a snack, fed it into my mouth, and whispered softly as she pressed her chest against me once more.
"Yes. Indeed. For every child Lord Urtega gathered was blessed with exceptional talent... and consumed by their own burning vengeance."
"Heh, a gathering of kids burning with vengeance, huh... What if Father staged the whole thing himself? Turns out the real target of your revenge was the Duke all along."
I snickered, but she only offered a faint, sorrowful smile.
"Lord Aljen, you do not need to force yourself to say such things."
"Huh...? What are you on about all of a sudden?"
"It must have been agonizing in the past, constantly compared to your siblings. And you must have resented yourself for lacking any talent whatsoever. I know that feeling all too well—the despair and frustration of confronting an unchangeable reality. But please, refrain from speaking so self-destructively. Doing so only rots away your own heart."
"......"
You're not supposed to be this kind of character. Weren't you an emotionless slaughter machine who cleaved through people like a soulless robot? What's with this sudden change in personality?
"Whatever, just shut up and back off for now."
"Fufufu. Yes. Do you have any further curiosity regarding my past?"
"Tsk, I don't give a damn about your sob story."
"My word... Ah, could it be that you already know everything?"
Even though I snapped at her bluntly, she merely narrowed her eyes in a sly, foxy smile. I shook my head and let out a long sigh.
"Haa..."
This had become my sole headache lately. I simply couldn't figure out why she was acting like this. Had Urtega actually given her some secret directive, or was there another reason entirely...? She couldn't have genuinely fallen for Aljen's looks, could she?
"......"
Involuntarily, I glanced at the mirror standing in the corner of the room. Thanks to his noble pedigree, Aljen's face was handsome—more than handsome, honestly. But Muriel didn't strike me as someone who would act this way over shallow good looks... The fact that I couldn't make sense of it only put me on higher alert. Oh, and for the record, I knew next to nothing about Muriel. She was a figure who had never appeared in the game, nor was she mentioned anywhere in the setting lore books.
Gulp.
"Phaa... By the way, Muriel. Nothing on the schedule today, right?"
"On the contrary. You are scheduled to receive a total of thirty-seven guests today."
"Are you fucking kidding me...! What the hell do those bastards think they can get out of me, crawling over here one after another?"
Several days had passed since the extraction of the Demon King's Fragment, which the Saintess had personally requested. Over those few days, I had grown utterly sick of entertaining an endless parade of useless visitors. The anticipation of meeting characters from the original game had long since been tossed into the trash. Because ever since the Saintess, not a single worthwhile person had turned up. Seriously, the drop rates in this world were absolute garbage.
"Haa..."
"Shall I show the first one in?"
"Fine, go ahead."
Since I couldn't outright refuse, I had no other choice.
Gulp!
Emptying another glass, I slumped deep into the sofa, my entire body relaxing into lethargy. After waiting a few minutes in that state, the first visitor of the day opened the door and shuffled in hesitatingly.
"U-Um... E-Excuse me! My name is Albers!"
"Huh...?"
Right off the bat, the guest who entered was noticeably different from anyone who had come before. Dark, sunburnt skin, muscles forged through manual labor, cheap clothes frayed and crudely patched together, and a faint odor of manure lingering about him. The quintessential image of a farmer.
This was the first time someone like this had visited. Until now, every guest had been an aristocrat, a scholar, a wizard, or at least a high-ranking adventurer or mercenary.
"What's this... What kind of scheme is he running this time?"
Thinking of Urtega, who must have filtered the visitors, I scowled in annoyance.
"Y-Yes?! Did I do something wrong...?"
"Haa... No, forget it. Just sit down."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
After watching him scramble nervously into a seat, I spoke first. That rarely happened, since I was usually too lazy and preferred waiting for the other person to break the silence.
"A commoner."
"Yes!"
"And a farmer."
"Gasp! H-How in the world...! Y-Yes, that's right! I farm on the outskirts of Therabaon!"
Seeing him jump as if I had uncovered some profound state secret made me chuckle. Anyone with working eyes could have guessed his profession in a heartbeat.
Still, the smell of manure, huh...
Perhaps because I'd been nauseated by the sickeningly sweet perfumes of nobles over the past few days, the earthy, musty stench didn't bother me at all. In fact, to be completely honest, it was somewhat nostalgic. It smelled just like the breeze rushing through an open car window along a rural road back in my past life. As a kid, I used to make a huge fuss and laugh about that smell with my friends... Good times.
"U-Um... Lord Stanashila Aljen?"
"Hm? Oh, right. What business brings you here?"
Snapping back to reality, I asked the question, prompting him to straighten his posture and swallow hard.
"T-To tell the truth... the livestock in our barn have started dropping dead one by one... and I came hoping to learn the reason why!"
It might sound obvious, but medieval farmers weren't people who strictly tended to crops. While farming was their primary trade, they also raised livestock, wove cloth, chopped timber... It was an occupation that tackled every odd job under the sun.
"What?"
My brow furrowed involuntarily.
"Why the hell are you asking me that?"
"Pardon? Well... they say Lord Stanashila Aljen is an avatar who knows everything..."
"No, not that. If it's livestock, shouldn't there be an official department to handle it?"
Everything within an estate was, without exaggeration, the property of the lord. The land, the buildings, the livestock, and even the people. Furthermore, this place wasn't just an ordinary fiefdom; it was a grand duchy. Operating with extraterritorial autonomy, it was essentially an independent nation, meaning the head of the house was effectively a king. There was no way a realm like this lacked an administrative department for handling plagues or natural disasters.
"Ah, well... naturally, we asked them first, but they said they didn't know the cause either..."
"Haa... Isn't it just an epidemic?"
"It's not that. If it were an epidemic, there would be warning signs beforehand, but this time they're just collapsing without any symptoms at all."
"......"
This was ridiculous. What the hell was I supposed to do about that? Were they testing the extent of my knowledge or something?
"Haa... How the hell should I kno—"
Mid-sentence, a flash of insight struck me.
"Hey. You said you live on the outskirts of Therabaon, right?"
"Yes. That's right."
"Then it must be loud as hell out there, wouldn't it?"
"Ah, well... I suppose it is. But there's nothing that can be done about it, so what choice do we have? We just have to bear it."
Come to think of it, my quarters were perched at a considerably high elevation. Looking down over the entire citadel, it had to be well over several dozen meters up. Yet even in my room, the roaring din of the postwar reconstruction work echoed clearly. They even used heavy blasting magic during demolition, occasionally making even me flinch with a jolt. If it was that bad up here, what must it be like for a farmer whose house and barns sat right beside the city?
It was a faint memory, but I recalled an internet news article from my past life. An investigation into an unexplained mass die-off of livestock had revealed the culprit to be the immense noise from construction blasting.
"Isn't it just because it's too damn noisy?"
"...Pardon?"
"Go back and shove some cotton in the animals' ears or move them farther away from the city."
"U-Uh... Will that really do the trick? Truly...?"
"If you don't believe me, don't do it. Next."
As Muriel ushered him out the door, his face was full of sheer disbelief, but I didn't care in the slightest. Honestly, it was none of my business anyway.
...Yet starting precisely from that day, requests for audiences from commoners began to explode exponentially.