CHAPTER 63: CHAPTER 63

Clayton rushed to his field, his mini skeletons trailing closely behind. After a quick round of preparation, everything was in place. All he could do now was wait.

As he stood beside his skeletons, an uneasy feeling crept over him. Something felt off. He tried to pinpoint it, but at first, nothing came to mind. He nearly brushed it off—until it hit him: this wasn’t his only field. He still had two others to protect—the ones belonging to Grass and Old Man Wood.

Wasting no time, he dispatched his mini skeletons to those fields. Once the instructions were given, he felt a bit more at ease.

Bzzzz...

The buzzing of locusts grew louder. Clayton tensed, eyes scanning the horizon.

Moments later, the swarm appeared—a dark, churning cloud of insects swooping down on the tender green shoots he had just planted.

He didn’t hesitate. With two of his skeletons beside him, Clayton fired off a barrage of Water Gun spells at the incoming locusts. Some fell from the sky.

But he didn’t feel relieved.

The attacks were too slow. At this rate, he would be overwhelmed.

Sure enough, more locusts slipped past and descended onto the wheat fields. Clayton grew increasingly frustrated, trying to chase them down one by one—but it only caused him to lose control of the situation. The locusts began devouring the fragile sprouts.

Watching his field be torn apart felt like watching his heart being ripped out.

Desperate, he racked his brain for a solution. Finally, an idea struck him: Wave of Water

—a spell that could sweep the insects away.

But he hesitated. That spell was powerful—too powerful. It could just as easily destroy the crops along with the pests.

Still, time was running out.

He made a snap decision and cast the spell as carefully as he could.

"Water Magic: Wave of Water!"

A surge of water crashed across the field.

Swoosh!

The locusts were swept away—but so were some seedlings, now soaked and likely damaged. Clayton clenched his fists. This method was still too rough.

Then a better idea came to him: he could modify the density and viscosity of the water using his skill entries. If he could create a wave soft as cotton—just enough to soak the insects and rob them of flight while sparing the crops—he might turn the tide.

Locusts weren’t dangerous because they were strong. They were dangerous because they were fast and numerous. Take away their mobility, and they were nothing.

"It’s a lot easier to catch fish on land than in the sea," he thought.

The more he considered it, the more confident he became. He tweaked the spell.

"Water Magic: Wave of Water!"

This time, a crystal-clear wave rolled gently across the field. The sprouts swayed and bent, but remained rooted. Meanwhile, the locusts fell like rain—soaked and grounded. The chaos began to subside.

Clayton smiled. It worked. Now he just needed to fine-tune it.

He adjusted the spell’s parameters again. After a few more tries, he had it down to a science and was clearing the field with impressive efficiency.

Before continuing, he sent one of his mini skeletons to relay the strategy to the others. Since they shared the same skill entries, they could replicate his method with near-perfect precision.

Clayton kept casting until the swarm finally withdrew.

Once the crisis had passed, he sat down to rest and let out a long, relieved sigh. It didn’t take long for him to recover. But instead of cleaning up right away, curiosity pushed him to check the condition of the other fields.

Outside, he saw groups of people sobbing, shouting—many overwhelmed by despair. The reason was obvious: their fields had been decimated, leaving nothing but shredded, trampled remnants. Some farms were so badly damaged that you could barely tell they had once been cultivated land.

It was estimated that only 30–50% of the seeds had survived. If they wanted to meet the harvest tax, they’d have no choice but to replant—even though the planting season was already nearing its end.

Clayton couldn’t bear the sight of their suffering. He quickly made his way to Grass’s field.

After a short walk, he reached the now-familiar plot that suddenly felt distant.

"Brother Grass, how’s your field? Is it safe?"

He scanned the land as he spoke.

Grass, who was busy inspecting the soil, looked up and said, "Ah, Clayton! Thankfully, only about 20% was damaged, thanks to your skeletons. If it weren’t for them... I don’t know what I would’ve done."

Clayton exhaled. "That’s a relief... Some fields lost as much as 50%. It’s bad out there."

"Exactly. I’m really grateful. But... why are you here so soon? Didn’t your own field get hit too?"

"Don’t worry about that. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Grass nodded, touched. Clayton then moved on to check Old Man Wood’s field. The results were similar—minimal damage, thanks to the ever-reliable mini skeletons.

After a brief chat, Clayton returned to his own land to finish up. He noticed a few locusts still fluttering around. He swiftly dealt with them before they could dry off and fly again.

Fortunately, they were still sluggish from the water. The cleanup was quick.

After calculating the damage, he discovered that only 3–4% of his crops had been affected. Clayton was thrilled. His spirits soared. He began gathering the locust corpses into sacks along the edge of the field.

Even though the damage was minimal, he decided to replant the affected areas immediately. He grabbed new seeds while his mini skeletons fetched hoes and tools to begin the task.

Meanwhile...

On the road between the city center and the farming district, Rodent strolled casually, a cunning glint in his eyes.

"I need to get my strength back to Six-Star Trainee Knight level soon... or I’ll never be safe. Otherwise, trouble is just going to keep finding me."

But his thoughts were interrupted when he spotted a crowd of farmers in the distance, all looking grim and tense.

Curious, Rodent approached and asked, "Hey there, friend. What happened? Why does everything look like a disaster zone?"

A few people gave him odd looks, but one replied, "You didn’t hear? A locust swarm hit us hard. A lot of fields were wiped out."

At first, Rodent shrugged it off. As a former knight, it didn’t feel like his concern.

But then the truth hit him—he wasn’t a knight anymore.

He was just another low-level farmer.

His face turned pale. If his field had been hit too... how would he pay the tax? What punishment would follow?

Panic set in. Before anyone could say another word, Rodent vanished into the crowd—his anxious figure disappearing down the road.

The remaining farmers glanced at each other.

"That guy’s one of us now," someone muttered. "And maybe in a worse spot than any of us."

All they could do was sigh, bitterly reminded of how merciless the world could be.