Ren knelt beside the unconscious Old Man Hemlock, a frown of genuine concern etching itself onto his boyish features. The old man was pale, his breathing shallow, and his gnarled hands were clutched tightly.
"Hey, wake up, gramps," Ren said gently, giving the old man's shoulder a light shake. "It's alright. The big, noisy… uh… dog is gone now." He wasn't quite sure what to call the giant bear to make it sound less alarming. 'Dog' seemed friendly enough.
Old Man Hemlock didn't stir. Ren checked for a pulse at his wrinkled neck. It was there, thready but present. "Hmm, maybe he just got too excited. Or scared. Poor fellow." He glanced back at the colossal, very dead bear, then at the peaceful, if slightly bewildered, expression on his own face. "Yeah, probably scared."
He considered his options. The shack was tiny and probably not very comfortable. Dragging the old man all the way to the village seemed like a lot of effort, especially if he was just momentarily overcome. "Maybe some fresh water?"
Just as Ren was contemplating fetching some from the stream, the sound of multiple footsteps and hushed, panicked voices reached him from the village path.
"Are you sure, Timmy? A cave bear? This close to Oakhaven?" a gruff voice asked.
"I saw it, I tell ya! Big as Martha's prize-winning ox, and twice as mean! It was chasing after that new fella who set up on Old Man Willow's abandoned plot!" young Timmy's voice, still shaky, replied.
A moment later, a small group of villagers emerged from the treeline. There were four of them: two burly men armed with pitchforks, a stern-looking woman wielding a heavy cast-iron skillet like a warhammer, and young Timmy, who was hiding slightly behind them, pointing a trembling finger.
Their brave, determined expressions, ready to face down a fearsome beast or rescue a fellow human, instantly dissolved into looks of utter, stupefied shock as they took in the scene.
First, their eyes landed on the bear. The enormous, unequivocally dead cave bear, lying in a heap like a discarded rug. Its sheer size was breathtakingly terrifying even in death.
Then, their gaze shifted to the young man—Ren—crouched beside an unconscious Old Man Hemlock, looking up at them with an expression of mild relief.
And finally, their eyes, wide and disbelieving, darted between the hole in the bear's head and the… apple core that lay innocently on the grass a few feet away from the beast, looking suspiciously like it had passed through something substantial.
The lead villager, a stout man named Borin who usually acted as Oakhaven's unofficial muscle, let his pitchfork droop. "By the Ancestors' Beards…" he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.
The woman, Elara, mother of three and renowned for her no-nonsense attitude, simply stared, her skillet held frozen mid-air. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. Young Timmy just looked like he was about to faint himself.
"Oh, good, you're here!" Ren said cheerfully, standing up. "This old gentleman seems to have fainted. I think the bear might have frightened him a bit too much."
Borin finally found his voice, though it was several octaves higher than usual. "F-frightened him? Ren, son… what… what in the blighted harvest happened here?" He gestured vaguely with his pitchfork towards the dead behemoth.
Ren blinked, looking from the bear to the villagers. "Oh, that? It was making a lot of noise and trampling things, so I, uh… encouraged it to be quiet." He shrugged. "It seemed to work. It's very quiet now." He then pointed to the apple core. "I think it might have choked on an apple. A bit anticlimactic, really. Poor thing."
The villagers stared at him. Then at the apple core. Then back at the bear with the perfectly round hole in its skull. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions and dawning, terrifying realizations.
Elara finally spoke, her voice raspy. "Choked… on an apple?" She took a shaky step closer, peering at the bear's head. Her eyes widened even further. "Ren… there's a… a hole. Right through its head. A very neat hole."
Ren followed her gaze. "Oh, is there? Huh. Maybe a particularly aggressive woodpecker got to it after it… choked?" He offered a helpful, innocent smile. He genuinely didn't connect his apple throw with that level of devastation. His 'Farming God System' hadn't flashed any notifications about 'Bear Extermination via Fruit Projectile,' so he assumed it was just a string of unfortunate coincidences for the bear. The system was about farming, after all.
Borin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He'd hunted his whole life. He knew what animal attacks looked like. He knew what weapons did. This… this was none of those things. This was something else entirely. Something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Young Timmy, emboldened by the bear being decidedly dead, crept forward. "B-but I saw it charge you! It was going to eat you!"
"Oh, it was a bit grumpy, yes," Ren conceded. "But I think it was just hungry. It's important to share, you know." He sounded like he was reciting a lesson from a children's book.
The villagers exchanged bewildered, frightened glances. This young man, who looked like he wouldn't harm a fly, who spoke with such gentle naivety, had apparently dispatched a monster that could have wiped out half their village… with an apple… and seemed to think it was a minor inconvenience, possibly a case of poor ursine dining etiquette.
Before anyone could formulate another question that Ren would inevitably answer with baffling innocence, Old Man Hemlock groaned, his eyelids fluttering.
"Ah, he's waking up!" Ren said, relieved. He helped the old man sit up. Hemlock blinked, his eyes unfocused, then slowly, his gaze drifted towards the dead bear. His eyes snapped wide open, and a strangled yelp escaped him. He scrambled backward, away from Ren, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated terror.
"S-Stay away from me, demon!" Hemlock shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Ren. "You… you killed it! With your… your devil magic! I saw it! The earth obeyed you! The tree stump flew like a bird! The apple… the apple of doom!"
Ren looked genuinely hurt. "Demon? Devil magic? It was just an apple, sir. And the stump was in the way of my planting. Really, I'm just trying to farm."
"Farm?!" Hemlock shrieked again, his voice cracking. "You call that farming? That's… that's an affront to nature! You're an abomination!"
The other villagers looked torn between Hemlock's terror and Ren's bewildered innocence. Borin stepped forward cautiously. "Easy now, Hemlock. Let's all just calm down. Ren, son, maybe… maybe you could tell us exactly what happened? From the beginning?"
Ren just wanted to get back to his tomatoes. "Well, I was tilling the land, and then that stump was in the way, so I moved it. Then the bear showed up when I was watering my new seeds, it was very loud, and then it… well, it fell over. And now he's awake," he finished, gesturing to Hemlock.
It was, Borin thought, the most terrifyingly understated account of godlike power he'd ever heard.
As if on cue, a soft, almost inaudible pop sound came from Ren's freshly tilled plot. Then another, and another. Everyone turned.
From the three spots where Ren had planted the 'Sun's Fury' tomato seeds just a short while ago, three tiny, vibrant green shoots were now visibly pushing their way out of the dark earth. As they watched, transfixed, the shoots grew with unnatural speed, unfurling delicate leaves. Within a minute, they were several inches tall, looking impossibly healthy and robust, practically glowing with vitality. A faint, almost spicy aroma began to permeate the air around them.
[Ding! Your 'Sun's Fury' Tomato Seedlings have successfully sprouted!]
[Growth Rate: Accelerated due to ambient 'Overpowered Farmer Aura'!]
[Warning: May attract unwanted attention. Or very wanted attention. User discretion advised.]
Ren saw the system message flicker in his vision. "Oh, look!" he said, a pleased smile lighting up his face, momentarily forgetting the fainted elder and the dead bear. "My tomatoes are sprouting already! That's wonderful! This soil really is amazing."
The villagers stared at the rapidly growing tomato plants, then back at Ren, then at the dead bear, then at the still-gibbering Old Man Hemlock. The pieces weren't fitting together in any way that made sense in their world.
Borin felt a headache coming on. This newcomer wasn't just strong. He wasn't just lucky. He was… something else. Something far beyond their sleepy village's understanding.
"Right," Borin said, clearing his throat, trying to regain some semblance of authority, or at least sanity. "Elara, maybe you and Timmy help Old Man Hemlock back to the village. Gently. Get him some calming tea. Lots of it." He looked at the other man. "Gareth, you and I… we need to figure out what to do about… that." He gestured to the bear. "And Ren… son… maybe you just… stay here for a bit? With your… tomatoes?"
The unspoken plea was clear: Please don't do anything else world-breakingly terrifying for at least an hour.
Ren nodded agreeably. "Of course. I need to make sure they get enough sun." He beamed at his rapidly growing tomato plants, completely oblivious to the fear, awe, and utter confusion swirling around him. The spicy aroma from the tomato plants was getting stronger, and Ren could swear one of the leaves gave off a faint, warm pulse when he leaned closer.
Interesting tomatoes indeed, he thought. This farming life in Aethelgard was certainly full of surprises.