Infinite Farmer

"That's very nice. It's very inspirational." Tulland kicked at the ground. "It's a very good way to gloss over the fact that you've betrayed me."

A System has to eat. And sacrificing the willing to The Infinite is one of the few ways we can do that.

"The others being?"

We also feed off accomplishment, although I expect little of that. I'm sorry that I could only spend the bare minimum I could on your class.

"I guessed," Tulland spat.

Which means that any successes you have from here on out, benefit me as much as they do you. What advice I can give from this point on, I'll give. What help I can manage for you, I'll manage. Because from the first major checkpoint in the dungeon on, you are a source of profit for me. Something that makes me stronger.

"So you can go back and hurt my family?"

Of course not. Why would I? But if you don't believe me, then know this. I simply do not have the strength to be both here and there at once. I am tied to this place as long as you are. It is only when you fall that I gain the power to return.

That lined up with just enough of what Tulland knew about why System prophets were taken away that he was willing to provisionally believe it.

"And that first checkpoint is?"

A skilled Cannian Knight. Fully armored. It guards the fifth floor and the entrance to the safe zone behind it.

"And I have a flame's chance in a rainstorm of actually killing it, but you get paid out at long odds if I do?"

That's correct.

Tulland thought about giving up right then, just on the off chance that dying as early as possible would trap the System there in the dark. He knew it wouldn't work. The System would have planned for that. Wouldn't have risked it like that. He'd have to fight.

A Cannian Knight was the stuff of storybooks, but something that was known. Tulland had read about them. They were a difficult challenge for combat classes, something that required extra training and leveling to prepare for. Warriors who went head-to-head with them without perfect preparation tended to never make it home.

"And I'll have my bare hands and no combat abilities to help me. At all," Tulland said, keeping his voice as flat as possible.

Not your bare hands. I am limited in what I can do, but I can at least help with that.

Out of nowhere, Tulland felt a notification jump into existence, as well as the sneaking feeling that he was just a single wish away from some sort of permanent gain.

Ambushed in the Dark

You have been attacked while unarmed, unprepared and by most standards inadequate for the task of defending yourself. Coming out of this battle alive was a long shot, and has enhanced the usual "First Victory" achievement earned by new adventurers.

Rewards: Beginner's Equipment Bundle (Enhanced), Additional Class Experience

That should have given you a level-up. I advise you apply at least one of the five free points to your vitality to allow for regeneration.

"Five points per level? That seems like a lot."

For a battle class, it would be. For a workman's class, it's average. They generally need to be able to accomplish more with fewer levels.

"Any advice for the other points?"

No. And you wouldn't believe it if I gave it to you anyway. Use your judgement.

Tulland applied two of the points to his vitality, feeling the relief as the bites on his hand clot almost immediately and begin to close. The actual wounds were not as serious as the damage to his overall health from the mana, but they were the main source of pain. Tulland planned on resting a long time to make sure he was tip-top before moving on, but at least now he wouldn't be in agony.

His head cleared up almost immediately as the pain dulled. Considering where to put his points, Tulland realized he needed more information before making that decision. Turning from the stat point distribution for the moment, he willed his Beginner's Equipment Bundle to materialize. There was both a thump and a clatter as the gear appeared out of midair and fell to the floor.

The first group was several pieces of cloth and leather, bound together by more cloth. He untied it, getting a description of each piece as he did.

"I'm restricted to cloth?" Tulland asked before he could stop himself. "I suppose that makes sense."

Yours was not intended as a combat class.

Tulland sighed. "It doesn't matter. Let me check out the other gear."

The rest of his gear consisted of a pack and a wide-brimmed hat, the latter of which he wore only because it completed the set. Inside the pack, there were a few days of rations, a help until he could figure out some other source of food.

Having finished donning the clothes and putting his old, human-make street clothes into his pack, Tulland moved on to the harder item that had skittered a few feet away across the floor earlier.

It was dealer's choice on stats then. If the tool rewarded agility or strength, Tulland would have reason to bet more on one or the other. As it stood, he would put a point in each, and put his last remaining point in agility, leaving him a little faster than he was strong.

Tulland was pretty sure farmers benefited from at least some spirit and force, which drove their plant-enhancement abilities. But getting to that point meant he would have to survive long enough to till some soil and plant his seeds, which was a very uncertain prospect at the moment. For now, he would put every point he could in the stats that kept him from getting torn apart, and ignore his agricultural purpose entirely.

The reward is not much. But it's all that I'm willing to do for you at this time, and a worse bet than I should be making anyway.

"I'm not thanking you," Tulland stated before softening his tone a bit. "So what now? I just march forward and try to survive?"

No.

"No?"

No. In a conventional dungeon, you might be able to simply survive. The Infinite, however, pulls its ordained ever forward. Mere complacent survival has only one result in The Infinite that I can inform you of it without restrictions. If you dally, if you do not improve, you will simply die.

"Sounds like I will anyway. I'd imagine that the pacing is geared at actual combatants. I'll just get shoved off a cliff that I can never avoid, and you won't get that big payout anyway," Tulland said, sensing weakness in the System's words.

Let me see what I can do.

Tulland kept his mouth shut. Pushing his case wouldn't fix anything. If the System was willing to help, he would stay out of its way.

You are very, very lucky that fixing this was free. Examine your notification.

"Will that be enough?" Tulland asked.

There's no way to tell. Not even I know the future. And now our conversation has reached its limit. Good luck, Tulland.

"Just like that? I have more questions. A lot more," Tulland said, careful not to let the panic enter his voice.

There was no answer.

"System? System?" Tulland looked desperately around the dim light in the space. He hadn't realized how much of a help it was to not be alone in this place, or how used to the System's company he had become in the last few weeks. He suddenly felt very cold. "Please? Please don't go."

There was no answer from the System. Instead, Tulland felt an impact against his back. It was another mote, one that had likely been held back by the System's stopping of time, and one that was now free to attack. Luckily, it failed to find purchase with its teeth against the flat of Tulland's back on the first impact. He whirled around before it could try again, brandishing his tool.

The rotation of his body brought the head of the tool against the mote, clanging as it cut off the monster's second bite. The mote was flung off to the side where it impacted hard against a stone pillar, then immediately turned to attack again. The motes were not much for tactics, it seemed. They simply attacked.

Tulland dodged away and bought himself a moment to send a mental command to the Farmer's Tool to turn into a shovel for maximum attack area. The tool dissolved into a sort of mist above the handle, apparently to give it the flexibility to change into another implement entirely. And as the System had indicated, it wasn't a very quick process.

When the mote came in for a new attack, Tulland had his shovel ready. He swung, this time on purpose and at a downward angle. He timed the impact poorly, which meant the shovel head actually pushed the mote towards him as the shovel continued its arc. It would have been a dangerous thing had not the mote been absolutely destroyed by the blow. He watched as it bounced off the stone floor, then began to dissolve away, presumably returning its energy to the dungeon.

But it wouldn't return all of it. Some of the energy went to Tulland. Surprising enough to him was the fact that this wasn't the kind of thing that was represented in numbers. He could feel the fullness that the energy brought with it, and vaguely sense the distance to the next step. Further details were guesswork.

It was much smaller progress than he expected, but Tulland could work with that. The motes were at least manageable, unless they were hiding some surprises. With his new tool, he should be able to take them down without much risk. The same could not be said for whatever was at the end of the corridor leading out of this room.

Tulland turned his Farmer's Tool into a pitchfork. It would make for a better use of his agility stat, especially as his vitality returned more and more of his life force to him.

The third mote appeared from the darkness as the tool was still changing. Tulland abandoned any pretense of dodging or fighting and simply jogged away, leading it around the room as it attempted to keep up with his newfound speed. After a few more moments, the Farmer's Tool audibly clicked as it fully morphed into its new form, and Tulland turned as he choked up on the handle and thrust the pitchfork's three tines at the mote.

The tines hit, piercing through the mote's mouth and impaling it. It struggled for a few moments on the spike before it stopped moving, began dissolving, and slipped off the pitchfork just in time for Tulland to turn to face the next enemy.

The room seemed to have an endless supply of motes, and Tulland's extra two points worth of vitality was perfect for the level of exertion he was using to take them down. Tulland was fine with that. As far as he was concerned, it didn't matter if it would take thousands of kills instead of hundreds to hit his next level. He would stay in this room as long as he possibly could, grinding away safely and getting as strong as possible before he moved on.

If that's what it took to survive, that's what Tulland would do. If he had no battle skills, he would just over level to make up for the uselessness of his class. But if one thing was sure, it was that he would put no effort into anything but getting stronger. No matter what, he'd do absolutely no farming.