Pomona Farm. Late Afternoon.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
The hammer rose and fell with metronomic precision, driving long steel nails deep into the fresh timber.
Hunter Sun wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The chicken coop was finished. It was sturdy, level, and built to last—far better than anything you could buy at a hardware store.
"Not bad," he muttered, a satisfied grin touching his lips.
It had been a week since he exiled himself from Los Angeles.
He had come here to draw the fire away from Stella, Tally, and Margie. If Jane's agency wanted a war, he would give them one, but on his own turf. The 297-acre farm, with its dense woodlands and rolling hills, was the perfect kill box.
For seven days, Hunter had played the part of the diligent, reclusive landowner. He ventured into Pomona only for supplies. He spoke to no one. He invited no one.
But he hadn't been idle.
Hunter was a gamer at heart. To him, this downtime wasn't a chore; it was a Grind Session.
He refused to hire contractors. He did everything himself.
He repaired the dilapidated farmhouse roof. He rewired the faulty electrical grid in the barn. He dug irrigation trenches, laid plumbing pipes, and cleared acres of overgrown brush. He even fixed the old tractor the previous owner had left to rot.
The manual labor was brutal. Even with 3x Human Stats, Hunter went to bed every night with aching muscles.
But the payout was worth it.
[System Alert: New Skills Acquired.]
[Carpentry LV2]
[Plumbing LV1]
[Electrical Engineering LV2]
[Heavy Machinery Operation LV1]
[Animal Husbandry LV1]
...
In one week, he had unlocked 13 new skills—mostly construction and management related. He had also leveled up his existing physical skills through the sheer volume of work.
The result? 27 Free Attribute Points.
Hunter summoned his Status Window. Only he could see the translucent blue screen hovering in the dust-mote filled air of the barn.
[Host: Hunter Sun]
[Lifespan: 18 / 72]
[Intelligence: 40]
[Strength: 38]
[Agility: 37]
[Constitution: 37]
[Endurance: 37]
[Inventory Space: 165 m³]
He was approaching 4x Human Peak in Intelligence and nearing it in physical stats. He was becoming something... other.
His eyes drifted to the skill list. [Breeding LV5].
It was his highest-level skill, tantalizingly close to LV6. The progress bar was stuck at 99%.
Hunter sighed, his inner completionist twitching. He had figured out the System's logic: high-risk, unprotected encounters with new, high-quality partners yielded the most XP. Since leaving LA and his roster of beauties, the bar hadn't moved.
"Need to fix that soon," he grumbled. "It's mocking me."
Prickle.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
It wasn't a sound. It was a pressure. A cold, invisible weight pressing against his skull.
Hunter didn't flinch. He didn't look around. He simply took a casual step to the left, reaching for a bottle of water on the workbench.
The feeling faded slightly.
"So, you're finally making your move," Hunter thought, his pulse quickening not with fear, but with anticipation.
With his Intelligence at 40, his brain was processing information at a level that bordered on precognition. He realized that his "Danger Sense" wasn't magic—it was his subconscious analyzing micro-changes in the environment: a glint of light, a unnatural silence in the birdsong, a shift in the wind.
He knew, with absolute certainty, that multiple scopes were trained on him right now.
They were waiting. Waiting for the sun to go down. Waiting for him to get tired.
"Jokes on you," Hunter thought, chugging the water. "I don't get tired."
He picked up a fresh plank of wood and resumed hammering, his movements rhythmic and relaxed.
He would let them think he was oblivious. He would let them get close.
And when night fell... the farmer would harvest the wolves.
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