Zeth read through the rules again. "If you find crops missing, discard their names from the register. And if there are more crops than listed, then run away and do not look back."
Scratching his chin, Zeth realized only two crops were missing. Matching them against the register, one had to be the village secretary, leaving the other discarded name in the register: his own.
'Did I get trapped? But when?'
Zeth paid it no further attention. He walked around the farm, scanning every crop. Everything seemed normal, at least by horror standards. Over the next forty-five minutes, two more Ground Dwellers attacked him, but he defeated them all without injury.
[11:00 PM]
And finally, the first two hours had passed. Zeth had to follow the next instruction: turn on the pump and leave it for fifteen minutes. Without wasting a second, he picked up the torch and headed straight to the booth near the well.
The torchlight was faintly losing its glow. Zeth placed it on the well and looked for a way to turn the motor on. The device was heavy and old. From what Zeth could see, it also worked on gasoline, and unlike the torch, its fuel tank was full to the brim.
The only problem was getting it on. Zeth looked around the toolbox in the cabin and found a small metallic handle. He knew what it did. Attaching the handle to the motor, he turned it around. The old motor crackled at once. Black smoke billowed from its top as gasoline entered its chamber, and it slowly sputtered to life.
'Not so bad, am I?'
Proud of his achievement, Zeth waited for a good minute as the motor picked up pace. The pipe connected to it vibrated, slowly drawing water from the well. Though barely visible in the faint torchlight, Zeth saw water emitting from the mouth of the pump and entering a small inlet just below it.
[Passive skill activated...]
[Passive skill activated...]
Zeth raised his brows and dismissed the notifications. "Did you finally go insane?"
The sound of the roaring motor was somewhat relieving in the silent fields. Zeth leaned in and collected water in his hands to wash his face. It was thick and somewhat warm, perhaps dirty as well, but Zeth was too thirsty to care. He washed his face and hands, then, collecting the water in his palms, he took a sip, but something was different.
[You have been poisoned... You are immune to poison.]
His eyes widened as he spat out a mouthful of liquid. This was not water; this was something metallic and tangy. Zeth's brows furrowed. He looked at his hands, which were barely visible in the dim light.
Quickly, Zeth rushed to the torch and aggressively pumped the back of it until the flames grew brighter. Only then did he see it: the deep red liquid on his hands. It wasn't water but blood.
"What in the..."
Zeth lifted the torch with a shaky hand, and he saw it before him. The motor was aggressively pulling blood from the well. His legs slipped on the ground. He ran back to the well and pointed the torch down.
The small stone well extended into the abyss, and at the end of the abyss, what was reflected was the pool of blood that had collected below. And now Zeth had an idea of how the whole farm worked.
"God... please, God..." Zeth rushed to the booth and picked up the gallon of gasoline. He rinsed his mouth and spat it out again, then again. The taste of gasoline was sickening, yet still better than the taste of human blood.
'The crops are humans who are made to bleed slowly, and the blood is getting collected inside the well, and it's poisonous. The blood is then used for irrigation.'
For a second, Zeth wanted to vomit his guts out, but he forced himself to stay steady. This wasn't the time for useless thoughts. All he needed to focus on were the rules. As long as he followed them, it would all be over.
After calming himself down, he was ready to turn the pump off. Zeth filled the torch tank to the brim. The first gasoline tank was now half empty. Turning the light bright again, he began his duty just as the rules said.
[11:45 PM]
He fought two Ground Dwellers, then, after another forty-five minutes, defeated two more. Finally, two more hours had passed, and it was almost 1:00 AM. Zeth turned the motor on again and let it run for fifteen minutes.
There were no abnormalities on the farm. An hour passed in what felt like ten minutes, and as per the rule, it was time for him to head to sleep.
Before heading back to the cabin, Zeth decided to refill the torch tank and take the half-gallon of gasoline with him. After locking the door as it was, Zeth headed toward the wooden cabin.
The air around him felt heavier and heavier. The dry ground scratched his heels, and sometimes it felt like someone was whispering his name from behind. Zeth didn't dare look back. He had watched too many horror movies, and the last thing he wanted was to be the dumb protagonist who died first.
As he walked closer, the cabin's yellow light slowly became visible through the fog. The lantern flickered, and the ground beneath was somewhat moist. Zeth entered the cabin and locked the door behind him. It was precisely 2:00 AM. The rule said he could sleep then, but he didn't feel the need.
Turning off the light, Zeth sat on the chair and opened the first drawer again, scrolling through a few pictures and torn pieces of letters. What he saw made him freeze.
In the first picture, a man stood in the middle of the farm next to a small girl whose face was scribbled out. In the second picture, there was a bustling village with clay houses and straw roofs, and in the middle stood a stone well and a small wooden booth.
'The stone well.'
Zeth yawned, recognizing the structure from before. What surprised him most in both pictures was the girl's scribbled face and the two suns in the sky. At first, he thought it was just a glare in the picture, but then he saw the third picture.
A man with a straw hat sat on planks next to the familiar young girl, who was now a teen, her face still scribbled out. The man seemed to be building something with wooden logs, and the girl held a small tree in her hand.
'This cabin.'
Zeth yawned again, struggling to keep his eyes open. The other two pictures were dark, barely noticeable. These were the last pictures in the drawer, and what remained was a bunch of letters.
Taking one long yawn, Zeth picked a letter at random and tried to read its contents...
To love...
I will make it, I will at any cost. I promised you... Will be mi... ever again. I will not let that happen. Yours...
The contents of the yellow letter were barely readable. Most names and most of the content were missing. Zeth fought against the need to rest. His back ached, and his legs gave out under his weight. Slowly, he stood and dragged himself to the bed.
[You are close to a Fragment of Myth.]
The system notification looked blurry. Never in his life had he imagined that the old wooden bed would feel so comfortable. He looked at the dimly lit lantern with one thought in his mind.
'What if something attacks me in my sleep?'
He put the goblin tooth necklace back into his inventory. Another notification flashed before him, but his vision had already gone blank. His body felt numb, and breathing felt closer... closer and closer. He could hear his own breathing loudly in his ears.
[You are immune to mental attacks.]
Another notification appeared before him, and this time it was visible. Zeth found himself surrounded by darkness.
'Wait... where am I?'
Zeth felt a stinging sensation in his body. He wasn't asleep; he was standing. No, he was tied to a wooden pole, his arms spread wide, while a dense clay pot covered his head.
"What the hell happened?"