Farmer or Cultivator? Why not both?

War was always spoken of as a last resort. People on both sides, from both kingdoms, believed they had been left with no choice, that they had been pushed to the very edge of what they could endure. Now that war had been declared, the residents of Tunish lived in a state of low, persistent dread. Most had mentally braced themselves for what was coming. Many had packed what they could carry and left, unwilling to wait and see. Most had stayed. Another would leave soon, one whose absence would be felt more than most.

Since the village sat close to the border, the people had assumed they would be the first to face an attack, or that the soldiers of their own nation would march out from their doorsteps when the fighting began. Neither had happened yet. There were rumors of skirmishes scattered here and there, and the bandit attacks had grown more brazen and more frequent, clearly with Combec pulling the strings behind them, but nothing truly overt had come. Only quiet sabotage and strongly worded warnings carried on the wind.

Ren walked through the village streets in the middle of the day and found them nearly empty. It was noon and the market square looked like it belonged to a much smaller village. People had stopped trading freely. They were hoarding, stockpiling whatever they could before the food scarcity that always followed war arrived at their doors. The soldiers had not helped matters. They moved through the village with a casual aggression that kept people indoors, and the villagers had decided that staying out of their way was safer than dealing with them.

The number of soldiers had grown considerably. They had been around sixty the last time Ren counted, but now they were well above two hundred, which meant two hundred additional mouths pressing against the village’s supply. The capital sent provisions, but the amounts were calculated for sixty men. The lords clearly expected the soldiers to take what they needed from the towns and villages they occupied, and the people, conditioned to obey, largely let it happen. Ren was not one of them. He was fearless, he was not inclined toward deference, and he was strong enough that the soldiers had quietly learned to leave him alone. They knew better than to push this particular person.

"Are you even from here? You look like one of those Combec types."

"How are we sure you are not a spy sent to watch us?"

The taunts were designed to make him lose his composure and swing first, giving them the justification they needed to do whatever they had already decided they wanted to do. Ren understood the game and had no interest in playing it. He ignored them every time, and the frustration it left on their faces was the only satisfaction he allowed himself.

He walked the familiar path back toward his home. As he moved past the last of the huts and out of the soldiers’ sightlines, his Hunter Sense picked something up. A presence, then another, then more. These were not soldiers. Soldiers did not bother hiding, and they were not particularly skilled at it when they tried. These were different.

More spies.

He was clear of the village now. No witnesses, no complications.

Four of them.

He stopped walking. They stopped too, a half-beat after him. That confirmed it. He already knew their exact positions. A slow smirk crossed his face.

He clapped once.

The ground beneath the four of them erupted. Thick vines burst from the soil with violent speed, coiling upward and wrapping around each figure before they could process what was happening. The plant growth was not gentle. The vines tore through their clothing and raked across exposed skin, opening long gashes as they tightened and constricted.

They screamed.

Ren turned to face them, his expression cold and unhurried. The person he had been when he first arrived in this world, careful and merciful and reluctant to cause harm, had been worn away over time. This world had done that to him, steadily and without apology. He could look at these four and feel nothing pulling him toward restraint.

He undid the vines around their mouths.

"Why are you after me?"

He did not need to ask twice. One of them broke almost immediately, the words tumbling out through clenched teeth.

"Our lords sent us!" The vines were pressing deeper now, working beneath the skin, separating tissue with the patient precision of something growing rather than cutting. The sensation was its own particular horror. "They sent us, please—"

"Which lords?"

"Lord Uvamin! Lord Ceyan!"

"Lord Sayanim!"

Ren was quiet for a moment. "The merchants." He exhaled slowly through his nose. Even now, with war swallowing the country whole, they were still at this. He continued to supply Erigald with blue milk, which Erigald transported to Marina and the cities beyond it. Demand within Tunish had fallen as people tightened their stores, but beyond the village it had done the opposite, climbing sharply as word spread further. The shepherds and cow owners had more milk than they could use and sold their surplus to Ren, who processed and sold it on. The three merchants had clearly watched this and decided their appetite for the secret outweighed the inconvenience of a war happening around them.

"I should make an example of them. They clearly have not adjusted their estimation of me." He looked at the one who had spoken. "What were you sent to do this time?"

"Learn... how you make the milk." The voice was ragged with pain. "And possibly... capture you."

"Greed in times like this is a pitiful thing." Ren turned away from them and began walking. "Your lords will be seeing me soon. I intend to pay them a visit."

Behind him, the vines moved with renewed purpose. A chorus of screaming rose sharply, then cut off into silence. When it was done, there was very little left of what had been four people. Only a spreading pool of dark red soaking into the soil, and the vines, slowly retreating back into the earth as though nothing had happened.

[Plant Whisperer: Allows the user to generate, sense, and control plant life and wood. Plants can be rapidly grown from soil, forming vines, roots, or structures for offense, defense, or utility. Existing vegetation can be manipulated with greater speed and precision, while wood can be bent or reshaped without breaking. Power and scale increase with available nutrients and terrain quality. Large or complex growths require higher skill levels and mana. Dry, dead, or heavily processed wood is harder to control. Resistance increases with distance and hostile environments.]