Colby watched as the farmer bounded toward double dagger girl and the dull duo on all fours. Behind, the other farmers chased after him, pulling out various equipment from their Inventories. Some of them pulled out a large stick with a noose attached at one end, a muzzle—way larger than anything he had ever seen—and a leash.

  Yeah, something wasn’t adding up. Either that or he was bad at math.

  He never knew that magic could be used to literally transform oneself into some sort of canine hybrid. Was that even possible? Or was it just like his cheese armor situation? What if Farmer Hound had just grown out his hair really long, slapped on some sharp acrylic nails, and worn fake canine dentures to make him look like some sort of hound?

  That seemed more realistic, because if something like that was possible, the Core Constructs alone would practically be incomprehensible to his non magically trained brain.

  Then again, there was no way some fake prosthetics would explain how he had managed to run that fast on all fours. It was impossible. He knew, and he tried. The only time going on all fours was faster than two legs was climbing stairs.

  Neither did prosthetics explain how the farmer’s running cadence was more animalistic than human—that was a nicer way of saying the farmer didn’t have that goofy, butt raised high into the air posture most people got when they tried running on all fours.

  So what was a talented man like that doing farming Daisy Cows and See-Stars?

  In a matter of seconds, Farmer Hound had caught up with the trio of low-ranked adventurers.

  The hound-human hybrid lunged at them. He growled and barred his fangs, regular non-sticky slobber spewing everywhere. The dull duo whipped around, bringing their large swords to their chest.

  Farmer Hound slammed into them, knocking them onto the soft sand. His claws dug into the dull metal, making a shrill, grating screech that made Colby wish he were deaf.

  He barked and snarled, more saliva dripping down onto their faces. Meanwhile, double dagger girl simply ran—never glancing back once.

  Farmer Hound raised a single paw behind his back. His already long claws lengthened, tapering into razor points that gleamed in the morning sun. Just before he tore the dull duo to shreds, the other see-salt farmers had finally caught up to him.

  One of them blew on a whistle. His cheeks puffed out, face turning red from the effort. Colby couldn’t hear a single thing. Either the whistle was broken or…

  Farmer Hound recoiled. He brought his paws to his ears, wincing and howling in pain.

  That whistle produced a noise at a frequency too high for regular humans to hear. Which meant that Farmer Hound wasn’t a regular human. He truly had become part hound using some sort of transformation magic that Colby didn’t even realize was possible.

  The other farmers leaped into action. One of them had a catch pole, essentially a long metal shaft with a loop of reinforced rope at the end. But near the base, fixed just below the farmer’s grip, was a small yellow crystal. As far as Colby knew, that wasn’t factory standard.

  The farmer swung the pole forward, slipping the noose around Farmer Hound’s neck. The yellow crystal glowed bright. Sparks of electricity travelled up the shaft, zapping Farmer Hound. He howled as his entire body convulsed. Muscles bunched up under his fur, and claws dug into the sand, scattering the grains as he thrashed about.

  Other farmers joined in. They gripped the creaking pole, boots digging into the sand as they braced. Together, they heaved, dragging the snarling Farmer Hound away from the dull duo.

  The duo—just as dull as Colby had mentioned numerous times—lay on the sand, frozen. They were too stunned to realize that they should be running away for their lives. It wasn’t until one of the see-salt farmers stepped forward holding a muzzle that the gears in their brains turned a single notch.

  They scrambled to their feet, bolting in the opposite direction, only for them to come to a halt. They raced back, snatched their large swords stuck in the sand, and ran, desperately trying to catch up with double dagger girl, who had long since vanished.

  A muzzle-wielding see-salt farmer rushed forward to Farmer Hound. With sweat dripping down his brow, he wrestled with the thrashing creature, forcing the muzzle over his snapping jaws.

  Instead of a muzzle, maybe a gas mask would be a more appropriate term. Because instead of filtering anything out, the moment the straps clicked into place, a puff of pink smoke filled the mask—Colby didn’t say that gas mask was the best term, just more appropriate than muzzle.

  Slowly, Farmer Hound thrashed around less. His movements lost that wild, feral edge as the mysterious pink smoke coursed through him. The fur along his body receded back into his skin, revealing wrinkled, sun-browned flesh. His face slowly returned to normal, that hound-like snout shrinking until he was just a regular old man again. He placed a hand against the side of his head, disoriented, but aware enough to realize what had just happened.

  With a nod to his farmers, they unfastened the straps of the muzzle and loosed the catchpole, giving him back autonomy of his body. One of the farmers cupped a hand around the old man’s ear, whispering something to him.

  Farmer Hound’s head snapped up, eyes locking onto Colby as he muttered something under his breath.

  Just to be sure that Farmer Hound really was looking at him, Colby turned around. All he saw was sand, waves, and a ton of See-Stars enjoying the unconventional show. Maybe he was looking at the See-Stars he cared for instead of him?

  That question was quickly answered.

  Farmer Hound, thankfully no longer feral, walked towards him. Instead of going straight for the pen of See-Stars, he stopped right in front of him. Looks like he really was looking at him and not the innumerable eyes behind him.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Meanwhile, the other see-salt farmers remained behind. They inspected their equipment and gave each other pats on the back, well done.

  “Sorry you had to see that kid,” Farmer Hound said in a rough and grizzly voice. “But let me ask you something first. What happened to that See-Star you said they were abusing?”

  “No idea.” Colby shrugged. “I saw it crawl towards the ocean, then the next thing I saw was a dagger to my neck.”

  “You did good, kid. Sorry, you almost got stabbed. And sorry you had to see that.”

  “So, are you going to explain what just happened? And, you’re Farmer Hound, right? Aren’t you supposed to be farming Daisy Cows, not See-Stars? Also, you’re a lot less hairy than I remember.”

  “My past is something I do not want to talk about, especially with some kid,” he growled. “And yes, I do have a Daisy Cow farm. So, kid. How much gold?”

  “How much gold for what?”

  “To make sure you don’t blabber about this.”

  Colby had not expected this in the slightest, but he wasn’t going to say no to free gold. Okay, he was, but only because there was something better than gold.

  “Can I take my payment in see-salt and Daisy Cow milk?”

  “You can, but—you know what, I’m not even going to ask. I’ll have my man deliver the product to your shop. Happy?”

  “Not really. Can I have some of it now?”

  “Salt, sure, but the Daisy Cow milk ain’t here.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll just take the salt first and conveniently forget everything that’s happened here except the part where you give me free stuff, then you can deliver the milk to my shop.”

  “Good,” he grunted. “As for those three abusers, just leave them. I’ll get my men to make sure they never harm another See-Star again.”

  “Your men? You mean those see-salt farmers?”

  Farmer Hound just grunted. Was that a yes, a no, or a maybe? Not like he cared. Although maybe he should, considering that this was the second time he had been assaulted by them.

  Priorities, Colby, priorities.

  And right now, those three were like the sixth most important thing on his agenda. Coincidentally, there were only six things on that very comprehensive list.

  Back to priority number two.

  Colby left the see-salt farmers, heading towards the cove once more. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be anything stopping him on his quest to grab some Shell Ginger. After a bit of walking, he spotted those unmistakable brown shells, growing out of the cliffside.

  Fortunately, he didn’t spot a single lobster.

  He grabbed the stem of the plant and pulled. He dug his heels into the sand, trying his best to unearth the root. All he got was a bunch of sweat coating his body and a plant mockingly rooted in place.

  Ironically enough, he actually needed something to stop him—the lob-slash—so that he could fulfil his goal of grabbing the Shell Ginger.

  If he couldn’t grab any Shell Ginger now, he’d do it later.

  It was back to priority number one.

  From that exchange with Farmer Hound, he had gotten a whopping ten bags of salt, with more to be delivered to his family’s shop. Not only that, he had even managed to score some Daisy Cow milk. Who knew being kind to animals and stopping abusers could be so rewarding?

  Or maybe it was the fact that Farmer Hound seemingly had some dark past to him that he had managed to accidentally exploit.

  Being paid hush money—hush ingredients in this case—was something he had never expected. Then again, he never expected a war between Paralos and Endruma, so maybe his bad luck was finally being balanced with some good.

  But, seriously. As uneducated about magic as he was, even he could tell that no ordinary farmer should have the know-how to literally transform their body into some sort of beast.

  He could dig into Farmer Hound’s past, or he could instead focus his efforts on acquiring the last ingredient: rennet.

  Its job was to mainly separate the milk into solid curds and whey. Like all the other ingredients so far, there were multiple ways to gather the resource. Unlike the rest, he would be choosing the second-best option rather than the first.

  The first option—as gruesome as it sounded—involved extracting the rennet from a calf’s stomach. He literally didn’t have the stomach for that.

  So, he chose the next best option: mold. Certain molds were able to produce the enzyme that helped separate milk into curds and whey. And there happened to be a certain fungal monster nearby that produced what he needed: the Myconet.

  Now, he did say he was going to avoid the forest for a while, but he was so close to his objective. As long as he ran away the moment anything citrusy entered his nostrils, everything should be okay.

  Should he bring Thornelius with him? Well, that little betrayer was currently cozied up with his little sister, snoozing away. No adventure for him today.

  With that, Colby dashed out of Brinebrook and back into the neighboring forest.

  This was the first time he had delved so deep into the woods on his own. Thankfully, this wasn’t the first time he had been here. One time, a Supply Runner never showed up for their scheduled delivery—hazards of the job, as Porter would say. Their shop had every ingredient in stock, except for one: rennet.

  Not even the General Store sold such an ingredient, because apparently it wasn’t general enough.

  His mother was forced to come all the way out here to gather the rennet by herself. It wasn’t the highest quality rennet in the world, but it was the most accessible source they had. The only other option would be to close up shop until the next Supply Runner came with the necessary ingredients—whenever that might be.

  They couldn’t afford that kind of hit to their business, so his parents made a compromise. They would sell slightly lower-quality cheese at a slightly lower price and explain the situation to their customers.

  And he—determined to be the best cheesemaker in the whole world—tagged along, because he too required rennet.

  After walking around in circles, unsure if he was supposed to take a right turn at this particular brown tree or this slightly browner but still very much brown tree, Colby eventually found himself at the mouth of a cave.

  Long, thin vines dangled from the ceiling of the opening, swaying slightly in the breeze. Moss clung around the edges like thick curtains, occasionally dripping onto the dark stone below. There was a faint scent of something fungal in the air.

  This should be the cave. Unless there happened to be another nearby cave housing a fungal monster.

  The cave was dark, damp, but most importantly, dark. As in, he couldn’t see a thing the moment he descended deeper into its depths, which, annoyingly, was where that Myconet resided.

  There were a myriad of different spells that one could use to navigate through such darkness. No idea why someone would want to invent so many when it basically boiled down to two categories: light source or night vision.

  His mother was like 99.999% of the world, able to use simple spells such as [Burn] to light a torch. He was that rare 0.001% who literally could not use any magic unless it was tied to something specific.

  Now, he could just turn back and beg his parents to light the way for him, but there was something he wanted to try.

  It had come about one day when he was bored beyond reason, and he let his imagination run wild. And that was where he left it at. There had never been a reason to try it—a waste of ingredients. But now? There was.

  If this worked, he’d be accomplishing something he never thought possible. If this worked, he wouldn’t just be the guy who could only cast cheese.

  He was going to light the path himself.

  He was going to make some Flaming Cheese.