Chapter 101

Chapter 101: Chapter 101 Clayton stared intently at the object, half-convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him. But after a few moments of careful observation, he was certain—what he saw was exactly what he thought it was. Without wasting time, he rushed over for a closer look. "How is it possible for blood sorghum to grow so well in a place like this?" he muttered, baffled. Yes, right in front of him was blood sorghum—or at least, what was left of it. The plant had been reduced to a bare stalk, its upper parts destroyed, likely eaten by a wild boar. Curious, Clayton began inspecting the surrounding area. He soon discovered several more sorghum plants—some still intact, others damaged, either by boars or unknown causes. Seeing this, Clayton couldn’t help but think deeply. As far as he knew, he was the only one who had ever cultivated blood sorghum. So how could it be growing here? And more importantly, how was it surviving in a place with almost no ambient magical energy? Even though the plants were clearly poor in quality, Clayton—thanks to his knowledge—could tell they were still alive. What they lacked was their primary nutrient: blood. If they’d been fed blood regularly from the start, their condition would likely be similar to the original sorghum he had once cultivated. The more he thought about it, the more intrigued he became. He continued to explore, running through different possibilities in his mind while ordering his skeletons to fan out and secure the area. Eventually, he found the answer. This spot wasn’t far from where wild boars had destroyed his sorghum pots long ago. At that time, Clayton had only managed to retrieve a portion of the original plants. The remaining seeds must have been scattered—carried off by animals or insects—and ended up here. He saw the signs everywhere: ant tunnels near the plants, bits of bird nests, squirrel tracks, and traces of other small creatures. For whatever reason—whether instinct or forgetfulness—the animals hadn’t eaten the seeds. As a result, the sorghum had managed to sprout and grow on its own, even without magic-rich soil or a blood supply. Once the plants had nearly matured, a hungry boar must have found them and feasted. Realizing this, Clayton couldn’t help but admire the resilience of blood sorghum. It reminded him of his dimensional space—a pocket realm that had always seemed useless due to its complete lack of magical energy. But now, with the durability of blood sorghum in mind, he saw new potential. Even in low-mana environments, these plants could survive. Grateful for the unexpected inspiration, Clayton scattered a handful of blood-soaked sorghum seeds across the area—his way of thanking the animals that had unknowingly sparked this idea. Then, satisfied, he returned home to finish the cleaning he’d left undone. ... Five days later, Clayton still hadn’t planted more blood sorghum. He decided to wait and sow the seeds alongside his next wheat planting to save time and effort. For now, he chose to focus on spell training and boosting his combat strength as quickly as possible. He trained both his mana and physical body—working toward leveling up as a mage and a knight. The more he observed the social climate in Sunlight City, the more uneasy he felt. Something in the air hinted at a looming crisis. But rather than give in to anxiety, Clayton funneled all that tension into focused training. He even resumed testing his idea of turning skeletons into walking grenades, though the results remained far from ideal. One afternoon, after an especially intense session, Clayton paused for a drink. Just as he reached for his cup, his home’s security alarm went off. He rushed outside, only to be greeted by two familiar faces. "Hey! Brother Arthur! Uncle Lorenzo! Come on in!" he called, relieved. The two waved and approached with friendly smiles. Clayton brought out drinks and motioned for them to help themselves. "Please, drink up, Brother Arthur, Uncle Lorenzo!" "Yeah, yeah—thanks, Clayton," said Lorenzo, taking a sip. Clayton nodded and took a deep gulp himself. He was parched after hours of nonstop training. Seeing the state he was in, Arthur chuckled. "Looks like you’ve been training seriously! I didn’t expect that from you. You might not enjoy fighting, but clearly, you’re not neglecting your strength." Clayton nodded, his expression tired but firm. "Of course not. In a world of swords and sorcery, strength means survival. With all these strangers flooding into town lately... I can’t afford to slack off." Arthur and Lorenzo exchanged impressed looks. "Haha! You’re realistic, Clayton... but also a bit of a worrywart," Arthur said with a grin. "You’ve really grown up," Lorenzo added sincerely. "Your father would be proud, watching from above." Clayton felt a twinge of emotion. Hearing those words made all his effort feel worthwhile. "So, what about you guys?" he asked. "Last I heard, you left for another dungeon raid. How’d it go?" Arthur and Lorenzo exchanged smug smiles. "Haha! Jackpot," Arthur said. "Seriously, we’re drowning in resources. It’ll take forever to use it all," Lorenzo added excitedly. Clayton was surprised, but not jealous. On the contrary—he was genuinely happy for them. Their sincerity and respect for him made that easy. Still, if they ever invited him to join a dungeon raid, he already knew what he’d say. No way. Not while he still had other options. Maybe if he didn’t have his "cheat," he’d consider it—but not now. "Well, I’m really happy for you two," Clayton said sincerely. Arthur and Lorenzo nodded and handed him a small box. Clayton raised an eyebrow. "What’s this?" "Just a souvenir from the dungeon," Arthur said. "A little gift." Clayton tried to refuse, but they insisted. Eventually, he gave in and opened the box—finding several unfamiliar metal ores inside. "What is this?" he asked. "That’s mid-tier, one-star magic iron ore. It’s been tainted with both light and dark energy, but that actually makes it more versatile. You can use it to craft a lot of useful gear." Clayton nodded and stored the ore safely away, though he wasn’t yet sure how he’d use it. After that, they chatted for a while. Arthur and Lorenzo shared stories from the raid. There had been a few close calls, but overall, it had gone smoothly. The secret to their success? Clayton’s magic scrolls. The dungeon monsters had light and dark elemental traits, and Clayton’s scrolls were extremely effective in dealing with both. At first, he’d only supplied pollution-type scrolls—perfect against light-based enemies. But now that they had light-element scrolls too, combat had become even easier. Sometimes, they even used the monsters as training targets. If they couldn’t finish the enemy themselves, they’d end it with one of Clayton’s scrolls. Without realizing it, Arthur’s team had grown significantly stronger. Clayton was glad to hear it. After a long conversation—and some gossip about the city’s worsening conditions—Arthur and Lorenzo said their goodbyes. Clayton walked them out, then returned home for a well-deserved rest. ... The next morning, Clayton was busy packing. Ever since receiving the magic iron, he’d been thinking about what to make with it. After some thought, he decided to forge light armor. Even though he had multiple defensive spells—like Water Armor and Water Dome—he knew that if he ever ran out of mana or failed to cast in time, he’d be left vulnerable. A bit of physical protection would go a long way in helping him feel secure. So, Clayton headed out toward the city’s outer ring in search of a blacksmith shop. He moved carefully, his skeletons flanking him for added protection. Rumors of the city’s declining safety weren’t to be taken lightly. Then, in the middle of the street, he spotted a group of rough-looking individuals heading straight toward him. Clayton narrowed his eyes. "Let’s hope they’re not here to cause trouble," he thought, bracing himself.