Chapter 12

Words : 1130 Updated : Sep 23rd, 2025

Unfolding in Chapter 12 of "Wizard Starts Farming With Mini Skeletons": Chapter 12 - 12 The next morning, Clayton woke up early as usual—only to be greeted... Keep reading!

Chapter 12 - 12 The next morning, Clayton woke up early as usual—only to be greeted by the sight of a bloody corpse lying motionless on his floor. Startled, he rushed over and checked the body's face. One glance was enough. "...It's that guy." The memory clicked instantly. Hank. "What the hell happened? Why is he dead in my house?" he muttered, still struggling to process the situation. Moments later, a group of miniature skeletons emerged from the shadows. As soon as Clayton saw them, and the wounds that covered Hank's body, everything fell into place. The man had been killed by his own summoned creatures—likely through their Water Pistol spell. Seeing the extent of the injuries, Clayton frowned. "How did I sleep through this?" He stepped outside to check. Dingo, his yellow dog, was still curled up on the porch—fast asleep. That was strange. Dingo usually woke before him. He nudged the dog gently. No response. That's when suspicion crept in. He remembered a type of animal tranquilizer commonly used by hunters—especially potent against beasts. Everything suddenly made sense. Hank must've drugged both him and Dingo before sneaking in. This showed that the other side had a high level of professionalism in executing kills. Ironically, that level of professionalism had made Hank easier to eliminate—clean, silent, efficient. Clayton buried the body in his backyard using a water-softening spell. With control over the viscosity and density of water, it didn't take much effort to break down the remains and blend them into the soil. Even if someone dug it up, all they'd find was a patch of oddly colored red earth. No bones. No trace. He also disposed of the powder Hank had brought—an alchemical compound used to erase scent and blood trails. Clayton couldn't help but respect Hank's caution. If not for the mini skeletons, he might have been the one buried. He now viewed the skeletons in a different light. Whether due to lingering adrenaline or some deeper instinct, they seemed more alive than ever—almost radiant. After burning the blood-soaked cloth and scrubbing the floor clean, Clayton finally took a moment to inspect Hank's belongings. Inside the spatial pouch—roughly half a cubic meter in capacity—were five low-grade magic stones, a spell scroll, two books, and a collection of assorted odds and ends. The first book was about earth-element training—completely useless to Clayton. But the second book piqued his interest: Black Cat Killer Techniques. It contained a range of assassination skills: aura suppression, silent movement, rapid-kill tactics. The core principle it hammered home was caution—almost obsessive. Like the mythical black cat said to have nine lives, it taught how to vanish without a trace. It wasn't a top-tier manual, but its practical value far exceeded its rank. Given Hank's meticulous methods, Clayton was certain this hadn't been his first time killing and robbing. As for any loot Hank had stashed, it was likely spent on gambling—or hidden somewhere in his home. But judging from how desperate Hank had seemed, there probably wasn't much left. Not that Clayton was tempted to look. After reading about the traps detailed in Black Cat Killer Techniques, he had no interest in triggering some posthumous revenge mechanism. Dying from greed like Hank would be the ultimate irony. With everything handled, Clayton finally had time to think clearly. Only one question lingered: Why had Hank targeted him in the first place? Had he or his father ever wronged Hank? No clear memory came to mind. The most likely explanation? He was starting to attract attention—enough to draw jealousy or irritation from someone like Hank. Whatever the reason, Clayton knew he had to be more careful going forward. Not too flashy, not too invisible. Just... balanced. It also felt like the right time to begin his next breakthrough. Reaching First-Star Apprentice and starting Sky-Devouring Whale Body Tempering Technique would give him a much-needed layer of protection. With that decided, he returned to his usual routine. ... Days passed since Hank's disappearance. Clayton went about his life as though nothing had happened. But murmurs had begun to circulate around the village. "Hey, you heard? Old man Hank hasn't come home in days." "So what? He's always out on a bender." "Yeah, well, even his drinking buddies are starting to ask around." "Maybe he found some new place to party. What's the big deal?" "I heard he's deep in debt. His lenders are furious." "Wouldn't be shocked. Word is he lost big the last time he gambled." As the gossip spread, a group of rough-looking men began prowling the farming district, questioning locals about Hank's whereabouts. Eventually, one of them approached Clayton. "Hey. You there. Come here." Clayton walked over casually. "What's up?" "You know Hank?" "Yeah. I've seen him around." "When's the last time you saw him?" "A few days back. I've been busy, so I didn't really notice much." The man grunted, asked a few more routine questions, and moved on—finding nothing suspicious in Clayton's tone or behavior. Meanwhile, outside Hank's house, tempers were flaring. The men wanted to search the place, but hesitated—what if Hank suddenly showed up? After waiting for days with no sign of him, they finally snapped. A few goons were ordered inside. Moments after they entered, silence. No sounds. No movement. Frowning, the leader stepped in to investigate—and found the first group unconscious on the floor. Cursing, he sent in a second wave. Screams erupted within seconds. The men stumbled out, bleeding and pierced with knives. Infuriated, he barked at a third group. They hesitated—but one look at his glare, and they obeyed. This group made it in—only to come racing back out, chased by a swarm of furious bees. Utter chaos. Men screamed, ran, and flailed as the bees attacked. Several used magic to fight back. Eventually, the swarm dispersed. "Boss... you still want us to go in?" asked one of them, his face swollen with welts. The leader clenched his jaw, then relented. "Forget it. We're leaving." His men breathed sighs of relief. From a distance, Clayton watched it all unfold and exhaled slowly. Thank the stars he hadn't tried to search Hank's house himself. If he had, he might've ended up far worse. He turned and walked away. But from another road, Equus watched it all with a complicated expression. He knew what had really happened to Hank—because that night, he had stayed behind, hidden, watching everything unfold. He had wanted to witness Clayton's death firsthand. Instead, he saw Hank enter the house... and never come out. Even now, the memory made his skin crawl.

Chapter 12

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