#049. The Harvest Festival Event is Too Kind (1)

#049. The Harvest Festival Event is Too Generous (1)

In this world, a farmer is a high-level profession, attainable only with considerable strength.

Like weeds that sprout relentlessly, monsters feed on ambient mana, growing rapidly, then bursting forth from who-knows-where.

In an age where trees blink their eyes and flowers scatter thorns to create fertilizer, what a safe and tempting prey a quietly growing crop in a field becomes.

Because of this, farmers face more monsters than adventurers or guards; it’s an occupation of extremes.

The village of Sodom had been plagued by horned slugs devouring the crops for quite some time.

But this summer, something special transpired.

The horned slugs, primarily after the crops!

Their horns became fashionable, causing the monster subjugation bounty to skyrocket. Sodom’s adventurers, with malice aforethought, selectively hunted only the horned slugs.

Thanks to this, the farmers’ labor was reduced, and the difficulty of farming decreased significantly compared to other years.

“A bumper crop!”

“The fields overflow with golden grain!”

“The harvest season draws near!!!”

At the farmers’ cries, the guards frantically raced through the village, ringing bells.

“Attention Sodom villagers, this is a broadcast from the Sodom Village Guard. This year, Sodom village has a bumper crop. A bumper crop. All residents, prepare immediately for the Harvest Festival.”

Adventurers, armed with megaphones, roamed the streets, relaying the announcement.

Amidst this commotion, a cat-kin guard from the adventurers guild arrived with a request.

“Come to entrust us with an urgent group support request for the Harvest Festival, nya!”

“Bringing a request as part of the village guard, you’ve adapted quite quickly.”

“Unlike those clumsy human guards, a kin can protect the village without fearing even nobles, nya!”

Despite his confidence, the kin guard didn’t quite grasp the request itself.

“But if you’re celebrating a bumper crop at harvest time, why are you urgently summoning guild adventurers? Is the human harvest a harvest of blood, scattering the enemy’s necks upon the grain?”

“Not exactly, but in this case, you could say it’s somewhat similar.”

Bumper crops aren’t a common occurrence, so people are largely ignorant of the dangers of a bumper crop harvest festival.

It was natural that a non-human kin would be unaware.

Ian, drawing upon his player knowledge, kindly explained what happens during a bumper crop harvest festival.

“Are you aware that all living things, when saturated with mana, undergo ＜Rapid Mutation＞, growing in size or becoming more aggressive?”

“Don’t know, nya. Precious things like catnip aren’t something just anyone can touch, nya.”

“You need to be at least my level to know that, nya.”

Behind the kin guard, Hananya, formerly the leader of the kin guard, made herself heard.

The cat-kin guard, startled, scurried away.

Behind Hananya, Theresa, the ex-delinquent mom, Yuzu, the ex-messenger, and Joseph, the ex-miner, appeared side-by-side.

“A gift.”

Mom presented a sack filled with the heads of enemy commanders.

I called over a senior colleague from the adjacent window, and Mom was able to have her spoils appraised.

“So, what were you talking about, nya?”

“It’s a bumper crop this year. I was explaining why an emergency harvest festival is being held.”

Those from the back alleys were completely lost.

But Mom, in her youth, had been a young lady of the Stacepia Earldom.

Having experienced a bumper crop in her homeland, she was visibly on edge.

“When the harvest’s bountiful, the plants, swollen with nutrients, become saturated with natural mana and… *mutate*. It goes beyond just tasting better or yielding more. Legs sprout. They rise on their own two feet. Tentacles grow long, hungry to hunt down fertilizer.”

That’s why the Harvest Festival sparks an emergency group request, drawing every adventurer in the village.

Catnip, too, if tended with devoted care, could undergo a similar transformation, hence the intention to warn them.

Hanyan, like the captain of the guard she was, had clearly faced mutated catnip before, judging by the absolute disgust on her face.

“In your human harvests, how much of this… catnip… grows?”

“Eight thousand acres.”

“And just how big is that?”

“Roughly ten million *pyeong*.”

“What in the world is *pyeong*?!”

“Approximately thirty-three million square meters.”

“Are you an idiot! A blockhead! Don’t speak in these strange units! How many *kkwook-kkoogi* is it, huh?”

The beastkin’s unit of measurement was based on how many footprints—*kkwook-kkoogi*—it took to cover a distance.

A barbaric standard, lacking any officially defined metric system, but easily manipulated by a strong female to inflate or deflate the amounts as she saw fit.

A human hand’s length is generally 20 cm, and beastfolk weren’t so different, so…

“It’s an area that would take over a hundred million *kkwook-kkoogi* to traverse.”

The sheer magnitude of *that* unit finally caused Hanyan’s expression to turn blank.

From such a vast expanse of land, crops blessed with the abundance buff rise up as monsters.

A delayed hunt invites the monsterification of other crops nearby, making early eradication essential.

“Starting today, harvesting and subjugation will proceed for the next two weeks. Any crops left unharvested will be burned. The aid of all adventurers is vital.”

“Farmers, please proceed with your harvests without worry. If you discover a monster, report it to the nearest adventurer, and they will take care of it.”

With short speeches from the village chief and guild master, the Harvest Festival began – a time-attack event where a monster wave would crash down on any left-behind crops.

* * *

Westwood was home to several pioneer villages.

Most had a noble backing them, but Falcon Village was backed by Pinky, a B-team fighter from the Hero Party with a similar privilege given.

“Chief! How’s this year’s harvest festival looking?”

“A blight.”

“Good, I’m glad I won’t be bothered!”

An unexpected bumper crop only led to the annoyance of a large-scale extermination.

Depending on the village’s combat strength, the amount of crop production had to be artificially lowered.

While Pinky was pleased to avoid unnecessary trouble, it was a hard life for the village chief and residents who would struggle through winter with limited food.

“Don’t move to the A-team before maintaining the current size! If you do it as you please, you will be fertilizer-bombed, and your village will perish?”

“Y-Yes, I will keep that in mind.”

Pinky hummed a tune and headed to the gathering place for the B-team.

The party members who had been touring their respective villages gathered.

“Bumper crop?”

“Blight.”

“Yeah, blight.”

“It would have to be a blight if they don’t want to go crazy.”

A bountiful harvest didn’t just spawn crop monsters; it also attracted other monsters eager to take advantage.

Stronger monsters followed weaker monsters, forming a monster wave that even a city couldn’t hope to defend.

It wouldn’t be possible without a well-equipped adventurer’s guild of considerable strength.

“My family lives there… perhaps I should have stayed in the village during the harvest and helped out?”

“Fool! In that time, it’s far more profitable to raid the abandoned nests of monsters migrating to regions with bountiful harvests and obtain high-value items!”

Pinky’s pointed remark caused Gregor, the pure-blooded human and Second-Class Knight of the Hero Party, to sheepishly scratch his head.

“Well, the capable ones usually do that, I guess. It’s not like the village growing benefits them much, no significant earnings for them. Rather than fattening the bellies of farmers and nobles, they’d prefer a lean harvest, just enough to get by, so everyone suffers less.”

Pinky was suddenly curious.

“What about Ronowe’s village?”

“Bountiful. The more ‘test subjects’ he has, the better he likes it.”

“True. The more test subject legions we have to support the Hero Party, the more reassured we are!”

Even in the Second Party, Ronowe, as its leader, was strong enough to handle a rich harvest.

Given Ronowe’s tendency to grind people down for high-grade materials, there was no reason for him to deliberately avoid the harvest season.

“Then what about Sodom Village?”

“They say it’s a bumper crop.”

“They’re mad. They must have gotten greedy, thinking they’d be taxed less since there’s no noble.”

“Fools!”

“Exactly. It’s not like adventurers will willingly help out.”

Especially guilds under severe financial pressure. They certainly wouldn’t miss this opportunity to raid monster nests and collect valuable materials en masse.

Sodom Village will be utterly ruined, and from next year, they’ll struggle to even meet their own grain needs, becoming even more reliant on external traders.

By targeting this vulnerability, carefully controlling the food supply, and effectively cutting off food carts heading to Sodom Village, the detestable Sodom Guild and Teresa Party would be completely destroyed.

Pinky smirked.

The downfall of Sodom Village, which wasn’t even as good as Pinky’s carrot-growing village, was already something to anticipate.

* * *

The farmers of Sodom Village couldn’t hide their worry.

“Will the adventurers come and help?”

“Unlikely. They’re under financial strain, after all.”

“We were short-sighted. We got excited by the thought that we could keep everything we harvested since there’s no noble, and brought about a harvest we couldn’t handle.”

“Let’s just harvest for a few days and then burn it all.”

“It’s fortunate there are some novice adventurers helping with odd jobs, at least. Let’s rely on those kids.”

The farmers didn’t hold high hopes.

In a village experiencing a bumper harvest, it was common for adventurers to move on to the most lucrative hunting grounds nearby.

So, they were surprised.

By the number of hands that exceeded expectations tenfold.

It was practically the entire adventurer guild of Sodom Village gathered there.

“What’s going on?”

Ian answered their question.

“We are the masters of Sodom Village. No noble owns us. Of course, we should all participate in the harvest festival for the future of the village.”

For players, it was an obvious thing to do.

An essential quest that required no suspicion.

But for the residents, it was a story that filled them with emotion and overflowing tears.

Ian, who came from the back alleys.

He persuaded the guild, not forgetting his own past, to hold a bountiful harvest so that others from the alley could also eat their fill.

The villagers understood it so.

In truth, it wasn’t a wrong guess either.

“Going to harvest high-value loot, making big money, and stabilizing the guild might be more helpful for the village’s future.”

Teresa wasn’t in favor of participating in the harvest festival from the start.

The reason she changed her mind was, of course, because of that wicked mind manipulator.

Ian knew that the village needed to prosper for the lower guild members to grow smoothly, making him give up shortcuts for the adventurers he was raising and using.

“Long live Ian!”

“Long live Teresa!”

The farmers cheered, chanting the praises.

Whether Ian was horrified by his own wickedness and felt guilty or not, to the people, today was just another example of a great saint acting selflessly.