The Great Harvest

Abel rode his warhorse, while the other warhorse carried a load of premium feed. The two horses moved swiftly. Along the way, Abel had no mind to admire the scenery. Instead, he constantly watched his surroundings and occasionally took out the map to compare it carefully with the terrain.

The first impression this world's maps gave people was that they should not bother with the details. Indeed, the maps basically contained no details at all. They merely marked out a general route and indicated the prominent geographical features nearby.

The map in Abel's hands was already a map reserved for nobles—the best map this world had to offer. At the bottom was a long section of explanations. For example, if there was a symbol on the map and the same symbol appeared below it, the text following it explained what that symbol meant.

The river Abel was crossing now had a symbol on the map. Beneath the same symbol were the words: "Water is deep. Cross with caution."

Abel looked up at the river before him. Calling it a river was a stretch; it was more like a stream. He kept complaining about the map. What year was this map made? It should have said: "Water is deep. Be careful not to wet your shoes."

Abel looked at the map again. It indicated that there was a low mountain ahead. He raised his head and saw that there really was a faint outline of a low mountain. At least the mountain had not disappeared. This time, the map was accurate.

While amusing himself with the map, Abel also examined his surroundings. This was the first time he had traveled such a long distance alone, and he did not want to lose his life because of some accident.

"Whoosh." The sound of air currents churning reached him. Abel looked up at the sky and saw a huge bird descending from high above toward the low mountain ahead.

Abel's curiosity was instantly piqued. The bird was far larger than anything he had imagined. In this life or his previous one, he had never seen a bird this large. It was practically the size of an airliner from his previous life.

He urged his warhorse toward the low mountain. Ten minutes later, Abel reached its foot. He left both warhorses there, took the Hari Bow, slung the Ice Magic Greatsword over his back, and headed up the mountain.

Warhorses were different from ordinary horses. In the wild, there was no need to tether them. Their training ensured that they would not leave the place where their owner stationed them. They could even drive away ordinary carnivorous beasts, and with two warhorses together, they were even safer.

The low mountain did not look large, but only after entering it did one understand what it meant for a man to die of exhaustion while chasing a mountain. Abel spent quite some time walking from the foot to the summit.

At that moment, Abel heard a "cooing" sound, along with someone conversing in the orc language. His heart jolted. Orcs.

Abel observed the wind direction. Last time, he had been discovered by werewolves because of his scent. Now that he had encountered orcs again, he had learned his lesson. He found a position downwind so his scent would not reach them.

"When will it be able to fly again?" a voice speaking the orc language demanded loudly.

"It may take two days, sir," another voice replied humbly.

"Two days? I have to stay in the human world for another two days? Even one extra day makes me sick. Heal it faster!" the scolding voice shouted.

"Yes, sir."

Abel cautiously poked his head out. Although he was downwind, he still held his breath. Who knew whether these two orcs had exceptionally keen hearing?

The first thing Abel saw was a gigantic bird. What caught his attention was the enormous wound along one side of its body. To a human, the wound was nearly two people long, but to the bird, it was merely an ordinary injury. Blood kept seeping from it as a werewolf in leather clothing carefully poured medicinal powder over the wound.

The werewolf beside him made Abel's eyes flash. This was definitely no ordinary werewolf. It was the first time Abel had seen an orc wearing armor. This strange black armor, specially made for werewolves, had no glossy or polished surface. That meant it was not made of ordinary steel, because the lack of shine showed that its surface had not been painted. The black color came from the material itself, and Abel had never seen such a pure-black material before.

The werewolf seemed extremely anxious. While the other werewolf treated the great bird's wound, he kept urging him on.

"Treat the wound here. I'll go find something to eat." The werewolf in Black Armor turned and walked toward the other side of the mountain.

Abel glanced at the werewolf treating the great bird's wound. It looked as though the bird would not be leaving for quite some time. Abandoning the thought of continuing to observe from where he was, he quietly followed the werewolf in Black Armor from a distance.

This werewolf in Black Armor was Fowler, who had escaped from Nai Valley. Along the way, Sky-Scorching Sparrow's injuries had worsened without rest, and it could no longer fly. He had no choice but to find a concealed place to stop and wait for Sky-Scorching Sparrow to recover.

Fowler's losses this time had been enormous. The guards and dire wolf that had followed him for years were gone. However, as someone born into the Woolf Family, he felt that none of this mattered as long as he could return to the family.

When Fowler reached the foot of the mountain, he stopped and looked around. The movement startled Abel into thinking he had been discovered, so he hid behind a huge boulder.

Abel had suffered plenty while tracking Fowler. Several times, he had wanted to draw the Hari Bow and shoot the werewolf dead. However, he always felt that the armor on the werewolf would be difficult to penetrate. As Abel's mental power improved, he trusted his instincts more and more.

He slowly poked his head out and saw the werewolf begin removing his armor. Once taken off, the armor could be easily folded into a rectangle. The werewolf pressed it several times, and the rectangle seemed to lock into place. He picked it up and carried it on his back.

Abel fitted an arrow to the Hari Bow and drew it taut again. You brought this on yourself. Don't blame me.

What happened next was something Abel had never expected. The werewolf took a necklace from his chest and began chanting a spell.

Abel had already encountered spells before. With his mental power, and at such a close range, he memorized every word the werewolf chanted without missing a syllable.

The spell had a typical orcish style, containing many lines praising the Beast God mixed with some strange pronunciations. Though the words sounded bizarre, Abel felt the terrifying pressure that appeared in the sky when the spell was completed, a pressure so overwhelming that it nearly made his soul stop. Then the necklace flashed with green light. The light grew stronger and soon enveloped the werewolf's entire body.

When the light faded, the werewolf before Abel had taken on a human body. The distinctive arched back of a werewolf was gone, his height had decreased, and the fur on his face and protruding muzzle had become human features.

"A treasure." A red gleam flashed in Abel's eyes, and his heart stirred. With such a treasure right before him, and in the hands of an orc, he could take it openly and without guilt.

The Hari Bow was silently drawn to its full extent. Abel aimed at the werewolf's head, then thought better of it and shifted his aim to the werewolf's heart. This werewolf was clearly no ordinary person. The head would be worth more military merit.

"Twang!" The arrow seemed to fly even faster than the sound. The werewolf was struck through the heart before he could react. The necklace flashed several times, and the werewolf's human appearance changed back into that of a werewolf.

Abel walked over and cautiously approached the werewolf. After confirming that he was dead, he began searching his body.

The first thing he took was the necklace. He carefully removed it from the werewolf's neck. It was a circular pendant made of an unknown material. One side was engraved with the Beast God, while the other depicted the human God of War.

The second thing was the armor. Abel lifted it with one hand. It was incredibly light, weighing perhaps only five pounds. For a knight, that was practically weightless. He lightly stabbed it with a fine-steel dagger, but it did not leave even the slightest mark. He added more force and stabbed it again, with the same result. After several attempts, Abel finally thrust with nearly all his strength. In the end, he gave up testing the armor's durability. If he wanted to test it, he would have to find a knight who could use fighting spirit. A Rookie Knight like him could do nothing to the armor.

Abel secretly rejoiced. Fortunately, he had trusted his mental power and had not attacked the werewolf while he was wearing the armor. It was lucky that the werewolf had sought his own death by taking it off.

Fowler had truly died an unjust death. He had only wanted to go to a human village to get something to eat, but he did not want to attract attention. If he robbed someone for food and was discovered, a large number of knights would come to investigate, and that would be troublesome. Therefore, he had used a family treasure to turn into a human before going to buy some food.

The armor he wore was made specifically for werewolves. To transform into a human, he had to take it off. As a result, Abel had made a huge profit.

Finally, Abel found a pile of items in the werewolf's clothing, including two Rune Cards. That alone came as a tremendous surprise to Abel. There were also some jewels and, finally, an extremely familiar Orc Skill Card.