The wails of Pike and the others soon scattered on the wind, never to be mentioned again.
But fear and respect took root in people's hearts, and order grew firmer. The farmers handled every sea-salt potato with the utmost care, treating each one like a treasure.
The damage rate plummeted. Golden crops piled up like mountains in the warehouses, giving off the distinctive scent of starch.
It was the scent of harvest, the scent of hope.
But to the hungry beasts in the marsh, it was the scent of food.
The wind carried that enticing aroma in every direction.
Squish!
The standard-issue longsword in Barrett's hand pierced a Swamp Boar's thick hide as easily as slicing through butter.
After advancing to a Fourth-Level Warrior, his strength and speed had undergone a qualitative leap.
A second-level magical beast that once required the entire Gray Wolf Squad's coordinated efforts to kill now took him only a single stroke.
He pulled out his sword. Warm blood splashed across his mud-caked chain mail, but he did not even glance at it.
With a swift backhand slash, he beheaded another boar charging at him.
In the past, that would have left him feeling pleased with himself for hours. Now, however, Barrett felt only a growing weight of anxiety.
"Captain! Another pack at Field Three to the west!"
A young guard came running, breathless and panic-stricken.
Barrett looked back. Across the vast fields, shrill whistles calling for aid rose one after another.
He could kill a boar with one stroke, and even fight three or five at once, but he could not be in a dozen places at the same time.
Over the past few days, what had begun with marsh rabbits and marsh mongooses had escalated to packs of boars and brown bears. The magical