Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest

Shasta soothed the little witch before her.

"Is what you're saying true?" Gwivelle asked timidly.

Her slender frame resembled that of a small quail.

Fearing to upset her, Shasta's demeanor was exceedingly gentle, which surprised Morry.

"It's true, Gwivelle. You won't have to hide any longer; I will take you to Witch Forest, where all our sisters and companions are," Shasta said softly.

But Gwivelle shook her head with tears: "I only bring calamity."

"I know, Gwivelle. You blame yourself for the collapse of the house, your father's broken leg, the mad oxen in the cattle shed. You can sense a strange secret power surrounding you, affecting everything. You are terrified, so you cried to your mother, and hence your family learned everything, deeming you a source of calamity. Your father cursed you as a child of misfortune and drove you out of the house mercilessly. You felt hopeless, but you had to leave, for you caused your family suffering. So you hid in the mountains, living here alone for nearly two years. It must have been very hard."

"Gwivelle, you're an unfortunate child, I know. Perhaps your cursed constitution is real, and you can't reject it. It has brought you much misfortune, but it is ultimately your power. Do not fear, do not be scared. I will teach you how to control this secret power, and you will surely become a great witch."

Gwivelle felt it was surreal. She couldn't understand what Shasta was whispering in her ear or comprehend her current situation. But her innate fear of the outside world persisted.

"Am I to go outside with you?"

Shasta was unequivocally affirmative, saying, "Gwivelle, you must understand that you are only normal when your companions are witches."

Gwivelle pleaded, "I just want to stay here, can I not go?"

She was truly fragile, like a startled bunny, and felt Shasta's kindness and warmth.

Yet even so, Gwivelle remained fearful of the woman before her and dread what she had said.

"Witches do not harm their own," Shasta murmured softly.

"But the Church will burn me, burn my family. I cannot let the Church elders catch me," Gwivelle added in a crying tone. She knelt before Shasta, begging for mercy like a subordinate appealing to a superior, "I've never been outside before, Miss Shasta, please leave me be."

Shasta felt an unnamed rage welling up. She was decisive in her actions, but today, despite her persuasive efforts, she couldn't convince Gwivelle.

She did not vent her anger on Gwivelle.

She knew of Gwivelle's past experiences and present situation.

She was angry with the Church, angry with Gwivelle's parents, and angry about the plight of witches. This rage shook Shasta to her core, causing her to tremble and start emitting black smoke.

Reason would not prevail here.

The girl exemplified what it meant to be ignorant.

Shasta prepared to forcibly take Gwivelle with her—not through violence, as that would aggravate Gwivelle's powers, leading to unpredictable consequences should they spiral out of control.

So, Shasta, with a tone both gentle and firm, said, "Alright, child, time is pressing. Leave everything to me; you'll soon see that leaving is the right choice for you."

Gwivelle was astute; she sensed Shasta's intentions but dared not oppose the inscrutable witch.

She was uneasy and spoke softly, "I can't just leave like this; I must say goodbye to Uncle Dick, and to Uncle Jet, and Grandfather Galin, and Uncle Bo Ge…"

At that moment, a dull thudding sound came from the forest.

Initially indistinct, the sound rapidly grew closer, accompanied by the rustling of bushes and grasses and the trembling of trees, as if a dangerous creature was charging through.

The mountain wind howled, and Shasta's expression darkened!

…

Led by the hunter, Roman arrived at the filthy doctor's dwelling.

He saw the man before him, filthy and bearded—perhaps once white but gone unwashed for so long it had turned dark, utterly grimy.

The nickname "Dirty Doctor" Galin truly fit the bill.

In this relatively open mountainous area, with sparse vegetation, stood a wooden hut adorned with bottles and jars, powdered medicines, plant roots, alcohol-preserved insects, and crucibles.

The dirty doctor held high status.

In Sige Town, if a child fell ill with a malign sickness, parents would laboriously carry them to the mountain, seeking Galin's healing.

They only had to pay with a small amount of food.

Galin's existence was even more special to the hunters; basically, every hunter had received Galin's healing.

Inside this wooden hut, Roman found the emblem of faith for the worship of All Gods, which was the exquisitely complex pattern of the "Thirty-Three Divine Seating"—a design composed of lines and thirty-three dots to form a seating for the gods.

He said, "You're from the Church, right?"

Galin was quite elderly, his face riddled with wrinkles, yet his eyes were vividly bright.

He showed no surprise or shock at Roman's arrival, remaining calm as Roman rummaged and observed in his room, even as the emblem of faith was found, without any emotional response.

Hunter Dota's face was a mask of horror; he hadn't known Galin's identity before, but was aware of how Galin took care of the Witch Gwivelle.

Gods, a member of the Church actually caring for a witch? It was like an angel blessing the demons of Hell.

And Moor broke out in a profuse sweat; he had always thought Galin was just a highly skilled wandering doctor.

A single witch had already startled him greatly, and now Sige Town was harboring a person from the Church?

Damn it! Why don't I know anything? What else is impossible in Sige Town? How can such a small place conceal so much talent!

Sige Town had no missionaries, priests, or churches, and only knew bits and pieces about the Church through the words of traders, leaving Galin's origins a mystery.

Roman, however, had noticed it upon his arrival.

The style of item placement was very similar to that of the Church.

Moreover, only the Church possessed a systematic knowledge of medicine, superior to court doctors, and they had healing powers bordering on supernatural.

In Roman's eyes, without relying on Divine Arts, the Church's healing system was quite primitive and dark, and the brutal methods of treating patients often made him wince.

But that didn't stop Galin from being talented.

In these times, a doctor who could heal without killing the patient was a good doctor.

Roman said to Galin, "You left the Church? Would you like to work for me?"

"The Church decrees that the servants of the All Gods can only devote their lives to worship," Galin answered in an old, weary voice.

"Oh? So you can't submit a letter of resignation, huh?"

Galin didn't know what a letter of resignation was, but he understood the meaning and, therefore, did not respond.

Roman continued, "Then, does this count as desertion?"

Galin fell silent for a moment before conceding, "I have not deserted my post; I have not lost faith in the All Gods."

The Church symbolized the physical manifestation of the gods on earth, acting as their sole authorized agency, a direct affiliate.

This meant abandoning the Church was equated to forsaking the faith in the All Gods; if one didn't join the Church to worship, it didn't count as a true faith.

Galin maintaining his faith after leaving the Church was quite the anomaly.

In this fantasy world, the gods very likely existed, although they hadn't shown any widespread miracles for a long time.

And Roman held no reverence for the Church or the All Gods.

You have healing Divine Arts, and I have Conquest Knights.

We all have supernatural abilities—who are we trying to scare?

Got the guts to summon your god to have a showdown with me?

...

If the All Gods had the power to move heaven and earth and cared for their believers, then why not descend Divine Power to help their faithful flock, rather than allowing this era to barbarously evolve?

If the gods didn't have the power to move heaven and earth, then he need not hold much awe for those self-proclaimed divine beings.

If the All Gods didn't value their believers, it wouldn't matter if he slaughtered all the Church's people, would it?

Moreover, the Church hadn't changed the era despite the long passage of time.

I'm giving you a chance, and you're useless, so you'd best not get in my way when I start chopping, or I'll chop you down too.

...

Roman was about to say more, but then he heard a pig-slaughtering scream echoing from the distant mountains and forests, resonating through the wilderness!