Entering the chief’s house required permission, and thanks to the barter hub nearby, Luke obtained what he needed to step inside.
"Drop your weapons here," a soldier said, surprising Luke.
The green-haired boy raised an eyebrow. "Then how am I supposed to hunt the moles?"
"You’ll be given a tool inside," the soldier replied firmly. "Now keep moving."
Luke rolled his eyes and stepped in before the door closed behind him.
Quite paranoid, he muttered inwardly as he entered the largest house in the village.
Just past the entrance was a small compound where three horses grazed calmly. Two soldiers stood on either side, spears held upright in their hands.
Luke hummed. Now this is different. Compared to the other houses, this place looked more like the residence of a noble. Even as village chief, this level of wealth seemed excessive.
As he walked further in, someone appeared before him. "You’re here to deal with the moles, right?"
Luke lifted his head and saw a middle-aged man with grey hair and cold eyes. His attire made it clear he wasn’t the chief.
Luke nodded. "Yeah. When can I start?"
"Come with me," the man said, turning and walking around the house toward the back instead of heading inside.
Luke soon saw a large farm spread across the backyard, occupying nearly as much space as the house itself.
"You can take any tool you need from the equipment room," the man said, "but get rid of those pests quickly. These crops are cultivated by Lady Roxanne herself."
Luke raised a brow. "The chief’s wife, huh..." He had heard she was the most beautiful woman in the village. At least, that was what his mother and aunt often said. Men, on the other hand, rarely judged women by appearance alone. To them, the ability to bear children mattered far more.
The man nodded. "Start working and finish before the chief returns."
Luke hummed and headed toward the storage room.
Inside, he found various farming tools. The one he needed was a pickaxe.
Sharp ends. Thick handle. Perfect for stabbing.
He stepped back out into the open.
The sun was blazing, and sweat was already forming on his skin.
I can level up all I want, but some things can only be built over time. A delicate, flowery boy who hated being out in the sun—yes, this would be difficult.
But he had to get used to it.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he commanded the system, ’Appraise.’
Instantly, his vision shifted. Everything sharpened, clarity flooding his sight as the obstruction of soil vanished, revealing the lifeforms wriggling beneath the ground.
[Name: Rabid Mole]
[Str: 2]
[Spd: 8]
[Def: 5]
[Int: 1]
For a moment, Luke was taken aback by the numbers.
There were more than fifty.
Then he remembered the tora.
He had once seen more than two hundred tora right before his eyes.
Alright, let’s get to work.
He lifted the pickaxe over his head, both hands sliding down the handle until they gripped the base. Then he brought it down at a terrifying speed.
DHOOMP
KHIEK
A sharp squeak followed the impact, and one mole was dead.
Luke yanked the pickaxe free, a creature the size of a cat hooked onto its tip. Brown-furred, with four stubby legs flailing uselessly.
He grinned and tossed it aside.
One down... several more to go...
The pickaxe rose and fell again and again.
DHOOMP. KHIEK.
Soil burst apart, bodies followed. Luke moved from one spot to the next, guided by the outlines only he could see. Each strike was clean, brutal, efficient.
Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes. His arms burned, shoulders screaming with every swing, yet he didn’t slow. If anything, his movements grew sharper.
Another mole surfaced.
Crack.
Dead.
The squeaks blurred into noise. The stench of blood mixed with damp earth. His breathing grew heavier, ragged, but his grip only tightened.
Fatigue crept in, settling deep into his muscles. His hands trembled between strikes, blisters forming beneath his palms.
He welcomed the pain. Pain meant more Tora.
DHOOMP.
Anger bled into every motion. Each downward swing carried more force than the last, less thought, more instinct. He wasn’t hunting anymore. He was erasing them.
One after another, the outlines vanished.
By the time he finally straightened, his clothes were soaked, his chest rising and falling violently. The field was quiet.
But more than twenty moles remained.
Breathing heavily, he wiped his face and looked at the pile he had created.
He was at his limit.
’I hunted nearly thirty...this should be enough...’ Just when he was thinking to retire, a soothing voice came from the left,
"Tired already?"
He turned and found a bewitching eyes staring back at him.
A woman, in her thirties, stood there. Curly black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing the lush, heavy swell of her breasts. The deep blue dress clung like a second skin—silk stretched taut across the full, rounded weight of them, the fabric straining just enough to hint at the stiff peaks beneath, outlining every tempting curve.
Her smile was soft, disarming, the kind that made you drop your guard.
But those glossy red lips—slightly parted, glistening—whispered sin.
One long, slow look and his blood was already roaring, torn between worshipping the sight and tearing the dress off with his teeth.
With her crimson eyes narrowed, she said, "When I saw a young man on duty, I thought I would be completely liberated by this stressful situation. But I guess, you are still just a boy."
Just then,
[Quest: Impress the target by hunting all the moles]
[Time limit: 10 minutes]
[Reward: 1. 50G
2. Any one free item from the supply shop.]
Luke smiled and took off his shirt.
Now, this is something worth over exerting himself over.