Thirty minutes earlier.
An open field on the outskirts of the village.
The wind blew fiercely, stinging my cheeks.
I looked down at the potato in my hand.
It was shriveled, covered in dirt, and looked completely unimpressive.
But right now, this potato was my future.
No.
It was the future of every barbarian here!
This tiny tuber was the lifeline that would save both the tribe and me.
Good! Time to begin the operation!
I pulled a crude stone knife from my waist.
The skills from my previous life returned naturally to my hands.
I had been a fairly skilled cook who had prepared countless ingredients in restaurant kitchens.
The thing in my hand might have been nothing more than a sharpened stone, but my movements were precise.
Slice. Slice.
I checked the potato’s eyes and divided it neatly into five pieces.
Haa.
I straightened my back and looked around.
This open area was a short distance from the village and covered in gravel.
I rolled my shoulders as if warming up.
Crack. Crack.
My joints snapped into place with a satisfying sound.
In my previous life, I had limped badly on my right leg.
The lasting effects of polio had followed me my entire life like shackles.
But now.
This is amazing.
I could feel the firmness of the earth clearly through the soles of my feet.
So this is what it feels like to live with a body like everyone else.
For no real reason, I suddenly felt excited.
I picked up the fist-sized rocks that annoyed me and threw them away.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
The stones flew through the air as lightly as feathers before crashing far away.
Even a large boulder came free from the ground when I grunted and put some strength into it.
Holy crap, I’m strong.
I hummed happily.
I liked the smell of soil.
And having a healthy, strong body made me happy.
After struggling with the field for about thirty minutes.
A perfectly square patch of flat ground had appeared among the piles of stones.
Perfectly straight.
Not even the width or length was off.
Well.
I had always been a little obsessive about things like this.
Good. Now it’s time to cultivate the land.
I placed both palms against the barren earth.
The soil itself was probably one of the reasons the barbarians never farmed.
This was dead land.
There wasn’t even a trace of life in it.
But I had a skill.
Farmland Cultivation.
I called out the skill name in my head.
Nothing happened.
Instead, a red System message appeared before me.
The barbarian body and mind reject magic.
You cannot use a skill unless you shout the Warrior’s Roar.
This is embarrassing!
I bit my lip.
Of course nothing was ever easy.
I glanced around.
Thankfully, no one was watching.
Still.
Actually saying that word out loud made my face heat up.
Even though my body had supposedly adapted to being a barbarian, my modern mind simply could not overcome this level of embarrassment.
B-Barbarian.
My voice came out as quiet as an ant crawling across the ground.
Nothing happened.
Bar. barbarian?
I tried a little louder.
Still nothing.
Damn it.
I was thirty-two years old, standing alone in an empty field, being forced to shout the name of my own race.
Then I imagined myself six months from now.
Freezing.
Starving.
Dying miserably.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
BARBARIAAAAN!
My booming shout tore through the silence of the canyon.
At that exact moment, burning heat poured through my palms and entered the earth.
Rumble!
The ground vibrated in response.
The gray wasteland began changing from the point beneath my hands.
Dry dirt became rich, dark soil with a healthy shine.
The transformed area was exactly large enough to plant the five pieces of potato.
Skill ‘Farmland Cultivation’ successfully activated!
Cultivation Slots: 0/5
Tip: The number of available cultivation slots will increase as your level rises.
Whoa, what the hell?
Even though I had done it myself, I couldn’t help shouting in surprise.
This really was a game.
I began humming cheerfully again as I dug into the soil.
Soft, moist black earth came away beneath my fingers.
Same depth.
Same distance between each hole.
I had never actually farmed before, but maybe it was because my class was Farmer.
My body seemed to know exactly what to do.
I carefully placed each seed potato into the earth and gently covered them with soil as though tucking them beneath blankets.
Now all I needed to do was shout again and use Growth Acceleration.
I took a deep breath.
Izak?
Guh! Cough! Cough, cough!
The sudden voice behind me made me choke on my own breath.
I coughed violently.
I whipped my head around.
Standing there was Malko, the ugliest barbarian in the world.
He had told me his name earlier when we went to the warehouse.
Malko.
Seriously?
Even his name sounded ugly.
Malko’s gaze was fixed on the pile of freshly covered soil beneath my feet.
Izak. bad barbarian!
Huh?
Malko suddenly screamed in a trembling voice.
Bad barbarian! Hid potato in dirt! Hid it to eat alone! Bad barbarian!
Calm down! I am not bad barbarian!
BAD BARBARIAAAAN!
His screaming voice felt five times louder than mine.
Chief! Chieeeef! Reporting! Reporting bad barbarian!
He charged toward the village like a bull while screaming at the top of his lungs.
His voice was so loud that the entire village seemed to vibrate.
I pressed a hand to my forehead.
I was screwed.
Present time.
The village square.
The atmosphere was beyond tense.
It was terrifying.
Dozens of tribesmen surrounded me in a circle.
Their expressions were vicious.
And standing in the center was Chief Zakan.
For some reason, he looked even bigger than before.
An overwhelming pressure radiated from his massive body.
Is it true? Did you bury our precious food in the ground to hide it?
Zakan’s deep voice was completely emotionless.
That made it even more frightening.
Whispers rose around us.
Bad barbarian.
Eating alone is bad. Barbarians share everything.
Hiding food in dirt is cowardly. Coward not barbarian!
This was unfair.
I had done this so everyone could survive.
But getting emotional wouldn’t help.
I swallowed and tried to think of the most logical way to explain myself.
A sharp pain immediately stabbed through my head.
Failure! Your Mental Strength is too low. The barbarian body resists logical thought.
No! Did not hide!
A booming voice burst from my mouth.
Ah.
So this was how Barbarian Mind worked?
While I stood there flustered, Zakan stared at me as if asking what else I could possibly mean.
Farming! I planted it in ground.
Farming?
Zakan tilted his head.
That word simply didn’t exist in their vocabulary.
Don’t panic.
Explain it calmly.
Explain how seeds sprout and multiply in a way they can understand.
I confidently raised a finger.
Failure!
Plant one potato in the ground. Ten potatoes come out.
Damn it!
Pain like a thick needle stabbing through my brain came with the idiotic explanation that left my mouth.
Still.
This should shock them.
These muscle-brained barbarians probably had never even imagined the concept of farming.
This was the wisdom of a modern man with Intelligence 20!
Even if I couldn’t explain it properly while trapped inside this barbarian body.
