Damien watched a shoot of wheat sprout from the soil, stretching towards the sky and reaching as high as his waist within five seconds. Another ten, and it would be ready for harvest.

Ironically, the stuff was growing too fast. If the poor [Staples Farmer] threw down multiple handfuls at once, the first batch would be dead and decaying by the time the next was ready for harvest. He'd needed to operate one handful at a time. Thankfully, it had only taken a single crop for his level to jump to one hundred, and now he had a feat to seed the field at once with one wave of his hand, and another to reap it.

He'd also been offered a perk to increase their area of effect. Damien had done the maths, and calculated that his boosts would mean a single use of [Seed Plot] would require a hundred square kilometres of land and sixty tons of seed.

To be fair, that wasn't the main problem; finding a contiguous plot of land that size would likely involve the relocation of a few villages, but wouldn't be impossible. The actual problem was the way [Harvest Plot] would bury him under twenty-five thousand tons of wheat when harvest time came fifteen seconds later.

Maybe they'd solve the practicalities in time. The feat dumped the harvested crops in a pile at a fixed distance, but perhaps he could stand on a raised platform? Maybe the top of a very tall pole? Either way, it wasn't needed. With the number of farmers they had, feeding the population of Jurelli wasn't an issue. A population that had ballooned by an order of magnitude over the previous weeks, as people fled there from the surrounding former islands. It should have been more...

Adding Gaia to their party had been somewhat surreal, and Shigeo never got tired of people's reactions as they glanced at them, looked away, then a few seconds later when their brains kicked in, spun back around like elastic. Usually, that was followed up by them falling over or walking into something. Damien wanted to suggest she tie up her hair, or otherwise do something that wouldn't make her look quite like her statue, but he didn't want to spoil Shigeo's fun.

They'd done a tour of the four remaining temple-cities, using the far-seeing orb network to spread the message far and wide that there was safety in Jurelli. Of course, no-one responded. Not at first. Kings and nobles were loath to give up their power, and commoners unwilling to abandon their homeland. Assuming local authorities permitted their commoners to hear the warning at all.

The first dragon attack was reported four days after the restoration of the world. Greenrim, which had ended up on the west coast of the new continent, lost large swaths of farmland and half their capital in the process of bringing it down. Their king ordered the evacuation the same day. Still the other kingdoms ignored the threat. After all, Greenrim was a nation of farmers. What did they know about fighting dragons?

A monster spawned in Hrellflan. Not one of the common types they were used to, but something that didn't even have a name. The appearance was completely non-threatening. Simply metallic-looking geometric shapes, slipping from position to position, and shape to shape, without any apparent movement. A cube over there. A blink later, a pyramid a little closer. Another blink, and a sphere right in front of a face. The eyes closed to blink again, and did not reopen, as the victim's skin took on the same metallic sheen as the monster.

A victim which slipped from position to position, never moving while being watched, but with every blink, moving onwards to spread the curse. It wasn't until the infection took hold in Hrellisti that the king started taking the threat seriously and ordered a retreat to Jurelli.

Similar events happened in other kingdoms. Something that looked like a baby version of the Other slithered out of the sea to the south, attacking a port town. A ten-metre tall giant spawned in Ergland. A giant worm burrowed up beneath Gi'klet'o. In all cases, far too many lives were lost before leaders organised any sort of evacuation, and what evacuation there was turned into a panicked rout as a result.

By the time a few weeks had passed, there were effectively no more kingdoms. There was Jurelli, and there were the Wastes. Outsiders had turned up with little more than the clothes on their backs. It didn't matter; level capped farmers were providing far more food than could be eaten, and craftsman provided clothes and shelters. Soon enough, the refugees were issued with their standard equipment, and could join the workforce.

After passing an interview, of course, given by a [Seeker of Truth], [Investigator] or someone else with a truth-sense feat or skill. It was simple enough, mostly 'are you going to misuse your power' asked in a dozen different ways. Unsurprisingly, most of the nobles failed.

Damien sighed as a magical siren sounded again. It was faint, this far away from the wall that stretched the full circumference of humanity's final enclave, but he knew what it meant. Another dragon attack. They should be repulsed easily enough. How many more did they need to fight off before they gave up? From the way Grungle had spoken, Damien had a suspicion the answer was never, and that it had become some sort of game. Who can assault the big, bad humans and fly away to tell the tale?

Often, he wondered what had become of Sanctuary. As far as he knew, none of the residents had made it here. Without Brenhin-Tân, it was possible the other dragons had turned on them, but it was equally likely they were still being kept as pets somewhere. Same for the orcs; even after the attack on their homeland by the worm, they hadn't fled to Jurelli. The elves had come, though, much to Damien's disappointment.

A follow-on thought from Sanctuary caused him to frown. Could Ariana grant classes to dragons? They weren't classed as monsters, after all. If the dragons ever thought to force her to try, Jurelli might find enemies a lot stronger than expected assaulting its borders.

For now, they had a plan. Even if they could maintain the population with the land of Jurelli alone, the country had still become rather densely populated. They would expand it piece by piece, venturing outside the walls to build extensions, enclosing new spaces and growing into them. The aim was, one day, to take back the entire continent.

The farmer likewise ignored the alarm, completing another harvest before stepping back. As Damien had suspected, the rapid growth did drain the soil, and every few harvests required it to be replenished. The farmers operating the neighbouring plots likewise stepped back, letting a priestess of Gaia perform [Blessing of the Earth] to fertilise the ground. It took a few minutes, after which the farmers resumed.

The priestesses of Gaia were one thing, but the clergy of the rest of the Five had suffered no decline either. Their prayers still worked perfectly. Some refused to believe the Five were dead. Others saw the truth; that the power of their prayers had never come from the Five in the first place. A cult worshipping the Other was growing quickly. Damien wasn't a huge fan, but it wasn't as if they were trying to sacrifice anyone to it, nor did it seem to care. It had gone quiet recently, a fact for which he was thankful. Nevertheless, Damien wasn't sure he would get away forever. It had explicitly called him its prophet, and that sort of thing was ominous as heck.

Mages teleported the growing piles of harvested wheat to large barns, where farmers whose skills and feats tended more towards processing than growing would thresh it, and cooks would turn it into something edible. The entire setup was a well-oiled machine. Similar setups elsewhere grew other crops, providing all that the growing country needed.

Not everything was perfect, though; the ceremony of paths was dead. Thanks to the priests still having their power, it could still be performed, but with only Gaia remaining, all the granted classes were based in her domain. With no new warriors, craftsmen or mages, the land was on a time limit. Even knowing about Ariana didn't help, as that sort of knowledge-based class was part of Murill's portfolio. Ariana had been the only [Class Supervisor] Murill had ever produced, not knowing at the time where her abilities would lead.

Level-capped healers had gained feats that allowed them, to some extent, to 'heal' old age, but it was a stop-gap measure. Valerie was the only person Damien had ever met who seemed to literally be immortal, and even Kari couldn't cure the ravages of time completely. People would still die eventually. Children would still be born.

Fleta would be leading an expedition to Sanctuary in the following days, trying to discover what happened to it, and find Ariana. With luck, she'd succeed. If she didn't... There would come a time when humans needed to rely on farmers instead of [Farmers]. When they needed to defend against dragons without the borrowed power of the Other to back them up.

"M̷̗̹̑͐͆͝ỳ̸̢̰͚̗̃ ̶̧̫̠̣͋̉p̷̨̞̦̝̏͌̔̕o̸͖͌̋͜͠͝w̷͉̭͙͒e̸̟͠r̴͓̣̎̓̽ ̴̞͉̠͐ẉ̵̦͇̜͑̅͒a̵͙̰̘̐ş̷̯͓̻͆͛͂̈́ ̷̙̹̓͜n̴̯͓͈͗e̴̩͍̔̈̌̀v̵̅͜ͅẽ̴̠̩͈̮͂̓͝ŗ̸̯̋̃͝ͅ ̷̖͓̰̃ň̴̘͕͈͚̽͒̉e̴̪̼̟̾e̵̢̗̊̈́d̵͚̦͇̻̒̀̈́ȅ̸̥̝̗̈́͛d̸̡̙͙̐ͅ.̸̝̣̯̳͊̊̈́͠ ̴̨̮̦͇̅̽̍R̶͕̀e̶͚̔͊̚q̸̨̗̣̼͆̆͘ú̸̺̥̬̺͒̉i̷͈̱̣͛͐̑̕r̶̳̐̓̆̂e̵̪̎ḓ̸͈̺̲̐͂́̚.̵̨̝͐͒̊̚͜ ̴͕̹̂N̴͔̮̗̓́͂͛ͅe̸̥̦̓̄̚c̴͉͔̒̕̚͠ĕ̵̼̼̹͊̕s̴̩̈́̈́͠ş̸͔̼͂̕͠a̵̜̒r̵͈͉̟͙͆̀̕͝ỹ̵̟̮́̊.̸̛̗͒͐ ̵̛͍͖͓͎͘Y̵͖̥̍o̷̮͔͆̌͝u̴̺͔̠͌̓̍ ̸͓͚̚͝ç̴͓̘̟̑̉̓͝ä̵̗̺̖͎́̽̚ṅ̷͙ ̵̙͚̪̑s̸̰͍̒͋̈́͛t̴̹͋͌͠a̷͚̬͕̺̎͊͝͠ṉ̵̫̒͑̍̾d̸̡͖͉̮̓͑̾͝ ̷̢̰̗̈́̅̈́̾o̸͕͔͍̓̀̅͛n̸͚̩̗͉̐͝ ̵̭̎͠y̵̗̬̖͆̽̒̿ͅǒ̶̩͉̭̉̎͘ŭ̵̺̟̞͇r̵̗͌ ̶̺̇̉́ọ̸̈́̿̑w̴̤͈̲̎̔n̶̨̤̮͔̎́̀̐.̵͚̗̝̲̊͋ ̶̢͇̑̽̑L̸̘̹̺͊͐̌è̸̡͝ą̸̦̣̉͗ŕ̷͎̐͠ṅ̶̻̊͒ ̵̹͗o̴̢̟̩͒͛͗n̷͈̦͎͐̉̿̒ ̶̥̜̈́̍ͅy̴̺̿͘o̴̢̘͕̓ứ̷͔͒ṙ̸͍̮̳͕ ̸̛̟͗̓̚o̸̲̮̺͆w̸̱̳͖̽́̀ͅn̷̙̹̳̝͑.̷̩̥̆͋̚͠ ̸̗̰̬͗̀̏Ǎ̴͙͕͕̉d̵̦͚̎̾̚͜v̴͙̾͂͐ḁ̵̣̟̏n̴̘̺͉̽ͅč̸̞͔͘ȅ̴̫̯̺̤̆̄͠ ̴͔̹̑͝͠õ̴̺̪͈̊n̶̦̐ ̵̢̰̬͔͆̈͝ẙ̴͓͒̄͠ȏ̷͈u̴̢̝̓̂̕̕r̷̺̼͊̏̓͋ ̵̺̾̕o̴͉̘̺̅ẃ̷̖̘̖̼̒͊̚n̶̡̪̺̰̉͂̇̅.̸̥͂̃ ̷͍͈̿̈́C̷̗̪̳͑͘r̷͓̟͉͕͊e̶̫̦̥̤̾̊̊a̵͔̮͚̤͆ṯ̵̫͔̆̕ë̵̢̯͕́.̶̳̜̫̔͒̊ ̶͉̟̅I̵̩̰̠̒͗n̸̡̖͖̋̀v̸̫͖̻͚̌̍͒ẽ̶̼͘ṇ̶̨͉̩̃̒t̸̝͐̅͗͠.̴̭͑ ̶͎͈̣́̈́A̴̤̰͖̲͝d̵͙̼͙̄̍ą̷̛̹̟̍̃̈́ṗ̶̰̊̽͝t̵̥̺͋̒̓.̴̡̝̙͕̌͒̏ ̴̯̍́͐Ḇ̵̡̀͝͠e̵͓̪̦̓̇ĉ̶̭̙̟õ̵͙͛͝m̷̯̩̺̼̔́̿̀ẽ̷̮̗͈̇͘͠.̴̢̞̞͆̊̕ͅ"

Well, if the mass of eyes and tentacles said so, Damien had to believe there was hope. What future it had seen, where unclassed humans could defend themselves against the likes of Brenhin-Tân, Damien couldn't guess, but adapting was something he was good at. Maybe, when he was old and dying and wouldn't have to deal with the consequences, he could make a new batch of equipment that wasn't tied to an individual by [Loyal Equipment], but without perks to boost, their effect would be limited. He couldn't help but feel that the Other was referring to something more.

When they'd first started this mass harvesting, they'd lost one of their barns. The mage responsible swore blind that he'd only conjured a tiny flame to deal with a flying bug, yet for some reason the entire building had detonated. Thankfully, their protective anklets had shielded everyone in the building from the explosion, and it was no great effort to rebuild the place. Only a few hours of harvest had been lost.

Some elderly farmers had heard the story, nodded sagely, and chimed in with their own tales of harvest-time explosions. According to them, everyone knew not to smoke in enclosed barns when there was dust in the air.

For a lax definition of 'everyone', anyway. The mage hadn't known. Damien hadn't known. But now he did, and he found it very interesting indeed. If they blew a cloud of wheat dust at an approaching dragon, then threw a candle into it, could they blow the dragon up with no skills required? Normally, people tried very hard not to make things explode. How far could they take it if they tried the opposite, and tried to make an explosion as large as possible?

What else could they replicate? Growing a stalk of wheat in a handful of seconds wasn't the sort of thing that could be accomplished merely with judicious use of fertiliser, but maybe [Seed Plot] was doable. A contraption where seeds were poured into the top, and they fell out evenly spaced at the bottom? And could something similar be done for harvesting? Some sort of scythe that caught what it cut?

'Invent', the Other had said. It wouldn't be easy, but they had time until their borrowed power declined. The University of Illuganasis was lost out in the Wastes, as were equivalent institutions of other kingdoms, but many of their researchers were here. Once Jurelli was stable, and the refugees stopped trickling in, he'd need to see about encouraging their minds in a new direction.