Elara, the skillet-wielding mother, possessed a steely nerve, but even she found her composure fraying as she and young Timmy half-supported, half-dragged a babbling Old Man Hemlock back towards Oakhaven. The old man was a torrent of frantic, disjointed pronouncements.
"Eyes of fire, I tell ya! The earth split at his command!" Hemlock rasped, his voice hoarse. "And the stump! Bigger than my hut, it was! Flew like a cursed eagle! Straight into the Whispering Woods, probably flattened the Goblin King's privy!"
Timmy, white-faced but also a little awestruck, piped up, "And the bear, Ma! The apple! It went phwoosh-CRUNCH! Clean through!" He made an enthusiastic, if slightly gruesome, hand gesture.
Elara shushed them both, though her own heart was thumping like a drum against her ribs. "Hush now, Hemlock. You're overwrought. Timmy, less of the sound effects." But she couldn't deny what she'd seen. The bear. The hole. The eerily calm young man who thought the monster had "choked." And those… those plants that had sprung up like they were racing the sun.
Back at Ren's plot, Borin and Gareth stared at the mountain of dead bear.
"Right," Borin said, rubbing his thick neck. "We can't just leave it here. It'll draw scavengers. Worse things, maybe."
Gareth, a lanky farmer known more for his tall tales than his brawn, nodded slowly. "Aye. But how in the Seven Heavens are we gonna move it? Took ten of us last spring to haul out that deer that fell in the well, and this… this is a bloody behemoth."
They both tried to nudge one of the bear's massive paws. It didn't budge. Not an inch. It was like trying to move a small hill.
"Maybe if we got ropes? And a team of oxen?" Gareth suggested, already looking defeated.
Borin grunted. "And where are we gettin' oxen strong enough for this? This thing weighs more than the oxen." He glanced back at Ren, who was now humming softly to his tomato plants, gently brushing a speck of dust off a rapidly unfurling leaf. The young man had tossed the tree stump that was easily twice this bear's weight with one hand. The comparison was stark, and deeply unsettling.
"Maybe… maybe we ask him?" Gareth whispered, nodding towards Ren.
Borin shuddered. "And what? Watch him flick it into the sun? No, lad. We do this ourselves. Or… we butcher it here. The meat would feed the village for a week. The pelt would make a fine rug for the Elder's hall." That seemed like a more manageable, if grisly, task.
Meanwhile, Ren was utterly captivated by his 'Sun's Fury' tomatoes. The three plants were now well over a foot tall, their stalks thick and sturdy, their leaves a vibrant, almost luminous green. And they were warm. Not just sun-warmed, but radiating a gentle, palpable heat from within. The spicy, tangy aroma was stronger now, making his stomach rumble.
[Your 'Sun's Fury' Tomato Plants are thriving!]
[Current Growth Stage: Juvenile. Approaching Early Fruiting.]
[Unique Property Detected: 'Minor Heat Aura – Pleasant Warmth (Level 1)' – May deter small pests and slightly improve local microclimate. Further properties may unlock upon maturation.]
"Pleasant Warmth, eh?" Ren mused, touching a leaf. It felt like a perfectly warmed stone on a summer day. "That's neat. Maybe they'll keep the frost away in the colder months." He had no idea what "further properties" might entail, but he was excited to find out. Good tomatoes were the cornerstone of many a fine dish!
He noticed the watering can was still surprisingly full, despite him having watered the seeds. "Huh, this thing must have a hidden reservoir." He decided to give the rest of his tilled plot a good soaking, preparing it for whatever other "Mysterious Seeds" the System might grant him, or whatever he could find locally. The water flowed out in a perfect, gentle shower, and the can never seemed to empty. Magic, probably, he thought with a shrug. This world is full of it, apparently.
Unbeknownst to Ren, his little plot of land was becoming the focal point of Oakhaven's attention. As Elara and Timmy helped a still-shaken Hemlock back, his wild pronouncements, combined with Timmy's wide-eyed corroboration and Elara's grim, non-committal silence (which was almost more damning), sent ripples of fear, disbelief, and electrifying curiosity through the sleepy village.
Doors creaked open. Faces, young and old, peered out from windows. Whispers spread like wildfire.
"…killed the Grootslang Bear with an apple!"
"…tore a tree stump out with his bare hands and threw it over the mountains!"
"…they say his plants grow like magic, right before your eyes!"
"…Hemlock says he's a demon in disguise, a nature-bender!"
"…but Timmy said he looked nice, just a bit… odd."
Soon, a small, brave (or foolish) contingent of villagers, mostly children and a few curious adults, found themselves drawn towards the edge of the woods bordering Ren's land. They kept their distance, hiding behind trees and bushes, watching.
They saw Ren, looking utterly harmless in his straw hat, tending his glowing tomato plants. They saw Borin and Gareth struggling, sweating, and ultimately failing to even drag the bear's carcass a few feet, before resorting to sharpening their butchering knives with grim determination. The contrast was not lost on them.
One of the village children, a mischievous girl named Lily with pigtails the color of straw, accidentally dislodged a small stone. It tumbled down the slight incline, clattering near Ren's feet.
Ren looked up, startled. He saw a dozen pairs of eyes blinking at him from the treeline before quickly ducking out of sight.
He smiled kindly. "Oh, hello there! Are you here to see the tomatoes too? They're growing very fast!"
A few of the braver children peeked out again. Lily, emboldened by his friendly tone, stepped out. "Are… are they magic tomatoes, mister?" she asked, her voice small.
Ren tilted his head. "Well, they're certainly special. 'Sun's Fury' variety. They feel a bit warm." He beckoned them closer. "Want to see?"
Hesitantly, Lily and a few other children approached, their earlier fear warring with their intense curiosity. The other adults hung back, watching with apprehension.
As the children neared the plants, their eyes widened. The warmth was undeniable, a comforting blanket of heat in the cool morning air. The spicy scent was intoxicating.
"Wow!" Lily breathed, reaching out a tentative finger towards a leaf, then snatching it back. "They're glowing!"
Indeed, the leaves seemed to have a faint, inner luminescence, like tiny green embers.
Ren chuckled. "They do seem rather happy, don't they?" He then noticed a patch of particularly stubborn, thorny weeds near his newly watered ground, a type known locally as 'Devil's Snare' for its tenacity and painful barbs. He'd missed it earlier. "Oh, bother. More weeding."
He picked up his hoe. The children, and the hidden adults, tensed. They remembered Hemlock's tale of the earth splitting.
Ren swung the hoe, not with the earth-shattering force of before, but with a precise, almost surgical movement. The hoe blade skimmed the surface, and the Devil's Snare patch simply… vanished. Not uprooted, not churned. One moment it was there, an ugly tangle of thorns; the next, just bare, clean earth, as if the weeds had been erased from existence. No sound, no effort.
[Passive Skill Activated: 'Effortless Weeding (Minor)' – Why struggle when you can simply *will* the weeds away? Affects common, non-magical nuisances.]
Ren blinked. "Oh. That was… easier than usual." He looked at the hoe, then at the clean patch of earth. "This hoe is truly a marvel. Best tool I've ever owned."
The children stared, mouths agape. Lily looked at the spot where the Devil's Snare had been, then at Ren, then back at the spot. It was like a magic trick, but far more real and inexplicable.
One of the older boys whispered, "He… he just unmade them!"
From the edge of the forest, a new figure watched, unseen by the villagers or Ren. This observer was not local. Clad in dark, travel-stained leathers, with keen eyes that missed nothing, they had been drawn by the distant echo of the tree stump's impact, and then by the sudden, intense spike of life energy that had flared briefly, followed by the peculiar, spicy aroma carried on the wind.
The figure's gaze was fixed on Ren, then on the unnaturally vibrant tomato plants, then on the expressions of awe and fear on the faces of the Oakhaven children. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched the observer's lips.
"Interesting," the figure murmured, a low, feminine voice that blended with the rustling leaves. "Very interesting indeed."
The sun climbed higher, casting longer shadows. Borin and Gareth were now hard at work butchering the bear, a grim task that would take them hours. The children, after a while, drifted back to the village, their minds buzzing with tales of the amazing farmer and his incredible tomatoes. Old Man Hemlock was hopefully sedated with Elara's strongest chamomile brew.
And Ren, content in his ignorance, continued to potter around his little plot, occasionally marveling at how his tomato plants had grown another few inches. He was starting to feel quite peckish. Perhaps, he mused, one of those 'Sun's Fury' tomatoes would be ripe by lunchtime.
He had no idea that ripples from his "simple" farming were already spreading far beyond the quiet borders of Oakhaven.