Bound To The Dead: The Deceptive Class-E Farmer-Chapter 63: Silent Harvest

Miss Wesson stumbled out of the thick fog, gasping for air. The soldiers around her coughed and dropped to their knees. All of them looked shaken.

They didn’t stop moving until they reached the tree line. The cursed fog hung like a wall behind them, gray, thick, and quiet.

Miss Wesson turned back, clutching her glowing device.

It flickered.

Then dimmed.

Then went dark.

Her eyes widened. "No..."

A soldier wiped blood from his face. "Everyone’s here, right?"

Wesson looked around quickly. One face was missing.

"Where’s Isaac?" she asked.

The others went silent.

A soldier shouted. "He was right behind us, he said he’d hold off that monster."

"I need to go back!" General Corpuz stepped forward.

"No." Miss Wesson grabbed his arm. Her voice was firm. "That fog’s not natural... It’s dangerous."

"But we can’t leave him!"

"If we go in there, we die. He knew that."

Miss Wesson looked back at the wall of mist. Nothing moved inside. No sound. No light. Just silence.

Tension hung in the air, until a voice broke it.

"Don’t worry, General," Putol said, dragging his injured leg over to the group.

Everyone turned to him.

"That scarecrow’s the one who should be worried," he added with a smirk. "Isaac’s probably shredding it right now."

A few soldiers chuckled weakly.

Putol squinted at the fog, disappointed. "Too bad we can’t watch. Would’ve been one hell of a show."

--------

Inside the fog...

Isaac’s feet shifted slightly on the damp soil. His grip on the sickles tightened. Both blades vibrated in his hands, the hum of a weapon ready to kill.

The scarecrow didn’t move. It watched him with its stitched eyes, arms still half-raised.

"I know you’re not real," Isaac said coldly. "Someone’s pulling your strings."

The scarecrow’s head twitched. Then it lunged.

Isaac dashed forward.

Steel clashed. One of the scarecrow’s sickles scraped against Isaac’s left blade. The impact sent a sharp vibration up his arm.

He didn’t back down.

He countered fast, twisting his body to drive his second sickle toward the scarecrow’s neck. It vanished just before the strike landed, blinking across the fog like a glitch.

It reappeared behind him.

Isaac didn’t turn. He ducked low and kicked back.

His heel cracked into its chest. The scarecrow staggered.

"Teleportation. Short-range. You’re not clever," Isaac muttered.

He spun and sliced. One sickle caught the scarecrow’s arm, tearing through the fabric and cutting deep.

No blood. Just black mist spilled out.

The scarecrow charged again.

Isaac sidestepped, slashing fast. One sickle took its leg clean off. The thing dropped but didn’t scream.

Its severed leg hit the ground. Dry roots spilled out from the stump, twisting fast. In seconds, a new leg sprouted, and slammed down.

Isaac’s eyes narrowed.

"This thing regenerates... like a weed."

He attacked again. A clean cut through the arm. Same thing. A mess of fibers and roots twisted together, growing a new limb on the spot.

"Tch. Can’t keep doing this all day."

He ducked under a wild swing and backed off.

The system screen flashed

[New skill unlocked: Maw Grind]

Plant both sickles beneath the target. When triggered, they spin like grinder blades, pulverizing anything above.

[Note: Double the damage if Abyssal Overdrive is active]

[Cooldown: 20 minutes]

[Current Mastery: Low - Active time reduced]

Isaac grinned.

"Let’s try it."

He dashed in, baited a heavy swing, and slid low.

As he passed between the scarecrow’s legs, he jammed both sickles into the ground, one on each side of its feet.

Then...

"Maw Grind."

[Skill Activated: Maw Grind]

The ground rumbled. The sickles spun, forming a whirl of black metal. In less than two seconds, the scarecrow’s body from the feet up to the waist was shredded.

Gone.

Isaac stood. Both sickles flew back into his hands with a clink.

The scarecrow’s upper body flailed, barely floating now.

"Stay down."

Isaac jumped.

He twisted mid-air, his sickles glowing faintly. He slashed both arms in an ’X’ shape across the air.

The blades struck.

The scarecrow’s torso split into four uneven chunks, tumbling to the dirt.

Isaac stood still.

Then, click.

A quiet sound beneath the remains.

From the mess, something shifted.

A small black coffin rose from the dirt, carved with faint runes glowing red. It pulsed, slow but steady, like a heartbeat.

Isaac narrowed his eyes.

"A core?"

He stepped forward, pulling the hoe from his back.

He lunged, ready to smash it.

But before the blow landed, the severed scarecrow head rolled and twitched.

A raspy, feminine voice came out.

"Your kingdom doesn’t belong to the living anymore."

Isaac didn’t flinch.

He raised the hoe over his head.

"Tell your master this..."

He locked eyes with the glowing coffin.

"His game ends here."

[Skill Activated: Abyssal Smash]

The hoe came down like a cannon.

The coffin exploded on impact, an eruption of black and red energy tore through the area, ripping the earth and sending a shockwave out in all directions.

[Maw Grind: 13% Mastery]

[Abyssal Smash +11%]

[Abyssal Smash: 61% Mastery]

—-----

Outside the Fog...

Miss Wesson and the others staggered as the ground quaked.

The fog vibrated. Cracks of light started to show.

Then, slowly, the thick fog began to thin. Piece by piece, the gray wall faded.

Someone pointed. "There!"

Out of the haze, a single figure walked forward.

Isaac.

He slipped the hoe back onto his back like it was nothing. novelbuddy.cσ๓

Everyone stared, stunned, silent.

Corpuz took a step forward. "What was that thing?"

"Trouble," he said. "Handled now."

He looked around at the soldiers, most of them still shaken. Then he pointed back toward the clearing.

"Collect every piece of that thing. Bones, rags, dust, anything that came from that corpse."

"Burn it," he added. "Turn it into ash."

They hesitated.

But Corpuz shouted. "You heard him! Move!"

—----

Meanwhile....

Far from Bulcan, past two kingdoms, a dark castle buried beneath clouds darker than night stood in silence.

Its walls were black and rough, made of stone that looked burned. No torches lit the halls. No guards walked the grounds. Only the dead lived there.

Inside the throne room, it was cold and quiet.

At the end of the hall, a figure sat on a tall throne made of bones and metal. The throne was wide, built to hold someone with power.

The figure didn’t move at first.

Then, slowly, he opened his eyes.

They were pale and empty.

He smiled.

"Interesting," he said. "I felt that."