Hell Mode: Volume 1, page 13
“Then why were there volunteers all of a sudden?” Allen asked.
Gerda paused, then said, “Maybe because they’re feeling overshadowed by us serfs.”
A serf child had been proclaimed a Sword Lord. What’s more, the person that the knight captain had praised in the presence of the most prominent members of the village—even going so far to use the feudal lord’s name to do so—was not one of them, but Rodin. Apparently, word of this had spread like wildfire among the commoners after the feast.
“At the start of this month, I was called to Deboji’s place together with Rodin. He told us that there were five youngsters who wanted to join the hunts and asked us to bring them along. Well, more like commanded than asked, really.”
And so the hunting party trained the newcomers. Starting roughly ten days prior, the entire group gathered several times to show them the ropes. However, they apparently took offense to being under the instruction of serfs and did not take the training very seriously. Even so, Rodin remained patient with them, doing his best to help them learn what they needed to.
Then today came along. The hunt was going exactly according to plan and exactly according to training. Rodin had repeated the strategy to the new members time and time again. It was, put simply, a matter of luring the monster out, surrounding it, and having everyone stab it with spears until it died.
“Because both luring the beast and stabbing it while it flails around require experience, we gave the newcomers the role of surrounding the great boar.”
This was supposedly the easiest job. And yet, they had messed it up. They were supposed to brace with shields in front of the charging boar, but they instead freaked out and froze. The shield wall collapsed, forcing the party to engage in pitched battle.
“The horn on the great boar’s snout pierced Rodin’s stomach, and here we are.”
In the end, the situation devolved into one where all strategy was thrown out the window. Although the group did manage to kill the monster in the end, Rodin had ended up being severely wounded.
After sharing the full account, Gerda left as well. He had his own wife and children who were worriedly awaiting his return. With his exit, silence befell Allen’s house. Theresia grasped her unconscious husband’s hand tightly and told Allen to go to bed. Seeing how there was nothing else that he could help with, Allen obediently did as he was told.
＊ ＊ ＊
The next morning, Gerda came by again, this time with a huge lump of meat in hand. When he placed it down, he said that this was Rodin’s share. The size of the portion made it painfully clear just how much Rodin had been risking his life for his family’s sake. Theresia crumpled to the ground in the earthen-floored room, weeping.
“Is Rodin still sleeping?” Gerda asked as he returned from helping to refill the family’s jug. Instead of commenting on Theresia’s tears, he simply said, “Don’t worry. I’ll definitely make sure your family can make it through the winter. All you have to focus on is safely giving birth.”
“What? Oh, th-thank—”
That very moment, Rodin woke up, looking somewhat disoriented. “Ughhh...where’s this?”
“R-RODINNNN!!!” Theresia rushed over and enveloped her husband in a hug. He let out a groan, indicating that his wound was not fully healed yet.
Mash also glomped onto him, crying, “Papa! Papa!”
A spike of pain shot through Allen’s chest as he took in the sight of his three family members hugging each other.
Just what have I been doing?
If he was to be honest, he did not really have much of an opinion on having been born a serf. He was a serf because the character selection only allowed him to be a serf. Being a royal or a wanderer would have equally meant nothing to him. Anything would have been fine, really.
Back when he had been Kenichi, Allen had been playing games ever since he was seven or eight years old. Of the countless games that he had come across, not once had he chosen to pick it up or not based on who the protagonist’s parents were. After all, it was just a piece of inconsequential lore that had no bearing on the enjoyment of the game itself.
But then he was born to Rodin and Theresia. Every day of his life in this world, he had watched the two of them living their lives to the fullest up close. Mash eventually came along. And now, there was a third baby in Theresia’s belly.
The last traces of childishness seemed to seep out of Allen’s face as a powerful sense of responsibility welled up from deep within him. He felt as though he had woken up in a way. Six years, and he was finally reincarnated in the fullest sense of the word. He was now standing here, in this world, on his own two feet.
“Hey there, tough guy,” Gerda chuckled as he looked at his grimacing friend.
“Gerda...? I’m...alive?”
“You got lucky. You doin’ all right?”
“Mm.” Rodin tried to sit up, but immediately sank back down as if an intense pain had just run through his abdomen. Clearly he was still far from being fully recovered.
“Looks like there’s no way around it. Don’t worry about the great boar hunts—I’ll handle them,” Gerda said to his friend of many years. Although his tone was brusque, his kindness came across loud and clear. “And I’ll also see your family through the winter. You just make sure you get all better by spring.”
“Thanks, man. I’m gonna owe you big-time.”
“That’s not right, father.”
“Hm? ‘Father’?” Rodin reacted to being called “father” for the first time ever. Something seemed different. He turned to look toward Allen, as did Theresia.
“I agree that you should rest up and get better, but I will be the one to take care of our family.”
“It makes me really happy to hear that, Allen, but Ge—” Rodin cut himself off. He could not continue the sentence, not after seeing the resolve in Allen’s eyes.
“I swear I will protect this family.”
In late autumn, at six years of age, Allen came into his own. An unfortunate incident had forced him to truly awaken.
＊ ＊ ＊
The next morning, Allen arose and walked out into the main room.
“Good morning, mother.”
“Good morning, Allen.”
As of yesterday, Allen had stopped calling his parents by “papa” and “mama” and adopted the more mature “father” and “mother.” He grabbed the two wooden buckets from the earthen-floored area of the house by their handles and strode outside. The mornings were getting quite chilly now, with it nearing the end of October, but he did not complain.
With the empty buckets in hand, he headed toward the closest communal well. There were several that had been dug throughout the village for the villagers to use as water for drinking, cooking, washing, and other things. One of them was not all too far from Allen’s house.
“Good morning.”
“Ah, Rodin’s son. Good morning.”
There was already a line of four or five people present. Allen went to stand at the back. By watching the others in front of him, he figured out how to draw water using the rope. This was his first time seeing this task being performed up close.
Several of the villagers sent puzzled glances his way, wondering what a child was doing here. However, they quickly remembered what had happened to Rodin the day before and their looks turned into ones of sympathy.
Soon, it was Allen’s turn. He dropped the well bucket down, then pulled it back up with the rope. Under the eyes of the surrounding adults, he filled both the buckets he had brought with him.
“Hey, kid, you might wanna go easy on the water there. You won’t be able to carry your buckets if they’re both too full.”
“Huh? Oh, thank you for your consideration.” Allen bobbed his head, then turned to head home, one bucket filled with thirty liters of water in each hand. The adults saw him off with their eyes wide open in surprise.
I knew it. Father could do this without breaking a sweat, which means he’s stronger than the other villagers. These buckets are larger than what the other people were using too.
When Allen got home, he promptly emptied the remaining water in the family jug into the ditch beside their house. Then he returned it to its original position and refilled it with the freshly drawn water, bringing the buckets up higher than the height of his chest.
Theresia simply watched, not saying anything.
“Mother, Mr. Gerda’ll be teaching me how to harvest potatoes this afternoon. Is there anything I should get ready beforehand?”
“I...guess so. Yes.”
Because Theresia needed to look after Mash, tend to Rodin, and take care of herself for the baby in her belly, Allen had turned to Gerda for instruction instead.
Just yesterday, Allen had declared that he would do everything that needed to be done for the family. That included, on top of all the housework that he was already helping with, working in the fields as well. Refilling the water jug in the morning was also part of the new duties he had taken up.
The night before, Rodin, Theresia, and Gerda had all tried to talk Allen out of this, reminding him that he was but only six years old. However, it soon became clear that he was not going to be dissuaded. Therefore, the adults decided to let him have a go so he could understand firsthand what a monumental task it was that he had claimed for himself.
Because Rodin was still unable to walk out into the main room by himself—despite how small their house was—Theresia brought breakfast into the room they shared. She then fed him devotedly, one spoonful at a time.
At the same time, Allen ate his own breakfast. Once finished, he helped clean everything up, then proceeded to do the laundry. Lately, doing the laundry had become part of his daily routine. The stone-throwing that he had kept up for three whole years was now fully in the past.
It was only after lunch that Gerda came over, as he had to tend to his own fields in the morning. “Allen, if you really want to help harvest the potatoes, bring this basket.” Gerda’s tone was slightly steely, as if he was trying to get Allen to give up soon.
The boy somehow picked up on his intention and obediently did as he was told with a simple “Yes, sir.”
As a general rule, the fields adjacent to Allen’s house all belonged to Rodin.
There are four or five fields separated by raised footpaths. If I remember correctly, we grow wheat, potatoes, legumes, and leafy vegetables. Looking at it up close really gives me a scale of how much land we have to tend to. As I’d thought, father must’ve leveled up quite a bit to be able to handle it all on his own. It’s gotta be all the great boars that he’s hunted.
Rodin had been killing great boars—Rank C monsters—before Allen was even conceived. Doing so had surely leveled him up quite a bit, making him significantly stronger than any normal villager.
Of course, the size of the fields under Rodin’s management were nothing compared to those in the modern world that were managed using machinery like tractors. However, they were still quite sizable for a single family to tend using only hoes and plows.
Allen followed Gerda into one of these fields, where the ground seemed to be largely covered with drooping leaves. As the boy took in the sights, feeling moved, Gerda proceeded to explain the task at hand.
“When you grab the stalk like this and heave—out come the potatoes,” Gerda said, using one of his muscular arms to uproot a plant. Potatoes of varying sizes appeared, attached to the stalk. Same as Rodin, he had also gained quite a few levels from all the great boar hunts.
The potatoes that had just come out both looked and tasted like what Allen recognized as satsuma potatoes, or Japanese sweet potatoes. Mash loved them because of how sweet they were.
“Like this, sir?”
“That’s right. The roots are pretty firmly dug into the ground. Use all your strength to pull the whole thing up.”
Just as Gerda did, Allen also reached out with one hand to grasp a stalk.
“Wait, you can’t use just one—” Before Gerda could finish his sentence, however, Allen already had the full plant in his hand.
“Do I put the whole thing in the basket?”
“Uh...y-yeah. You’ll have to sort through them when you get home. The smaller ones you’ll need to set aside to use as seeds for next year.”
Now that he knew how to do it, Allen proceeded to go through the rows quickly using both hands. Pluck, shake off the dirt, place into basket. Rinse and repeat. It did not take long for the basket to fill up.
Looks like I wouldn’t be able to finish digging them all up within a day. Not that I’m able to dedicate a whole day to this.
“Do I bring all these to the garden, Mr. Gerda?”
“Huh? Oh, uh, that’s right. I never knew you were so strong, Allen.”
“I am my father’s son, after all.”
There were still plenty of potatoes in the ground, as the total harvest was supposed to keep the entire family fed for the entire coming year. The earthen-floored room quickly ran out of space, so Allen stored the rest out in the garden. Although the fence surrounding the garden was worn-down and rickety, the garden itself was rather sizable. There was plenty of space for Allen and Krena to play knight and for storing crops.
Due to how big it was, when the basket was filled, it was heavier than the weight of a six-year-old child. Despite this, Allen still managed to pick it up handily, though he did have to use both hands. Gerda sharply sucked in his breath as his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the sight of this.
Rodin, Theresia, and Gerda all knew that Allen was not weak. In fact, they believed he was stronger than the average child. The playing-knight sessions he had with Krena involved speed and power far beyond what normal children could achieve, and the way he conducted his chores did hint at his strength.
However, as it turned out, that hint had been but the tip of the iceberg.
Allen walked while carrying the heavy basket, his small feet slightly sinking into the soft, tilled soil with each step. Whoa, this isn’t heavy at all. Looks like I was right to up Attack after all.
The distribution of the cards in the holders of Allen’s grimoire had been altered from skewing heavily toward Grass F for the MP buff to leaning toward Beast F for Attack. He secretly referred to this as “Farming Mode.”
Allen had decided to put his full abilities on display, no longer holding back. He would be tackling both household chores and farm work with all the stats he had. His father was bedridden, his mother was heavy with child, and he had a younger brother. This was no time to pull his punches. There was a Sword Lord next door, after all, so he figured that even if he stood out a little, it would not be too much of a problem. He had been pronounced Talentless during his Appraisal Ceremony, so even if word got out about him, he expected most people to dismiss the stories as exaggeration.
When I have to work in the fields, I won’t be able to keep too many Grass cards in stock. I’m going to have to be conscientious about my card distribution. What’s more...
Allen shot a look toward a corner of the family’s land where the grass had grown as tall as him. “Is that field over there also under father’s care?”
“That’s right. Next year, it has to be weeded and tilled.”
So it is our land. It’s currently sitting fallow, the grass is mostly dry and withered, and it’s pretty spacious. It should be perfect for what I’m thinking of.
Just as Allen was off-loading another haul of potatoes in his garden, some people came by the house. “Excuse me. Is Rodin in?” the man asked.
“Look who it is. What’re you here for, Chief?” Gerda asked, his voice tinged with a clear note of anger.
The visitor turned out to be the village chief, Deboji. Allen recognized him from having seen him up close during the Appraisal Ceremony and the feast afterward.
“Ah, Gerda. I heard Rodin’s regained consciousness,” Deboji replied before turning to his companion. “Come, boy.”
“Y-Yes, sir.” The other person turned out to be a teenager who looked around fifteen years old. Allen had never seen him before.
Deboji strode straight into the garden, indicating that he understood full well the sheer difference in social status between himself and a family of serfs. Allen and Gerda watched on as the two visitors approached the house’s door.
“What may we do for you today?” Theresia asked, emerging from the earthen-floored room. However, there was something different about her voice. There was a tone that Allen had never heard before.
She’s angry all right. Well, it’s not like I don’t get why. If the village chief hadn’t insisted on letting commoners into the hunting party, father wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this.
“I heard Rodin woke up. We’re here to pay him a visit.” Deboji gestured toward the small cask and foodstuffs in the teenager’s arms.
Theresia paused for a brief moment, then said, “He’s in the back.” She led the two inside the house.
Is it just me, or is this teenager kind of shaking?
The face of the young man who had come in together with the village chief was pale and his eyes were shifting about uneasily.
“Honey, the village chief is here to visit you.”
“Hm? Oh, I see.”
The teenager set down his get-well gifts in the main room, then headed toward the bedroom. The moment he laid eyes on Rodin, who was sitting up in bed, he fell to his knees and bowed deeply.
“I-I’m so sorry you were injured because of me!!!”
So, it’s this guy’s fault that father got hurt?
“Mm... Well, if you still want to keep at it, be careful next time. We’re all putting our lives on the line when we go out there.”
“Huh?” The teenager looked surprised at Rodin’s reaction. “Uh, y-yes, sir.”
Then, after a few more words, the village chief left. Apparently he was here only because the teenager could not come alone. Before long, the two of them were gone.
Allen and Gerda saw them off, then returned to harvesting the potato fields.
“Who was that, Mr. Gerda?”
“Well...” Gerda thought about it a bit, then decided to share the rest of what had happened the day of the hunt. He had said before that the whole operation had devolved into pitched battle because one of the newcomers who was supposed to hold the line had freaked out. After that, however, the boar had continued charging straight toward him.
