Come to the Dungeon Farm*2
…… And so, after that, one month passed.
“Hey, hey, you guys. Once again, you’ve lined up properly without fighting. Very well-behaved. I can feel the Japanese spirit in you.”
I was spraying fertilizer onto the slimes, who were lined up in a neat, plump, squishy row. Apparently, this was their favorite thing.
“You’re a tomato, huh? Then I’ll give you the formula with more potassium.”
I now even had the leeway to adjust the nutrients depending on the crops growing on each slime’s head. The slimes quivered as if they were happy… or at least, that’s how it looked. Honestly, I still couldn’t tell what they were thinking.
Well, the reason I had this kind of free time to observe the slimes… was because I had more people to help.
“Asuma-samaaa! We finished harvesting the wheat!”
“Asuma-sam~! What should we do with these beans!? Dry them!?”
“Asuma-sama! Tomato! I’ll give you a tomato!”
… At this point, the area in front of the dungeon cave had turned into a strange place, where people of all ages, from adults to children, gathered.
In short… it had become a village!
After that incident, Mishisia brought the villagers over to the dungeon.
At first, they were skeptical. But after they saw me, and the slimes… and then drank the barley tea I offered them—“It’s wheat, not barley, so I don’t know how it tastes, but I brewed it anyway! Please, have some!”—well, somehow, they were convinced. And just like that, they agreed to help with the slime farm.
Since they saw crops swaying on the slimes with their own eyes, the “payment” was obvious. Plus, with Mishisia mediating between us, things went relatively smoothly. I was grateful for that.
And so, they began harvesting crops from the ever-increasing slimes, sowing seeds while taking crop rotation into account (well, technically—it’s slimes, but still). Thanks to them, what used to take me forever on my own was now finished in no time.
I decided I’d only take one basket’s worth of food for myself, and give all the rest to the villagers. After all, I didn’t eat that much. In this elementary-school-sized body, just one big tomato filled me up.
… But the villagers were overjoyed with this, and asked, “Can we come again tomorrow?” So I happily answered, “Of course, of course,” and just like that, a deal was struck.
With more people, we expanded the fields, and I even increased the number of slimes. Or rather, the slimes seemed to multiply on their own, probably sniffing out the scent of fertilizer. According to Mishisia, “It’s because the land’s mana has increased.”
And so, villagers began coming to the dungeon cave every morning.
Later, when they asked, “It’s a hassle carrying everything back to the village every time. Can we build a storage here?” I just said, “Sure, I’ll make one,” and built it myself. Using Decomposition, Absorption, and Reconstruction made it simple.
Since fetching water from the stream was troublesome, I also made a well. That was convenient.
And while I was at it, I thought, “Wouldn’t it be nice if they could refresh themselves after working up a sweat?”—so I went ahead and made a hot spring.
… Before I knew it, the villagers were coming here every morning. Some even spent the whole day here, though everyone still returned home at night.
Well, it made sense. Since salt had been spread on their original fields, working there was terribly inefficient. But their main source of income had always been agriculture. Damn it, this is why you don’t salt the earth! What is this, Carthage!?
Anyway, that’s how I ended up becoming… the lord of a dungeon that villagers frequently visited.
… And as a dungeon, this wasn’t actually a bad thing.
For some reason, the mana increased.
… In other words, unlike before—when I could only obtain mana by absorbing resources—it now naturally accumulated.
“… Could it be that other dungeons prepare treasures because having people around increases mana…?”
According to the words inscribed on my bracelet, a dungeon is supposed to gather mana. If that’s the case, then I guess I was doing the right thing as a dungeon.
… Though honestly, with this “Wholesome Dungeon Village Friendship Square,” I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
Anyway.
“Asuma-sama. Here, breakfast. Please eat.”
A wooden bowl of soup and some bread were placed in front of me.
The one offering them, smiling warmly, was a beautiful woman.
Her wavy, deep chestnut hair and kind golden-brown eyes, paired with a modest dress and apron, made her instantly recognizable: Edere, the village chief of Panis.
Given her beauty, it was no wonder those troublesome thugs pestered her and even salted the village fields out of spite. And—well—she was big. I won’t say what, but big. Of course people would pursue her…
Originally, Edere had been the “village chief’s wife.” But her husband, the actual chief, was taken by the war, and never returned. Since then, she had been managing Panis Village on her own as acting chief.
She had no children, so to her, the villagers were like family. Which is why she blamed herself deeply when that family had to move because of her beauty attracting thugs. Poor woman…
Since moving to the dungeon, Edere had been working harder than anyone—making breakfast for everyone, helping with the fields… I once asked if she wasn’t overworking herself, but she told me, “It helps keep my mind off things.”
Well, with the thugs still lurking, she probably couldn’t relax anyway. Maybe keeping busy was her way of coping.
Now, as she handed me breakfast—
“Even gods must struggle with such a small body, right? Eat plenty and grow big.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you, Edere-san.”
She handed me the bread and soup, and then patted my head gently, as if saying, good boy.
… I’d been patted. And I couldn’t help but feel… Edere thought I was really an elementary schooler.
No—that wasn’t just Edere.
“Oy, Asuma-sama! Still small today, huh! Edere’s soup is the best, so eat up and get big!”
Said the old man nearby.
“Asuma-sama~ The clothes you asked for are ready! Try them on later, okay?”
Said a kind middle-aged woman.
“Asuma-samaaa! Let’s playyy!”
Said an energetic child.
… Basically, all the villagers were like this. Friendly. But also… they all thought I was a kid.
I knew why. It was because of the “first villager” herself—Mishisia.
Since she treated me as “incredibly young compared to my 101 years,” everyone else saw: “A god who looks like a child, being doted on by a twenty-something elf girl.”
… And so, I completely lost the chance to say, “Actually, I’m 19 years old.”
Well, I *did* try once. I told Edere. But she just said, “I see… so as a god, your flow of time must be different, like with elves,” and continued treating me like a child.
Ahhhhhh! Mishisia’s fault! It’s basically all Mishisia’s fault! Ahhhhhh!!
The child treatment was one thing, but what really weighed on me was being treated as a god.
Because the villagers… had completely accepted me as “the little god of the dungeon.”
I missed the chance to correct them, and besides, I couldn’t explain the difference between “dungeon master” and “dungeon god” properly. From the villagers’ perspective, the dungeon’s master was its god.
… Yeah. After spending about a month with them, I understood. This world seemed to be fundamentally polytheistic.
Apparently, lands rich in mana had gods who protected them, and it was those gods who granted blessings.
And, well, since I existed, surely other lands had their own beings like me. If those beings actually produced results like here, then of course monotheism wouldn’t spread easily. How would a missionary even compete with this?
Anyway, that’s how I ended up being treated as “the cute little god” while watching villagers harvest crops happily, and getting served ridiculously tasty soup and fresh bread. I was very satisfied.
Sure, I could use reconstruction to make bread or soup myself. But food made by others just… tasted better. I don’t know why.
…Except—
“Now then, let us pray to our Asuma-sama…”
“Uh, no, you don’t need to do that… really, you don’t…”
I really didn’t need them praying to me at every meal. Or thanking me whenever something good happened.
In short, I didn’t need worship! Please, let’s not! It’s embarrassing! Way too embarrassing!
“Asuma-sama—got a minute?”
At that moment, Mishisia plopped a basket of vegetables beside me and sat down.
“It’s about those guys.”
… Ah, yes. “Those guys”.
“They’re still at it.”
“Ah… those washed-up adventurers who keep trying to force Edere-san to remarry, right…?”
Mishisia nodded gravely, and I sighed, looking up at the sky.
… Everything here seemed perfect—except for the fact that the villagers worshipped me—but trouble still remained.
Let’s review.
The founding of this “Dungeon Village” stemmed from two main problems.
The first: chronic poor harvests.
Caused initially by the men being taken off to war (shrinking the fields), and by last year’s bad weather. That led to reduced income, which meant they couldn’t pay “donations” to the Church, which meant they received no “blessings.” Result: another guaranteed bad harvest this year.
The second problem: thugs harassing Edere, the beautiful village chief.
Seeing her struggling alone after her husband’s death, they pressed her to marry them. When she refused, they escalated—salting the fields so the entire village would starve, then demanding she marry one of them to save everyone.
At that point, the villagers were in despair. But Mishisia brought them word of my dungeon.
Thanks to food from the dungeon, they avoided starvation. And by moving to the slime farm, not just for now but for the next year or two, their livelihood was secured.
From the outside, Panis villagers now looked oddly healthy for people whose fields had been salted. And of course, the thugs weren’t happy about that.
According to Mishisia’s reconnaissance, those adventurer washouts were still prowling around near Panis Village.
“Persistent, aren’t they…”
“Right? If only they’d put that effort into hunting monsters!”
I was exasperated, but also a little impressed. Mishisia, meanwhile, was fuming.
So, I began bracing myself.
… If the time came—though I wasn’t confident—I would have to do it.
As the Dungeon Master… no, as its god… repel the intruders.
And then, one afternoon—
“Asuma-sama! Asuma-samaaa!”
I saw Mishisia running along the treetops, and instantly knew something had happened.
The villagers had been heading back to their homes. Mishisia should’ve been with them.
If she was here now—
“Those thugs!?”
“Yes! They’ve come, and they’re attacking the village!”
… At last, the time had come.
What do you think about this chapter?
