[+20 EXP~! (≧▽≦)]

[Reason: Physical training detected! Your body is working hard, you know~]

Lucas frowned while jogging at a snail's pace.

"…Huh? I get EXP just from running?"

He complained while still panting.

"I've been working in the fields—hoeing non-stop and all that!"

The system popped up again.

[Work is work~ (￣▽￣)

Training is training~]

[Digging dirt is productive~

But it's not training, host~ (￣ー￣)]

Lucas clicked his tongue.

"…Yeah yeah, whatever."

He kept going, though his speed dropped even more.

His breathing went all over the place.

His thighs felt like they were being stabbed by invisible goblins.

Then—

[DING!!!]

(≧▽≦)✨

LEVEL UP!

Host has reached Level 4!!

STATUS UPDATE

Level: 4

Strength: 5 (+1) (ง •̀_•́)ง

Agility: 6 (+1) ε=ε=(ﾉ≧∇≦)ﾉ

Stamina: 5 (+1) (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

Mana: 7 (+1) ✨(￣▽￣)✨

[Bonus acquired~!]

+20 Progression Points.

Lucas slammed on the brakes.

He bent over with his hands on his knees like a dying hero in a low-budget movie.

"Damn… my lungs are on fire. This is way worse than farming…"

The system grinned digitally.

[Hey, don't complain like that~ Be Strong~ (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و]

[You were farming with Geralt anyway, so it wasn't that hardcore~]

Lucas gasped dramatically.

"Hah… damn… you're actually right…"

——

On the other side of the field—

Anya was sitting under the tree like always.

Silvara sat next to her, holding another tiny stick.

"Okay… this is the letter 'Y'."

Anya moved the stick with deadly seriousness.

"Y… Y…"

She peeked at Lucas in the distance.

His face looked terrible.

His shirt was drenched.

His running speed? Grandpa-tier.

Anya frowned.

…He looks awful.

She leaned closer to the ground.

He must be dead tired.

Anya squeezed her stick tighter.

…Maybe I should take my time conquering letters too…

Silvara glanced at Lucas, then at Anya.

Her eyes softened just a bit.

"…Keep going."

Anya nodded fast.

"Un!"

She went back to practicing seriously.

I still can't write properly, so maybe physical training can wait… Anya thought.

---

Geralt stood at the edge of the ditch.

The ditch… was clean.

Too clean.

He still swung his hoe, but there was no soil left to bite.

Clack… clack…

The earth did not move.

His eyes strayed toward the tomato patch.

The Young Master was still circling it.

Calling that "running" was too kind.

It looked closer to a man fighting to stay upright.

Geralt swallowed.

Saints above… there's naught left for me to do…

He peered into the ditch again.

Finished… truly finished…

His fingers twitched around the handle.

If I've no work…

will my pay still come by evening…?

He raised the hoe and set it down slow.

No dirt lifted.

No work remained.

Geralt rubbed at his cheek.

Bless me…

He poked at the ground for show.

Shifting dust that needed no shifting.

Smoothing soil already made smooth.

Then he paused again.

Does this look like labour, from afar…?

He glanced to Lucas once more.

The Young Master's pace had slowed.

Sweat ran down the boy's chin.

Geralt's heart thumped faster.

Mercy… don't fall now, lad… take it slow…

Not from kindness.

But from fear…

…if the lad drops dead, I'll ne'er get my coin this day.

And if he passes by, I'd best look busy with this confounded hoe…

Geralt swallowed hard.

He straightened his back.

Then swung the hoe with more force.

Clack!

Clack!

The sound rang true.

The work did not.

Look the part… look the part…

Geralt gave a small nod.

Easy, Geralt… long as thou look'st busy… thy pay is safe…

---

Lucas almost tripped over his own feet.

His chest felt like it was about to tear apart.

His breathing came in short, broken gasps.

The world around him spun slightly.

Just as he was about to fall, his eyes accidentally caught someone standing at the edge of the field.

Geralt.

The old man stood stiffly by the ditch, hoe in hand.

And… he was staring right at him.

The moment their eyes met—

Geralt straightened his back.

As if he had only just realized he was being watched.

He lifted his hoe slightly…

then shouted loudly, clearly, with forced enthusiasm:

"Y-Young Master! You can do it! Keep going!"

Lucas blinked.

"…Huh?"

Geralt raised his thumb with an overly serious expression.

"Just a little more! Hang in there, Young Master!"

Lucas stared at him for a few seconds.

That face…

that voice…

that posture…

…Why does this feel like a royal-drama brown-noser?

Lucas shuddered slightly.

"Why does this guy look… so fake…"

But his brain was far too exhausted to think about it any further.

He turned his eyes back toward the field.

Eleven… twelve…

Lucas took a long breath, almost choking on air.

Then his eyes widened slightly.

"…Wait."

He slowed down, almost stopping.

Counting again in his head.

One… two… three…

Then he stared at the tomato field that looked endlessly wide.

"…Only twenty laps…?"

His face twisted weakly.

"Seriously… just twenty…?"

He glanced toward Silvara, who was still sitting calmly in the distance.

Her blank face seemed to say:

Please die with dignity.

Lucas let out another heavy breath.

"…Eighty more."

He lifted a leg that felt like it no longer belonged to him.

And kept running.

Before Lucas could slow down any further—

A blue window popped up right in front of his face.

[Daw, daw… look at thee, my lad… (￣▽￣)]

[Already wheezin' like an old mule?]

Lucas growled quietly.

"Tch… shut up…"

The window blinked again.

[Come now, my lad~! (￣ω￣)]

[Only twenty rounds and thou act'st like thou'rt at death's door?]

Lucas ground his teeth.

"…I swear one day I'm gonna uninstall you."

The system flashed another line cheerfully.

[Hoho~ such sharp tongue for a lad who can scarce lift his own legs~!]

[Run, run now! Or shall I fetch thee a fine wooden coffin? (≧▽≦)]

"SON OF A—"

Lucas bit his tongue mid-curse as his foot nearly gave out.

He forced himself straight again.

Breathing like a dying bellows, he kept moving.

The system would not shut up.

[Hark! Hark! Look yonder!

(￣▽￣)ノ]

[The tomatoes bear witness to thy suffering!]

Lucas glared at empty air.

"You're enjoying this way too much…"

Another line popped.

[Enjoy? Nay, my lad—(¬‿¬)]

[I am recording this glorious tragedy~]

Lucas sucked in a long, shaky breath.

"…Just shut up… and count my laps or something…"

The system chimed happily.

[As thou wishest, my lad~ (￣▽￣)]

[Lap twenty-one… survived by sheer stubbornness!]

His jaw tightened.

Legs burning.

Vision wobbling.

But he ran anyway.

Because stopping—

Would hurt more than the system's mouth ever could.

---

Lap twenty-two barely began when—

"STOP!"

Silvara's voice cut through the field like a blade.

Lucas flinched mid-step.

He nearly stumbled, then jerked his head up.

"…Huh?"

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