Farmers- The Devourers Of World

Clearing a forest turned out to be a more challenging task than I had anticipated. Working under the scorching sun with clothes clinging to my skin due to the drenching sweat was incredibly uncomfortable. The physical labor took a toll on my body, leaving me exhausted and covered in blisters.

After two arduous days, I finally finished clearing the land and proceeded to plow it. While the soil seemed fertile, I understood that unless it was properly loosened, it wouldn't provide optimal conditions for the crops to thrive. However, plowing proved to be even harder than clearing, often resulting in painful blisters.

Nevertheless, I persisted in preparing the soil. The area I was working with was extensive, and though I knew farming required more effort than hunting or gathering food, it gave me the assurance that I would have enough to sustain myself through the winter.

Once the seeds were sown, I constructed a fence to protect the crops. Setting up the irrigation system proved to be a challenging task, as it involved fetching water from the river and spraying it over the fields.

The following five months were dedicated to tending to the crops and experimenting with different inventions. Occasionally, I would go hunting when the craving for meat overwhelmed me. However, I noticed that the animals had started moving away as winter approached. Nonetheless, I managed to obtain animal skins and used them to make blankets, providing some comfort during the cold season.

When the first snowfall blanketed the land, I was in awe. Having only seen snow on my phone before, witnessing it gently fall from the sky was a truly enchanting experience.

Winter proved to be challenging. My physical labor had increased my appetite, and I noticed that I had gained muscle while losing excess fat. The wheat grew slowly at first, but each passing day revealed progress, akin to the growth of a human being, much like my own journey.

After those five months, when the wheat had turned golden and reached maturity, I stood back and admired the wonder I had created. It fascinated me to think that at some point in history, a mere human had decided to cultivate plants for their own benefit.

After threshing and completing the complex processes, I felt a sense of victory, even though I couldn't pinpoint exactly what I had won.

Although the quality of the harvested wheat was not top-notch, I stored most of it in containers and set aside a section for the highest quality seeds. These would be used for the next round of grain cultivation, laying the foundation for selective breeding. In a few years, I hoped to have a product similar to or even better than what I had harvested.

As spring arrived, the blooming flowers painted a picturesque scene. It was a day when I allowed myself to rest and simply revel in the beauty of nature. I collected as many flowers as I could find, knowing that if left untouched, they would wither and dissolve into the soil. Instead, I utilized them for my survival.

Extracting oil from the flowers proved to be a challenging process, yielding only a small amount. Nevertheless, I reminded myself that everything I obtained from nature was a gift, and I would use it to the best of my ability.

With my sights set on the next crop, I acknowledged that the quality of the soil had diminished after planting wheat. To address this, I collected dry leaves and scattered them across the agricultural field, intending to use them as humus. However, I knew this wouldn't be sufficient, and I required a primitive fertilizer. Calcium carbonate seemed to be the best option, and I knew just where to find it.

I frequently encountered snails in the forest, and although they were quite large, I didn't consider eating them. Instead, I collected their shells, which provided an abundant source of calcium carbonate—an essential chemical I needed.

After grinding the shells into a powder, I created a solution by mixing it with water and sprayed it onto the land. Calcium carbonate helps prevent the depletion of nitrogen in the soil and works particularly well for acidic soil, enabling better oxygen absorption. To further enrich the soil, I gathered deer waste, a nitrogen-rich material, and incorporated it into the land.

Despite these efforts, planting wheat again would yield subpar results. Instead, I decided to plant leguminous plants, as they have a symbiotic relationship with bacteria called rhizobia, enriching the soil with nitrogen. The only leguminous option I had was peas. I planted the pea seeds and provided a thin stick for the plants to take support as they grew.

Peas typically take three months to mature, which meant I would soon be able to harvest them and move on to my next grain crop: rice. While the pea plants grew, I dedicated my time to clearing other areas of the forest where I could cultivate different crops.

Running out of emergency food supplies, the time had come for me to consume my harvested wheat. However, I faced a new challenge—grinding the wheat into flour. Constructing a grinder was beyond my capabilities, but I managed to fashion a primitive one after a week of relentless effort. Although it was nothing special, it allowed me to create powdered dough, which I then shaped into small flat circles and cooked on a ceramic pan. This was my first cooked meal—a plain roti. Despite its simplicity, it became a staple in my diet, ensuring I would never have to worry about hunger again.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months and years. I remained occupied with the farm and had little time to invest in other tools. My physical appearance had changed significantly—I had developed muscles, broadened shoulders, and my skin had darkened due to prolonged exposure to the sun. I welcomed every change, viewing them as a testament to my growing strength.

With a shelter and a secure food source, and the river providing clean water, I should have felt content. However, a sense of incompleteness lingered within me with each passing day. Solitude, while peaceful, left me yearning for human connection. It had been nearly three years since I had encountered another human being.

Reflecting on my past, I realized the mistakes I had made, taking my friends for granted and valuing shallow pursuits. I understood that my previous actions were an attempt to shield myself from the realization of my own loneliness. In this newfound self-awareness, I prayed silently, seeking forgiveness and strength to endure the lingering sense of isolation.

Six more months went by without any change. I continued to devote most of my time to tending to the crops, wandering through the forest, or finding solace among the flowers. However, on that particular day, as I wiped the sweat from my forehead after planting wheat, I heard a rhythmic sound coming from the north of the forest.

Alert and apprehensive, I grasped my plow and took a defensive stance. To my astonishment, what emerged from the bushes was a frail figure—a human. They carried a small child on their back. More people followed, emerging from the forest. Many stood before me, equally bewildered and fearful.

As I tried to find the words to speak, I noticed a deep cut in the stomach of the person carrying the child, partially concealed beneath their leather coat. One burning question consumed my thoughts: Who were these people?