The day ended with twelve tired children and a barrel of yarn on Pacificus's cart. Merina walked alongside, her curiosity piqued by the man who had so quietly and diligently helped her children.

"Is it heavy?" Merina asked, glancing at the cart.

"At first it was... but I got used to it," Pacificus answered, his voice calm and steady.

"You got used to it?"

"Yes... I consider it part of my training. When I was young, it was my mother who would pull the cart. She was strong."

"Oh," Merina replied, a hint of admiration in her tone.

She looked at the sleeping children in the cart, their peaceful faces a stark contrast to the day’s exertions. "Aren't you tired? There's still room in the cart."

"Don't mind me, Mr. Pacificus," she said with a soft smile.

"What is your blessing specifically, Mr. Pacificus?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"Pardon?"

"I saw you swing your sword... it was fast and controlled, almost sacred."

Pacificus blushed, his face turning a shade of red. "You are like a sword saint, Mr. Pacificus."

"I am not a swordsman... nor am I a warrior. My mother is a warrior... but like my father before me, I chose the path of agriculture."

"But the way you hold the sword... it looked more beautiful than any swordsman I've seen," she blushed in return.

"That's because of my mother... she taught me how to wield a sword... although I only have one combat skill."

"One?" she blinked in surprise.

"Yes... it is a skill called 'parry.'"

She blinked again. "Mr. Pacificus... I have more combat skills than you."

Pacificus looked away in embarrassment. "How could that be? I have a skill called throw, slash, chop, and stab but the voice of creation tells me it is just a basic skill... anyone can learn it."

"I... I used to have those skills... but they disappeared."

"... Huh? That can't be... when was the last time you visited a monk or a priest, Mr. Pacificus?"

He laughed weakly. "Actually... my blessing is called Farmer Monk."

She blinked. "Huh? How?"

"The gods told me it's because I was the only one worshipping my deities."

Her face paled. "Mr. Pacificus... when was the last time you checked on your gifts?"

"My father was a Farmer Monk like me... when he died, I inherited his blessing, and that was the last time I was informed about my gifts."

"Did you at least try to visit the Temple of the deities?"

"I... I was planning to... but... I don't want to disturb them."

Unseen by the two mortals, two deities chuckled at their blessed champion.

"You need to go there, Mr. Pacificus."

"But the journey there would take months."

"That is how far it is?"

"Yes... that's why I never left... the farm. No one will maintain it while I’m gone."

"Oh... that... that is really unfortunate."

"I don't mind... I may not have received the full potential of my gifts... but I have enough resources to live... too many resources, to be honest... I'm a really lucky person I guess."

The sun had almost disappeared below the horizon as Pacificus and Merina approached the gates. The guards, familiar with their routine, gave a casual nod, though the gate was more symbolic than functional, given the broken wall beside it.

"Wait a minute? Aren't there too many children in his cart today?" one guard remarked.

"Shut up... It's none of your business. Besides, he feeds our families anyway, so I don't mind what he does," another guard responded.

"It doesn't look like he is harming the children... So what does he do with them?"

"Probably hired as farmhands or something."

"Oh... that makes sense."

They reached the orphanage, and the children, exhausted, were gently carried to their beds by Pacificus and Merina. Once the last child was tucked in, Merina turned to Pacificus.

"Thank you, Pacificus."

"I'm happy to help, Lady Merina."

"I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yes."

As Pacificus left the orphanage, Merina made her way to a small altar. It was simple, just a torch with an image of a woman carved into its handle. She lit the flame and knelt before it, her hands clasped in prayer. She poured her heart out, praying for her family, for her children, and for Pacificus. The thought of the gentle giant made her heart race, and she found herself blushing.

"Wait a minute," she murmured to herself, "Aren't I too old to feel like this?" Her cheeks flushed with warmth, a mix of confusion and newfound emotions swirling within her.

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The next day dawned with a sense of purpose. Merina was busily turning more wool into yarn, her hands deftly working the spindle as the children ran through the obstacle course Pacificus had set up. The sun was high in the sky, its glow gently shaded by the clouds as it tried to light Pacificus's farm. He noticed that some of his plants were turning yellow, their leaves starting to fall.

He pondered for a moment, then his gaze turned to Artemis, his oldest and most dedicated student. "Hmm... perhaps it's time," he murmured to himself.

Pacificus went to his armory—a modest collection of weapons and armor from would-be invaders who had underestimated him. He looked over the various weapons, remembering how his mother had taught him to use them all. A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled those precious memories. He decided it was time to teach the children something new.

Grabbing three bows of different sizes, he began tying the strings back to the bows. The wooden limbs creaked slightly as he bent them, the strings taut and ready. He knew he didn't have any specific skills that benefited from using a sling or a bow, but his mother had taught him well enough that he could pass on the basics.

"Artemis," he called out.

"Yes, Big Brother?" Artemis ran towards him, her eyes immediately drawn to the bows in his hands.

"It's time," Pacificus said, holding out one of the bows.

Artemis stared at him for a moment, then her eyes widened in realization. A wide smile spread across her face, her excitement palpable. She reached out and took the bow from Pacificus, her fingers brushing against the smooth wood, tracing the grain and feeling its weight.

A few minutes later.

Artemis frowned as she tried to pull the bow with all her strength. Her fingers tightened on the bow and its string as she struggled to draw it back.

"Artemis, I told you to use all of your body, including your back... like this," Pacificus instructed, demonstrating the proper form.

"I'm... I'm trying," she replied, her voice strained with effort.

"Hmmm... perhaps it was too early," Pacificus began to say.

"NO, IT'S NOT!" she exclaimed, her determination unwavering as she continued to try her best to pull the string.

Despite her efforts, it wasn't meant to be. She eventually sat down, her arms tired and sore. Disappointment clouded her eyes, and she tried her best not to cry, feeling the weight of her inability to pull the smallest bow.

"Hmm... wait here, Artemis," Pacificus said gently.

He went back to his armory and returned with more bows of varying sizes. Artemis tried to pull each one, realizing that drawing a bow was not as easy as she had thought. She had believed she was strong, had confidence in her strength, but the bows seemed to crush her newfound confidence. Her frustration grew with each failed attempt.

In the end, she didn't manage to pull a single bow.

Artemis fell to her knees, her frustration and disappointment finally overwhelming her. Tears she could no longer hold back streamed down her face.

"You can always try again, Artemis," Pacificus said softly, handing her a small bow.

Artemis took the bow and tried once more, her determination unwavering despite her exhaustion.

By dinner time, a crestfallen Artemis sat with Merina, her arms shaking so much that she couldn't even lift her rice cake.

"Artemis," Pacificus said gently, "you are here to get stronger, not to break your body. Remember, everyone starts as a beginner. It doesn't matter if you fail; what matters is that you try again until you succeed."

Artemis simply nodded, trying to wipe away her tears, but her arms hurt too much. Merina had to wipe her tears for her, a kind act that unintentionally wounded Artemis's pride even more.

The next day dawned with renewed determination. Artemis stood in the training area, bow in hand, trying again and again to pull the string back. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't pull it far enough to reach her shoulder. Her arms went numb from the strain.

"Rest first, Artemis," Pacificus advised gently. "Perhaps the reason you can't pull it is because your body is too strained."

"...O-okay," she replied, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

She knelt between the two trees and began to pray, seeking solace and strength. The sounds of her siblings running and complaining about their sore bodies filled the air, reminding her of her own struggles. She remembered how she had started running and doing pull-ups, feeling the same pain and frustration. But now, she barely broke a sweat and always aimed to beat her previous records with confidence.

Just like Pacificus had said, everyone starts as a beginner. If she could break her record laps, she could draw that bow. Taking a deep breath, she acknowledged the pain in her arms and realized that she really did need to rest.

The whole day ended with her praying and self-reflecting.

The next day, Artemis approached the dreaded bow with renewed determination in her eyes. She took a deep breath and began to draw. Using all her strength, she pulled—slowly, steadily. The bow was heavy, so heavy, but she kept pulling, her muscles straining, until finally, the string reached her shoulder.

The simple act filled her with so much joy that she accidentally released the bow, making the string whistle.

She smiled in triumph and laughed aloud. Though the draw was supposed to reach her ear to be considered worthy of an arrow, the fact that she had pulled the bow at all filled her with immense satisfaction and joy.

Her next goal was clear: pull the bow as far as she could, then switch to a bigger bow, and then an even bigger bow—until the day she could proudly draw a bow with an arrow.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

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Then the golems became agitated.

Pacificus noticed the golems suddenly moving faster, more erratically. It wasn't just the golems; birds were flying away in the distance.

"Merina," he called, his voice steady but urgent, "keep the children inside the basement."

"Pacificus?" she replied, confusion and concern mixing in her voice.

"Don't leave until I tell you to," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She looked at him, seeing a seriousness in his face that was almost terrifying. It was a side of Pacificus she rarely saw.

"Children," she said quickly, "come with me. Quickly!"

"Wha-what's going on?" one of them asked, panic rising.

"Get inside Pacificus's basement," she instructed firmly.

"What?" another protested. "But mom, it's dark in there."

"Just go inside, everyone," she urged, herding them towards the basement.

As Merina closed the basement door, she saw Pacificus grab the huge sword that was mounted on his kitchen wall.

"Pacificus," she called softly.

The giant turned to her, his face a mix of worry and determination. It was a look she had seen many times before on the faces of those going to war. "Stay safe, Pacificus," she said, her voice trembling.

Pacificus managed a reassuring smile. "I'll return... I promise," he said, his tone resolute.

As the basement door closed securely behind them, Pacificus ensured it was well-hidden from any intruders. And then, he stepped outside, his mother's greatsword released from its scabbard, resting casually on his shoulder. He settled onto his porch, waiting calmly.

Moments passed, and he heard the approach of boots, feeling the slight tremble of the ground with each step. Finally, they arrived—men clad in helmets and chainmail, armed with an assortment of weapons from shields and spears to bows. Their lack of uniformity suggested they weren't a disciplined force, but their numbers and equipment made them formidable.

"Greetings," Pacificus greeted them calmly. "What can I do for you?"

"Are you Pacificus the farmer?" one of the men asked bluntly.

"Yes," Pacificus replied evenly. "What do you need?"

A chilling smile crept onto the man's face. "We are here for you, farmer."

"Who sent you?" Pacificus inquired, maintaining his composure despite the gravity of the situation. "Perhaps I can pay you to leave me alone."

"No, farmer," the man chuckled darkly. "The noble demands your head, and I intend to claim it."

"Why can't we just talk?" Pacificus suggested, his tone unwavering, though his eyes grew serious.

Laughter erupted from the men, followed by the ominous sound of weapons being drawn. Pacificus sighed inwardly, recognizing the futility of negotiation with these intruders.

As the tension mounted outside, Pacificus faced down the advancing intruders with a calm yet formidable presence. With a casual swing of his greatsword, a shockwave rippled through the air, causing the men to hesitate momentarily. Taking advantage of this, Pacificus raised his sword into a high stance, exuding an aura of readiness and intimidation.

The intruders, armed with spears among other weapons, cautiously closed in. Some, emboldened by their numbers and weaponry, took the initiative to thrust their spears at Pacificus. Five spears aimed for him simultaneously, but Pacificus remained unfazed. With precise movements, he deflected each thrust, redirecting the force of their attacks back against them with his fist..

In the basement, Merina and the children felt a faint tremor through the ground, prompting concern. They were still descending the staircase, marveling at the size of Pacificus's basement.

"I knew Big Brother had a big basement, but I didn't expect it to be this enormous," remarked Apollo.

"Didn't he mention his grandfather was a dwarf?" Artemis added thoughtfully.

Merina glanced uneasily at the stairway, her worry for Pacificus growing. Then, the ground shook, followed by another tremor, then another, it was stronger this time.

"An earthquake?" Merina murmured to herself.

On the farm's grounds, the aftermath of Pacificus's defense against the intruders was evident. Several men lay sprawled across the landscape, each bearing injuries from their encounter with the farmer. One man lay on his back, his face swollen from a powerful blow that had rendered him unconscious but still breathing. Another lay face-down in the dirt, likely knocked out by a forceful impact. A third man writhed in pain on the ground, clutching his groin, his screams echoing through the air. A fourth man hung unconscious on the fence, his helmet, that was near Pacificus, showing the unmistakable imprint of a fist-shaped bump.

Lastly, atop Pacificus's roof, a fifth man lay with white eyes, indicating he was also knocked out but breathing. His boots lay near Pacificus's feet.

The remaining soldiers, now significantly fewer in number and visibly shaken by the fate of their comrades, hesitated to press their attack. They gripped their shields tightly, but the sight of shattered remnants of their comrades' shields strewn about did little to bolster their confidence. They exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to proceed against a farmer who had proven to be far more formidable than they had anticipated.

"Can we talk now?" Pacificus asked, his calm demeanor contrasting sharply with the unconscious bodies littered around him.

"Yeah, we can talk," replied another man, stepping forward. He unsheathed his weapon and laid it on the ground before removing his shield and helmet. As he walked towards Pacificus, his hands were raised in a gesture of surrender. "H-how much are you willing to pay us back, Sir Farmer?"

"How much did they give you?" Pacificus inquired.

"Five gold coins each. They said they would give us twenty more if we managed to bring them your head."

"I don't have any gold coins," Pacificus responded. "Just chests full of bronze coins and silver coins. Is that fine with you?"

"Of course, of course, we'll take it," the man said eagerly, approaching Pacificus with his hands still raised.

"Stay right there," Pacificus warned. "I accidentally killed someone who tried to do what you're about to attempt."

The man sneered, and with a flick of his wrist, a hidden dagger appeared. He hurled it at Pacificus with such force that it created a sonic boom. Pacificus effortlessly redirected the dagger with his hand.

The man didn't waver and lunged at Pacificus with another dagger. Pacificus parried the strike with a swift motion of his hand and then delivered a powerful backhanded slap.

To the perspective of the other men, their comrade simply vanished, leaving a dagger hanging in mid-air for a moment before it fell to the ground. The scene might have been humorous if it weren't so terrifying. The man landed with a force that caused a small earthquake, but he was still alive, evidenced by his steady breathing.

Pacificus looked at the remaining intruders, his eyes piercing and determined. With a swift motion, he swung his sword again, creating a powerful sonic boom that shook the ground beneath their feet. He stood in an open stance, holding his mother's greatsword with one hand, raised confidently at his side. It was a stance that both showcased his immense strength and served as a confident taunt.

"You are strong," Pacificus said, his voice steady. "All of you."

He wasn't lying. These men were stronger than the knight he had once defeated in a duel. The only reason that knight had survived was due to his masterwork armor and impressive sword—one of the finest pieces in Pacificus's storage. These men, however, were far stronger, but their gear was common and cheap, easy to maintain but average in quality.

"The next strike... I will be swinging my sword. You have been warned. Will you fight me and die, or would you want to live another day? If you want to fight, then approach me. If you don't, then drop your weapons. This will be your final warning."

The silence that followed was heavy with tension. The remaining men glanced at each other, their earlier bravado replaced by fear and uncertainty. They saw the unconscious bodies of their comrades, the sheer strength and skill of Pacificus, and the reality of their situation sank in.

"Wait," his voice suddenly boomed.

The men froze.

"Take your friends with you," he commanded, pointing at the unconscious men scattered around the yard.

The intruders hurriedly obeyed, gathering their fallen comrades. It took some effort, but they managed to lift and carry the unconscious men, avoiding Pacificus's stern gaze as they did so.

Once they had gathered their comrades, they slowly retreated, the weight of their defeat clear in their hunched shoulders and hesitant steps. Pacificus watched them go, ensuring they left his property without further incident.

When the last of them disappeared from view, he lowered his sword and let out a deep breath.

With sword in hand, Pacificus quickly ran toward his basement. "Merina?" he called into the darkness.

At first, there was silence, then he heard footsteps. Knowing how vast and deep his basement was, he ventured inside, a torch now in his other hand. "Merina?" he called again, his voice echoing.

"We're here, Pacificus," Merina replied, holding the hand of the youngest child, Minos.

She smiled upon seeing Pacificus unharmed. "You have a really large basement."

Pacificus returned her smile. "I told you I'd return."

They made their way outside the basement. The sun was still up, and when the children arrived, they saw the mess in front of Pacificus's porch.

"That's a sword and a shield... why are there so many weapons?" one child asked.

"Wait a minute... is that... teeth?" another pointed out.

"He he he, this hole looks like a face," a third child giggled, inspecting the crater where one of the men had landed.

Pacificus went pale as he realized he had forgotten to remove the evidence.

"All right, children," Merina said, taking charge, "go back to your training. Pacificus and I will clean up this mess."

"Yes, mom," they chorused.

The children returned to their training, though some of the older kids cast curious glances at Pacificus, as if wanting to ask questions but deciding against it.

"He definitely won that fight," Apollo remarked to Artemis.

"Fight? What fight?" Artemis replied, puzzled.

"You are too shallow, sis," Apollo teased, shaking his head.

The two adults cleaned the mess from the battlefield. The air was thick with the remnants of tension, and the ground bore the signs of the recent struggle.

"Pacificus," Merina said, breaking the silence.

"Y-yes?" Pacificus replied, looking up from the scattered weapons.

"Thank you for protecting us."

"No... they came for me... I'm sorry. I put all of you in danger."

"What?" Merina looked at him, her brow furrowing.

"They are assassins. They came for my life," Pacificus admitted, his voice heavy with regret.

"..."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"And you killed them?" Merina asked, her tone cautious.

"I thought I would... but they ran away when I knocked some of them out," he explained.

"Oh... do you think they would come back?" she asked, concern lacing her words.

"Uhmm... I don't think so... this is not the first time someone hired an assassin to kill me."

Merina blinked, taken aback. "Not your first time?"

"My mother told me that I should be strong. That I should learn how to defend myself... that way... I wouldn't get taken advantage of," he continued, his expression resolute. "Although I dislike violence... she is right."

Merina looked at Pacificus. He didn't seem to be proud of what he did; in fact, he lamented it.

"The world is beautiful... but people can be cruel sometimes. My mother told me that if I want to be kind, then I should be strong... for only the strong could afford to be kind. I guess that is why I want the children to be strong too."

Merina followed his gaze to the children training in the distance.

"I don't want them to be taken advantage of. I want them to be strong so they can defend themselves... so they can afford to be kind... especially in a world like this. But if you want the children to stay away from me, I would understand. I've brought you danger. I'm sorry," Pacificus said, his voice tinged with regret.

Merina chuckled softly. "This isn't the first time we've been exposed to danger, Pacificus. Everyone is desperate these days. They'll do anything for food or money. Once, we were robbed by a group of thieves. They took Artemis hostage in exchange for some food and money. I guess that's why she wants to become stronger."

"Oh... I'm so sorry about that," Pacificus replied, his voice filled with concern.

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I'm just glad that despite everything, we're still together. We survived a siege led by beast tamers. We survived a raid from bandits when the soldiers went out to fight a battle. Now that I think of it, maybe that's why the children want to get stronger. They're tired of being pushed down. They know what it feels like to be helpless, to be at the mercy of those stronger than you."

She sighed, looking at Pacificus. "Even I know how that feels."

"How do you do it, Pacificus?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"How did you get so strong? You told me you're a farmer monk, yet you can beat assassins who outnumbered you without breaking a sweat. Wait a minute." Her eyes widened in realization. "Are you injured?"

"No."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Come with me." She then dragged Pacificus back to his own hut.

"I-I-I'm not injured," Pacificus panicked. "Honestly, I'm not."

"Even a talented warrior would receive injuries after surviving a fight where they're outnumbered."

Inside Pacificus's home, Merina inspected his body, needle and thread in hand, ready to stitch any cut she found.

"I'm not a healer, but I know how to stitch a wound."

"But I'm not wounded."

"You have a habit of lying so people won't worry about you."

She inspected his body only to find that Pacificus wasn't lying. There were no injuries. In fact, his body was muscular and hard, a testament to all his training and discipline.

"Vesta's Flame," Merina whispered to herself, her eyes lingering on Pacificus's muscles. She felt a tinge of jealousy in her heart as she stared at his physique, each muscle defined and testament to his rigorous training and discipline. "I want that... maybe I should train too."

"You aren't lying," she admitted, her voice softer.

"I told you," he replied, a gentle smile on his face.

She sighed in relief. "I guess I worried for nothing." Her gaze met Pacificus's, searching for answers. "What is your secret, Pacificus? Even a seasoned warrior wouldn't come out unscathed, let alone survive what you've been through... yet you, a farmer, not only survived but also made it out without a scratch. How did you do it, Pacificus? How did you manage to defend yourself despite not having the class for it?"

"It's because of my skill, 'Parry,'" he explained simply.

"Parry? Parry can't be that strong... even I have that skill, Pacificus."

"That is the only combat skill I have... Parry. It was the only combat skill I practiced ever since I first picked up a sword. I don't want to harm anyone; that is why I chose to master that skill."

"... What is the potential of your Parry?" she asked, curiosity piqued.

"The last time I checked, it was: Advanced Experience and Mythical Potential. I haven't checked it since then."

Merina almost went deaf when she heard it. "Pardon?"

"It was Advanced Experience and Mythical Potential," he repeated, his tone unchanging.

She blinked, processing his words. If the man in front of her was lying, it was a well-crafted tale, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

"When was the last time you checked your blessing?" she inquired, her mind racing.

"I... I don't know... My dad died when I was eleven, so I guess it was thirteen years ago?" Pacificus responded, his voice tinged with sorrow.

"And... you've been practicing the same skill for thirteen years?"

"Of course," he replied, his resolve clear.

She sat beside him on his bed, a look of realization dawning on her face. "Pacificus, if you went to your temple right now... you might have surpassed your potential by now."

Pacificus sighed deeply. "You are right... I really wanted to upgrade my agricultural skills."

Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. "Are all of your skills at Mythical Potential?"

"No," he said, blushing in embarrassment. "My farming skills are all at Master Potential."

She raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Pacificus's face reddened even further. "All of them are Beginner skills too."

"Is your Parry skill in the Beginner class?"

"No... the last time I checked, it said Basic."

"Last time you checked?"

"Yes."

"I see," Merina said, as she tries to keep her curiosity in check. "Let's continue our work, Pacificus. Your front yard looks like the remnants of a war," Merina said with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Pacificus sighed, his broad shoulders slumping slightly. "Those guys... I really hope they don't return."

As they continued to clean up, Merina recalled the hole one of the children had pointed out, its shape resembling a man's face. The memory of that imprint brought a giggle to her lips. The indent was uncanny—flattened earth forming the contours of a nose, a wide-eyed expression, and a mouth twisted in surprise.

"I don't think they will return, Pacificus," she giggles.