Unloading the food took far less time than I would have thought. The bags seeming to weigh next to nothing as I lifted them. I would have loved to work in silence. To get my mind off the weird comments from earlier.

No such luck.

"Cecil, I. Listen. I'm trying to teach you right. To make up for this past month. This situation is messed up, but there's no reason why you shouldn't have a normal upbringing regardless. I'm trying to get us back on that course."

I sighed, despite myself. Turning back to him.

"Uncle, I think you're misunderstanding something. I don't disagree with what you're trying to do. I completely agree that this whole town is a madhouse and I really do want a more normal life. I'm trying, to have one. I'm trying so, so very hard to balance those wishes with the knowledge that I'm the only person out there who could be saving the literal world. The actual, honest to goodness future of the human species. I'm only mad because, of all the things you could have brought up, you chose that topic. I, dammit! It's like you don't even know me! What was going through your head!?"

His face grew more somber. Somehow. His arms trembling as he carried a fifth of what I was lugging around.

"It's... I was talking around with other people in town. Apparently there's been some trouble in the past with teens... getting up to things they shouldn't be doing. I was worried."

I shook my head in disbelief.

"Uncle, that makes literally no sense. You know me. I'm not going to deny that there are stupid people out there, but you really should know me better than that!"

"Yes. I do. But I also know that you're already under a lot of stress and that you have a lot more independence than regular kids your age. On top of that, I... I've had to enter some, delicate talks about your future. The things that were brought up were, not the sort of things you should be dealing with. I... I realize that panicking isn't smart and that I can't keep you under my wing forever. So, I have to give you advice on being and adult now. While I still can."

He sighed. Almost dropping one of his bags as his shoulders slouched.

"Dammit it all! I want to communicate with you Cecil! But I keep stumbling over my words! I'm scared, okay? I'm scared of the things you've been forced to do and I'm even more scared of the things you chose to do. I see why you did them and even admire the sentiment, but I'm your guardian! I can't help but worry and fuss over you!"

I felt my blood cooling as I heard him out.

"What do you mean, delicate talks?"

He winced, almost dropping the right bag again.

"Mr. Robertson, he, I don't know how to say this. He seemed so, normal, when I first met him. Now though... he seems crazier and crazier the more we talk. He's been saying that you're going to get a job, in heavy quotation marks, and that you're going to move out into a mansion or something. He also started talking some nonsense about a hot tub."

"Oh yeah. He and coach Russell did mention that."

It had only been yesterday, but it was already starting to feel like some distant fever dream. What with all the crazy things that happened.

"Right. So, in their minds. You will work on these, special projects of theirs while also delving into that forsaken Dungeon and going to school. Mr. Robertson assured me that you would be kept safe and that you would be paid handsomely. As if that would make me feel better."

"It doesn't?"

Uncle Uter looked at me as if I'd recently suffered a traumatic brain injury.

"No! Cecil! It doesn't! These people sound more and more insane the more they talk! They're sending teens to a monster-filled hell-hole for goodness' sake! Russell seems to think I'm loopy because I told him that you'd be going to school like a normal kid now that you got your core! And that's not even getting into what Mr. Robertson brought up this morning. Did you know they've already listed a company under my name? One that will, supposedly, fix a lot of the country's food shortages?"

I blinked a few time sin quick succession. Wondering if I'd heard him right.

"Huh? How?"

"By using you. Apparently. He wants to try and grind down monster cores into plants you grow and sell them as regular foodstuffs. He says it might infuse the whole population with a pre-disposition for magic so that they can grow faster once you build dungeons under other towns. Don't you see? This man already took it for granted that you would keep getting involved in this insanity! I had to put my foot down then and there, but he just chuckled at me like I was an imbecile!"

I was too stunned to form proper words. Partly due to the rage and indignation that stemmed from my uncle being disrespected and partly from how admittedly brilliant that scheme was.

I could, absolutely grow plants. Though I couldn't mass produce them in any great numbers. Yet.

However, if I somehow managed to do it and if I somehow managed to infuse my own magic and some extra juice from monster cores into them... Why, we could start getting people on the path to improvement way before I had to set any monsters loose.

All while helping folks that couldn't afford to eat.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

After all, I'd made that vine in my room in seconds and that was a mere day after getting my powers for the first time. Those vegetable bears and gorillas hadn't taken much either and those had been complex super mutants capable of tanking shotgun shells like they were tennis balls.

It wasn't a bad idea.

Not in the slightest.

In fact, depending on how effective the foodstuffs were, I might not have to make dungeons at all.

Uncle Uter seemed to sense something from my posture, because he went slightly pale.

"Cecil, you can't tell me that you're seriously considering this madness."

"Uncle, I... I mean. It's not a bad idea per se. I don't know if I can pull it off yet, but its worth a shot at least."

"Of course it is!" Mr. Robertson said cheerfully.

I whirled about. So fast that I almost dropped my own bags. Thankfully, my new reflexes let me catch them just in time, though i did end up squeezing one of the milk bags too tightly and rupturing the thing so that the liquid stained my new clothes.

"Ooooh. That stings Cecil. You'll have to work on those new reflexes of yours. Have you gone into the Dungeon since getting to level one? I'm told it's a completely new experience."

"When the fuck did you get here!?"

"Uncle! Language!"

"Fuck our language Cecil! This man just snuck up on us while we were unloading groceries! I want to know when he got here and what his business is! Then I want him to get his old, decrepit ass out! Right this instant!"

I gaped at him. Not quite believing this was the same man who'd raised me all these years.

Uncle Uter's face was beet red and strained with barely contained fury. His arms dropping down the grocery bags on the porch so that he could point menacingly at the older man.

"Now you listen here Carlyle. Tolerating your nonsense at the office is one thing, but you coming here uninvited is quite another. I will not have you going near my family any more than you already have."

He paused, lowering his voice even further. Until his utterances came out as a guttural growl that reverberated in the warm summer air.

"I will not stand for it. You hear me? I will not!"

I expected Mr. Robertson to snap in return. For him to go on a tirade regarding how important his own cause was. Or perhaps for him to threaten uncle Uter for talking to him in such a manner.

Instead, the older man offered what could best be described as a simpering smile. Completely unlike the zealous, almost maniacal expressions he had donned the night before.

"Uter, Uter. You wound me. I didn't come here with any ill intentions. Quite the contrary. I came here to personally reward Cecil for his exemplary service to our community and to offer him another, less jarring line of work."

He brought up his hands in a placating gesture. Donning the mask of a humble man who had been thoroughly chastised.

"I understand that our last meeting was a little off-putting and that I placed too many burdens on Cecil's shoulders. So, I came to say that I wholeheartedly agreed with you."

"You do?" I said. Shocked beyond words.

Mr. Robertson perked up.

"Why, of course Cecil! Don't get me wrong, I want to save the world as much as the next guy, but I would never endanger anyone within Dunstonberry to do so. If these endeavors are too much, then there are other options. I believed you were told about the farm steading plan already? It's just that. You go into the Dungeon, just as you've done these past few weeks, and use the soil there to grow crops. As many as you can and as fast as you can. That way, you don't have to leave town every other day while still contributing to the survival of humanity as a whole. After all, you can't deny that farmers are an integral part of society."

His smile widened.

"Think of yourself as a, more efficient sort of farmer. One that can produce entire crop yields in an afternoon. Don't you think that this is a far better alternative to what we did yesterday? Especially when you take into account how many regular farmers are losing their entire harvests due to the growing magical density?"

This man. This old, mummy-like man, actually cried on command.

"I mean, just think of all the people out there that are going to go hungry tonight? Not just here in Canada or in other first-world countries, but also around the globe? Think of the millions of people in disadvantaged communities that can't afford the price of bread? Isn't it cruel for us to sit idly by while they starve? Isn't it morally reprehensible for us to do nothing while we could be alleviating, or even fixing the issue?"

Uncle Uter hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second, but he did consider the old man's words.

That's when I knew Mr. Robertson had him.

"That's all well and good, but I'm still not letting you go near my kids." Uncle Uter protested, though less fiercely than before.

"Please Uter. You're making me sound like some kind of villain. All while I stand here and literally advocate for a way to feed hundreds of millions of hungry people worldwide."

He stepped closer. Donning a thoroughly admonished expression.

"Besides, I thought this was what you wanted. Cecil gets an ordinary job where he doesn't have to fight or risk his person in any conceivable way and you get to distance yourself from our, other operations. He can grow potatoes, turnips and pumpkins on some days and heal people in the hospital on other days. Meanwhile, you can put all your organizational skills to work by distributing the products throughout the world. You get a new, more personally satisfying job that allows you to keep tabs on your nephew while making way more money than before. All with the added benefit of knowing he's perfectly safe and that you're doing making a completely positive impact on the world at large."

'Bullshit.'

The thought came suddenly and decisively. Almost by instinct.

Yet I knew in my heart of hearts that this feeling was right.

Mr. Robertson might not have been lying, but that didn't mean he was telling the truth. I might have only met the man yesterday, but I already knew enough to tell that much.

Oh, he meant the thing about feeding the hungry. It was a simple, obvious solution to one of the biggest problems his plans would face going forward after all. You can't give people magic cores if they're literally starving to death and you can't shape the masses into monster-fighting militias if they're too weak to move. Or dead.

Me having these powers advanced several of his agendas at once. Not only would he get to stabilize the world's economy before the coming monster apocalypse, he would also get to be the sole consistent supplier of foodstuffs for the next few years. Meaning a ludicrous amount of money would keep flowing into Dunstonberry and whatever other endeavors he might have. While he also made off like a bandit with a not insignificant amount of political leverage over less developed countries.

Even then, I knew that wasn't the whole picture. There was simply no way that the man I saw yesterday would give up on forming Dungeons beneath towns to give people cores. His eyes had glittered too much back then. His face had been too ecstatic.

I was about to call him out, when I saw the expression on my uncle's face. The sheer, overwhelming amount of relief that was evident there.

'Oh, you crafty old bastard.'

It was so simple I almost cried.

I could point it all out now. It really was up to me. However, I would then have to live with the fact that I condemned an uncountable number of people to having no cores. I would have to live my life knowing that millions died when they might have had the strength to live.

Or, I could keep my mouth shut and let my uncle believe what he wanted to believe. Knowing that he and the rest of my family would be kept safe and happy and, if anything, richer than most other people in the wider world. With all the luxuries they could ever want.

I shivered at the manipulative genius of this man. Wondering is he was an angel or a demon, even as I made my choice.