I stood there. Mouth agape and eyes wide open.

Watching the 450 or so starving people throwing themselves at the line of drones in huge, human waves. Hands and feet scrambling for purchase as they tore and bit and clawed their way closer and closer to the entrance that led down to the tunnels.

Their ferocity such a wonder to behold that I could not tell which side was supposed to be comprised of humans and which one contained monsters.

One side was rushing at the other with blind fanaticism and the other...

Were my monsters. Standing there with vacant expressions as I'd commanded. Not caring that their eyeballs were being clawed out with bare hands.

They... the humans that is, were not making much in the way of progress. Worse, I could see trails and stains of crimson red from where arms had been broken and fingernails had come off. Those behind the front lines pushing and shoving their way forward with wild abandon.

"Stop!" I yelled. "Stop it! All of you back off!"

They stopped to look at me, but not in way that showed their understanding. Instead, they looked at me as if I were some little green man descended from outer space. With red lipstick on my face, a little hover-scooter beneath my feet and a ray-gun in my hand.

I approached regardless. Waving my arms to steer them away and healing anyone I came across.

That seemed to get through to them. Their own eyes widening in response to wounds closing by themselves at my touch.

Then, in the span of single blink, the tide turned. Half of them swarmed me. Clasping their hands around my form and pleading on togues I could not understand.

I sucked in a breath at that. Digging my heels to the ground so as to brace myself.

The motion bought me a second or two of breathing room, before the sheer weight of numbers made itself known.

I was being pushed back and the people clinging to me were being pressed into pancakes the more I tried to remain upright.

My mind whirled with motion as I came up with a plan. My feet transforming into thick deep roots and delving into the rocky, infertile soil with a vengeance. All while my legs and back hardened into bark. From there, I spread them between the lines of people. Tangling them and protecting the heads and torsos of those who had tripped.

The crowd pushed again. Harder and harder. But they could not move me anymore.

I planned to wait until they'd calmed down, but the ones in the back were still pushing forward. Still crushing the ones sticking to me. The stick-thin girl among their number.

I cursed inwardly and marshalled my magic reserves for one large spell.

In the span of a single breath, the earth itself had opened up beneath them. More of my roots erupting from the ground in a wide area and wrapping themselves around heels and ankles before snaking up legs and pulling their captured targets upwards.

I looked up at them and heaved a sigh. Watching as they kept wailing.

Wondering just how everything had gone so wrong, so quickly.

"Well, what did you expect?" Mr. Robertson said, coming out from nowhere. "You show a few hundred starving people food growing out of nowhere. Food that, by the way, tastes much better than anything else they've eaten in their lives. And then you tell them that this food, and by extension their place in this new field, is contingent on them beating up your monsters. Of course they're going to be enthusiastic."

"But I didn't tell them anything! You did! I can't even speak Korean!"

"Cecil, Cecil... there's no need to throw blame around." Mr. Robertson said. Looking at me with eyes full of gentleness and condescension.

"Let's just agree that we are both at fault and forget about this little incident."

I was so flabbergasted by the blatant lies that I missed my chance to speak.

In that timeframe, he had begun speaking to the crowd once more. Pointing towards the now empty field and gesturing wildly in its general direction.

Then he started speaking in a manner that suggested he was asking questions. Until the girl in the crowd started speaking back.

"Right Cecil. Let these people down and refill the fields with crops. A lot more this time. Most of the people here will be busy harvesting while groups of six take turns going down into the Dungeon."

"Why? My drones can do all the manual labor. Wouldn't it be better to get them used to fighting monsters?"

He looked me dead in the eye.

"Do you think they're in any condition to learn how to fight? Wouldn't it be better, kinder even, to allow them to fill their bellies and build up some proper muscle before trying to teach them anything else? Think back to all the progress you made with Russell before going back down into the Dungeon. Then think about how much you gained from working in your own farm. Doesn't that seem smarter?"

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"Then why do the false Dungeon at all?"

"Because they need a minimum of basic training and they need to get used to overcoming their fears Cecil." Mr. Robertson explained, as if I were a dullard. "I mean, just think about how you reacted when you first found the Rippers."

"I just saw then tearing drones apart with their teeth!"

"Which tells us the whole courage thing was a non-issue. I guess I underestimated their desperation. That is good. It means they're more open to new ideas. Now we know. And knowing is half the battle."

He waged his forefinger at me in a condescending manner.

"So, we'll be sending small groups to get some practice. With weapons this time. I would provide them but I think you could do a better job of growing spear-shaped plants. Even if you can't, I want to see you explore that aspect of your magic. I think you could do it very well if you apply yourself. The rest will stay up here and help your drones with farm work. We'll be needing a few hundred trucks by the end of the week so you and your new charges had better start doing some harvesting! Also, you will need a way to talk to the people here while I'm away. Recall the movie trafficker? She will be your translator from now on. She doesn't speak much English but I suspect it will be enough."

I willed the roots to let them down and detached most of the growths from my legs.

"Okay. That works for me. What's her name?"

"Shortround." Mr. Robertson answered at once.

"Haha." I bit back. My mood souring further. "What's her real name?"

"I told you, Shortround."

"I'm serious Mr. Robertson."

"So am I. Here, I'll get her to tell you."

He began speaking in Korean again. Addressing the girl while the newly-released people got their bearings.

Then the girl turned to me and addressed me in English so broken it sounded like a whole other language.

"Hello. Me name is Shortround. I speak English good. I speak Korean good. Please give me food. Please don't throw away. Me very useful Mr. Conan."

"You made her say that!"

But Mr. Robertson was gone. Taken away by Casper in a rush of displaced air.

----------------------------------------

The next few hours were far calmer by comparison.

I grew more and more food and watched as the people in front of me picked it up. Their limbs a blur as they swung sickles of sharpened plant matter at the fruit trees I'd grown.

They were eating one fruit out of every five. But even with their consumption, the trucks were being filled at an astonishing rate as the drones I had on the surface also chipped in.

Curiously, I noted that a few of them were eating more than the others. A lot more in fact. Yet they didn't seem satisfied or bloated in any way. Which was rather strange when I thought back to my old standards of normality. The old Cecil would have been more or less full after eating two apples. Though I had known some chubbier kids who could down much more than that in one sitting.

These people had gone far above even those extreme examples however. All without going to the washroom once.

None of their previous lethargy was visible now. Almost as if they had all been possessed at once by some malevolent spirit.

On closer inspection, their limbs were somehow fuller as well. Despite them having been starved to the point of near-death prior to meeting me.

'What happened to them in that short time? Is it the effect of the food I grow? Some kind of steroid-like deal?'

I hoped that wasn't the case, but in all honesty it wouldn't have surprised me that much.

Still, I was happy that they were getting something out of this. It meant that I really was making some sort of difference. While also growing more crops to feed more people and....

I froze in place. A bolt of lightning running up my spine as nervous sweat gathered on my brow. My eyes almost popping out of my skull as I inhaled a sharp breath and bit my lips.

'Wait.'

'Wait just a fucking minute.'

'Crops? Haggard people? Third-world country? No regulation? Cheap produce? Suspicious unmarked trucks? No records? No pay? Exporting to other places?'

'Am I a human trafficker!!!??'

It sounded ridiculous, but the more I thought about it, the more the idea got stuck in my head.

Images of documentaries about little children stuck in factories flashed before my eyes. Faint recollections of toddlers making hundred-dollar shoes refusing to leave my cranium as I started hyperventilating.

'No.' I told myself. 'This is different. I came here to help these people! I... I... I fed them! I built a Dungeon for them to get stronger! I gave them food and work and I even grew them little houses out of my plants so they could rest between shifts and.... Oh sweet merciful Buddha! This is a plantation!'

Once that thought entered my brain I just couldn't get it out. It kept buzzing around the inside of my skull like an annoying fly. Bolting out of the way whenever I tried to swat it away.

"Master Conan?" Shortround spoke from the side. "First group come back. Many hurt."

I turned my whole body towards the voice. Almost jumping off my heels as the particular word choice sent alarm bells ringing in my head.

"Mister Conan. Not master."

"Yes master Conan."

"No dammit! Not master Conan! Mister! MISTER!"

I stopped as soon as I saw Shortround and the rest of them. All cowering back with enlarged eyes.

I blinked at them. Stopping to take a few steadying breaths.

"Sorry." I continued. "Let me see them."

My eyes then swept over the group. Noting how many of the returning fighters had lacerations all over their bodies. Narrow streaks of red where the skin had been forced to part. All gathered around their arms and legs.

"What the...?"

I ran to them and began my healing. Closing the gaps and easing their pain.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Flower goblin." Shortround answered. "Ran. Arms waving. Arms hurt."

I blinked again.

'The roses? They were just supposed to be easy mobs.'

"Show me." I said. "Gather the second group. We'll go down together."

Shortround nodded and spoke to the rest of the group. Signaling with her fingers at another four people coming off a nap after farm work.

I saw them and once more noted how their frames were slightly fuller now. Slightly more human and less skeletal in appearance.

Then I paid a little bit more attention to Shortround. Noting with some horror that she was now slightly taller. Slightly more full in the arms and legs and torso.

'What's going on? It's been a couple hours at most.'

Maybe this was normal?

I don't know. Maybe this was the normal reaction to finally getting food after starving for a long time. Maybe humans were just built to bounce right back from near death like this.

Come to think of it, these people got right down to working and most of them haven't had a break yet.

It wasn't like that for me. I had to take several breaks when I started training with coach Russell. At least for the first few days while I built up my stamina through running up and down the hills and woods.

'No. This isn't normal. There is something wrong here. But what? My healing? Their exposure to a lot of magic before they started training? The food itself? Coach Russell and Mr. Robertson did mention that there was something weird about the produce I was growing. Is this going to be okay for them or is it going to have negative side effects?'

I shook my head.

Banishing those thoughts for later and heading down into my own Dungeon.