ATP 15

Chapter 15

Clatter, clatter…

It seemed that the ruthless farm owner had officially arrived as the new master of the dungeon.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s hurry up, alright?”

Clatter!

Even though he spoke like any ordinary person, an intense, chilling aura radiated from him. Somehow, he felt even scarier than Ardiman, the wicked demon.

The terror ingrained deep in the bones of the skeletal laborers stirred their submissive, slave-like instincts. The skeleton soldiers—no, the skeletal serfs—began moving diligently.

The labor was just as grueling as before.

After reclaiming the wasteland from the eastern to the western horizon, they had to dig a massive well in search of an underground water source.

Endless shoveling and pickaxe work threatened to shatter their backs.

“Prince, please don’t overdo it! We can handle this!”

“No, I’m fine…”

“Hey. No slacking—work properly.”

With just a single sharp word, the skeletal serfs jumped as if whipped.

The cruel farm owner murmured casually while mixing soil for seedlings:

“How many adventurers have you killed? Work diligently as penance for your sins.”

Skeletal Serf #1004 gripped his pickaxe.

It was true. Though they had no choice but to serve Ardiman’s followers, it was undeniable that their white hands were stained with the blood of adventurers.

Truly, rest without atonement is a luxury.

His pickaxe struck the well efficiently. Inspired by #1004’s example, his companions and the other three surviving skeletons labored with equal fervor.

After a long while, the well was complete.

“Good work. Now, dig seven more spots—graves need to be made.”

Graves?

Curious, they glanced around, wondering if there were corpses to bury, but the farm owner said casually:

“You rest inside the graves, don’t you? Since there are seven of you, you need seven graves.”

Really…?

The skeletal serfs rejoiced. Until now, overcrowding forced five of them to share a single grave for rest, but now the ruthless farm owner promised them a comfortable living space!

When a tyrant shows even a tiny bit of generosity, it tends to make them look more benevolent.

As the skeletons clattered their bones in excitement, the owner added:

“If you keep working diligently, I’ll even set up headstones and sometimes bring flowers. You were human once, weren’t you?”

…!

For a moment, the skeletal serfs forgot to clatter.

Headstones with their names—this was the only wish they held after becoming undead.

#1004’s bony hand traced his skull. Somehow, it felt like tears were streaming from his hollow eye sockets.

Three weeks passed.

During that time, the gods of the Possession Management Bureau rarely appeared. They had mentioned a system update soon, so they seemed busy.

It had been a month and a half since my possession, and I was still faithfully following the tutorial, grinding experience points every day.

In line with my plan to develop both abilities and wealth, I had been focusing intensively on alchemy.

I had reached Level 7 in alchemy, unlocking the passive skill Alchemy Effectiveness Boost Lv.4.

When my father tested the healing potion I made, he was visibly shocked.

“This… this is exactly the same as the potion I made when I was ten!”

I was surprised too.

Even though I had the system’s help and a blessing for rapid growth, my father had achieved his results purely with talent.

After all, he had come from the Golden Ivory Tower, a school gathering only genius alchemists.

Judging by his current skills, I guessed his level would easily exceed 20.

Drip!

A single drop of water fell into the flask containing my potion.

Turning around, I saw my father’s eyes glistening with tears.

“Dad? Why are you crying all of a sudden?”

Was my potion really that moving?

…Apparently not.

“I’m sorry, Ai. To fully develop your talent, you should go to the Golden Ivory Tower… but I…”

Ah. My father carried a sad past.

He had once been a promising student at the Golden Ivory Tower, but he was unjustly expelled after falling out of favor with a senior alchemist.

That senior had also been his mentor, but from the start, their master-disciple relationship was a cursed one.

The senior had taken him as a disciple only to exploit his talent for research. A classic flaw of the long-standing apprentice system.

Eventually, another senior who had long considered the corrupt mentor a rival discovered his crimes.

But the outcome was far from satisfying.

The cunning mentor pinned a grave accusation on my father, permanently expelling him from the tower.

A powerless commoner alchemist like my father was a convenient scapegoat to cover the truth.

Hmph, good and innocent people always seem to get the short end of the stick.

In my field, the incompetent were often skilled at politics—just like that shameless mentor.

As long as he held his influence, our family’s access to the Golden Ivory Tower was effectively blocked.

“Because of me… I’m sorry, Ai.”

Wracked with guilt over being a roadblock to my future, my father sobbed even more. I placed my small hand over his large one.

“It’s okay, Dad. Just learning from you is enough for me.”

With the system’s help, I didn’t need to go deep into alchemy yet.

“So don’t be upset. I wasn’t interested in places like the Golden Ivory Tower anyway. Why would I go there when I’d have to be separated from you and brother?”

“Ai…!”

My father burst into tears and pulled me into a hug.

I squirmed a little, feeling awkward, but he calmed down.

“I’ll teach you all the alchemy I can, as much as I can.”

“Thank you! Shall we start the lesson then?”

“Yes. You’re diligent, so let’s keep going. At this rate, you’ll soon reach the level of creating your own recipes.”

“Okay!”

At the time, I had no idea this ability would synergize with other fields I was learning. I just intended to make effective potions to sell for money.

After the alchemy lesson, I decided to inspect the farmed dungeon with Bianca.

Dungeon time often passed faster than real-world time.

In the dungeons I had cleared, the ratio of real-world to dungeon time was 1:3.

So after three weeks of reclaiming fields and planting seedlings, nine weeks had passed inside the dungeon.

With two months gone by, the dungeon farm had changed significantly.

“It’s prettier than last time,” Bianca said.

She was right.

The wide fields were neatly plowed, and the herbs were lush and vibrant.

A small stream from the reservoir meandered nearby, and a simple but well-made pergola and bench sat to the side.

The seven graves were raised and neatly mounded, surrounded by carefully arranged stones whose origin was unknown—crafted entirely by the skeletons.

The skeletons seemed quite attached to the farmed dungeon.

They diligently tended the herbs, and whenever new leaves or flowers appeared, they would gather nearby, clattering their jaws in delight.

They even tended to landscaping, especially around the graves. Planting flowers and carving stones, the skeletons looked satisfied with their handiwork.

“Hey guys, I’m here.”

Clatter!

The skeletons froze, then lined up, greeting me and Bianca with vigorous bone-clattering.

Thanks to the passive effect “Infamy Resonates in the Undead World”, they were well-disciplined.

“Your teeth are going to fall out. Stop that,” I scolded.

Clatter!

Bianca and I sat under the worn wooden pergola.

One skeleton, with the roundest and prettiest skull, brought us tea brewed from herb leaves.

It watched Bianca intently as she gracefully sipped from her cup.

When she glanced at it, its jaw moved slightly.

Clatter…?

“Is it good?”

Clatter.

“Yes. Excellent.”

For some reason, Bianca communicated effortlessly with the skeletons.