Bound To The Dead: The Deceptive Class-E Farmer-Chapter 83: The Beginning of a Myth

The battlefield was quiet.

No screams. No footsteps. No more fighting.

Only the soft buzzing of locusts filled the blood-stained air.

A single locust landed on the glassy eye of a fallen soldier, its wings twitching as it began to crawl toward the socket.

Over thirty thousand soldiers had stood here. Now, only corpses remained. Shattered weapons. Severed limbs. Torn banners. Not a single Rookheim soldier had escaped. The swarm had made sure of that.

Isaac stood at the center of the devastation. His posture was calm, almost relaxed. Around him, the swarm hovered in perfect formation, waiting for his next command.

A few steps away, General Lander remained barely conscious. Both of his arms had been severed. His face was pale, his breathing shallow. His blood had soaked into the dirt beneath him.

Isaac walked toward him slowly. Each step was deliberate, unhurried. A single locust flew low and began to circle Lander’s body.

Isaac crouched beside the broken general.

He tilted his head slightly and spoke, almost softly.

"Still breathing? That’s unexpected."

His tone was not one of concern, but of curiosity.

"Your condition is critical. You have lost too much blood. In a few minutes, your heart will stop."

Isaac paused, then offered a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"But I will spare you, for now. I need you to deliver a message to your king."

Despite his state, Lander responded with what strength he had left.

"Even if I die... I will never obey your orders... monster."

Isaac’s expression shifted slightly. The amusement faded.

He leaned closer.

"You misunderstand, General. I’m not giving you a choice."

"You will deliver the message, whether you want to or not."

A black locust descended from the sky and landed gently on Lander’s lips.

Lander’s eyes widened.

Isaac watched calmly, his tone almost kind.

"You’ll be my messenger, General."

"Whether you want to be or not."

Lander’s body spasmed. A faint pulse still flickered in his throat. Not life, just... function. A remnant, waiting.

The locust crawled into Lander’s mouth.

Lander jerked once, violently. His body convulsed. His jaw clenched.

Then... silence.

No more trembling.

No more pain.

His eyes lost focus.

Then, without warning, he began to move.

His head tilted upright in a jerky snap. His lips parted, but no breath followed. The body moved, not like a man, but like a thing remembering how to walk.

A few moments later, the reinforcements from Spawnhold arrived.

At the front of the group was General Marvik, riding ahead with urgency. Soldiers trailed behind, eyes wide as they took in the aftermath of the battle.

The once-pristine Icy Shield that protected Rookheim’s elites had already begun to melt. Steam rose from the bloodstained surface, revealing the wreckage hidden beneath.

Corpses lay everywhere. Thirty thousand soldiers, now reduced to lifeless husks.

Then, Marvik and the commanders stare in shock as the corpses of Rookheim Class-S elites Silveth, Grommon, and Katros lie scattered and dismembered.

Marvik’s horse slowed to a halt. His face went pale.

"Those three alone could have held a fortress," one commander whispered.

And then they saw Lander.

His body was tied upright on a horse. Pale. Hollow-eyed. Bloodless. Seems dead, but still unnaturally intact.

Isaac had placed him there.

After tapping the horse to send it forward, Isaac stepped away, walking back toward the center of the battlefield.

He stood alone. The locusts hovered in the air around him, buzzing softly. Waiting.

Marvik and the others watched, too stunned to speak.

Isaac stood still, watching the swarm buzz around him in a slow, patient circle. They had waited long enough.

He smirked, understanding what they wanted.

This was the command they loved the most.

And so, he gave it.

"Swarm devour."

The locusts reacted instantly.

They surged forward in waves, covering every corpse. In less than a minute, there was nothing left. No flesh. No bones. Only stains of blood darkening the earth.

Gasps echoed among the soldiers. This was the very first time they had seen something like that.

Even the commanders who once ridiculed Isaac for being "just a Class-E farmer" fell silent and now exchanged worried glances.

Some were afraid. While most admired him, feeling grateful and seeing him as their last hope, they still felt safer under his protection..

Isaac turned to face them. Blood mist coated his boots, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He looked at Marvik and the commanders.

"That’s how I harvest."

Then he walked away.

No one stopped him. No one spoke.

They simply watched his back as the locusts began to fade.

’What are you?’ Curiosity surged through Denise’s mind.

Behind them, the ground was littered with armor fragments, broken spears, and discarded weapons. Siege engines, once symbols of power, now stood abandoned.

The soldiers of Spawnhold began to move, gathering what they could. Resources. Tools. Reminders of the enemy Isaac had just destroyed.

Then a sudden sound erupted from the soldiers.

"FOR KING RODY!"

A soldier raised his weapon high.

Others followed.

"FOR KING RODY!"

"SPAWNHOLD PREVAILS!"

The battlefield echoed with shouts of victory. Cries of relief. Cheers born from fear, shock, and awe. No one had expected to survive. And yet, they stood there alive because of one man.

While walking toward the palace, a surge of glowing text swept across Isaac’s vision.

[Swarm Devour Effect... 100% Absorption.]

[Swarm Authority +10%]

[Swarm Authority Level: 81%]

[Skill Progression: Swarm Authority has reached Advanced Level.]

[Reaper’s Boomerang: 100% Mastery]

[Reaper’s Spiral: 100% Mastery]

[Abyssal Smash: 78% Mastery]

[Abyssal Overdrive: Cooldown Initiated: 00:30:00]

[Corruption Level: 35%]

He didn’t stop to read it all.

He had seen enough.

Isaac kept walking, his boots brushing through dirt and dust.

The celebration behind him grew louder, but something shifted in the air. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

A beat of silence passed between the soldiers.

All eyes turned to the lone figure walking away from the blood-soaked field, the man who commanded the swarm. The one who ended thirty thousand lives alone.

But...

They didn’t even know his name.

Whispers began to ripple through the crowd.

"...Who is he?"

No one answered at first.

Then Elder Peter stepped forward, his voice low but firm as he looked to General Marvik and the commanders.

"He’s a farmer," he said with quiet pride.

A soldier let out a short, disbelieving laugh, half awe, half madness.

"A farmer...?"

And then, from the front lines, a voice rose, uncertain, but strong.

"FOR THE FARMER!"

For a second, no one joined in.

Then another.

"FOR THE FARMER!"

Then the whole field shook with the chant.

"FOR THE FARMER! FOR THE FARMER!"

The chant echoed across the battlefield,

Isaac stopped, just for a second.

His back still to them. His expression unreadable.

Then he moved on, steps steady as ever.

The name didn’t matter.

But the message was clear.

He wasn’t a hero.

He was something far more dangerous.

He was a warning.

As the sun rose, a myth began.