Infinite Farmer: A Plants vs Dungeon

This might be it, Tulland. You have every advantage.

I’ll need them. I still might die, right?

You are fooling with terrors beyond your faintest understanding. Inexpertly wobbling the foundations on which the universe itself sits.

So yes.

Yes. But likely the worst you’d do is level this village. Necia knows enough to have noticed your worry and cleared it out. If everything goes to plan, even that will be wasted caution. You’ve done your prep work, Tulland. You have the best chance you can have.

Tulland nodded, then started digging through his bag. He had a lot of potions stacked up, the product of weeks and weeks of hunting.

The list went on and on. Once Tulland drank every potion in front of him, he’d be buffed in dozens of ways, most of them having to do with either his ability to use his own skills, his use of his own magic, or his fine control of various processes having to do with his body and brain.

Won’t I hit some kind of limit?

No. Not much of one, anyway. System-provided potions are generally without the kinds of limits class skills provide. The Aghli System might be forced to make some hard calls as you get into the later potions, but I can guarantee you it won’t be looking for opportunities to do so. Too much is at stake.

But later potions might not work?

Essentially, yes.

Then sorting makes sense.

Tulland leafed through the pile, moving any potion that was not quite perfect for his needs to the back. He’d still drink them, of course, but he hoped that drinking the less-good enhancers last meant that they would be the ones cut out of the big pile of buffs rather than something he really needed.

With that last little bit of everything completed, Tulland got to work drinking them. Each bottle was a little different, but his enhanced strength and body control meant he was able to uncork or unlid each bottle quickly, downing the contents of one vial after another as he worked through the pile.

The taste of some of the potions wasn’t that bad, but even the better ones were quickly rendered gross by the worse-tasting potions that came afterwards. Tulland’s mouth started to coat with a muddy, toxic tasting afterimage of every potion that had come before, to the extent that he eventually started to feel as if he had spent the morning chewing on tar.

I’m going to throw up.

You wouldn’t dare. Too much effort has gone into you gathering those potions. You have physical stats. Use them. Keep it down.

I can’t imagine a normal person could.

Very few normal people would ever have the opportunity to. You’ve already drunk the value of a large castle in potions. That cost is only going up as you continue.

Each potion triggered a different sensation as it clicked into action inside of him. Some made him feel sharper, while others made him feel more awake and aware of his surroundings. After several minutes, he could feel his mind turning much faster than he had thought possible, tackling down stray thoughts and turning into understanding at a lightning pace.

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Then, all of the sudden, his soul began to burn.

Something is happening.

I know. I can see the energy moving to one spot. Don’t resist it.

It hurts.

It would. Still, it looks ordered. Whatever is happening is going to some sort of pre-planned pattern. It should be a benefit.

Or I’ll catch on fire.

Yes. Or that.

Tulland didn’t catch on fire, at least not right away. The flow of energy from the potions continued to gather in the very center of his being, growing hotter and more painful until it finally burst apart inside him, spreading the energy everywhere.

Oh. That feels much better.

It looks much better. The energy in you is much smoother now. More uniform.

What does that mean in a practical sense?

I’d imagine this notification will tell you.

“Oh. I’d better hurry.” Tulland reached for the splicer and felt his hand moving through the space between him and it with the utmost accuracy, as if guided by some unseen god. “This buff is insane.”

Yes. It would be. What are you going to do with it?

I’m going to make something crazy. I don’t think the base matters as much as it did with the grass, right?

Correct. If you are influencing the energy of the cosmos itself, the raw materials will still matter but not nearly so much. Quality of material will likely be more important than the materials themselves.

Tulland’s first material was a bit of Darkwood seed put in all three chambers, followed by Silver Sun in one and Rebel Grass in the other. Then, almost as an afterthought, he put a bit of Bush of Value in the last. He guessed that the bush was not literally as high quality as it represented itself to be, but it did tricky system things, and the inclusion of some probably wouldn’t hurt what he was trying to do here.

Charging up each and every material with Primal Growth before closing the splicer was easy. With his newfound control over absolutely everything, getting them absolutely brimming with energy but not stepping over the line into instant incineration was a breeze.

Close it and get ready.

Tulland snapped the lid shut and waited a few seconds after it was clearly sealed to start poking around at the surface of the canister with his skills. They bounced off uselessly. Last time he had found the gap in the impenetrable surface so easily it threw him for a loop here, as if it had tightened up its defenses significantly since his last attempt.

He kept trying, absolutely aware of the passage of time due to his massive increases in mental stats and various aspects of life they influenced. Minute after minute burned until there was hardly any time left.

Two minutes. We aren’t going to make it.

You’ve been trying hard?

“Of course I have!”

Then try softer. Remember, you are stronger now.

It was worth a shot. Tulland took a deep breath, tried to calm himself, and sent out a much weaker, more probing pulse of Primal Growth. It cut through the resistance of the splicer like lava through a block of ice.

I’m in.

Tulland had a much better view of what was going on inside the can this time, plus the mental faculties to kind-of-sort-of understand it. Now that he was looking at it with an Angelic Rite in place, it felt familiar. It was as if he had seen it thousands of times before, which he supposed was probably true enough to just be taken at face value. This was in every living thing, supposedly, and especially plants. It was an old friend, even if he had never noticed it before.

What do I do with this, System? It really does feel dangerous to touch.

It is. And nobody can guide you on this. Not even me. Maybe not even The Infinite. I’d say just reach out and touch it at first. See what it does.

Tulland did, finding it strangely accepting of his magic. Even without trying to give it anything, it started pulling power from him, finding him a nearly infinite well of magic to be drawn from due to his potion boost. He let it take what it wanted, assuming that would be a lot less likely to destroy everything than forcibly injecting it in.

Intent! Tulland, remember none of this matters unless you get what you want from it. Another very strong vine isn’t going to do it this time.

Tulland grit his teeth and started to figure that part of things out. He wanted something that could fight the blight, something that could take back what it had taken from the world. Something that could help the people return to normal lives.

Normally, he’d think those words at it, over and over. This time, the energy he sent at the chaos began to buck the moment he put any intent in it at all. He managed to will it still, maintaining some of the smoothness that the energy flow had when the chaos itself was controlling it. That left no mental resources for anything but thinking about the feelings he had about what he was requesting at it, a general impression of fight the blight and make everything good somehow that he hoped the chaos could understand.

Fifteen seconds, Tulland. There’s fifteen seconds left.

Tulland heard the System talking, but barely. He could feel something was still missing from the mix here, something that would cause everything to fail if he didn’t somehow find a way to fill the need. But something had just popped up in his vision of the chaos energy, something so plant-like and living that one of his skills responded to it. His Farmer’s Intuition looked into that dark corner of the chaos and found something so botanical in it that it was able to interpret what was going on into a language Tulland could understand.

But what do you want?

It wasn’t words, it wasn’t the System’s thought-talking. It was a primitive, almost child-like question from an energy that existed to be molded. It wasn’t asking about what goal he thought he should achieve. It was asking about what he, Tulland, wanted. What he needed in his life that he didn’t have that the energy might give. And it made it clear that no matter how much power he fed it, the chaos energy would not be doing much unless it understood that need clearly.

I want a home. Tulland barely got the words out in language, but there was so much feeling in it, he was almost embarrassed. A place for me and Necia.