Chapter 1 – A Field of Second Chances
The air reeked of tear gas and blood.
Ikenna barely managed to shield his nose with his shirt before another round of rubber bullets rained down on the students. They'd gathered peacefully, demanding better lab equipment, but it had spiraled into chaos the moment riot police arrived.
He stumbled back, coughing, his vision blurred. The last thing he saw was a metal baton swinging at his head—and then, silence.
Complete, heavy silence.
---
When he opened his eyes, he expected the sterile lights of a hospital. Instead, he was greeted by blinding sunlight and the soft rustle of leaves swaying in the breeze.
He lay on what felt like warm grass. Birds chirped in the distance, and there was a faint earthy scent in the air—fresh soil after a rain.
Ikenna sat up slowly, groaning. His clothes had changed. No more jeans and staff I.D. badge. Instead, he wore a coarse linen tunic and trousers, with a fraying brown cloak slung over his shoulders.
"What in the…" he murmured, looking around.
He was in a wide, open valley. Towering hills surrounded it like guardians. In front of him stretched barren farmland, cracked and dry, with only a few patches of green clinging to life.
As he tried to stand, something shimmered above his right hand. A pale green holographic window floated in the air:
> [Congratulations, Host!]
You have been selected by the Ancient Farming Scroll!
Welcome to Terra Vitae.
Class: Scholar-Farmer
System Binding: 43%… 87%… Binding Complete.
Ikenna gawked. "Excuse me—what?!"
Another window popped up with an audible ding:
> Quest Activated: Rejuvenate the Withered Fields (0/1)
Plow, plant, and revive your first spirit plot.
Reward: Basic Hoe (Spiritual Grade F), 1 Seed Pack, 5 EXP
"This has to be a dream," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "I'm either hallucinating, dead, or in a really elaborate prank show."
But deep down, he already knew. This was real.
His hands still ached. His head was still sore. And the scroll—he noticed now—was clutched tightly in his hand. It pulsed faintly with green runes, alive somehow.
---
A few hours later, after trial, error, and some mild screaming, Ikenna had successfully plowed a small patch of land using the spiritual hoe the system had deposited into his inventory. It had appeared in a flash of light—too anime-like for his taste.
The system had guided him step-by-step. "Maintain proper furrow depth," it instructed in a mechanical female voice. "Angle hoe thirty degrees left for maximum spirit-soil contact."
"Who programmed this thing?" he grumbled but obeyed.
Sweat trickled down his face. Farming was backbreaking, and yet... there was a strange peace in the work. Something about sinking his hands into the earth felt grounding. Familiar, even.
Once done, he opened the seed pack and found tiny glowing grains—marked "Spirit Rice (Grade F)." They shimmered faintly in his palm, warm to the touch.
He planted them, tamped the soil, and waited.
The moment the last seed entered the earth, the ground glowed. A wave of golden light swept across the patch, and a tiny sprout poked out—then another, and another, until the once-dead soil now buzzed with life.
> Quest Complete!
+5 EXP
+New Skill Unlocked: "Photosynthetic Boost (Passive)"
+Title Gained: Beginner Planter
Ikenna slumped back, panting. "This is insane."
But then, laughter bubbled up in his chest.
He was dead… right? Back home, in that world, his body was likely lying in a morgue. But here? Here, he was alive. Dirty. Sweaty. But alive.
A sharp bray startled him.
He turned to see a donkey—scruffy, big-eyed, and chewing lazily on a bunch of weeds.
"Where did you come from?"
The donkey blinked at him. Then, another system window opened:
> You have tamed [Mule: Professor].
Bond Level: 1 (Unimpressed)
"Professor?" Ikenna asked, raising a brow. "Seriously?"
The mule ignored him.
---
That night, he made camp beneath a tree, eating roasted wild tubers he'd dug up. The system assured him they were edible. Professor snored nearby, tied loosely to a stump.
The stars overhead were foreign, unfamiliar constellations lighting up a sky untouched by pollution. Insects chirped. The wind carried distant howls and the soft whisper of magic.
For the first time in a long while, Ikenna felt… quiet.
Not happy. Not yet. But settled.
He took out the scroll, now hovering slightly above his palm. Lines of text appeared across its surface:
> "To till the land is to touch the soul of the world.
From seed to fruit, from earth to sky—let wisdom guide your plow."
Ikenna smiled faintly. He was no warrior. No mage. But he had knowledge. And now, he had the soil.
"So be it," he whispered to the wind. "If this is my second chance… then I'll farm my way through it."