Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 225 - 30: The Sixth Recruitment

Chapter 225: Chapter 30: The Sixth Recruitment

In Roman’s view, Gwivelle currently has mastered four basic spells.

Leaving aside the names of those Dharma Seals.

Essentially, they are called Spiritual Interference, Energy Impact, Defensive Shield, Spiritual Meditation.

The power of Spiritual Interference depends on the enemy’s mental will; Roman felt controlled for a second or half a second anyway.

Energy Impact is like a ten-year-old child swinging a stick with all their might and hitting you.

The range of these two spells is about seven or eight meters in diameter.

The Defensive Shield can only be released close to the body, but cannot stop arrows and swords.

And Spiritual Meditation is a spell that acts on oneself, unsuitable for combat, that allows you to quickly enter a focused state.

Each spell requires about ten seconds of preparation time to cast and a longer time to adjust the breath.

Of course, this is the intensity of the spells that Gwivelle controls.

While Sanna’s spells are stronger.

Some basic spells that Gwivelle needs to master.

But for Sanna, they are truly basic.

Making Dharma Seals with both hands is just an auxiliary casting method.

Sanna doesn’t need to make seals; she can raise a Defensive Shield instinctively.

And Energy Impact and Spiritual Interference come easily to her.

As for Spiritual Meditation, she doesn’t grasp it as deeply as Gwivelle.

This is due to the different emphases in their talents.

Roman called Gwivelle over not just to inquire about her learning progress.

"How’s your mastery of the talent spells?"

Gwivelle showed a troubled expression.

"Not very well," she said softly; she had tried her best but was at her wit’s end.

"To what extent can you use them now?"

"I don’t know," Gwivelle said dejectedly.

Sanna’s talent spells are impressive.

Now she can leap two meters high, like a rabbit.

When running, she’s like a cheetah, with a velocity of twelve or thirteen meters per second.

With both hands, she can lift a two hundred-pound stone, which is twice Sanna’s weight, and not yet her limit.

Her sense of smell is like a dog’s, her hearing like a cat’s, her taste keen, her vision astounding, and her touch sensitive.

She’s practically a little superhuman.

But what does she have?

Gwivelle was disheartened, feeling crushed.

Roman didn’t think so; Sanna’s abilities aren’t much without assurance of victory against a First Rank Knight.

If you asked her if she’d win, she’d say yes.

Then get punched to death by a Conquest Knight.

The opponent weighs two hundred pounds while she barely weighs a hundred—a sure death if anyone.

"What are you pouting about?" Roman said, dissatisfied.

He lifted her chin and gave her a slap across the face with a smack.

"You have to be poised and graceful like a witch! How can you be so defeated by a little setback like a farm woman whose husband was taken by a mistress? You need to straighten up!"

Gwivelle stared at Roman for a while before suddenly bursting into laughter.

"I understand now." She touched her face, feeling the slight pain and inexplicably shameless guilt.

She liked this—talking to him, interacting with him—he wasn’t available every day, and each time she enjoyed it. She remembered the feelings of those interactions, savoring them at night, sometimes tingling.

"Now, tell me, how do you use your ability?"

"I grant the destiny of the future to all things, and destiny will determine the future of all things until it is fulfilled or fades."

"Who taught you to say that?"

"Grandpa Galin."

"Don’t talk like that old man; speak normally!"

"I can alter fate, but I don’t know if it will come true."

She cursed that Sanna would die of cold and hunger in the winter, her bones gnawed by beasts.

But the curse might not come true this year; it could be ten years later, twenty years later, or it might never activate until death.

Because the trigger conditions are somewhat harsh.

Sanna lives in the Origin Manor, well dressed in winter, and the beasts have mostly been killed, making accidents unlikely.

And it’s also related to the strength of the cursed target.

Roman, after knowing Sanna’s abilities, felt that even if he hadn’t arrived that night in time, Sanna was unlikely to die—humans can unleash strong survival capabilities in desperate situations.

What’s wrong with an awakened little witch strangling a wolf cub with bare hands?

In other words, Gwivelle cannot strike a definitive fate for all things, at best, she impacts them, like a sinister snake hiding in fate, biting when finding a chance, letting go if not.

But this still made Roman very satisfied.

After all, this is fate-level power.

When Gwivelle grows up, she will be able to do a lot.

So he liked her more and more.

"Gwivelle, wish me luck," Roman said with a smile.

Gwivelle chuckled.

"I wish you luck," she said.

"Not enough, keep saying it, I like to hear it."

"Wish you luck, wish you luck, wish you luck..." The more Gwivelle said, the more she wanted to laugh.

Somehow, she couldn’t help but feel happy, smiling from ear to ear.

She sincerely and earnestly uttered her blessings.

She extremely wanted to use her ability to help him; it might be insignificant, but she still repeated it over and over again, silently chanting it countless times in her heart.

"Great." Roman petted Gwivelle’s head.

"With my goddess of luck helping me this way, I have no reason not to draw a good card."

Gwivelle didn’t understand the latter half of Roman’s words but understood the phrase ’goddess of luck.’

She was overjoyed, and a little shy, abruptly leaning forward to kiss his forehead.

"This is the kiss of the goddess of luck; you will definitely succeed!" she whispered, feeling her cheeks tingling as she bit her lips and withdrew.

Roman chuckled silently.

Whether it’s useful or not.

Open the draw!

...

The Recruitment Pool swirled with chaos; the stars in the pool grew more numerous.

Now, there was a faint brilliance of a starry sky.

Every time Roman saw it, he was very satisfied.

But as soon as he thought that most of them were potential-less fools, he couldn’t help but sigh.

Hopefully, Gwivelle’s blessing would take effect.

...

After the recruitment ended.

Roman helplessly looked at two hundred newly added low-star Angels’ Envoys.

Three Three-Star level Angels’ Envoys, twenty-eight Two-Star level Angels’ Envoys, and the rest were all One Star.

His star count for 200 draws was only slightly more than last time’s 150 draws.

After all, Gwivelle and Sanna, two Five-Star levels, were worth ten One Stars.

This time the Angels’ Envoys were of such poor comprehensive quality.

Clearly, Gwivelle’s blessing didn’t take effect, or perhaps didn’t take effect yet.

Roman couldn’t do anything but accept reality.

The reality is that in this dreadful era, hardly any talents exist.

"If only I could seize a city," Roman thought.

Cities are a manifestation of humanity’s transformation of nature; the difficulty of sustaining a city is very high.

Only the lands of high-ranking Nobles can give rise to cities.

Roman’s Origin City is more like a mix of city and township than an actual city.

His residential areas are scattered among large fields.

Roman instructed them to work nearby to save time and energy, even if they weren’t spread out densely.