Chapter 153: The Tyranny of the Radish
The field was silent, save for the mournful whisper of the wind and the steady thump... thump... thump... as Old Man Hemlock calmly pulled another giant radish from the stubborn soil.
Daniel stood alone in a vast sea of green, the Strength-Sealing Manacles on his wrists feeling heavier than ever.
He stared at his wicker basket, holding only a single, pitiful radish, evidence of five minutes of painful, wasted effort.
"This is a joke," he muttered, his voice a low whisper.
His mind, once used to assessing S-grade threats and apocalyptic energy levels, was now entirely focused on the chaos of harvesting vegetables.
"I’ve faced down a god-ape and a dimension-swallowing fish.
My familiar, Nyx, is a two-headed pseudo-dragon who eats SS-grade monsters for breakfast. And I... I am being defeated by a root vegetable."
He took a deep, unsteady breath, but the cool air of the Eastern Medicine Garden did little to calm his nerves or soothe his wounded pride.
The memory of his power, his S-Grade [Twilight Phantom Step] that could outrun sound, his [Solar Flare Fist Art] that could vaporize adamantium, felt like a distant, almost mythical dream.
Here, his only tool was his own, un-enhanced, embarrassingly mortal body.
"Right," he grunted, steeling his resolve. "The rhythm of the radish. Whatever the hell that means."