The sky split open like overripe fruit, spilling crimson thunder across the horizon. Elowen Starbloom stood in the middle of what used to be her family's potato field, boots sinking into mud that smelled of iron and ozone. Ten years ago the Divine Cataclysm had turned the world inside out, and today it decided to remind everyone who was still boss.
She was twenty-two, dirt under her nails, silver hair whipping around her face like a storm of moonlight. The villagers called her "the orphan who wouldn't die." She called them idiots behind their backs. Today nobody was laughing.
A colossal pillar of light punched down from the fractured clouds, slamming into the center of the village square half a mile away. Screams rose like startled birds. Then came the notifications, blue screens blooming in the air before every single person like cruel party invitations nobody asked for.
[Global Awakening Event Initiated]
[Survivors of the Cataclysm, receive your destiny!]
[Choose wisely. Or don't. The universe doesn't particularly care.]
Elowen watched as the screens hovered before her neighbors. Old Mara got [Flame Weaver]. The butcher's son, that smug prick Torren, grinned like he'd won the lottery when [Iron Colossus] appeared. Even little Jessa, barely thirteen, received [Whisper of Winds]. Everyone got something flashy, something that screamed power.
Everyone except her.
The light touched Elowen's chest. Warmth spread through her ribs, then turned cold, almost mocking. The screen flickered into existence, smaller than the others, edges frayed like torn paper.
[Farming System – Tier: Trash]
[Core Function: Cultivate. Plant. Harvest.]
[Welcome, Host Elowen Starbloom. Your destiny is dirt.]
She stared. Blinked. Then barked out a laugh that startled a nearby chicken into flight.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
The screen didn't respond. It simply floated there, smug in its mediocrity. No legendary sword. No dragon companion. No god-slaying flame. Just... farming. In a world where people were turning into walking natural disasters, her system wanted her to grow carrots.
Around her, the village erupted in chaos and celebration. Torren flexed, muscles bulging unnaturally as stone-like armor rippled across his skin. Mara conjured a spiral of fire that lit the muddy street like a festival lantern. Cheers mixed with the crackle of awakening powers.
Elowen? She just stood there, arms crossed, silver hair plastered to her neck from the sudden rain that always followed these events.
Inside her head, something giggled. A tiny green sprout popped into existence above her shoulder, no bigger than her thumb, with two beady leaf-eyes and a mischievous curl to its stem.
"Host detected! Trash-tier confirmed!" the sprout chirped, voice bright and annoyingly cheerful. "I'm Sprout Quill, your loyal farming assistant! Ready to till some soil and die gloriously of boredom?"
Elowen swatted at it. Her hand passed straight through.
"You're a hallucination. I'm hallucinating. That's the only explanation."
"Nope! One hundred percent real, zero percent useful!" Sprout spun in a gleeful circle. "Look on the bright side! You'll never starve... unless the monsters eat all your potatoes. Which they will. Probably tonight."
She pinched the bridge of her nose. Memories flickered behind her eyes, sharp and unwanted. Another life. Another world. A girl who had survived the first Cataclysm only to be betrayed, broken, and left for dead by people she once trusted. Then darkness. Then this second chance.
And this was the reward? A joke system and a talking weed?
"Fine," she muttered, voice low enough that only Sprout could hear. "If the universe wants to hand me dirt, I'll make the dirt remember my name."
The sprout froze mid-twirl. For the first time, its tiny leaf-eyes widened.
"Host... are you being serious right now?"
Elowen didn't answer. Instead she turned toward the edge of the field where her family's old shed leaned like a drunk against the wind. Inside waited a sack of radish seeds she'd saved from last harvest, wrinkled and half-forgotten.
She grabbed the sack, ripped it open with her teeth, and dumped the contents into her palm. The seeds looked pathetic. Small. Ordinary.
Perfect.
[Would you like to plant the first crop?]
[Yes / No]
Her thumb hovered over Yes. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the entire field in stark white. Somewhere in the distance, a monstrous roar answered the sky.
Elowen smiled, small and sharp and dangerous.
"Yes."
The screen pulsed once, brightly.
[Planting initiated.]
[Growth acceleration: Minimal. Good luck, farmer. You'll need it.]
She knelt in the mud, pressing the first radish seed into the wet earth with surprising gentleness. The moment it touched soil, a faint green glow sparked along her fingertips, then vanished as quickly as it came.
Nothing dramatic. No explosion of power. Just a tiny sprout poking through the dirt already, trembling in the wind.
But Elowen felt it. Deep in her chest, something ancient and stubborn uncoiled.
This wasn't the end.
This was the beginning of something the gods themselves would learn to fear.
Sprout Quill floated closer, voice dropping to an excited whisper.
"Host... what are we planting next?"
Elowen looked up at the fractured sky, silver hair glowing faintly in the dying light.
"Everything," she said. "We're planting everything."
And somewhere far above, in realms untouched by mortal hands, the first heavenly emperor stirred uneasily on his throne of clouds.
He didn't know why.
He would find out soon enough.