The night of the village celebration arrived much sooner than Marcus would have liked. Torches flickered along the main square of Turnipton, casting warm light across the gathering of villagers. Tables were laden with freshly baked bread, roasted meats, and, of course, baskets of turnips prepared in every way imaginable. Laughter and chatter filled the air as people danced to the tune of a lively fiddle.
Marcus sat at the edge of the celebration, half-heartedly picking at a plate of food, hoping to blend into the background. He had done his part, shown his face, and now all he wanted was to quietly slip away before the inevitable toasts and speeches began.
But, of course, Beatrice had other plans.
"Everyone! Everyone!" Beatrice called out from the center of the square, clinking a spoon against a goblet. "A moment, please!"
The villagers quieted down, turning their attention to her as she beamed at them. "We are here tonight to celebrate not just our bountiful harvest, but also the hero among us who saved our village and the Whispering Woods from a terrible fate."
Marcus felt the heat rise to his face, and he sank lower in his chair, hoping Beatrice would keep it short.
"Marcus Griddle!" Beatrice called, gesturing for him to stand. "Come forward!"
He groaned inwardly but knew there was no escaping it. With a resigned sigh, he stood up and slowly made his way to the center of the square. The crowd parted to make way for him, their smiles wide and their eyes gleaming with admiration. He could even hear some of them whispering, "That's him, the Hero of Light," and "He looks just like a regular farmer."
That's because I am just a regular farmer, Marcus thought, forcing a smile as he joined Beatrice at the front.
"Marcus," Beatrice continued, her voice warm and full of pride, "we owe you a great debt for your bravery, for protecting us from dangers we didn't even know existed. The raccoon-squirrels—bless their little hearts—told us all about your adventure. The Whispering Woods are safe now, and we are all better for it."
Marcus scratched the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable. "Uh, thanks, Beatrice, but I really didn't do it for the praise. I just kind of… stumbled into it."
The crowd chuckled, and Marcus felt a little more at ease. Beatrice, undeterred, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Stumbled or not, you faced dangers most of us could never imagine, and for that, we are eternally grateful."
She turned to the crowd, raising her goblet high. "To Marcus Griddle, the Hero of Light!"
"To Marcus!" the villagers echoed, raising their own cups in unison.
Marcus tried not to cringe at the title. As the cheers rang out, he raised his hand awkwardly in thanks, then quickly made his way back to his seat, hoping the spotlight would shift away from him.
He sat down beside Dave, who handed him a mug of ale. "Not so bad, eh? You survived the celebration."
"That's what you think," Marcus grumbled, taking a swig of the ale. "I'm just waiting for the next disaster to happen."
"Speaking of disasters," Dave said with a grin, "any chance the System's finally left you alone?"
Marcus considered the question. He hadn't heard a *ding!* or seen a quest notification since he'd returned to Turnipton. Maybe, just maybe, his life would go back to normal. He gave a small smile. "Yeah, I think it's gone for good."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a familiar *ding!* rang out in his mind.
*Ding!*
**New Quest Alert: A Farmer's Duty. Reclaim your crops and tend to your turnips.**
Marcus groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Why did I say anything?"
Dave burst out laughing. "Looks like you're never getting rid of that thing!"
"Fantastic," Marcus muttered, shaking his head. "A quest to farm turnips. Just what I needed."
*Ding!*
**Quest Reminder: A Farmer's Duty. Turnips don't grow themselves!**
"Yeah, yeah," Marcus grumbled. "I'm getting to it."
Dave clapped him on the back, still chuckling. "Look on the bright side, Marcus. You've saved the world once. How hard can it be to grow some turnips?"
Marcus shot him a glare but couldn't help the small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Despite everything—the quests, the absurdity, the talking creatures—he was home. And maybe life wouldn't be as simple as he once thought, but at least it was his life, turnips and all.
He stood up, draining the rest of his ale. "Alright, I'm off. Got some farming to do, apparently."
Dave gave him a mock salute. "Good luck, Hero of Turnips."
Marcus rolled his eyes but smiled. "Just Marcus," he said, heading off toward the familiar path that led back to his farm.
As he walked, the sounds of the village celebration faded into the background, and the cool night air wrapped around him like a comforting blanket. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft glow over the fields. Marcus took a deep breath, the scent of earth and crops filling his lungs.
He stopped at the edge of his field and looked out over the rows of turnips, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze. It was a simple life, but it was his.
*Ding!*
**Quest Complete: A Farmer's Duty. Well done!**
Marcus chuckled softly to himself. "Yeah, well done."
As he stood there, watching the stars twinkle overhead, Marcus realized something. Life was never going to be predictable. There would always be quests, challenges, and unexpected adventures. But no matter what came his way, he would always find his way back to Turnipton.
And that was enough for him.
The End.