As the setting sun casts a golden hue over the endless expanse of wheat

As the setting sun casts a golden hue over the endless expanse of wheat, a lone figure moves with steady determination through the field. His short, curly brown hair catches the last rays of light, giving it a fiery glint against the backdrop of swaying stalks. Clad in humble attire befitting a medieval farmer—rough-spun trousers and a tunic weathered by years of toil—he carries a scythe slung over his shoulder, its blade reflecting the fading sunlight. A leather belt cinches his waist, holding pouches of seeds and tools of his trade. Around him, the wheat whispers tales of prosperity and hardship, its amber waves stretching towards the darkening sky. The air is thick with the scent of harvest and the distant promise of rain. Despite the peaceful scene, shadows linger at the edges of the field, hinting at unseen dangers lurking beyond the safety of the crops. Perhaps he tends this field not just for sustenance, but as a guardian against ancient curses or malevolent spirits that stir beneath the earth. With each step he takes, he embodies the resilience and fortitude of those who till the land in this realm of dark medieval fantasy—a world where even the simplest of tasks may hold the key to survival amidst forces both natural and supernatural."

(worst quality, low quality:1.4), bad hands, bad fingers, deformed hands, deformed fingers, fewer digits