Adrian clenched his fists, heart pounding. Back on Earth, his buildings had collapsed around him. This time, his work would stand—or lives would pay the price.
"Come then," he whispered to the night. "Let's see if chaos can break what I build."
The night was tense.
Torches burned on the horizon, weaving through the trees like fireflies of death. The raiders hadn't attacked yet, but their presence was enough to suffocate the air.
Adrian stood with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the half-finished defenses. Trenches dug shallow and lined with sharpened stakes. Crude barricades of logs lashed together. Rope traps strung between huts. It wasn't elegant, but it was something.
The villagers whispered among themselves. Some looked at him with hope, others with doubt.
The chief approached, cane tapping against the dirt. His weathered face was etched with worry. "Stranger," he said in a low voice, "you've stirred the people to work harder than they ever have. But…" His eyes narrowed. "…I still do not trust you."
Adrian didn't flinch. "Because I appeared out of nowhere? Or because I'm doing more in two days than you've done in twenty years?"
The old man's jaw tightened. "You speak boldly. Too boldly. For all I know, you lead these raiders. Perhaps you built these traps not to protect us, but to trap us."