The accusation made Adrian laugh—not out of humor, but bitterness. "Betrayal, huh? Figures. Even in a world with two suns, people still think the same way."
The chief's eyes flickered with confusion at his words, but Adrian leaned closer, voice cold. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't need raiders. Your huts would've collapsed on you long ago."
A silence stretched. Then, unexpectedly, the old man chuckled. "Sharp tongue. Very well, Builder. You'll have your chance to prove yourself tonight."
The raiders made their move at midnight.
They came screaming from the treeline, a dozen men clad in patched leather and rusted blades. Their leader, a hulking brute with a scar across his jaw, roared as he charged.
"Take the food! Burn the rest!"
The villagers panicked at the sight—but Adrian's voice cut through the chaos.
"Hold your ground! Let the trenches do their work!"
The raiders sprinted forward—only for the first wave to tumble into the camouflaged pits, impaled on sharpened stakes. Screams tore through the night.
Those who tried to go around slammed into the log barricades. When they hacked at the wood, slings pelted them with stones from the rooftops. Women and children, normally helpless, now fought back from safety.
Adrian barked orders like a foreman on a construction site. "You, reinforce that barricade! Keep the pressure on the left flank! Don't let them climb over—push the logs down!"