The villagers obeyed with a discipline they didn't know they had. For once, they weren't prey. They were defenders.
The raider leader snarled, forcing his way through the chaos. His blade flashed, cutting down two villagers who strayed too close. He charged the barricade, muscles straining to push through.
Adrian grabbed a torch and hurled it into a rope line. In an instant, a section of the barricade ignited—not burning down, but channeling flames into the oil-soaked ditch Adrian had prepared.
A wall of fire erupted, splitting the raiders from their leader.
The man staggered back, eyes wide. His confidence faltered as his men screamed, scattered, and fled into the trees.
The village had held.
When the smoke cleared, the villagers cheered. They lifted Adrian onto their shoulders, chanting his name. "Adrian! Adrian the Builder!"
But amidst the celebration, Adrian noticed the chief watching silently, cane pressed tight against his side.
The old man's expression wasn't joy. It was calculation.
He doesn't trust me… not yet, Adrian thought grimly. But that's fine. Trust isn't given—it's built. Just like everything else.
As he looked at the wounded being carried to safety, a heaviness pressed on his chest. Some lives had been lost despite the defenses. A boy sobbed into his mother's arms, fatherless.
Adrian clenched his fists. "Next time," he swore under his breath, "I'll build something so strong that no one dies behind it."