The moment John and Bezos rounded the last bend in the road, walking fast, the scene at the gate opened up in front of them like a sudden shock.
John felt his steps slow without meaning to. Beside him, Bezos also stopped dead, his half-laced boots scuffing against the packed dirt immediately. Neither of them spoke at first. The scene was too much to take in for them all at once.
The eastern stretch of the village wall had turned into something closer to a war camp than a defensive line. Mana bulbs hung from iron hooks and wooden posts, their cold blue-white glow mixing with the orange flare of open fires built in careful pits along the walkway. Stacks of long spears stood upright in wooden racks, sharp points gleaming. Quivers of arrows leaned against the base of the wall. Buckets of water and sand also sat ready beside the walls, in case a fire broke out.
In general, the air smelled of sweat, smoke, and pine resin, and the atmosphere in the area looked way too busy; nobody noticing the main authority holders, the village council members, standing there, witnessing all of it.
People moved everywhere in a rush. Villagers got down on their hands and knees, making human ladders so the fighters on top of them could reach high enough to stab long spears down over the wall. Below them, others pushed their whole bodies hard against the wooden beams. They dug their boots into the dirt and held on tight, waiting for the next monster to slam themselves into the wall.
The wall shook with loud, heavy thuds that vibrated up through their boots and into their bones. Every time the monsters slammed into the wood, a scary hissing sound came from the other side, a loud noise from hundreds of wild creatures hungry for blood.
Though no monster had made it over or through. Not yet. But the pressure was there, constant and growing, like the forest itself had decided to lean its full weight against the village.
And Lys stood near the center of it all, sleeves rolled, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword while the other pointed and directed. Elder Verna also stood a few paces to his right, staff planted, Kaela still glued to her side. Pell, the guild staff, moved between groups of adventurers, voice rough as he barked short orders.
All the Fiora hunters and village guards, alongside some civilians who wished to help, possibly, worked side by side without argument, the usual lines of status and such between them erased by the simple need to keep the wall upright.
After witnessing it all for a couple of seconds, Bezos found his voice first.
"What the hell is going on here, John?"
John did not answer. He was still taking it in when Lys turned, spotted them, and came forward. Relief flickered across the younger man's face the moment he saw the priest.
"Ah….You came, Priest John," Lys said. His eyes flicked once to Bezos, but without acknowledging the guy with a nod or whatsoever, they returned to John. "Good. We need every hand that can hold a spear."
John looked past him toward the shuddering wall. "Hey, what the hell is happening? Why's the situation like this all of a sudden? Did a large number of monsters came all at once?"
"Yeah." Lys wiped a smear of dirt from his cheek with the back of his wrist as he turned around beside them, looking at the scene as them. "We sent a small party out earlier to thin the front. But they barely made it back. The numbers out there… it's not a raid. It's much more like a wave. Continuous even. Dog-sized, bipedal, and much faster than any monster we have ever seen that came out of the forest today. Not only are they much stronger, but also their number is more than we can count. They're stacking against the wall in places. The stakes and ditches are slowing them, but not enough. So, we're just holding for now."
John's gaze moved along the line of fighters. "Will the walls hold?"
Lys hesitated. The honest answer sat heavy on his tongue. He settled for the only one he had.
"I don't know. But maybe we have to send more fighters and adventurers out there to engage them directly if we want this to end without the wall breaking first."
Bezos barked, "But where will we find that many fighters? How the hell did all of it get to this point even, fuck..?"
Though Bezos was in the middle of cursing non-stop, John's hand settled on the younger man's shoulder, firm and steady. "You did what you could, lad. I can see that much."
Lys gave a short nod, then glanced west along the curve of the wall. "The party that came back said a large part of the wave isn't even hitting us head-on. They're circling. Moving around toward the rear of the village without engaging. So, I need to check the western stretch of the walls myself before something punches through where we're thin."
Bezos finally stepped in front of Lys, voice rising over the noise.
"Oi, boy. What are you talking about, going to check it? You speak like you're the one in charge of the village's defense."
John turned his head slowly and looked at the chief. The look carried years of shared history and a clear warning.
Bezos's eyes narrowed. That straight look from John was all it took for him to understand what was going on here. "Wait. You don't seriously mean…."
"It is what it is, Bezos," John said quietly, but sounding final. "The guild's best people are out on the dungeon gate issue. And that left very few with the stomach to take the weight of this current situation. And as you can see, the village is still standing. That's proof enough for me. I don't need to explain this boy's worth to you right now, do I?"
Bezos's face flushed darker. The anger that had been banked since the house flared again, hotter this time.
"Oi, old man. What were you doing, not coming to get me if it had gotten this bad? I'm the chief of this village. You left me in the dark while some outsider brat starts giving orders around here? Pretending to be me?"
The argument was starting to draw eyes. Lys stepped between them before it could grow teeth.
"Excuse me," he said, voice level but carrying an edge that cut through the surrounding noise. "I don't mean to be rude, but can both of you shut up about who is worthy of what? Look around you. You can see what's happening. We're short on people who can actually hold a line. So instead of standing here blaming each other for jobs that got done or didn't, pick up a spear and be useful. That's the only thing you can do right now."
Bezos's hands curled into fists. For a moment the urge to drive the younger man into the dirt sat clear on his face. The bulk of him, the years of being the loudest voice in every room, all of it pushed forward to do something, or at least say something...…..
But before he could, Lys was already turning away.
"I'll be on the western side," he told John, looking only at him, not even giving a glance at Bezos. "If the circling force is as large as they said, we'll probably need more spears there before long, too. And we're already getting short on them."
He gave the priest a brief nod, ignored Bezos completely, and moved off into the press of bodies, already calling for two runners to follow him, just in case word of there needed to be reached here, as this was the only communication method available to him.
John watched him go, then without waiting for even a second to take a breath, he reached for the nearest rack of spears without comment. He pulled one free, tested the weight, and held a second out toward Bezos.
The chief stared at the offered shaft like it was something foreign.
Around them, everyone was still busy, doing whatever they could.
Only Bezos still stood there, spear in hand, the wood feeling heavier than it should. The night wind carried the hissing of the things on the other side, closer now, hungrier. The chief of Buena village looked at the weapon in his grip, then at the chaos moving around him as if the entire place had decided to function without waiting for his permission.
He opened his mouth to say something to John, his most trusted aide till now.
But no words came out.
John was already moving toward the wall, spear ready, the old priest's back straight under the flickering light of the mana lamps.
Bezos just remained where he was, still speechless.