The first light of dawn pierced through the dense canopy of the Blackwood Forest.
The outpost, still carrying the aftermath of last night's frenzy, was thick with the mingled scent of blood and roasted meat. Near the dying embers of a campfire, two children slept side by side, faint smiles still lingering on their faces—as if the terror had never touched them.
But not everyone rested.
Colin, Goff, and Lina remained awake.
Inside a half-intact stone house, illuminated by a weak, flickering flame, the three of them silently sorted through the spoils of battle.
Five short swords—edges dulled from use.Eight battered wooden shields.Eight iron-tipped spears.Nine sets of worn leather armor.And one finely crafted longbow.
At the center lay Falk's armor—intact, sturdy, far superior to the rest. A true prize.
"You take it," Goff said without lifting his head.
No one argued.
Colin simply nodded.
Lina carefully arranged the coins on the ground—five gold, twenty-four silver, and one hundred seventy-three copper. With clumsy determination, she recorded the numbers onto a stone slab using charcoal, her small face tight with concentration.
For the first time, those cold pieces of metal made them feel… civilized.
"And this."
Colin reached into the blood-stiffened lining of Falk's clothing and pulled out a small oilcloth bundle.
Inside were two items:
A folded parchment.A sealed document.
Goff and Lina leaned closer.
Colin unfolded the parchment first.
It was a map.
Roughly drawn, but clear enough—mountains, rivers, terrain. Goff immediately recognized several locations.
"This… Eagle's Sorrow Cliff… and here—Wild Boar Slope…"
But what froze them in place were the markings.
Red circles.
Several of them.
One circled the very valley where their outpost stood.
Beside it—strange symbols, hastily written.
Lina's fingers tightened around Colin's sleeve.
They hadn't just been discovered.
They had been marked.
Colin said nothing. He picked up the sealed document instead and broke it open.
The script was familiar—close enough to something he once knew.
He read aloud:
"By order… Falco de Ravennell, captain of the third patrol of Westwind City… to lead ten men along the eastern route of Blackwood Forest… eliminate bandits… investigate remaining demi-human traces…"
His voice slowed.
"…Return before the Red Moon Festival. Without fail."
At the bottom—
A crest.
A griffin, mid-roar.
Goff exhaled slowly. "Red Moon Festival… twelve days."
Lina blinked. "What is that?"
"A harvest festival," Goff said bitterly. "When it comes… humans stop lingering near the forest. They go home."
Silence fell.
Heavy. Cold.
The victory from last night shattered like glass.
This wasn't chance.
It was a mission.
And when this patrol failed to return—
"They'll send more," Colin said calmly. "Stronger. More prepared."
He looked at them both.
"We have, at most… fifteen days."
Lina's face went pale.
Goff's fists clenched. "So what now? We run again?"
The question hung like a blade.
Colin slowly shook his head.
"Run?"
His gaze drifted to the map—to the red circles.
"Where?"
"The entire forest is already within their reach. There's nowhere left to hide."
His voice hardened.
"Didn't we learn anything? Running only leads to extinction."
He stepped toward the doorway, looking out at the sleeping figures beyond.
"We finally built something here."
A pause.
"I'm done running."
He turned back, eyes burning with a dangerous resolve.
"Fifteen days…"
A faint, almost unhinged smile touched his lips.
"That's enough."
Goff and Lina froze.
"What we need isn't escape," Colin continued. "It's transformation."
He pointed to the ground.
"We turn this place into a fortress."
"A place where anyone who comes… dies."
The words carried both certainty and madness.
And yet—
Neither of them could refute it.
Colin needed more than words.
He closed his eyes and summoned the system once again.
Kill Points: 32
His gaze swept through the options—
Then stopped.
Basic Building Reinforcement KnowledgeTechniques for strengthening wood and stone structures. Defensive layouts. Foundations. Structural stability.Cost: 20 Kill Points.
"This is it."
"Exchange."
Confirm?
"Confirm."
Knowledge flooded his mind.
Not fragments—
A torrent.
Support beams. Load distribution. Defensive trenching. Angled walls. Kill zones. Blind spots.
Countless structures. Countless designs.
All at once.
Colin's breathing slowed as he absorbed it.
When he opened his eyes—
The outpost was no longer just a cluster of crude walls.
It was a blueprint.
Incomplete.
But transformable.
He picked up a charred stick and knelt, drawing lines across the stone floor.
"Goff," he said without looking up, "tomorrow—we start tearing down this wall."
Goff blinked. "Tear it down?"
"We rebuild it properly."
Stronger.
Smarter.
Deadlier.
"Lina," Colin continued, "you handle supplies. From today on, increase food reserves. I'll handle hunting."
He paused.
"Our time is limited."
On the ground, the crude sketch began to take shape—
Layered defenses.
Trenches.
Angles.
Something far beyond what they had now.
Goff stared at it, his dim eyes slowly reigniting.
What he saw wasn't ruin.
It was rebirth.
A tribe, rising from ashes.
The brief peace was over.
And in its place—
A race against time had begun.