After giving Farodan a quick heads-up, Eric didn't waste a second. He spun on his heel and marched straight back to the castle to begin gathering supplies.
Given permission, Farodan curiously followed him past the stone walls, glancing around the interior as he walked.
Eric headed directly to the forge room, reclaiming a row of iron ingots that had been left to cool in the smelters. With practiced ease, he began crafting.
He popped open a chest labeled [Minerals].
Inside lay five full stacks of iron blocks, quietly resting alongside a handful of miscellaneous ores. Among them, there was one batch of sulfur and forty-three pieces of saltpeter.
Level: 35.
This was the fruit of a month's continuous mining.
"So, what's the plan?" Farodan asked, watching Eric methodically inventory the supplies.
Farodan, an experienced wanderer, had been studying the castle's inner defenses as he followed Eric in. A frown crept onto his face.
The defensive work on the walls was… well, calling it minimal would be generous. In truth, it was almost nonexistent.
It was just a pile of stones stacked into a wall, with a few rickety ladders leading up. The top was completely bare—no battlements, no cover. Standing up there was basically signing your own death warrant, with nowhere to hide.
Farodan couldn't fathom how Eric expected to hold the castle with such flimsy defenses. The gate looked like it could crumble from a good kick.
Magic, maybe?
"Just gonna hold it like this," Eric said with a deliberately vague shrug.
While saying that, he pulled out a dozen or so massive round stones and, in mere minutes, added a solid five meters of height to the castle walls.
Farodan stared, mouth agape.
What kind of magic was this?
Why did those huge stones just stick in place like they were glued? And where the hell did he get all those stones? It was like he conjured them out of thin air.
Looking at the wall, it appeared seamless—as if it had always been a single, solid structure, with no sign of joints or cracks.
Farodan was stunned.
This level of construction skill was godlike.
If any kingdom had a craftsman like Eric, it would be a game changer—a hundred times more valuable than a thousand soldiers.
"Now I get why you're so confident about holding this place," Farodan admitted.
But then he added, "Still, your defenses are a bit… barebones. Listen to me—here's what you should do…"
Eric's eyes lit up. As someone who played builder-type games obsessively, his philosophy was always form over function—if it didn't look good, what was the point?
But hearing Farodan's advice was like a lightbulb turning on.
Within half an hour, Farodan laid out the basics of proper fortifications: structural design, defensive purposes, where to build cover, where to leave arrow slits, and where to place obstacles to stop climbers.
Eric's eyes sparkled with excitement as he immediately started putting the plans into action.
Farodan guided him on the side, pointing out the best spots to build and reinforcing his instructions.
They worked all afternoon.
By dusk, a simple watchtower stood proudly, newly erected. Eric bit into a chunk of dried beef jerky, passing a few pieces to Farodan.
"Try this—my secret recipe, system-grade jerky."
Farodan had no idea what "system-grade" meant, but he gladly took a bite.
The flavor burst through the tough exterior like fireworks.
"Tasty," he said, nodding approvingly. "Even the finest royal chef couldn't top this."
One more loyal fan of the system's cooking, checked.
With the castle now a genuine fortress—both functional and aesthetically pleasing—Farodan had nothing more to contribute.
Everything was set. Now all that remained was to wait.
As twilight faded, Eric glanced over and asked, "Aren't you leaving? If your intel is right, that pack of hellhounds mounted on wolfbacks will be attacking tonight."
Farodan took another bite of jerky before replying, "Nope, I want to see how you handle it."
"And, hey, an extra pair of hands never hurts, right?"
Though he said that, Farodan's real plan was elsewhere.
There was no way to fight those hundred-strong mounted raiders head-on.
If Eric failed and the castle fell, Farodan intended to whisk him out—no way was he letting Eric die clinging to some rock, or worse, get captured by orcs.
"Aren't you afraid?"
"Fighting and slaughtering are my daily bread," Farodan said with a nonchalant grin.
Eric sucked in a breath.
Well, he'd definitely been roped into this now.
"Fine," Eric said. "If you insist on staying, take these. Consider it a gift."
He pulled out a set of iron armor and a longsword, placing them on the ground.
Farodan's eyes widened.
This armor was exquisite—gleaming silver plates, perfectly forged. And that sword looked razor-sharp.
"Are you secretly a master blacksmith?" he asked, impressed.
"Try it on, see if it fits."
As soon as Farodan donned the armor, he felt the difference immediately. Despite its heavy look, it didn't restrict movement or weigh him down at all. The craftsmanship was incredible.
"You always surprise me, Eric."
He liked the armor.
"Looks like tonight we'll have to pull out all the stops."
Twilight slipped away.
Night fell.
The sky was overcast.
In the nearby forest, countless pairs of blood-red eyes stared fixedly at the newly risen castle and the suddenly towering walls.
Though orcs weren't the brightest, they knew the world held powerful beings—mages, elven lords, and their own mysterious masters.
If there was a powerful force inside those walls, it would spell trouble.
But after watching this strange human for over ten days, seeing the castle grow taller, the fields multiply, and the walls rise higher and longer, it seemed he had only this incredible speed and nothing else extraordinary.
"This castle will be ours!" a short orc scout reported back to the burly war chief. "And the Wolves smell fresh meat—there must be plenty inside…"
Fresh meat…
The word sent a ripple through the orcs.
"I'm sick of moldy bread and maggot-infested rations. I want fresh meat!"
"Human meat!"
"Quiet!" The largest orc barked, smashing a nearby boulder.
The deep cracks in the stone silenced the restless crowd.
"Prepare yourselves. Right now. Tonight, we feast on roasted humans!"
The chief's order echoed.
A low growl rumbled from the Wolves, and the orcs roared in response.