The first sign was not a warrior's cry, nor the crack of musket fire, but smoke—thick, alien, and bitter in the wind.
Sky-Torn lifted his head from the prayer circle, his body still humming with the residue of ritual. The tribe had gathered for a cleansing, one meant to steady the hearts of the youth before the coming trial. But the smoke carried none of the sacred tang of sage or pine. This was foreign fire, smelted wood mixed with tar. His lips pressed thin.
The Villain System pulsed within him, words lancing through his mind like cold iron:
[New Fate Thread Detected]Colonizers' Presence: Encroachment Event Initiated.Villain Points Potential: High.Warning: This thread intersects with tribal survival and legacy outcomes.
He had been waiting for this. Dreading it, too. Every ritual, every fractured dream had pointed toward the outsiders drawing near—not as a distant threat, but as a storm pressing against the valley walls.
"Sky-Torn," came Wounded Bear's gravel voice, "do you smell it?"
The younger hunters stirred uneasily. Even without shaman-sense, they knew the scent was wrong. Sky-Torn nodded. "The colonizers burn their mark into the land. They are nearer than the council admits."
The words spread quickly, carried by whispers among the circle. Fear was a contagion, and it needed no drum to travel.
By nightfall, the council was summoned.
This time, no one entered calm. The elders' faces were taut, their painted lines smeared by sweat. The reports spilled fast: a scouting party had spotted wagons rolling along the river's bend, guarded by steel-helmed soldiers. Timber had been felled in staggering rows, as if the very ribs of the forest were being stripped away.
"They cut trees as though the land itself were an enemy," hissed Red Elk. "And they will not stop until our hunting grounds are barren."
"Or until they've raised their villages of iron," added Black Thorn.
But others—Fox-in-Reeds, Bent Hawk—tried to temper the fire. "They are many. More than our spears can pierce. We must find terms, not raise war."
Sky-Torn let the arguments swirl like eddies around him. The System's interface hovered before his spirit-sight, unfolding possibilities:
[Choice Detected]—Incite the council toward defiance. (+Villain Points, increases tribal unity, accelerates conflict)—Encourage diplomacy. (Low Villain Points, risks assimilation of tribe)—Manipulate divisions subtly. (Moderate Villain Points, creates instability but buys time)
He felt the weight of each path press against his chest. Whichever he chose, the story of his people would twist upon it.
When he finally spoke, his voice cut through like flint on stone. "The colonizers' smoke is not merely fire—it is destiny's signal. If we kneel, their boots will rest on our necks forever. If we resist blindly, their thunder-weapons will shatter us. We must become what they cannot predict. We must fracture their fate."
Some glared, others leaned forward. Sky-Torn continued, invoking a tone both ritual and defiance. "I will weave omens they cannot read. I will call storms into their paths, plant dreams in their sleep. Let them march, but every step will carry shadow."
The council fell into uneasy silence. They had asked for guidance, and he had offered something darker—neither peace nor war, but a path steeped in the forbidden.
That night, alone by the river, Sky-Torn prepared a ritual forbidden by three generations of shamans before him. He spread red ochre across his arms and chest, drew circles with crow feathers, and lit a fire with blackened pitch stolen from the colonizers' own cast-offs.
The Villain System pulsed brighter than it ever had.
[Villain Ritual: Smoke-Twisting Prophecy]Cost: 5 Spirit Threads, 10 Villain Points.Effect: Colonizers' scouts will suffer confusion, dreams of betrayal, and missteps in the forest paths.
The river hissed as he dropped the final ember. Mist rose and swirled into shapes: pale men with guns turning against one another, axes dulling in their hands, compasses spinning. The power coursed through him, intoxicating and sharp as pine resin in the lungs.
Then came the backlash. The ancestral voices shrieked in his ears, not all in anger—some in warning, others in grief.
This path is blood-soaked.This is not the way of balance.You court memory's curse.
He clenched his jaw, staring at the twisted smoke above. "Balance is already broken. I only answer in kind."
The visions faded, leaving him with a shuddering heart and the metallic taste of victory laced with sorrow.
Days later, the tribe awoke to rumors: the colonizers' scouts had indeed lost their bearings. Two were found dead, not by arrow but by quarrel among themselves. Others stumbled into the marshes and were swallowed by mire.
The council did not speak of Sky-Torn's ritual, but eyes lingered on him longer than before—half fearful, half reverent.
For the first time, the System tallied openly:
Villain Points: 142
Each point burned like a brand.
Yet the pressure only mounted. The colonizers did not retreat; they sent more wagons, more men, more fire. Their priests raised wooden crosses at the edge of the forest, symbols that gleamed like threats under the sun.
Sky-Torn felt destiny tighten around him. The System whispered incessantly, offering new manipulations: sow discord between the colonizers and their allies, twist the omens of their priests, or corrupt one of their leaders into betraying his own.
But all paths gleamed with the same warning:
[Outcome: No path avoids blood.]
And in his chest, the knowledge grew heavier: history would not remember the council, nor the frightened hunters, nor the compromises of the cautious. It would remember him—the shaman who dared to meet the colonizers with shadow-forged fate. The villain of the tale yet to be written.
On the fifteenth night, scouts returned breathless:
"The colonizers are building a fort."
A fort meant permanence. A fort meant war was no longer a choice but a certainty.
Sky-Torn looked to the smoke curling from the river valley. The System flared like lightning in his vision, cascading with new quests, new choices.
[Main Quest Updated: The First Clash]Villain Points Objective: 200Warning: Failure will result in tribe's subjugation. Success will cement your legacy as 'The Shadow at the River.'
The council called for a gathering at dawn. But Sky-Torn already knew—whatever words they spoke, his path had been sealed.
The smoke was no longer a warning. It was the beginning of his legend.