Night settled unevenly over the village.Fires burned low and wide, more for reassurance than warmth. People slept in clusters, backs to backs, weapons or tools within reach. In the oppressive silence, one person in each group stayed awake, staring into the dark until their eyes hurt. Shadows shifted; shapes began to move where nothing actually was, an unsettling dance that played tricks on the weary mind. The night dragged on, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears.Harold didn't sleep.He sat near the hall steps, cloak pulled tight, listening to the village breathe. What remained was the quiet, broken only by firewood shifting and the soft murmur of watch rotations calling out counts.Then the signal came. A sharp birdcall echoed from the treeline to the north. Too deliberate and too late in the night. Harold's heart skipped a beat, a sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through him. It was as if time stood still for a heartbeat, and in that moment, he felt a metallic taste of iron in his mouth, signaling the gravity of the impending events.Harold was already standing.A second call followed, shorter this time—the confirmation."Contact," someone hissed nearby.The hunter burst from the trees moments later, breath ragged, face streaked with dirt and sweat. It wasn't someone Harold recognized. He must have come from the second group, judging by the curses he was throwing out."Goblins," he yelled fast. "Twenty at least. More behind them. I slowed them, but they're moving now.""How close?" Harold yelled."Two minutes. Probably less. They're sneaky little buggers." He said, smiling.Harold didn't hesitate. "Alert the adventurers. Wake Sarah and the brothers."The man nodded and was already moving before Harold finished speaking.The village snapped awake. Shouts cut through the night. Fires flared higher as people kicked logs into them. Adventurers grabbed weapons and ran barefoot across packed dirt, forgetting to put their boots on, some still pulling on whatever makeshift armor they fashioned as they moved.Sarah was already there, her looted goblin sword in hand, more dagger than sword, eyes sharp despite the hour. She had a couple more tucked into her clothing."Where?" she asked hurriedly."North tree line," Harold said. "They're coming in loose, fight them at the treeline, not in it."She nodded once. "We'll intercept."No speeches or rallying cry, but they ran willingly to the fight, and that was more of a win than people thought. So many people died last time because people were unwilling to fight.The forest swallowed the light fast. Torches bobbed as the group pushed forward, breath fogging in the cold air. The ground was uneven and treacherous, with roots and rocks hidden beneath layers of undergrowth, demanding full attention and nimble footwork. Every step risked a twisted ankle or a fall, and the surrounding fog seemed to close in around them, muffling sounds and warping sight. Shapes moved ahead of them, small and hunched, chittering sounds carrying through the brush.The first goblin broke cover, screaming.Then everything happened at once.Blades flashed in half-light—crude weapons clanged against wood and steel. Someone went down hard with a shout, and another cursed as teeth scraped armor. Goblins died messy and loud, bodies dropping into leaves and dirt as humans pressed forward.Sarah was everywhere. Blocking, then cutting and shouting short commands that barely registered over the noise. She had already picked up a couple of standard perks that helped with sword play, and it showed. She wasn't an expert by any means, but you didn't need to be to kill goblins."Left—""Don't chase—""Hold the line—"A voice cried out in pain. Then another.But the line held.The goblins weren't organized. They rushed, stabbed, fled, then ran again. Desperate and fast, but brittle once met head-on.The fight turned the moment the soldiers arrived.Steel rang differently when it was real.Shields slammed forward. Swords punched through small bodies with practiced efficiency. The goblins broke almost immediately, some trying to flee, others dying where they stood.It was over as quickly as it had begun.The forest went quiet except for breathing and the crackle of torches.Bodies lay scattered. Small and twisted."Count," someone said. Twenty-three goblins are dead. No survivors worth chasing.Two humans lay still. Both adventurers. Harold arrived as the fires were brought closer.They were already gone. Someone swallowed hard. "They took the watch quest."A faint pulse shimmered in the air around the bodies, then faded. Harold's breath caught for a moment, reminded of the cost each revival carried. "They'll respawn at the stele," he said quietly, though the truth was that every resurrection left an echo of pain in its wake, a shadow of the life that once was. "Hope none of them got any of the firsts." The haunting memory loss that often followed could weaken morale and sow seeds of doubt and despair among those left to fight. But still, "They did their job."No one cheered.The soldiers spread out, securing the perimeter while others began dragging goblin bodies into a pile away from the camp. Sarah stood off to the side, blood on her blade, chest rising and falling hard."First night," she said finally.Harold nodded. "It won't be the last."He looked at her again. This was the first real moment they'd had alone since arriving. "How are you doing?" he asked. "I hope I'm not putting too much pressure on you. Too many expectations."She looked at him and smiled."It's strange," she said. "I feel more alive here than I ever did on Earth. When you explained all this back in the warehouse, it sounded so… unreal. This great war you talked about. Monsters to hunt. Cities to build." She shook her head slightly. "But there's so much here that was never available back home, and I'm… excited."She hesitated. "Should I be?"Harold stopped and really looked at her.Her hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat. There was blood on her clothes, not all of it hers. But the fire in her eyes was honest, steady, and unafraid."Don't grow up too fast, Sarah," he said quietly. "I know things were hard after Mom and Dad died, but don't forget to be a kid sometimes. Even with all of this going on."He pulled her into a quick hug, then added lightly, "And don't think I haven't noticed those boys talking to you."She laughed, short and surprised.The rest of the night passed in fragments.Not silence, but something close to it.Margaret moved through the camp with her slate tucked under her arm, stopping at each cluster of fires. She checked names against counts, corrected numbers when people shifted, and made quiet notes when something didn't line up. Once or twice, she paused longer than necessary, eyes narrowing as she watched someone talk themselves into calm they didn't quite feel yet.Everyone was accounted for.No one is missing, wandering, or trying to be clever in the dark.She found Harold near the hall steps, where he'd been sitting since the fighting ended."Counts are clean," she said. "Everyone's where they should be."He nodded. "Good.""The two adventurers," she added. "Respawn timers are already running. I marked their names so they don't get lost in the shuffle when they come back.""Thank you."Margaret studied him for a moment. "You should sleep.""I will," he said. "For a bit."She didn't argue. She never did when she knew someone would do it anyway.Harold made his way inside the lord's hall and up the narrow stairs toward the room that had been set aside for him. It wasn't much. A bed frame and a rough mattress. A table that wobbled if you leaned on it wrong. A shuttered window that let in a strip of pale pre-dawn light. The soft hoot of a distant owl punctuated the quiet, its rhythmic call weaving a gentle lullaby through the room, harmonizing with the faint pinging of cooling armor. These sounds wrapped around Harold like a comforting embrace, inviting the weariness of the night to give way to rest.It was enough, though, and far more than the others had outside. He sat down first, boots still on, and let the tension drain out of his shoulders. Outside, the watch continued their rotations. Fires crackled. Somewhere, someone coughed, and another voice murmured reassurance.The village held. Harold lay back and closed his eyes, not expecting real sleep or rest.Even though that felt earned, things were moving roughly in the right direction; he just had to keep up the momentum. The first days last time were pure chaos ... This was much better.
