The quiet resolve that had settled over Fennwood since Ryo's return from the forest quickly turned into a flurry of activity. Villagers who'd spent their lives tending fields and repairing roofs now found themselves digging trenches, placing traps, and preparing for an attack. They moved with a strange energy, a mix of fear and determination, each of them realizing they would soon be called to defend their home.
Ryo stood in the middle of it all, helping wherever he could. Though he wasn't yet confident in his combat abilities, he felt compelled to set an example. This was his plan, after all. He couldn't back down now.
As the villagers worked, Ryo felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he found Gretta, her expression intense but filled with a glint of approval. "You're doing well, Ryo," she said, her voice low but steady. "I've seen men with swords and armor break under pressure like this. But not you."
Ryo offered her a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Gretta. I just hope all of this will be enough."
Gretta looked out over the busy village, watching as Jarek hammered away at the forge, making crude spears out of farming tools, and Elara, the watchwoman, inspected the traps they'd set along the western path. "We've never had much in Fennwood, but we make do," she said. "And if you keep giving us direction, maybe—just maybe—we'll be ready when they come."
Ryo nodded, feeling a renewed sense of responsibility. He was no longer just an NPC; he was their leader, and he had to live up to that role.
By midday, the villagers gathered in the square as Ryo climbed onto a wooden crate, the Rusted Dagger tucked into his belt. The murmurs died down as he cleared his throat, his eyes scanning the crowd of familiar faces. Lena the healer, Jarek the blacksmith, Elara the watchwoman, and even Old Marla—their expressions showed a mixture of fear and hope. They were all looking to him for guidance.
"Thank you all for coming," Ryo began, his voice steady but firm. "I know this isn't what any of us expected. We're farmers, bakers, and smiths, not warriors. But we're also a family, and this village is our home. The Crescent Blades may see us as easy targets, but they don't know who they're dealing with."
A few villagers murmured in agreement, nodding along. Ryo felt a surge of confidence, their trust fueling his resolve.
"We don't need to be soldiers to defend ourselves," he continued. "We have the advantage of knowing this land. We've set traps, built barriers, and armed ourselves as best we can. But more than that, we have each other."
Gretta stepped forward, adding her voice to Ryo's. "We'll be watching the forest's edge day and night. If they come, we'll have the warning we need. Stay close to each other, trust one another, and follow Ryo's plan."
The crowd began to murmur more enthusiastically, and Ryo felt the tension shift to a focused readiness. This was the moment he'd hoped for—a village united, prepared to defend what was theirs.
The rest of the day was spent in rigorous preparation. Ryo led small groups of villagers in makeshift training exercises, teaching them basic self-defense techniques and how to use their makeshift weapons. He showed them how to wield wooden spears, how to use the natural cover of the village to their advantage, and even instructed them in simple hand-to-hand combat.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Ryo took a moment to catch his breath, leaning against a fence post. Exhaustion crept in, but he pushed it aside, knowing he couldn't afford to falter. His mind was buzzing with worry, but he forced himself to focus on the immediate tasks.
"Ryo!" a voice called out, and he turned to see Jarek approaching, a bundle of weapons in his arms.
Jarek set down a crude pile of sharpened sticks and basic spears, crafted from whatever metal he could salvage. "It's not much," he said with a gruff smile. "But they'll hold up in a fight. Just don't expect them to last long."
Ryo picked up one of the spears, testing its weight. It was rough, but it felt sturdy enough. "Thank you, Jarek. Every bit helps."
Jarek nodded, his eyes scanning the village. "You've done a good thing here, Ryo. I never thought I'd be making weapons for the people of Fennwood, but… well, I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures."
"Hopefully, they won't get close enough for us to need them," Ryo replied, but both of them knew that hope was thin. They had done all they could to prepare, but there was no guarantee it would be enough.
As night fell, Ryo called for everyone to get some rest, knowing they'd need every ounce of strength if the attack came. He himself retired to his modest hut, but sleep eluded him. His mind replayed everything he had done, every trap he had set, every defensive measure he had arranged, but doubts gnawed at him. Could a handful of villagers really hold their own against hardened mercenaries?
Then he remembered his advantage. He might be an NPC, but he was also a game developer who knew Eryndor's mechanics inside and out. He knew the weaknesses of the Crescent Blades, their typical attack patterns, and, more importantly, he knew that they could be defeated.
He drifted off with one thought in mind: They wouldn't fall easily, but they would stand.
In the dead of night, a distant shout pierced the quiet. Ryo shot up, adrenaline flooding his veins. He grabbed the Rusted Dagger from beside his bed and ran outside, where villagers were emerging from their homes, fear and readiness in their eyes.
Gretta was already near the village's edge, her sword drawn, and Elara stood beside her, her sharp gaze fixed on the forest. She turned as Ryo approached, nodding grimly.
"They're here," she whispered.
Ryo scanned the dark line of trees, his heart hammering. In the dim moonlight, he could see shadows moving between the trees—the unmistakable shapes of men in armor. The Crescent Blades.
He turned to the villagers, raising his voice to address them. "This is it. Remember your training. Stick together, stay low, and follow the plan. We're ready."
The bandits advanced, their weapons glinting in the moonlight as they approached the village's edge. Ryo signaled to the first line of villagers, who had positioned themselves behind makeshift barricades. They watched him, tense but steady, waiting for his command.
Then, with a roar, the bandits charged.
Ryo's mind went into overdrive. "Trigger the first traps!" he called out.
The villagers pulled ropes hidden in the brush, releasing a series of crude traps they had set along the path. Spiked pits opened in the ground, and sharpened stakes sprung up, catching the first line of bandits off-guard. Several stumbled, some fell, and the rest slowed, realizing that this village was more fortified than they'd expected.
A few of the bandits attempted to sidestep the traps, but Elara, stationed with her bow behind the first barricade, loosed a volley of arrows, striking two down before they could recover.
"Hold the line!" Ryo shouted, running alongside Gretta, who was already charging toward the nearest bandit. She swung her blade with fierce precision, fending off their blows and countering with quick, powerful strikes.
Ryo joined the fray, his Rusted Dagger clashing against the blade of a bandit who sneered at him with contempt. But Ryo held his ground, using his knowledge of the bandits' fighting patterns to anticipate their moves. He ducked under a swing and drove his dagger into the bandit's side, sending him staggering back.
Around him, the villagers fought bravely, using the makeshift weapons Jarek had crafted. They moved as one, supporting each other, their determination outweighing their fear.
"Push them back!" Ryo shouted. "They're not invincible!"
Gradually, the tide began to turn. The bandits, realizing they were facing more resistance than they'd anticipated, started to falter. One by one, they fell back, their ranks breaking under the pressure.
As the last of the Crescent Blades retreated into the shadows of the forest, a cheer rose among the villagers, a victorious cry that echoed through the village. They had done it. They had defended Fennwood.
Ryo breathed a sigh of relief, exhaustion hitting him like a wave. Gretta approached him, her face covered in sweat and dirt but wearing a proud grin.
"Well done, Ryo," she said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You led them well."
Ryo managed a weary smile. "It wasn't just me. Everyone did their part."
The villagers gathered around him, their faces glowing with pride and gratitude. They had faced down an enemy that once seemed unbeatable and emerged victorious. In their eyes, Ryo saw something he hadn't expected—trust, respect, even admiration.
He looked around at the faces of his friends and neighbors, feeling a deep sense of belonging. This was his home now, his people. And he would protect them, no matter what.
As the villagers dispersed to tend to their wounded and repair the defenses, Ryo looked out over the forest, his mind already focused on the next step.