Cronos awoke with a start, his head pounding slightly as he blinked against the dim light filtering through the shutters of his little hut.
For a moment, the events of yesterday were a blur, but as he sat up, rubbing his temples, the memories began to surface.
He had indulged a bit too heavily in the celebration — a luxury he rarely allowed himself — but the joy of the townsfolk had been infectious. Their laughter, their singing, and their gratitude for the small victories they had achieved were more than enough reason for him to partake.
Despite the lingering ache in his skull, he couldn't help but smile. The town was happy, and that was what mattered.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched, the wooden frame creaking beneath his weight.
This morning felt different from the second day of his reincarnation — he was more settled, more in tune with his role. Without hesitation, he strode into the adjoining room, where he quickly washed himself with the cool water he had collected the day before.
The brisk sensation helped clear his mind, sharpening his thoughts for the day ahead. After pulling on a simple yet sturdy set of clothes, he stepped out of the front door, ready to face whatever challenges awaited him.
The world outside was calm at first glance. The morning sun cast long shadows over the streets of the small town, and the faint sounds of daily life were beginning to stir — children's laughter, the distant clatter of tools, and the mumble of townsfolk.
But his peace was short-lived. Standing a few paces from his hut was one of the hunters, his face pale and drawn with urgency.
"What's the problem?" Cronos asked, his voice steady despite the sudden tension in the air.
The hunter took a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving as though he had run the entire way. "Soldiers," he managed, his voice tight. "From Ether Town. They've come to collect our food supplies."
Cronos's brows knit together, his mind racing. Of course. He'd been so focused on other matters — organizing the town, building their supplies, ensuring everyone had enough to eat — that he had nearly forgotten about the looming shadow of Ether Town.
Their demands were well-known, and their reputation for ruthlessness was even more so. This wasn't just a minor inconvenience.
It was a reminder of the unfinished business that had followed him into this new life.
He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. Ether Town was on his list, a target for conquest and a key to fulfilling one of his earlier missions.
But now? Now, his forces were too few, his people too vulnerable. A direct confrontation would be suicide.
"Let's go," he said simply, motioning for the hunter to lead the way.
They made their way to the farmlands in silence, the tension between them palpable. Cronos used the time to think, to calculate.
By the time they reached the edge of the fields, his mind was clearer, his resolve solidified. The sight that greeted him only added to his determination.
Five soldiers lounged beneath the sprawling branches of the apple tree, their armor glinting in the sunlight.
Their postures were relaxed, almost dismissive, as though they had already claimed victory. Cronos noted their smirks, the way they barely acknowledged his approach.
To them, he was likely just another backwater leader — young, inexperienced, and entirely beneath their notice.
Cronos's lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. Underestimation was a weapon he could use.
"Welcome, esteemed soldiers from Ether Town," he said, his voice calm and measured. "I am Cronos, the humble lord of Blackwood town. To what do we owe the honor of your presence?"
One of the soldiers, a man with a scar running down his cheek, pushed off from the tree and sauntered forward. His gaze swept over Cronos, and he snorted.
"You know why we're here," he said. "The tithe. Ether Town demands its share of your harvest. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
Cronos's smile widened ever so slightly. "Of course," he said, gesturing towards the nearby farmhouse. "But surely men of your stature would prefer to discuss such matters indoors. Please, three of you join me inside while the rest keep watch."
The soldiers exchanged glances, and for a moment, Cronos thought they might refuse. But then the scarred man shrugged. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
He motioned for two others to follow him, leaving the remaining two to stand guard outside.
As they made their way to the farmhouse, Cronos's mind worked furiously. He needed to stall, to buy time and gauge their intentions.
More importantly, he needed to leave an impression. Ether Town might be a threat now, but one day — one day soon — he would make sure they understood the cost of underestimating him.
Inside the farmhouse, Cronos gestured for the soldiers to take a seat at the large wooden table. The room was simple but functional, with shelves lined with jars of preserves and bundles of dried herbs hanging from the rafters.
The soldiers sat, their expressions a mix of impatience and boredom.
"Now," Cronos began, sitting opposite them. "Let's talk."
The scarred soldier leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "There's nothing to talk about," he said. "You either hand over the tithe, or we take it by force. Simple as that."
Cronos tilted his head, studying the man. "And what assurance do we have that Ether Town will hold up its end of the bargain?" he asked. "That our hard work will earn us protection, rather than exploitation?"
The soldier's eyes narrowed. "Are you questioning Ether Town's authority?"
"Not at all," Cronos said smoothly. "I simply want to ensure my people's efforts are not in vain. Surely, as representatives of Ether Town, you can understand the value of trust."
The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Cronos could see the wheels turning in their heads, the flicker of uncertainty in their eyes. It wasn't much, but it was a start.