Morning broke, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, the village wasn't drowning in chaos.
There were no wild screams or the ominous sounds of something—or someone—being violently turned into a pile of rubble. Instead, I stepped out of my hut cautiously, fully expecting to find someone tangled in a mess of tree branches, arguing over a crooked log or fighting over who got to "organize" the food for the hundredth time. But no.
What I found was... progress.
Weird, undeniable, absolute progress.
Scarface and Fen stood side by side, proudly surveying the stone house they'd somehow managed to slap together. It was… a bit rough. Uneven walls, moss sticking out like a half-hearted insulation job, but Fen's approving nod said it all: Ogre perfection. It was solid enough to stand, which is all I could ask for, honestly. I didn't want to see another collapsed hut anytime soon.
Scarface stood there, practically glowing. His rare smile stretched across his face, puffing out his chest like he'd just slain a dragon or something. In reality, the only thing he'd slain was his own self-doubt—but hey, at least it was progress.
Gorn and his wife were by the water, admiring their marshwood-and-reed hut. Gorn, looking like he'd been assaulted by an angry tree, rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, but his wife was smiling as she delicately adorned the doorway with vines and flowers.
It was clear—Gorn may have been the muscle, but his wife was the one pulling the strings. And by the look on his face, he didn't mind one bit.
Tink was sitting outside his own modest wooden hut, looking like someone had just stolen his soul. His pride, shattered. His wife, on the other hand, was inspecting every inch of the house with military precision, giving the final beam an approving tap.
Tink sighed dramatically, realizing his life now involved more assistant work than he ever expected.
Then there was Grumpy—he somehow, against all odds, managed to finish a house. It was just a simple log structure, not winning any awards for its minimalist design, but it was standing, and that was a victory in itself.
His crush even gave him a rare thumbs-up, and I swear, I saw him puff up with so much pride I thought he might actually float into the sky.
The lizardmen had done their thing, constructing stilted huts along the marsh with a design that could only be described as… functional.
Their leader strutted around like he was on a mission, inspecting every corner with exaggerated seriousness, but always sneaking furtive glances at his wife, as if trying to gauge her approval.
And the Imps? Well, they had taken "creativity" to an entirely new level. Their "houses" were a chaotic fusion of sticks, mud, and random junk, each one more bizarre than the last. One of them had taken up residence upside down in a tree, snoring as if it was the most comfortable spot on the planet. I didn't ask.
And finally, Titan. Titan had decided to flex his "builder" muscles and go all out. His log cabin looked like it could survive a dragon attack. The door and walls were intricately carved with such attention to detail that for a moment, I forgot this was the same guy who tried to hammer a nail using his forehead because he couldn't find a proper hammer. I guess his metal armor was good for something?
Anyway. Progress, right?
"Looks like you've all managed to avoid disaster this time," I said, clapping my hands with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Good job. Really, a round of applause for you all."
A chorus of cheers, grunts, and impish giggles erupted from the group.
"But," I raised a hand to silence them, "there are some ground rules to lay down: No stealing from your neighbors. No setting anything on fire—" My gaze shifted to the Imps, who instantly started whistling and trying to look innocent. Yeah, no, I saw that.
"—and if there's a problem, take it to your group leader before bothering me. Got it?"
The leaders stiffened at the mention of their names: Scarface and Fen for the ogres, Gorn and his wife for the goblins, and the lizardman leader for his tribe. As for the Imps... well, they're Imps. I know they're just gonna bother me again anyway. (￣_￣)
"Alright, off you go," I waved them off, letting out a sigh of relief. "Enjoy your new homes."
As they scattered in different directions, I allowed myself a rare moment of peace. The village was starting to take shape. It might not be perfect, but it was something. And for once, I didn't feel like the world was about to collapse into utter disaster.
---
*That Night*
I should really stop tempting fate.
Why couldn't I have kept my mouth shut? Why did I have to say anything? I just set up a flag, and now here we are, with a brand new problem on our hands. Goddamn it! (・▽・')
"Boss!" Scarface's booming voice shattered the calm as he stormed into my hut, panic in his eyes. "The food! It's disappearing faster than my patience with Boulder!"
Nice metaphor. Really, I appreciated that. Boulder didn't seem too amused, though. His wife, however, was clearly enjoying the situation. (^▽^)
Still... "What?!" I jumped to my feet, already not wanting to know the answer.
Outside, the goblins were running around, clutching their bellies like they were starved for days. Gorn, looking flustered, was shouting at them to stop eating so much. In a dramatic, almost comically exaggerated move, he handed over his food to his wife with a worried look. And, of course, she promptly smacked him on the head before handing him her food in turn, which somehow turned into a bizarre, almost romantic feeding session.
As if they were waiting for their moment, the other goblins quickly followed suit, offering their wives their food with similar shy smiles and affectionate gestures.
Aria: ....
Meanwhile, Scarface was standing there, begging Fen for forgiveness as she held up an empty sack with a disappointed look. I guess Fen is now probably thinking about the past, let's not get close there for now...
Reality hit me like a sledgehammer. Those seven sacks of food we scavenged? They were barely enough for our original group. Now, with the influx of new people, they were vanishing faster than an Imp being asked to sit through a lecture. And let's be honest, that'd probably be the case if they ever sat through a lecture. (￣▽￣)
"This is bad. Real bad," I muttered, pacing. "We need more food. And fast."
There was only one solution. And I was not thrilled about it.
A place I swore never to return to unless absolutely necessary.
A place filled with food, yes... but also absolute hell.
The Forest of Satan's Hellspawn.
"Alright," I said, my voice dark and serious. "Get your weapons. We're going hunting."
Those little furry bitches… we'll be seeing each other again.
Author's note:
Just a heads up (・▽・)
I plan on adding some seriousness here and there to the story, don't worry it'll transition back to lighthearted and comedic moments (*^▽^*)