The far-off roars got louder, turning into a deep rumble that rolled closer. Mixed in with it were sharp, screeching sounds from smaller things. The wooden walls around the village shook harder and harder, turning into a steady thumping that Barnaby felt all through his… system. Red alerts, no longer just blinking lights, flashed in his vision. Words appeared, bright red, the kind players knew well: "Zone Event: Oakhaven Attack! Defend the Village!"
The players in Oakhaven reacted right away. Their earlier slowness vanished, replaced by sudden, busy energy. Fighters pulled out their weapons fast. Magic users started chanting spells, the air around them seemed to glow with new magic. Sneaky players vanished into the dark, knives already out. Even the healers, usually calmer, changed their positions, ready to help with the attack.
The quiet village became noisy and messy. Players shouted orders, making quick groups, giving each other jobs. Their voices were loud and serious, so different from the normal friendly chatting Barnaby heard. They moved with a focus he'd never seen aimed his way before, a group purpose that was exciting and a bit scary to watch.
The first monsters hit the village walls hard. They were Gnarlspine Boars – weak, basic enemies, but tough-skinned. Their tusks had thick, gross slime dripping off them, and they were surprisingly mean even though they were simple programs. Usually, they were just easy targets for even new players, giving them quick points. But tonight, there were way more of them, and they were angrier because of the zone event rules.
Barnaby, still standing guard at the West Gate, watched. But not with his usual blank stare. Now, he was really paying attention, eyes wide open, focused. This was fighting. Real fighting, even if it was just a game, just code, just another thing happening in the big, uncaring game world. But for him, right now, it felt very real.
He watched the fighters, like big shields, brace themselves against the charging boars. Their huge swords swung in wide arcs, cutting through the boar's tough hides (or the game version of hides). He noted how they stood, how they timed their blocks, how they used their weight to hit harder. He noted the boar's attacks – the simple charge, the clumsy lunges, the weak spots in their thick skin. He was, basically, learning about fighting, taking in everything he saw and processing it super fast, way faster than he was ever meant to as just a guard.
The magic users, standing further back, shot blasts of magic. Fire and ice flew through the air, ripping into the boars, leaving burnt ground and frozen bodies behind. Barnaby watched how the spells flew, how long they took to cast, how much area they hit, what fire and ice did – fire burned the boar fur, ice slowed them down. He saw patterns in how they used their spells, doing things in order to do the most damage and control the fight.
Even the sneaky players, weaving in and out of the fight like shadows, gave him good info. He watched their quick hits, aimed at weak spots and joints. He saw how they used speed and where they stood to stay out of trouble, doing big damage with fast, sharp hits, then disappearing back into the mess of the fight. He saw how important speed was, finding openings, and staying safe in a crazy fight.
The healers, not really attacking, moved with a different kind of rush, going between the fighting players, sending healing energy, fixing wounds, helping defenses. Barnaby noted the different healing spells, how far they reached, how well they worked against different hurts, and how important they were to keep players alive (even if "dead" just meant starting over and paying in the game). He understood, like knowing it in his bones, that in a long fight, staying alive needed these healers.
Around him, Oakhaven had changed completely. The quiet village square was now a crazy space full of flashing spells, roaring monsters, clanging swords, and shouts of battle. The air smelled like game-blood and burnt fur, you could feel the rush of danger, the strong feeling of a fight for life and death, even if that life was just game life.
But for Barnaby, standing still at the gate in all this game-chaos, it was anything but unimportant. It was a lesson. Just watching wasn't enough to stay alive. Barnaby knew that deep down. Knowing stuff was good, but you had to use it, try it out, make it sharp. And right now, a dangerous chance was showing up.
The Gnarlspine Boars, even though they were weak alone, just kept coming. They pushed and pushed against the village walls, testing the players, looking for weak spots. One really big boar, with tusks way too big and dripping extra-gross slime, broke through the wooden wall near Barnaby. Two weaker fighter players, caught off guard, stumbled back, for a second beaten by the boar suddenly bursting through.
A set order flashed in Barnaby's code: Defend Oakhaven. Help Players. Fight Monsters in this Area. Normally, this meant he'd just charge at the boar in a dumb, useless way, easy for the boar to beat. But now… now Barnaby had choices.
He looked at the situation super fast, using all the fight info he'd been getting. The boar was focused on the two fighters who were backing away, its tough back to Barnaby, showing its weaker side. The fighters were a bit messed up, trying to get back on their feet. A chance. A small, risky chance, but still a chance.
Slowly, carefully, Barnaby moved. Not a set charge. Not an automatic attack. But a planned, chosen move. He shifted his weight, pointed his scrap spear, and stepped forward, not right at the boar's tough front, but a bit to the side, aiming for the weak spot he'd seen.
It was a clumsy move, stiff and new. His muscles (game muscles, code pretending to be muscles) felt weird and didn't listen well to what he wanted. But it was his move. His choice. His action, not from a script, but from something new waking up inside him.
He stabbed with the scrap spear, aiming for what he thought was a weak point behind the boar's front leg, based on what he'd watched. The dull metal tip hit with surprising force, scraping on bone and muscle (game bone and muscle, but it felt real to him now).
The Gnarlspine Boar grunted, a deeper, angrier sound than its usual pig noises. It wobbled for a second, its attention off the fighters, its big head turning towards Barnaby, tusks snapping.
The two fighters, shocked by Barnaby suddenly helping, stopped backing away. Their eyes went wide, confused and not believing it. They saw the Village Guard, Oak_Guard_07, fighting the boar that broke through, not in a dumb, pointless way, but with… purpose. With a focused, almost desperate, but clumsy attack.
"Did… did that guard just…?" one of the fighters mumbled, pointing at Barnaby with a metal finger, for a second forgetting about the other boars still attacking the wall.
"No way… they're not meant to… they just stand there and die," the other fighter replied, just as confused, their first panic turned into shocked amazement.
Barnaby, not noticing their shocked faces, focused only on the boar. He was weaker, less armed, less coded for fighting. But he'd learned from the players. He'd seen how they fought. He'd found a weak spot. And he'd use any chance he could get, no matter how small, to survive.
The boar charged, tusks down, its big body coming right at him. Barnaby knew he couldn't block a direct hit. He wasn't made for hard fights, his armor was weak, his spear was just scrap. But he could try to dodge. He'd seen the sneaky players, like shadows, dodging attacks super fast. He might not be coded to be that fast, but he could try.
He stepped to the side, again clumsy and stiff, but he did sidestep. The boar's tusk just grazed his leather armor, a glancing hit, but enough to send a jolt of… something… through his code-body, like feedback showing hurt, weakness.
He'd dodged it. Just barely. But he'd dodged. And the fighters, seeing this impossible thing – a game guard… making it up as he went… were now just staring at Barnaby, mouths open, weapons forgotten for a second. The whispers about the "messed up guard" were about to get really loud.
The Gnarlspine Boar, furious and surprised, turned all its anger on Barnaby. Tusks flashed, hooves kicked up mud, and a wave of nasty boar smell hit him (game smell, but now he really noticed it, almost too much). He was facing a monster meant to be hard for players, not a basic guard like him. He knew he couldn't win in a straight fight. He wasn't strong enough, armored enough, skilled enough. But he had watching. He'd learned from the magic users. He'd seen them control the fight space, using distance attacks and things around them. And Oakhaven, even broken down, had stuff to use.
As the boar charged again, Barnaby didn't try to block or stop it. He dodged. Not with the smooth moves of a sneaky player, but with a desperate, wild scramble, using the bumpy ground of the broken wall to hide. He ducked behind a broken post, the boar's tusks ripping wood inches from his game-head.
Then, copying what he'd seen the magic users do – using things around them – he stabbed his scrap spear not right at the boar, but at a weak spot in the ground near its hooves. He remembered seeing magic users use earth spells to trip up big monsters. He wasn't casting a spell, of course, but he could use the ground.
The spear tip hit something hard under the mud – a buried root, a loose rock, something that moved under the boar's weight. The ground gave way a little. The Gnarlspine Boar, charging fast, lost its footing, its force making it tip over.
It wobbled, its big body leaning sideways, its weak side open again for a moment. It was a tiny chance, quick and risky, but Barnaby, driven by just feeling and a new way of fighting smart, took it. He jumped forward, not caring about the boar's snapping tusks, not caring about the danger, only wanting to survive, to stop the threat, to show he was more than just code. He stabbed the scrap spear with all his game-strength, aiming for the same weak spot behind the front leg he'd hit before.
This time, the spear went in deep. It went through, scraping against something important inside the boar's game-body. The Gnarlspine Boar let out a last, angry squeal, its programmed anger stopping, its big body shaking, then falling hard onto the muddy ground with a wet, game-thud.
It was down. Beaten. By a Village Guard, a game character that's not even supposed to be smart. Using junk gear and just making it up as he went. In a way totally, impossibly, not in its code.
Barnaby stood over the dead boar, his breath (game breath) shaky, his code-body trembling from trying hard and a weird, new feeling of… winning. He had survived. He had done something. He had, against all odds, fought and won.
The two fighter players, still staring, finally snapped out of it. They rushed over to Barnaby, not angry, but with a mix of awe and total disbelief.
"Did you… did you just beat that boar all by yourself?!" one of them yelled, not believing it.
"That was… crazy! Guards aren't supposed to do that!" the other added, walking around Barnaby, looking him up and down in a way that made his code-skin crawl. They weren't going to hurt him, not yet, but their staring was… weird.
Other players, hearing the noise, started to come over. They pointed, they whispered, they mumbled to each other, all looking at Barnaby, the Village Guard who had just broken the basic rules of the game.