Chapter 4: The Weight of Leadership
High above, the young man scrolled through his interface.
"New Civilization Milestone: First Battle Against Humans!""Unlocking Additional Features..."
New options appeared.
Basic Combat Training (5 Creation Points)Advanced Weapon Crafting (4 Creation Points)Scouting Parties (3 Creation Points)
He had 7 Creation Points to spend.
His eyes narrowed on Basic Combat Training.
The villagers had won the last fight but barely.
If the attackers had been better armed or more disciplined, the village would have been wiped out.
That couldn't happen again.
Selected.
---
The change was instant.
Just like before, knowledge flooded their minds. But this time, it wasn't about farming or building.
It was about killing.
How to hold a spear properly. How to swing it with maximum force. How to dodge, how to counter, how to stay alive.
The villagers felt it—their bodies responding to the newfound knowledge.
It wasn't just instinct anymore.
Now, it was training.
---
The sharp-eyed leader who had become the unspoken chief of the village—was the first to react.
He didn't waste time.
Within the hour, he had gathered every able-bodied person in the center of the village.
"This is what keeps us alive," he said, voice firm. "We fought once. We will fight again."
And then the drills began
---
Morning to night, they trained.
They sparred, practiced formations, learned how to work as a unit instead of as scattered individuals.
The younger villagers learned speed how to strike fast and retreat.
The older ones learned resilience how to block, counter, end a fight quickly.
The women trained alongside the men. There was no distinction.
In this world, everyone fought.
And by the time the first week had passed, they were no longer just villagers.
They were warriors.
---
Watching from above, the young man nodded in approval.
"They're adapting."
But training wasn't enough.
Weapons mattered, too.
That left him with 2 Creation Points not enough for Advanced Weapon Crafting.
But it was enough for one more thing.
Scouting Parties.
He hesitated.
This would change everything.
Right now, the village was reactive they only fought when attacked.
But if he unlocked scouting parties, they would explore.
They would find other settlements.
And that meant…
They would find enemies before the enemies found them.
His lips curled into a slight grin.
Selected.
---
The sharp eyed leader felt it immediately.
A plan formed in his mind instinctive, clear, undeniable.
Scouts.
They needed scouts.
Not just to search for food or water—but to watch, listen, track movements beyond the walls.
He picked five of the fastest, sharpest warriors.
They carried only light weapons—short spears and knives—so they could move quickly and vanish when needed.
At dawn, they left the village.
The first real expedition into the unknown.
---
For two days, there was nothing.
Then, on the third day, one scout returned.
Alone.
His clothes were torn. His skin was scraped. His breath came in ragged gasps.
But his eyes his eyes burned with urgency.
The village gathered.
The sharp-eyed leader stepped forward.
"What did you see?"
The scout swallowed, trying to catch his breath.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"There is a camp."
Silence.
"Larger than ours. Maybe fifty, maybe more. Armed."
The villagers stiffened.
"And they are coming."
---
Above, the young man leaned forward.
"Finally."
Conflict was inevitable.
The village was growing, but so was the world around them.
And now
They would face their first real war.
---
The air was thick with tension.
The villagers stood silent, their hands clenched around their weapons.
Fifty enemies.
That was more than double their numbers.
The scout's report was clear:
The enemy was organized.They had better weapons—stone-tipped spears, reinforced shields.And worst of all, they were coming soon.
This wasn't like the first raid.
This was war.
---
Above, the young man stared at his screen.
He could feel the pressure.
"A direct confrontation is suicide."
The enemy had the numbers.
If they fought head-on, the village would be wiped out.
He needed a plan.
"New Civilization Milestone: First War!""Unlocking Additional Features..."
Three options appeared:
Tactical Warfare (4 Creation Points)Defensive Fortifications (3 Creation Points)Survival Instincts (2 Creation Points)
He had 5 Creation Points left.
He didn't hesitate.
Selected: Tactical Warfare.
Instantly, the sharp-eyed leader felt it.
Strategies, formations, ambush tactics his mind overflowed with knowledge.
And just like before, he didn't waste time
---
"We can't win by force," he told the villagers.
Their faces were grim, but determined.
"We win by being smarter."
The Plan:
They would lure the enemy in.They would control the battlefield.They would strike fast—and vanish.
This wasn't a battle.
This was a hunt.
Step One: The Trap.
They dug pits deep, hidden with thin wooden covers and loose dirt.
They sharpened wooden stakes and buried them inside.
The moment the enemy stepped on them death.
Step Two: The Battlefield.
The village was too risky too many places to hide, too much risk of destruction.
Instead, they would fight in the forest.
Narrow paths, dense trees perfect for ambushes.
Step Three: The Attack.
They wouldn't fight as a single unit.
Instead, they would split into small groups striking from the shadows, then disappearing before the enemy could counter.
Speed over strength.
Precision over power.
The villagers moved fast.
By nightfall, everything was ready.
Now, all they had to do was wait.
---
Dawn.
The enemy arrived.
Fifty warriors, moving in a disciplined formation.
They carried spears and axes. Their bodies were covered in hardened leather.
They were stronger.
They were more experienced.
And yet
They had no idea what was waiting for them.
The first trap was sprung.
A warrior stepped forward and the ground collapsed beneath him.
His scream was cut short as the sharpened stakes impaled him.
Blood spilled.
Panic spread.
Then
The villagers attacked.
From the trees, arrows flew.
Not enough to kill but enough to wound.
The enemy staggered, trying to form ranks.
But they couldn't.
Because the moment they turned to face one attack, another came from behind.
A warrior charged forward, rage in his eyes
And was met with a hidden spear to the throat.
Another tried to run
And fell into a second pit trap.
Blood stained the dirt.
The enemy was dying.
And yet
They didn't retreat.