Chapter 36

Three days passed.

Tension enveloped the village like a tempestuous cloud. Every day, more workers helped shore up the temporary wooden walls, dig defensive trenches, and reinforce the gardens. Even the villagers not trained for battle took up spears and farming tools, ready to protect their home.

But I had planned further ahead than anyone knew.

The night Baron Weslin arrived, after our quiet conversation under the old tree, I had used the Guardian Screen in the privacy of my quarters—investing the bulk of my hidden points into summoning specialised equipment, enchanted swords, bows and arrows. I'd even bought a new uniform for them, a black leather armour, assassin type, the one used in movies, which made Felix's men too excited for the upcoming fight.

Now, those men—camouflaged in the woods and stationed in makeshift outposts beyond the village gate—waited silently for the threat to arrive.

And on the third night, it came.

The first sign was the howling.

Not wolves—something deeper, more guttural. Twisted.

Kael stood on the newly built watchtower, hand shading his eyes. Sylphy crouched beside him, bow already strung.

"They're coming through the south forest," Kael said grimly. "More than a hundred... No, closer to two hundred. Raiders. Twisted ones."

"Bandits?" Sylphy asked.

He shook his head. "No. Something worse. They move too fast."

I stood calmly at the base of the tower with my newly purchased telescope, my other hand resting lightly on the hilt of a sword I rarely drew.

"They won't reach the gates," I said quietly.

The villagers inside the temporary walls braced, ready to fight for their lives.

But then—without warning—the night exploded with motion.

Hidden troops sprang from the trees, silent and deadly. My soldiers, clad in earth-toned armour, moved like wraiths. Arrows flew from the shadows, finding their marks with ruthless precision. Swords glinted briefly in the moonlight before vanishing into flesh and shadow.

Within minutes, the attackers' advance faltered.

The raiders—a mix of twisted mercenaries, desperate outlaws, and beasts corrupted by black mana—barely had time to scream before disciplined formations cut them down. They tried to scatter, but my men herded them like cattle, flanking with practised ease.

From the top of the gate, Sylphy whistled low. "Well, I'll be damned…"

Kael just crossed his arms, watching the efficient slaughter. "Where did you find them, my lord?"

I smiled faintly but said nothing.

At the centre of the battlefield, a figure—larger than the rest—roared in rage. A corrupted ogre, its flesh twisted with black veins, charged toward the gates, wielding a massive club dripping with foul magic.

It was powerful—but predictable.

Five archers loosed their arrows in perfect unison. One struck the creature's eye. Another pinned its shoulder. Two buried into its chest. The last—an arrow glowing faintly with the Guardian Screen's signature blue enchantment—pierced straight through its heart.

The ogre toppled with a ground-shaking crash, sending dust into the air.

By the time the sun rose, the threat had been completely neutralised.

Not a single raider reached the village gate.

Not a single one survived to retreat.

My soldiers began gathering the fallen bodies, piling the weapons into neat heaps. Every usable scrap would be salvaged—nothing wasted.

At the gates, Baron Weslin rode out to meet me, his eyes wide with something between admiration and wariness.

"You were prepared," he said quietly.

"I told you," I replied. "This isn't just a village."

He stared at the disciplined soldiers cleaning their weapons and tending to minor wounds.

"These men… they don't move like mercenaries. Or farmers turned militia. They're trained. Elite."

"They're mine," I said simply.

"And they have amazing equipment. I have never seen such powerful weapons. Is it from your homeland?"

"Yes, each is infused with mana."

Weslin studied me for a long moment. Then he smiled—a slow, calculating smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Perhaps I was right to place my bet here after all."

The morning after the battle, the air buzzed with energy.

Word of our victory spread fast. Villagers who had once looked worn and cautious now moved with new confidence, their faces lit with smiles and laughter. Even the newest arrivals—those who had only just pitched their tents in the outer ring—joined the growing celebration.

Children ran between the newly finished wooden stalls, carrying sticks and pretending to be the soldiers who defended the village. Fresh flags were raised, bright clothes dyed with simple crests: a tree, a sword, and a loaf of bread.

At noon, I gathered everyone in the marketplace. The temporary square was packed—farmers, builders, hunters, and their families, along with a handful of beastkin, dwarfin, and travelling traders who had stayed after hearing about the Divine Beacon.

I stood on a newly built platform, Kael and Sylphy flanking me, while Lord Weslin watched quietly from the side with his wife and children.

I raised my voice, letting it carry over the crowd:

"Today, we celebrate more than just a victory. We celebrate a beginning!"

A cheer rose, loud and fierce.

"Starting next week," I continued, smiling, "we will officially open the Dirk Grocery Store and the Bakeshop! For the first time, we will welcome not only our own families—but visitors and buyers from nearby villages and beyond!"

The excitement doubled, people clapping and shouting in pure joy.

"We have fresh produce you won't find anywhere else—vegetables grown from seeds bought from my land!" I declared. "And soon, warm bread, fresh pies, and even treats unheard of in this kingdom."

Another ding from the Guardian.

Hidden Quest Completed.

Reward: Magical ingredient for potion making

Woah! Amazing. I closed the screen and focused my attention on my people.

I could see it: hope gleaming in their eyes. Opportunity.

"I want this place not just to survive," I finished, voice ringing clear. "I want it to thrive. And with your hard work—with all of us together—it will!"

The cheers that erupted shook the wooden stalls and rippled across the fields.

The rest of the afternoon turned into an impromptu festival. Elven musicians pulled out battered lutes, flutes and the newly purchased ukulele I introduced to them three weeks ago. Hunters roasted game over open fires. The bakers, still preparing for the official shop opening, handed out small sweet buns as a taste of what was to come.

Later, in a quieter corner of the square, I invited Lord Weslin and his family to sit with me at a long table shaded by linen tarps.

Before them, I presented a true marvel of Earth cuisine: a pizza.

Golden crust, bubbling cheese, strips of meat, fresh tomatoes, and herbs from our garden.

Lord Weslin raised an eyebrow, dubious, but at the urging of his children, he took a bite.

The change in his expression was instant.

"What a delight," he blinked, chewed slowly, and then—against all the stern, composed habits of nobility—grinned like a man discovering a secret treasure. His son practically inhaled his slice, while his daughter looked like she might cry from happiness.

"This," Weslin said, almost reverently, "could win wars."

I laughed. "Maybe just hearts and stomachs. But I'll take that."

Then, I passed a small, plastic, wooden chest to Baroness Mireille.

Inside: toiletries from Earth. Bars of lavender soap, toothbrushes with mint paste, plastic combs, and even bottles of shampoo made from natural oils.

The Baroness's eyes widened. She lifted one of the soap bars to her nose and gasped softly.

"I will pay you for this," she said immediately, holding it as if it were a sacred relic.

"No payment necessary," I said. "Consider it a gift. A symbol of what's coming to this land."

She clutched it to her chest. Her children were already marvelling at the simple treasures.

Lord Weslin leaned closer, his voice low but serious. "You don't just have soldiers and crops, Dirk. You have the future in your hands."

I just smiled and offered him another slice of pizza.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the fires of the festival burnt into the night, I knew without a doubt:

This was only the beginning.

And somewhere beyond the distant hills, greater powers were stirring—watching this small, growing town with hungry eyes.

But for now, we celebrated.