Lena led Reidar to a small, spartan room on the second floor. A narrow cot, a washbasin, and a single shelf carved into the wall were its only furnishings.
He paused.
"You’ll sleep here," Lena said. "als are at dawn, midday, and dusk in the main hall. Don’t be late." Without another word, she turned and left; her footsteps were so silent despite the wooden floorboards that it actually scared Reidar.
Reidar stood alone in the small room. It was weird to be into a building after all this ti in the wilderness and Lena’s silent steps had shown him a weakness that was making him uncomfortable. His summons were strong, but they couldn’t stop soone who they could not perceive.
He needed sothing quick at protecting him, sothing that worked even before he could think. The vendor was his best shot at finding that.
Keth’moran didn’t just sell ways to attack; there had to be sothing for defense, too, that was not gear.
Things that could sense danger before it got close, a shield or sothing like that.
He had to go visit the town’s vendor as soon as possible.
Reidar sank onto the cot, its fra groaning under his weight. The wood felt dry-rotted and splintered, worn far beyond its years.
It made little sense for that thing to be so ruined otherwise, since the apocalypse had started less than two months earlier.
The fight’s rush faded, leaving him tired and worn out. He closed his eyes for a mont, listening to the noise outside. The steady rhythm lulled him right to sleep.
After a brief rest, restlessness pushed him back to his feet. He needed to see the place for himself, to understand the pressure Martin was under, and to have a better picture of the situation. Co to think of it, he had noticed plenty of strange things since arriving.
The settlent token’s absence was just one of them.
Stepping outside, Reidar felt the tension right away. People moved nervously, their eyes darting toward the tall wooden walls and back into the town.
The people here weren’t starving. They clearly had a steady, if grim, supply of at from the monsters they’d killed. But their faces were drawn, etched with anxiety.
Reidar headed for the eastern wall where the breach was. The whole area was frantic.
Guards patrolled the ramparts, with hands never straying far from their weapons. They kept scanning the treeline past the wall, as if sothing could get here at any mont, which was, in fact, not false.
These people had to constantly fight, day after day. It wasn’t different at the Three Lakes, but here the attacks were systematic, not the result of random encounters. It was much worse.
The guards weren’t the only tense ones. The workers were too.
They were swarming the damaged sections of the wall like frantic ants, hauling massive logs stripped of their branches, hamring thick iron spikes deep into the wood for reinforcent, and mixing a thick, mud-based mortar in large wooden troughs that they slathered over every vulnerable joint and seam.
Reidar could see the fear in their eyes as they rushed to close the breach as fast as they could.
Every shout from the guards above made them flinch; every sound from the forest caused a collective pause. Though that didn’t last long.
He focused on their nas. There were myriad Franks, Lukes, and others common nas flickering into his vision.
Level 24, 26, 25, 23. Their levels were high compared to those from the Three Lakes, albeit they must have increased it since he left the town. But Reidar assud it was far higher than most of the other survivors since the fights they had here were frequent.
They were not weak. Yet, they operated under a cloud of dread, as if expecting the next wave to crash over them at any mont.
Their strength was being worn down by the constant attacks, they were capable but always on edge. That was Martin’s real problem: not a lack of power, but a shortage of hope, and most likely of so of the resources.
Reidar scanned the frantic repairs, his thoughts piecing together a troubling picture.
The level gap was the first obvious clue. Lena was level 45, and her team was probably just as strong.
But their people were still getting worn down by monsters thirty levels below them. It wasn’t about power, it was about how they were using it. Or maybe not using it on purpose.
Though Martin said the strength disparity surfaced because Lena went out hunting and faced not only the Chitinous Ravagers and the maulers, but stronger monsters too. It was also likely that Martin pooled a lot of resources into her team, taking from what the others earned. It wasn’t a bad idea, but only if done properly.
The Chitinous Ravagers’ behavior was the second weird piece. They were ambush predators, not swarrs, based on Velia’s Monster Compendium.
Their attack on the wall slled of external guidance. This wasn’t random monster activity.
Soone, or sothing, was turning the screw, and Martin’s desperation felt less about defense and more about a leader who’d run out of ideas, or one hiding the real problem.
The third piece was the most damning: the absence of summoners. While the absence of summoning skills in the Three Lakes town could be explained with low levels and lack of survival points, mostly acused by the fact apocalypse just started back then, it was different here.
The tactical advantage of having dozens, if not more, monsters per person, leading to thousands of creatures, was just too big to ignore. Summons would make any horde irrelevant.
Sure, this depended on the horde. If there were tens of thousands of monsters, a small settlent like this would not do much against such a horde. Ultimately, everything depended on the survivors’ levels.
Either their Vendor didn’t have the skill books, or they were saving up Survival Points for sothing else he didn’t know.
Keeping the Settlent Token secret from their own people made it pretty clear which one it was.
"Lena’s behavior feels... unnatural," Reidar said to himself. "And Martin’s plea was too rehearsed."
Reidar shook his head. "Yeah... These guys are definitely at war with soone."
And he was the fresh log they wanted to throw on the fire. His summons were the key. They didn’t need Reidar the fighter; they needed Reidar the army.
More likely, they’d slip a knife in his back once he wasn’t useful anymore, then take his gear and survival points to help their secret plans.
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