Colin lay motionless in the shadowed slope, indistinguishable from the cold stone beneath him. His eyes were locked on the clearing two hundred meters away.
Below, the remaining eight soldiers had drawn tightly together, bristling like a cornered animal.
The officer kept his sword bare, never lowering it. A mounted archer twitched at every movement, bow half-drawn, ready to loose at shadows. The infantry formed a tight ring—shields outward, spears angled like thorns.
Gone was their earlier carelessness.
No laughter. No wandering. Even the simplest needs were handled in guarded groups.
Colin watched from dawn until midday.
There was no opening.
Fear had welded them into a single unit. Whatever weakness they once had was gone. Picking them off one by one, as he had before, was no longer possible.
His mind raced.
Eight men remained—but they were trained, armed, and alert. Against them, only he and Goff could truly fight. The others would slow them down, become liabilities.
A direct clash meant less than a ten percent chance of survival.
The rational choice was obvious.
Abandon the outpost. Retreat deeper into the forest. Hide. Endure.
Live… perhaps.
His gaze shifted, almost unconsciously, back toward the direction of the outpost.
He saw Sarah's hollow, waiting-to-die eyes from that day.
Lina, carefully dividing scraps of food with trembling hope.
The others, huddled by the fire, clothes in tatters, forcing smiles just to get through another night.
Run?
They had been running their entire lives.
The Broken Tooth tribe had been ground into dust by retreat after retreat.
And now—now that they had carved out a place in this cursed forest, something they could almost call home—
Would they abandon it again?
Because of eight frightened men?
No.
Something hardened inside him.
Something colder. Sharper.
Endless escape led only to extinction.
Only blood could secure ground.
Colin's eyes darkened, a flicker of madness rising within them.
Without a sound, he withdrew from his vantage point.
The decision was made.
If discovery was inevitable, then he would seize it.
Draw them in.
Drag them to the doorstep of this fragile home—
And bury them there.
When Colin returned, the outpost stilled.
Every movement stopped. Every gaze turned toward him.
Hope. Fear. Judgment.
"Have they left?" Sarah asked, her voice trembling.
"No."
The single word struck like a hammer. Faces drained of color.
Colin's gaze swept across them.
"They won't leave," he said flatly. "Not unless we die… or they do."
No comfort. No illusion.
Only truth.
"We have two choices."
He raised two fingers.
"First—pack up, abandon this place, and run deeper into the forest. Maybe we live. Maybe we starve. Maybe we're eaten along the way."
A pause.
"Second—"
His voice rose, edged with something feral.
"—we stay, and we kill them."
Silence crashed down.
The idea itself was madness.
Fight?
With what? Broken tools? Starving bodies?
A man muttered, hollow with despair, "How could we possibly win…"
"They have armor… steel…"
Colin cut him off with a cold sneer.
"Iron doesn't stop traps. Steel doesn't strike what it can't see."
He spread his arms slightly.
"This is our ground."
He stepped toward Goff, locking eyes with the old hunter.
"Are you afraid to die?"
For a moment, Goff said nothing.
Then something lit behind his worn eyes—rage, grief, memory.
"My death's overdue," he rasped. "If I take a couple of those nobles' dogs with me… that's profit."
Colin nodded once, then turned to Sarah and the others.
"And you?"
His gaze dropped briefly to the child clinging to her leg.
"Do you want them to spend their lives running? Hiding? Afraid of every shadow?"
Sarah looked down at her child—shaking, silent, terrified.
When she raised her head again, something had changed.
Fear had burned into something fiercer.
"No," she said, teeth clenched. "I don't."
"Good."
Colin's hand cut sharply through the air.
"Move."
The word snapped something loose in them.
"Goff! At the entrance—those pits we dug? Line them with stakes. Every one. Set traps along every path."
"Sarah! Take the others—cut the thin trees. Sharpen them. I want a hundred wooden spears."
"The rest of you—stones. Every loose rock goes onto the wall."
His voice rang out, relentless.
"There's no retreat. Either we bury them here—"
"—or we become part of this soil!"
For a heartbeat, silence held.
Then—
"Do it!"
Someone shouted.
And just like that, everything ignited.
Fear twisted into motion.
Desperation became purpose.
The outpost transformed.
Men, women, children—everyone moved. Dug. Cut. Carried.
Colin and Goff tore into the earth, carving death into the ground. Others shaped crude weapons from raw wood. Even Lena abandoned her records, organizing the youngest to gather stones.
A storm was building.
Not of wind—
But of will.
From the highest point of the outpost, Colin watched it all unfold.
Order within chaos.
Life clawing against death.
But he knew—
This alone wasn't enough.
Victory still depended on him.
He opened the system panel.
Kill Points: 32
Without hesitation, he accessed the exchange.
His eyes locked onto one item.
Basic Healing Potion (External)Stops bleeding. Accelerates healing. Effective for moderate injuries.Cost: 30 Kill Points.
Nearly everything he had.
He didn't hesitate.
"Exchange."
Confirm consumption of 30 Kill Points?
"Confirm."
The response came instantly.
A small crystal vial appeared in his hand, filled with pale green liquid.
Colin held it for a moment before tucking it close against his body.
His final safeguard.
His last wager.
He lifted his gaze toward the sinking sun.
Somewhere beyond the trees, the patrol was moving again. Their fear would fade. Their search would resume.
They would come.
And when they did—
Colin smiled, slow and cold.
The trap was set.
Now all that remained…
Was for the prey to walk into it.