The stone wall stood tall and strong at 3.5 meters. It was built as a pure defense, created by light and brought to life by Finn's will or to be exact, the Master Builder System.
'This is pretty strong for Riverwood,' Finn thought. 'But I wonder what the limit is to the creation.'
However, as he recalled what the system had mentioned, he could even create worlds with this power. The limit would be something unimaginable to him.
From up close, the surface was rough but well-formed, as if shaped by the steady hands of a master stonemason.
"This stone wall... I wonder where it came from," said one of the warriors as they examined the structure.
"Of course, just as the Chief said, it came from the gods and the spirits protecting us," chimed in another warrior.
A few of them nodded in agreement before one added, "The gods and the spirits knew we were going to be attacked, so they sent us this wall."
Finn wanted to chuckle, but he held back. 'Gods? We've been attacked a few times before, but we never received anything like this.'
Xabi seemed to be sharing the same thoughts as Finn. But, when he recalled everything, he knew it was not something coming from the gods or the spirits.
BOOM!
The sound disturbed his train of thought. Everyone looked down. They were lucky because the top was flat and wide, nearly one meter wide, allowing more than enough room for the twelve strong villagers, and Finn, to stand and move without fear of falling.
They stood in a spread formation, peering down at the East Gate.
Below, the beast growled and snarled, ramming its body again and again against the sealed stone gate.
BOOM!
Dust jumped with every impact. The structure shook slightly, but held firm. It wasn't stopping.
"It seems not going to stop anytime soon," one of the warriors said.
"We need to kill it," said Old Hann. His tone was firm.
And then, as the creature spotted the line of humans above it, its yellow eyes flared. The wolf's muscles tensed. Its claws dug into the dirt. With a loud, furious snarl, it lunged.
But it couldn't make it.
Its leap was powerful, but not enough. The beast slammed into the wall, barely passing halfway, before falling back with a frustrated howl.
From above, the warriors exhaled, half in relief, half in awe.
"Luckily this wall is high. If not..." The warrior didn't dare to finish his words.
Finn stayed low, hands braced against the stone as he watched the beast carefully.
That was when Old Hann stepped forward. "Xabi," he said, loud enough for all to hear. "What's your plan?"
The old man's tone wasn't demanding but it was intentional and deliberate.
Xabi blinked, surprised. "Me?"
"You heard me," Old Hann said, eyes narrowed but calm. "What should we do? This is your call."
A few of the warriors glanced sideways. They knew what this meant. It was the village chief's way of grooming the next leader. Everyone had their guesses over the years. It was among Juran the blacksmith, maybe Mara the huntress, but more and more, the signs pointed to Xabi.
And now it was clear.
But Xabi hesitated. He didn't give his opinion right away. He looked at the beast again, still hammering the gate below. Its thick black fur shook with each strike. Its eyes glowed with pure rage.
Then Xabi turned to Finn.
"Finn, what do you think we should do?"
Old Hann's face twitched. He didn't say anything, but his silence spoke volumes.
Still, Xabi kept his gaze steady on Finn.
"You seem to know more about it. Level 1, right?" he asked. "I've never heard of anything like that."
Finn straightened up slowly, heart pounding. The others were listening. All of them.
"I don't know everything," Finn said. "But if it's really a Level 1 beast… we can't underestimate it. We don't know what kind of skills it has. And if it keeps getting angrier, it might evolve or something."
Everything he said was simply a fabricated excuse. He knew nothing about the beasts, just like the others. He wasn't even aware of how the beasts were classified. The only reason he knew its level was because the system indicated it.
"Bulltshit," Old Hann muttered before pressing his lips into a thin line.
A sudden growl and another slam against the gate pulled their attention back down.
The beast was panting now, but its eyes were wild. It was furious.
One of the warriors, a broad-shouldered woman named Tessa, gritted her teeth and hissed, "We need to hurry up. It's going berserk. If it keeps at this, it will jump higher. Or break something."
A hush fell.
Even the bravest of them, all of whom had seen beasts before, knew the truth. They didn't always win clean. Not without injuries. And not this close to the village.
If they failed, it wouldn't just be their lives at stake.
It would be everyone's.
"Enough." Then Old Hann stepped forward again, this time louder. "I'll handle it."
The others looked at him, confused.
"What do you mean, Chief?" Tessa asked even though she knew the answer already.
Old Hann ignored her but turned his eyes to Xabi. "Watch and learn. Sometimes… things can be easily settled with force alone."
The old man cracked his knuckles, then reached for the long-handled war club strapped to his back. A weapon older than most of the villagers—passed down, reforged, and used in battles long before many of them were born.
It was made of dense blackwood from the highlands, its shaft reinforced with interlocked rings of iron.
Along its length, jagged edges of salvaged beastbone had been embedded and sealed with tree resin, forming a crude but effective brutal edge.
The tip flared slightly like a maul, and along its worn grip were faded leather wrappings, stained over time by sweat… and blood.
"He's going to use the Blood Devourer…" one of them whispered, his voice tight with awe and unease.
The name itself stirred silence.
Finn looked at the weapon with widened eyes. He had heard tales, murmurs from the older generation during long nights at the village bonfire.
Stories about Old Hann in his prime, wielding that very weapon and felling two-horned boars alone to protect the winter convoy. Of how he once shattered a beast's skull in one swing. Of how the club was said to absorb the blood of those it killed.
They said it grew heavier with every soul it claimed.
And now, after years of peace, the chief was lifting it once more.
With a single, smooth motion, Old Hann hoisted the Blood Devourer over his shoulder. The weight didn't seem to bother him at all.
His back, which had hunched from age just moments ago, straightened. His stance widened. His eyes burned, not with rage, but clarity.
Like the years had rolled back in an instant.
Without a word, he moved to the edge. Xabi stepped forward, as if to stop him.
"Chief, wait—"
But Old Hann raised a hand without turning. "I was keeping quiet to give you all the chance to think. Now it's time to act."