The whispers didn't stop.
They circled Finn like biting winds, each one sharper than the last.
"He should've stayed on the wall."
"The Chief got hurt because of him."
"Trying to show off like some kind of hero."
Tessa didn't react. She stood near the healer's house, arms crossed, eyes locked on the door. Her face was unreadable, cold as stone.
The other warriors weren't much different. None of them spoke up. None of them stopped the rumors. And though no one said it directly, their silence said enough.
They blamed him too.
Finn stood still. He had nothing left to say. Every word against him seemed true. He had jumped down, confident in his system, in his new strength. But all it had done was force Old Hann to take a fatal blow for him.
A tightness curled in his chest.
Then, footsteps broke the tension.
Lisa, Old Thom's daughter, stepped forward. She walked through the crowd, past the murmurs and glares, and stood between Finn and everyone else. Her fists were clenched at her sides.
"Say whatever you want," she said loudly. "But I saw him. I saw what he did."
The villagers turned toward her, caught off guard.
"At least he jumped. At least he tried. What did the rest of you do? Stand and watch? Blame others while the Chief bled in front of you?"
Her voice trembled, but not from fear.
From anger.
Marie, Old Thom's wife, joined her. "The Chief was already hurt before the boy even got close. He was already fighting that thing alone."
And then Old Thom himself stepped forward, his voice low but firm. "It was the Chief's choice to protect the kid. It wasn't Finn's fault. Maybe all of us should be asking why none of the warriors stepped in earlier."
The silence that followed was heavier than anything spoken before.
And then the door opened.
Everyone turned.
Xabi stepped out first. His face was tense, unreadable. The kind of face that spoke of long hours and bad news. He didn't say anything. Just stepped aside.
Then, slow footsteps echoed against the wood floor inside.
Out came Rata and Taro, carrying someone between them.
It was Old Hann.
His chest was wrapped in thick bandages, stained slightly with blood. His arms were tucked close to his body. The smell of bitter herbs clung to him. But his eyes were sharp. And when he spoke, his voice cut through the crowd like thunder.
"Silence."
The crowd fell quiet in an instant.
He shifted slightly in their hold, and Rata and Taro helped him take a few steps forward. His feet dragged a little, but he held his head high.
"No more blaming," Hann said. "No more pointing fingers. Not at Finn. Not at anyone."
He stopped and looked over the villagers.
"It was my choice to fight. Mine alone. And it was my choice to protect that boy."
He paused and glanced toward the gate. Toward the towering wall that now stood taller and stronger than ever before.
"Look around you," he said. "Look at the walls. Look at what happened."
The villagers turned slowly, their eyes following his.
Once again, they were reminded of the impossible. The towering height. The reinforced stone. The gates that had moved on their own. All things no one could explain. All things that had appeared when the village needed them most.
"The gods… the spirits," Hann said, "they chose to protect Riverwood today."
He took another step.
"And I chose to do the same. I protected Finn because I saw something in him. I saw a spirit that had long disappeared from our people."
He looked at Finn directly now. His gaze was steady. Proud.
"The kind of spirit that runs toward danger. The kind of spirit that fights even when it knows it might lose. That kind of spirit is what built Riverwood in the first place."
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
"And if we are to survive the next storm… we will need that spirit again," Old Hann said.
Then, with a quiet sigh, he closed his eyes and allowed Rata and Taro to carry him back inside.
The door shut once more.
And outside, the village stood still—quiet, thoughtful, and perhaps, just a little changed.
Finn lowered his head. Not from shame this time.
But from something heavier.
Responsibility.
Xabi remained where he was, standing just in front of the healer's door. He looked out at the crowd, his arms still at his sides, eyes scanning every face.
Then he spoke, voice steady and firm.
"That's enough for today."
No one answered.
"Everyone, get back to what you need to do. There's still cleanup to be done. Some of you have families waiting. Some have walls to check. Go."
His tone left no room for questions.
One by one, the villagers began to move. Quietly. Slowly. No more whispers, no more accusations. Only the sound of feet brushing against dirt and the rustle of people turning away.
Tessa nodded to Xabi once before heading off without a word. She didn't look at Finn.
Neither did most of the warriors.
They just left, shoulders stiff and eyes forward, their thoughts unknown.
Lisa lingered for a moment, giving Finn a small glance. Not a smile. Not pity. Just a quiet acknowledgment. Then she followed her family back down the path.
Within minutes, the crowd had scattered.
Only Finn remained near the steps and Xabi.
The warrior looked at him at last. Not angry. Not kind. Just tired.
"You should get some rest," he said. "You've done enough for one day."
Then he turned, opened the door, and stepped back into the healer's house without waiting for a response.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Finn stood alone.
The breeze brushed past him, carrying the scent of dust and dried herbs, and the faint memory of blood.
He didn't move for a long while.
Not because he didn't know what to do.
But for the first time since getting the Master Builder System, he was starting to understand what it meant to bear the weight of power.
And the price that came with it.