Finn stepped out of the Reading Hut with a quiet exhale, three books and a pair of scrolls tucked neatly under one arm.
"I can't stop reading all of this," he muttered. "How I wish that I could get a bigger Reading Hut with more reading materials."
Still, he knew he could only upgrade it once he reached Level 10. So, he chose to read everything and learn as much as he could as quickly as possible for the time being.
Then, he could focus on becoming stronger and learn more about Heroes. He wanted to become one, like the ones shown before he was bestowed the Master Builder System.
"I'm going to lead this village into a real force," he vowed as he walked toward his small cottage.
The evening air had grown cooler, but his mind was still burning with everything he had just read.
He didn't look back.
The small wooden cottage stood only a few steps away. His home. And now, just beside it, the Reading Hut stood like a silent guardian of knowledge—always glowing faintly, always open.
Finn had made no effort to lock anything. In fact, he hoped more villagers would come. If they wanted to read, or even just look at the scrolls out of curiosity, the door would be open.
Let them take what they needed. Somehow, the system, or the magic within the hut, always created another copy.
That same quiet system had also allowed him to make a few changes.
After reading about how gates and borders worked in the larger world of Valarion, Finn realized his village needed flexibility. So, he negotiated, or at least willed, an update through the System Panel.
It now permitted villagers to open the North, South, East, or West Gates at will, but only when accompanied or cleared by the assigned gate guards.
He was astonished to learn that he could set the command of every creation just from the system. He felt like he was the real Master of the village and of course, he was.
"Since I'm the Master, I shouldn't be bothered with simple things," he said to himself. "The job of opening and closing the gates? That's for the guards."
Letting out a soft sigh, Finn pushed open the door to his cottage and stepped inside.
The warmth and comfort of his humble cottage greeted him immediately. He set the books down on his table, lit the lantern beside them, and finally allowed himself to rest.
***
Farther out, beyond the Reading Hut, past the growing whispers of a village changing too quickly, another man had just crossed into Riverwood.
His name was Kent.
He was forty, broad-shouldered and sun-worn, with a thick black beard streaked with silver and a scar down the left side of his neck. It was a reminder of a wolf hunt gone wrong ten winters ago.
Today, however, Kent wasn't hunting. He was pulling a cart, returning from a three-day exchange run to neighboring villages. His cart carried sacks of dried root vegetables, two new barrels of salt, a wrapped bundle of cloth, and a set of iron tools.
But what truly stopped him in his tracks wasn't the burden behind him, it was the towering stone walls that now encircled the village.
He blinked hard, eyes tracing the shape of the South Gate, complete with guards holding iron-tipped spears and wearing armor that didn't exist three days ago.
"What in the gods' names…" he muttered. "Am I at the right place? Is this Riverwood?"
Kent pulled his cart closer, slow and wary. One of the guards—a young man named Rolo—recognized him immediately.
"Kent! You're back!"
"What is all this?" Kent asked, voice low and stern.
Rolo looked almost relieved to be asked.
"You won't believe it," he said. "It just… appeared. All of it. The walls, the gates, the barracks. Even the book hut next to Finn's place. They say it's the gods."
Kent didn't answer. He only looked up, eyes scanning the solid stone overhead, the perfectly forged hinges, the smooth walls that no villager could have built in three days.
No. Not villagers.
But perhaps it was really the work of the gods?
He didn't speak that thought aloud. Not yet.
"Where's Old Hann?" he finally asked.
"He is badly injured," Rolo replied, his voice lowering.
"What happened?"
"He was fighting a wolf beast. Tried to save someone."
"Who?"
"Finn. The Chief got hit hard. He's resting now, barely able to stand."
Kent's brows furrowed.
Finn.
The name tugged at an old memory. A quiet boy, always trailing behind Old Thom.
If he remembered correctly, Finn wasn't born in Riverwood. He was taken in by Thom, raised like a son, though not by blood. And when the boy grew older, he chose to live alone in a small cottage near the East Gate.
He was strange, that much Kent recalled.
Never caused trouble, but never fit in either.
And now they were saying Old Hann was nearly killed trying to protect him?
"Let me in and gather all the warriors."
"Gather them where, Kent?" Rolo asked.
"The Village Hall. I need to talk to them."
Rolo nodded.
Kent exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. Then he stepped past the gate, pulling his cart with him.
Stone walls. Stone gates. Beasts attacked in broad daylight. Old Hann injured. The name of a boy he barely remembered was suddenly being protected by Old Hann.
This wasn't the Riverwood he had left behind.
But if the world was changing, someone had to make sure the village was ready.
After Kent passed through, Rolo shut the South Gate behind him with a solid thud. The lock clicked into place, and for a moment, he simply stood there, staring at it—still not used to the weight of real hinges, the strength of stone over wood.
Then he turned quickly.
"Larn," he called to the other guard standing nearby. "Watch the gate for me."
Larn raised an eyebrow. "Where are you going?"
"To call the others. Kent's back. He wants to meet with all the warriors."
Without waiting for a reply, Rolo was already jogging down the main path, past the outer houses and toward the heart of Riverwood.
As the light from lanterns flickered to life across porches and rooftops, the village stirred again with quiet voices, curious eyes peeking out through curtains and half-open doors.
"Gather the warriors?" a few of them whispered. "Why now?"
But Rolo didn't stop to explain.
He was already calling names.
"Xabi! Tessa! Rata! Tora! Kent's back. He's calling a meeting!"
He didn't need to knock twice. One by one, figures emerged from their homes or the edge of the forest, drawn by urgency in Rolo's voice.
The hunters. The fighters. Those who still remembered what it meant to be Riverwood's strength before the walls came.
A shift had begun.
And it was time someone took the lead.