Hairu stepped out of the command building, the heavy wooden door creaking behind him as it shut. His footsteps were slow, unsteady. The expression on his face had changed—gone was the confident leader who had just rallied his group through the second wave of the defense. Now, he looked pale, sweat clinging to his forehead as he stared blankly toward the sky.
An orc. A boss-level threat. And only five days to prepare.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts raging inside his head. His fingers curled slightly into fists. This wasn't what he had prepared for—not this early. They were barely holding off waves of goblins and minor monsters. An orc meant everything had to change—strategy, positioning, supplies, manpower.
Without realizing it, he had walked all the way to the makeshift medbay near the western edge of the village.
Tents were arranged in a tight square, with healing supplies spread out on crates and cloth mats. The scent of herbs, blood, and damp earth lingered in the air. Some players were lying down, wrapped in light bandages and being treated by the few healers available.
Natsuro, his vice leader, was crouched beside one of the wounded, murmuring something softly while applying a healing salve. Despite the exhaustion in his eyes, his hands moved with practiced ease.
"Natsuro," Hairu called out, his voice firmer than he felt.
The healer looked up. "Leader. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Hairu walked up beside him, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. "We need to talk. Now."
Natsuro nodded and stood. He gestured toward a quiet spot under a canopy, away from the patients.
"What happened?" Natsuro asked once they were alone.
"The scouts found the boss for this defense mission." Hairu paused, looking Natsuro straight in the eye. "It's an orc."
Natsuro's brow furrowed. "An orc already? That's way above the current average threat level."
"I know," Hairu said. "Tyuri's team confirmed it. They spotted it trying to move stealthily through the forest. If it reaches the village, we're in serious trouble. The goblins were already stretching us thin—if the orc breaks through, the village will fall."
Natsuro sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How much time do we have?"
"Five days."
"That's not enough."
"I know that too." Hairu crossed his arms, expression grim. "That's why I need your help more than ever. We have to reinforce the perimeter, assign a special unit to monitor forest movement, and most importantly—we need a strategy to kill that thing."
Natsuro nodded slowly. "We'll need bait. Traps. Specialized weaponry. And healing—lots of it."
Hairu added, "Start drafting a priority list for medicine and materials. I want you and the other two healers coordinating closely. I'll assign a few runners to gather herbs and items from the shop. If we have to burn through gold, so be it."
"I'll get it done," Natsuro said without hesitation.
Hairu placed a hand on his shoulder. "I trust you. You've got more experience than most of us. And if things go south, I'll need you to lead the retreat."
Natsuro's expression turned serious. "Don't say that. We're going to survive this."
Hairu managed a faint smile. "Yeah. We will. Because this time, we're going to be ready."
He turned to leave, but paused for a moment to glance back at the wounded.
Five days.
No margin for error.
Hairu's eyes hardened as he walked back toward the command post.
Time to prepare for war.