By noon, the survivors fled back into the forest, leaving behind broken weapons and the bodies of their fallen.
Torren wiped sweat and soot from his face. "They'll come back, Builder. And next time, with more men."
Adrian nodded. "Then we build higher. Stronger. Smarter."
He looked at the villagers gathering behind him—tired, bloodied, but alive. Their fear had turned to fierce pride.
Lukas approached, face streaked with ash. "Master, you said once that building was about hope. Was this still hope?"
Adrian knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes, to protect what you've built, you have to fight. But yes… it's still hope. Just forged in fire."
That night, as the fires burned low and the dead were buried, Elara found him staring at the wall's remains.
"You saved them," she said softly.
Adrian didn't look away from the horizon. "No. I delayed the inevitable. The Dominion won't ignore this. And when they come again… I'll need more than bricks to stop them."
He clenched his fist. "I'll need allies."