Dawn's light cast a muted glow over the battered expanse of Greenwood Orchard. Where once neat rows of fruit trees thrived, the wolf attacks had left gashes in the soil and snapped branches strewn about like scattered bones. A hushed quiet suffused the orchard—broken only by the rustle of leaves drifting on a faint wind and the muffled groans of wounded villagers. They had survived an onslaught of monstrous wolves the previous day, but everyone knew this respite was tenuous.

  Kael stood near the half-collapsed watchtower, shirt stained with dust and faint traces of dried blood not his own. It had been a night of minimal sleep and many frantic repairs. Even with makeshift braces, the orchard fences bore deep claw marks and crumbled sections where savage beasts had pushed through. Across the courtyard, Brynn rested against a wooden crate, an improvised sling holding his bandaged arm. The ex-adventurer's face was etched with fatigue and pain, yet he forced a reassuring nod whenever orchard workers looked his way.

  Joren Ashborne, Kael's father, paused from hammering a new fence post to pass Kael a worried glance. The older man's eyes still held relief—his son was uninjured this time—but also grim determination. The monstrous alpha direwolf had proven beyond any normal threat, lurking somewhere in the woods, and there was no telling when it might return in full force.

  "Kael," Joren said softly, waving him over, "help me angle this post." He gestured to a half-splintered fence section. "If the wolves test this spot again, we need it solid enough to funnel them somewhere else."

  Kael nodded, kneeling to press a palm against the damp soil. With careful subtlety, he urged a trickle of Earth synergy to settle the fence post base, all while appearing to push and straighten it like any normal child might. The ground firmed, securing the post deeper than an untrained eye would suspect. Then he stood, feigning a quick wipe of sweat. Hiding behind "lucky forging," illusions, and runic wards was second nature to him by now. No one except his father noticed how neatly the post locked in place—like the soil had embraced it.

  "Thanks, lad," Joren muttered, only faint suspicion in his gaze. Kael nodded politely. He never allowed himself to forget this was his second life; subtlety was his greatest shield.

  An Unexpected Visitor

  "Rider approaching!" came a shout from Torik, who spotted movement on the dirt road leading into the orchard's main gate. Immediately, orchard workers stiffened, hands tightening on spears or pitchforks in case another wave of beasts arrived. Tension crackled in the air.

  Yet the figure that emerged was alone, hunched over a modestly laden horse. A traveler's cloak rippled in the breeze, and at the saddle's side, an unlit lantern swung with each step. As the rider came closer, Kael recognized him: Gethran, the wandering scholar who had visited months ago under more peaceful circumstances. Back then, he'd shown an odd interest in forced-awakening runes and orchard sabotage attempts. Now, his calm eyes surveyed the orchard's wreckage with a deep frown.

  Rowan, standing guard, lowered his spear warily. "You again? Mind explaining yourself?"

  Gethran slid off the horse and raised both hands in a disarming gesture. "Peace, Rowan. I heard rumors of monstrous wolves attacking this orchard. Couldn't ignore such dire news." He cast a quick glance around—spotting shattered fence lines, trampled earth, and villagers nursing wounds. "It seems worse than I feared."

  Kael stepped up beside Rowan. He recalled how Gethran had provided runic snippets about illusions once, then disappeared. Why would he return in the midst of a siege? His cloak pockets bulged—possibly containing runic scrolls or mage tools. Was he truly here to help, or to pry deeper into orchard secrets?

  "We lost several good workers," Rowan said, voice taut. "The alpha direwolf is the size of a carriage and twice as cunning. If you come seeking to exploit us, you'll find no welcome. If you mean to help, talk to Joren or me. We have no time for idle visitors."

  Gethran's face tightened with empathy. "I'm sorry for your losses. I wish to lend my expertise. These beasts… they reek of forced or advanced mutation. I've studied similar phenomena."

  At that, Joren approached, brow furrowed but not entirely hostile. "Any help is appreciated." He extended a hand. "But if you bring trouble—" The unspoken threat hung in the air.

  Gethran gently clasped Joren's hand. "I understand your caution." Then his eyes flicked to Kael, a subtle spark of recognition. "I see the orchard's young forger is still active." He offered a faint, oddly respectful nod.

  Kael kept his expression politely neutral, mindful not to betray the swirl of synergy awareness in his chest. "Welcome back. We're… in need of whatever assistance you can provide."

  Assessing the Wounds

  Gethran insisted on a quick survey of the orchard's perimeter, accompanied by Rowan and two other watchmen. Kael and Joren followed at a short distance, overhearing Gethran's low exclamations at deep claw rakes in fence posts and footprints pressed into the muddy ground. The scholar crouched to inspect a series of tracks near a collapsed portion of the orchard boundary. One track was massive—a single pawprint bigger than a grown man's helmet.

  "So the alpha truly is gargantuan." Gethran's tone carried a hint of awe. "This shape… the claws are elongated, almost like extended talons. That indicates an accelerated mutation, possibly an artificial push. No natural wolf grows quite like this."

  Rowan scowled. "We noticed its cunning, too. It never charges blindly. Always tests our defenses, sends smaller packs first. If it decides to lead a full assault before we recover, we may not survive."

  Gethran's eyes clouded. "I'm afraid you're right. I once studied a direwolf pack in the northern hills, but nothing approached this scale of aggression or intelligence." He stood, brushing dirt off his cloak. "We should reinforce your perimeter with layered wards—my runic knowledge might help stabilize your illusions."

  Kael perked up, curiosity mingling with caution. Gethran had a knack for advanced runes, though his motives remained unclear. With the orchard so desperate, though, turning down potential help was difficult.

  Collaborative Ward Craft

  Within the hour, Gethran spread a roll of parchment on the orchard's central worktable. A half-dozen orchard folk, plus Kael and Joren, leaned in. Symbols and lines formed intricate circles representing synergy arrays. Gethran tapped a portion of the drawing. "Here—an overlay that harnesses Earth synergy for structural integrity, with minor Light synergy in the perimeter lines. If we place these runic plates every few dozen yards, illusions become more stable, and beasts may hesitate longer."

  Kael, scanning the design, recognized similarities to his partial Light synergy arrays. Indeed, Earth as the foundation, Light to deter or confuse aggression. Gethran's approach was more refined, though, layering multiple synergy nodes.

  "How soon can we implement this?" Rowan asked, arms folded.

  "Today, if we have enough forging plates and a consistent synergy source," Gethran replied, eyeing Kael. "This orchard's forging skill is surprisingly adept, from what I recall."

  Joren exchanged a glance with Kael. "We have some leftover iron stock. Kael can shape new plates—I'll help with the forging. But synergy infusion… we usually rely on these 'accidental runic surges,' right, Kael?" He feigned a small smile.

  Kael dipped his head, keeping his tone light. "I'll do my best." Inside, relief mingled with wariness. Gethran's arrays might strengthen orchard defenses quickly, but also risked him observing Kael's synergy forging too closely.

  Regardless, time was short. With nods all around, the group split up: some gathered iron scraps and charcoal, others prepared the orchard's battered forge. Gethran jotted down additional runic notes.

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  Under the Forge's Heat

  Two hours later, the barn forge roared with renewed life. Joren heaped fresh coals, while Kael tested the bellows. Despite Brynn's injuries, the ex-adventurer stationed himself at the barn door, half-keeping watch and half-offering moral support. Every orchard worker sensed the tension—if the alpha direwolf returned mid-forging, they'd have no chance to finish the wards.

  Gethran hovered nearby, eyes keen as Kael lifted a chunk of iron with tongs. The boy methodically hammered it into a flat plate, timing each strike to the forge's glow. With every few blows, Kael channeled a faint surge of Earth synergy into the metal, disguised by small bursts of heat or sparks that might be chalked up to forging friction.

  Clank—clank—clank.

  Working side by side with Joren, Kael managed to produce half a dozen rough plates in under an hour. Then Gethran etched runic lines on each with a slender engraving tool. The old scholar's strokes were sure, forming delicate arcs reminiscent of advanced synergy glyphs.

  Kael studied them with veiled fascination, mentally noting how Gethran balanced Earth and Light synergy. Some arcs mirrored the illusions Kael had practiced, but the scholar's style showed surprising elegance—perhaps gleaned from big-city knowledge. If only the orchard had such resources from the start, Kael mused, so many injuries might have been avoided.

  Gethran, noticing Kael's interest, held up one etched plate. "You can embed synergy in the lines now—like you've done with your forging accidents, yes?"

  Kael put on his best childlike grin. "I'll try not to burn the plate, sir." He placed a palm gently on the metal. In reality, a purposeful thread of synergy coursed from Kael's awakened Red core—he guided Earth first for structural solidity, then a careful pinch of Light synergy to weave into the runic lines. The plate glowed faintly for a moment before the radiance dimmed.

  "Impressive," Gethran said, eyes narrowing. "You adapt quickly."

  Kael shrugged in a bashful manner, hammering the next plate to hide his nerves. If Gethran was truly helping, this was good. But Kael felt the scholar's gaze occasionally flick over him with sharper curiosity. He forced himself to stay calm, finishing each synergy-laced plate without any overt flair.

  Stirring Hope

  By mid-afternoon, they had forged a handful of these new runic plates. Rowan and Torik took the first batch, installing them along the orchard's western fence. Gethran accompanied them, instructing how to anchor each plate into the ground with small earthen spikes. Kael joined, stepping lightly over broken boards, staff in hand in case any prowling wolves returned.

  Near one particularly damaged stretch, they hammered a plate into place. Kael tapped the runic lines with the butt of his staff, discreetly sending a final spark of synergy to seal the illusions. The fence shimmered, then returned to normal. Torik marveled, pressing a hand to the wood. "Feels… solid as rock," he muttered.

  Gethran nodded. "The illusions should disorient beasts, buying you precious seconds. If the alpha tries rushing here, it might hesitate. But we must install more plates around the perimeter."

  "This orchard's so short on time," Rowan murmured, gaze scanning the horizon. "Last night's reprieve could end at dusk."

  Kael's hand tightened on his staff. A flicker of memory surfaced—countless orchard men, battered and exhausted, forced to fight a monstrous horde. The orchard needed these wards completed swiftly, or else…

  Brief Respite

  Despite mounting tension, the orchard saw no sign of wolves through the afternoon. The sky remained clear, the wind carrying only the faint smell of trampled grass and old blood. That lull allowed everyone to place more runic plates. Gethran moved from spot to spot, verifying the alignment of synergy lines. Kael, Rowan, and Torik hammered them in, each plate humming softly upon activation.

  Morale lifted slightly. Baret, tending a wounded friend near the barn, caught sight of the newly placed plates and gave Kael a grateful nod. Brynn managed a grin from his post, though pain still shadowed his features. Even Joren exhaled a cautious relief, muttering about how they'd at least have something stronger than flimsy boards.

  Late in the day, Gethran joined Kael near a half-splintered watchtower base. Together, they examined the tower's cracked foundation. "If we strengthen it with Earth synergy," Gethran said quietly, "we can create a vantage point less likely to collapse under a wolf's charge. This tower is critical for spotting the alpha at a distance."

  Kael nodded, placing both palms on the tower's support beams. Subtle pulses of Earth synergy rippled into the wooden base. He felt Gethran's mana, too—older, more measured—blending to fuse the cracks. The tower's frame groaned, then settled. Rowan, watching from below, let out a low whistle.

  "Well done," Gethran murmured. He turned to Kael, giving a nod. "Your forging skill… you adapt runes so naturally. I've seen mages three times your age struggle to do half of this."

  Kael forced a modest grin. "Father taught me a few tricks. And you… you know quite a lot, sir." A neutral compliment, but inside Kael remained wary of revealing too much.

  The scholar tilted his head. "I've studied widely—some runic secrets in big-city archives. That knowledge is worthless if it can't help real people." He gestured at the orchard. "This place deserves a chance against the monstrous alpha."

  For an instant, Kael glimpsed genuine sincerity in Gethran's eyes. Perhaps the scholar truly wanted to aid them. Even so, Kael kept a quiet mental note: He might also glean orchard secrets or synergy forging methods for his own ends. I can't lose vigilance.

  Nightfall's Approach

  By the time dusk approached, they had installed at least two dozen synergy plates around the orchard perimeter—enough to form a partial ward network. Kael and Gethran performed last-minute checks, walking the fence line with Rowan. The orchard was still a patchwork of damage, but each glowing runic plate offered new hope that the next attack wouldn't overwhelm them so easily.

  Workers gathered in the courtyard for a quick meal of bread and thin stew, passing battered tin bowls. Despite exhaustion, the orchard shared a sense of renewed resolve. Brynn slumped on a stool, carefully sipping from his bowl with his uninjured hand. Joren massaged his sore arms, acknowledging Kael's small wave with a tired smile. Gethran sat off to one side, scribbling notes in a worn leather journal, occasionally glancing at Kael.

  "Think they'll return tonight?" Baret asked quietly. His neighbor, Torik, set his bowl down. "Hard to say. The alpha might be watching from the treeline."

  Kael shifted uncomfortably, imagining those glowing amber eyes peering through shadows, waiting for weakness.

  Rowan cleared his throat. "We'll post watchers again. If the new wards hold, we might keep them at bay—at least until we can send word for bigger help."

  Gethran nodded. "I'll join the night watch on the western fence. My array knowledge may help if something fails."

  Joren raised no protest; every willing body mattered. Kael also volunteered, but Father quietly insisted he rest first. "You've done enough forging for one day." His voice carried subdued pride.

  Kael inclined his head. He realized he was indeed drained—hammering synergy-laced plates all day had taxed his hidden Red core. But even if he rested, he'd stay half-alert, ready to answer the orchard's call.

  A Subtle Growth

  When Kael finally settled onto a makeshift pallet in the barn loft, he exhaled shakily. I must keep training, he reminded himself. The orchard was still far from safe, and the monstrous alpha was no ordinary foe. Yet forging synergy and illusions all day had pushed him closer to subtle improvements. His bones ached, but a faint hum of satisfaction filled him. Every effort counts.

  A gentle pulse rippled through his limbs.

  [Notification: Through intense synergy forging and ward installations under high stress, +1 Strength gained.]

  Kael felt a warm tingle in his muscles, evidence that his body had adapted further to the repeated strain of hammering synergy into metal. He quietly pulled up his Status Window in his mind:

  Status Window

  Name: Kael Ashborne

  Age: 8

  Talent: SSS (Hidden)

  Core Grade: Red (Peak) — nearing Orange

  Level: 13

  EXP: 200 / 3500

  Free Attribute Points: 5

  Attributes:

  ? Strength: 29 (+1 from synergy forging exertion)

  ? Agility: 10

  ? Constitution: 26

  ? Intelligence: 36

  ? Spirit: 50

  Trait: Sage's Insight (Advanced synergy, forging comprehension)

  Synergy Channeling:

  ? Earth Channeling (Intermediate, Lv.4)

  ? Fire Channeling (Intermediate, Lv.3)

  ? Water Channeling (Intermediate, Lv.1)

  ? Air Channeling (Intermediate, Lv.1)

  ? Light Channeling (Intermediate, Lv.1)

  Skills & Spells:

  ? Earthen Snare (Intermediate, Lv.3)

  ? Ember Bolt (Intermediate, Lv.2)

  ? Stone Shield (Intermediate, Lv.1)

  ? Windflare Alarm (Intermediate, Lv.1)

  ? Warmth Ward (Basic, Lv.5)

  ? Phantom Veil (Basic, Lv.3)

  ? Static Lash (Basic, Lv.2)

  He closed the panel, allowing himself a small smile of grim satisfaction—one more incremental edge. Every bit of strength might matter if the alpha returned in the dead of night. Tomorrow, they'd see how Gethran's expanded wards fared. At least we gained a little ground today.

  Outside the barn, the orchard's torches flickered. Somewhere at the western fence, Gethran patrolled alongside watchful orchard men, their breaths frosty in the cooling night air. Despite the damage, the orchard refused to cower.

  Kael's weary eyes drifted shut, lulled by the faint crackle of distant torches. Danger still loomed, yet for the first time since the wolf attacks began, he felt a sliver of cautious optimism. If Gethran's runic knowledge held, and if Kael kept forging synergy-laced wards… perhaps Greenwood Orchard could endure another onslaught. He whispered an inward vow: I won't let the alpha destroy what we've rebuilt today.

  In the deeper shadows, the orchard readied for nightfall. But just beyond the fence line, under moonlit branches, a pair of giant wolf eyes might still gleam, measuring the orchard's newfound defenses, deciding whether to strike now or wait. For Kael and the villagers, tonight's fragile calm was both a blessing and a warning. Tomorrow promised either hope or devastation—and they would face it with every ounce of cunning and synergy forging they possessed.