The bells tolled ominously, their reverberations rippling across the quiet village like the knell of approaching doom.

  Lucian paced the plaza outside the chapel, his mind spinning as he tried to assess the situation.

  If it's bandits, what can I do?

  I can't fight.

  Should I negotiate? Offer them everything?

  But what do we have worth taking?

  Our grain stores? No, it's almost empty.

  The women? He shuddered at the thought.

  But what if they kill everyone anyway?

  Damn it, I lack information. How should I handle this?

  "Father Lucian!" a grizzled farmer shouted, breaking his thoughts. The man stumbled toward him, his eyes wide with panic. "Why are the bells ringing? What's happening?"

  Other villagers gathered behind him, their faces pale and their murmurs growing louder.

  "We deserve to know!" another man bellowed, a pitchfork in his hands. "Is it bandits? A raid?"

  Lucian raised his hands, cutting through the rising noise with a commanding voice. "Enough! There's no time for questions. Women and children, head into the chapel immediately!"

  "But, Father—"

  "Now!" Lucian barked.

  A hushed silence fell over the crowd. It was broken by the resolute voice of Agnes, the village chief's wife. "You heard him!" she called, her tone brooking no argument. "Inside, now! Move!"

  She didn't wait for protests, grabbing a hesitant woman by the arm and steering her toward the chapel. Others quickly followed, her presence like a whip snapping them into action.

  Lucian turned to the remaining men. "We don't have the luxury of hesitation. Gather anything that can be used as a weapon—farming tools, knives, torches. Whatever you can find!"

  The men exchanged uncertain glances, but then Barret, the village blacksmith, stepped forward, his deep voice booming. "You heard Father Lucian. Get moving! Axes, scythes, anything sharp. If we don't fight, we're all dead!"

  Barret's words struck a chord, and the men dispersed, bolstered by his steadiness.

  Moments later, another group arrived, panicked and gasping for breath. One man collapsed to his knees. "Monsters!" he cried, his voice trembling. "They're coming from the west! They're… everywhere!"

  Lucian's stomach twisted.

  Monsters… thank God it's not bandits.

  At least monsters can be dealt with using divine power.

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  A faint flicker of hope surfaced.

  And plants burn well.

  "Marcus!" Lucian shouted.

  The altar boy rushed to his side, his face pale but his posture straight. "Yes, Father?"

  "Go to the sacristy. Gather all the sacramental oils. Hurry!"

  Marcus hesitated, his eyes widening. "But, Father, the holy oil—"

  "We'll bless more oil later," Lucian interrupted, his voice sharp. "But lives lost tonight cannot be returned. Do you understand me?"

  Marcus nodded, though doubt lingered in his expression. Before he could argue, Agnes spoke up. "Marcus, move. Now."

  The altar boy flinched under her stern gaze, then darted off toward the chapel.

  "Madam," Lucian said, his tone softening. "Keep the women organized. Help the children stay calm."

  Agnes nodded, already moving toward a group of mothers who were clutching crying toddlers. "Ladies, listen up!" she called. "Find blankets, water—anything to keep the little ones quiet. And stay inside the chapel walls."

  ---

  When Marcus returned with the oils, Lucian grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, stuffed it into a bottle, and soaked it in the liquid. He held it up, the cloth dripping slightly, then lit the end with a candle. The small flame ignited instantly.

  "Pay attention," Lucian said, his voice carrying across the crowd. "This is how we fight back. Make as many of these as you can."

  There were murmurs of confusion, and Marcus finally spoke up. "Father, this—this feels sacrilegious—"

  Lucian's gaze turned steely. "Sacrilege is allowing innocent lives to perish when we have the means to protect them. Now do as I say."

  Agnes chimed in, her voice cutting through any remaining hesitation. "You heard him, ladies. Move!"

  "Marcus, I need your help." Lucian continued, his tone softer. "You know the villagers more than I do. Those who can shoot arrows, the hunters. Gather them ead to the bell tower. Bring oil and fire with you."

  Marcus squared his shoulders, his hesitation replaced by grim determination. "Yes, Father."

  Barret, meanwhile, stepped forward, carrying an armful of tools. "I'll help fortify the line," he said. His tone was calm, but there was a grim determination in his eyes. "You focus on the chapel, Father. We'll hold the ground."

  "Thank you, sir," Lucian said, clasping the man's shoulder.

  "No need to thank me. Just don't let us down with that holy magic of yours."

  ---

  [EMERGENCY MISSION!]

  [Objective: Save the Villagers. 212/237]

  *

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  *

  The numbers on the system interface continued to drop, each one like a dagger to Lucian's heart. Injured villagers stumbled or were carried toward the chapel, their bodies bearing slashes and bruises.

  Damn it! Too many have died.

  I need to secure this place. Will a blessing work? How?

  Sigh. Whatever. I'll just wing it.

  Lucian planted himself before the chapel and raised his hands, reciting an improvised prayer.

  "Oh, Lord of Light, bless this ground and make it holy. Let no evil pass beyond these walls."

  A faint shimmer spread across the ground, enveloping the plaza and the area around the chapel in a soft glow.

  Phew. It worked.

  Barret returned, his arms now smeared with dirt and sweat. "We've barricaded the streets leading to the plaza. But it won't last long," he said grimly.

  Lucian nodded. "It's all we need. They'll slow whatever's coming. Thank you, sir."

  "Just doing what I can, Father. This village is my home."

  Suddenly, the noise stopped.

  The screams. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

  [Save the Villagers: 198/237]

  *

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  *

  Lucian's heart pounded. His stomach churned.

  The numbers stopped dropping… .

  Everyone beyond this plaza... they must've died already.

  We've lost so many.

  *

  "Monsters incoming!"

  A shout came from the bell tower.

  Lucian snapped his head up just in time to see them. Grotesque abominations emerged from the shadows, shambling into the light.

  Their forms were warped and unnatural—humanoid trees with gnarled, thorned limbs, vine-covered hulks dragging massive tentacles, and flower-headed beasts spewing clouds of noxious pollen.

  Barret hefted his axe, his face hard. "We got this, lads. Form up!"

  Lucian raised his voice, steady and clear. "Hold the line! Protect your families! These creatures are not invincible—trust in the light!"

  The first wave of monsters crossed the blessed ground and staggered, their movements slowed.

  "It's working," Lucian muttered. "The blessing is holding them back."

  But the creatures didn't stop.

  "Throw the bottles!"

  Molotovs arced through the air, crashing into the monsters with explosive force. Flames erupted, consuming the grotesque forms in fire.

  Barret led the charge, swinging his axe with precision. "Hold them down! Pin them!" he bellowed as other men jabbed and sliced with pitchforks and scythes.

  Burning arrows rained down from the bell tower, the hunters' aim sharp and accurate.

  "We'll help too!" Agnes called, leading a group of women. They rushed out, pulling the injured to safety as Lucian worked tirelessly to heal them, his hands glowing with divine light.

  The battlefield was chaos—a cacophony of roaring flames, shouts, and monstrous screeches.

  "Father!" Barret called, his voice strained. "We're holding, but it's not enough!"

  Lucian staggered, his vision blurring with exhaustion. He clenched his fists, drawing on every ounce of resolve.

  "Keep fighting!" he cried. "We can win this! Trust in our benevolent god for he will deliver salvation!"

  Salvation... Is that even possible?

  "Help here! This barricade was breached!" A villager shouts as monsters poured into the plaza.

  *

  [Save the Villagers: 187/237]

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  Damn it! Were losing ground

  Hey system, God or whatever entity you are... Care to help us a little?

  We're dying here.

  But instead of a miracle, a deafening roar split the night.

  From the shadows emerged a towering monstrosity, its red eyes glowing like embers. Vines wreathed its massive body, and each step shook the ground.

  Lucian's breath caught in his throat.

  Barret gripped his axe tighter. "Well, Father," he muttered grimly. "Got any more miracles up your sleeve?"

  We're fucked.

  Lucian forced himself to stand tall, his voice steady despite the fear clawing at his chest.