CHAPTER 51: 51. SAVING THE VILLAGE

The morning after Elias left, the village felt strangely calm, like the calm that comes after a storm but before anyone is ready to believe it’s really over. Greg woke up on the makeshift bed of cushions and blankets and felt pain in his body that he hadn’t felt since he was the Warhammer Saint.

When he tried to sit up, every muscle in his body screamed in pain, and his hands looked like they had been through a meat grinder. "Agghh...! Fuck...! It hurts so fucking bad...!"

"Easy there," Marina said, coming up next to him with a cup of something that smelled like honey and herbs. "Ryn said you shouldn’t even think about working for at least a few days."

"Some days?" Greg gratefully took the cup.

The warm drink soothed his sore throat. "Now is the time to rebuild the village. I told Elias that I could fix what he broke."

"And you will," Marina said with certainty. "But not today. You’re going to sit here today, drink your healing tea, and let your body heal from almost killing itself."

Greg wanted to argue, but the look in Marina’s eyes made him stop. It wasn’t anger or frustration, but it was something deeper, with the kind of fear that came from seeing someone you loved almost die.

"Okay," he said in a low voice. "I’ll take a break. For now."

"For three days," Marina said. "Ryn said it would take that long for your mana channels to settle down."

"You could permanently damage them if you try to forge anything before then."

Greg made a face but nodded. Greg understood why it was wrong to sit around for three days when there was work to do. Also, his hands were shaking so much that he probably couldn’t hold a hammer right anyway.

"Well, at least I got some break I needed after this bizarre vacation... a proper break."

...

The first day was a blur of sleep and getting better. Villagers came by to see how he was doing, bringing food and thanks in equal amounts. For an hour, the old woman who had led the healing ritual sat with him, telling him stories about the village’s past while Greg fell in and out of consciousness.

The Guardian Reborn stood in the square, a silent guard that never moved but somehow gave the impression of always being on guard. Kids had begun to play around its feet, laughing as they chased each other in circles while their parents worked to clear away the trash.

On the second day, Greg was well enough to walk around, but Marina insisted on staying close by in case he fell again. The Crimson Falcons were responsible for organizing the rebuilding efforts. They were surprisingly adept at managing construction because they had been adventurers before.

Kael was responsible for getting supplies, and his ranger skills were perfect for figuring out the best ways to get materials to nearby towns. Denna had made herself in charge of heavy lifting, using her outstanding strength to move beams and stones that would have needed more than one person to do it. Ryn was doing the hard work, using small spells to fix broken foundations and make sure buildings wouldn’t fall down while they were being rebuilt.

"That’s a good group you’ve got there," one of the village carpenters said to Greg as they watched Denna lift a huge support beam onto her shoulder like it was nothing. "They didn’t have to stay and help, but they did."

Greg said, "That’s what family does," and the word felt right even though these people had only been in his life for a short time.

Marina, who was next to him, smiled at that. "Family, huh?"

"You’re getting weak, blacksmith."

"Maybe I always was," Greg said. "I just did a better job of hiding it in my first life."

...

Greg’s hands had stopped shaking by the third day, and his mana felt more like a slowly filling basin than a drained pool. He still wasn’t at full strength, not even close, but Ryn let him do ’light crafting’ as long as he didn’t push himself too hard.

The village was already looking better. The collapsed buildings had been taken down, the foundations had been strengthened, and new frameworks were going up faster than anyone could have imagined.

Greg had spent the morning making special tools to help with the work, like hammers that leveled themselves, nails that drove themselves straight, and measuring ropes that always gave the right distances. It’s nothing crazy and it’s nothing legendary.

Just useful tools that made honest work easier. His system barely pinged when they were made, showing that he wasn’t impressed by such boring things. But Greg didn’t care because these weren’t meant to be impressive, they were meant to be useful.

On the third day, as evening came, Greg sat on a half-finished wall and watched the sunset turn the sky orange and pink. He still hurt all over, but it was a good hurt, the kind that came from working hard instead of fighting for his life.

"Can I join you?"

Greg turned to see Marina climbing next to him with two cups of what looked like wine in her hands. She gave him one, and he gratefully nodded.

He asked, "Where did you get this?" after taking a sip. It was surprisingly good, with a smooth finish that showed how well it was made.

"The village elder insisted on breaking out his private reserve," Marina said as she sat down next to him. "It was the least he could do for the man who saved everyone, he said."

Greg said, "I didn’t save anyone. The Guardian did."

"You made it by giving everything you had," Marina said softly. "By choosing to protect others instead of yourself, Greg. That’s not nothing."

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence and watched the sun go down. The Guardian caught the last light in the square below, and its shiny surface reflected gold and red. Kids were still playing around it, and the sound of their laughter carried on the wind.

After a long pause, Marina said, "You know, when I first met you, I thought you were nuts."

Greg laughed. "Just nuts? Not full of themselves or crazy?"

Marina grinned and said, "Oh, you were definitely those too."

"But mostly insane. Could you imagine a blacksmith who refused to forge weapons? In a world like this?"

"I gave you a month, but reality forced you to give in."

Greg said, "But here we are. Still weapon-free, several months later."

"Here we are," Marina said.

Her smile turned into a more serious look. "I called you Master that day when I wanted you to make me something. Do you remember?"

Greg blinked, and the memory came back. "I do, in fact. I thought it was strange. I’m not in charge of anyone."

"You are, though," Marina said. "Not in the usual way, but you’ve learned something that most people never do."

"How to stay true to yourself even when everyone else is telling you to change."