100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 851 - 861 - Preparation

The days that followed were spent preparing for the kind of enemy the village had never expected to face.

Lucien had already taught everyone how to use the weapons they possessed, but after learning what Seran knew about the Iron Jackals, he decided that individual skill would not be enough.

Most of the villagers were farmers, craftsmen, hunters, or laborers. Even those who had fought wild animals before had little experience facing organized people who knew how to use weapons against other humans.

So Lucien began teaching them how to fight together.

The first afternoon, he arranged a dozen villagers on the open ground beside the wall.

Some held wooden shields, others carried spears, and several had practice crossbows hanging from their backs. Lucien walked between them while adjusting their positions, making sure the gaps were neither too wide nor too narrow.

"Stop watching only the person in front of you," he said. "Pay attention to the people beside you too. If the man next to you moves, you move with him."

One of the older farmers frowned at him. "What if somebody comes straight at me?"

"The person beside you helps deal with him. Your job is to keep your position."

That answer earned several uncertain expressions.

Lucien understood why.

People naturally focused on whatever threatened them personally.

In a fight, their attention narrowed toward the weapon aimed at their own body. That instinct might keep someone alive in a desperate brawl, but inside a formation, it could tear the entire line apart.

Lucien spent the next several days teaching them to trust the people beside them.

The arrangement itself remained simple.

The shield bearers formed the front and were forbidden from chasing anyone.

Spearmen stood behind them and attacked through deliberate openings before withdrawing immediately.

Crossbowmen remained farther back where they could fire through prepared lanes without risking their own people.

Several villagers carrying hooks and long poles stayed near the sides, ready to catch weapons, limbs, or shields whenever someone pushed too far into the formation.

Luke held the center because people naturally listened to him. Seran remained wherever Lucien needed someone experienced enough to react quickly. Lucien kept a reserve behind everyone else because he knew the enemy would not conveniently attack where the villagers were strongest.

That last part confused Tavian.

"If we still have people who can fight, why leave them behind?" he asked.

Lucien looked toward him. "Because once the battle begins, the enemy decides where they want to put pressure. If everybody is already committed, we have nobody left to answer them."

Seran had been standing nearby when Lucien said it. His expression changed slightly.

He had grown up around retired mercenaries, and those men had taught him how to survive ambushes, recognize when a formation was breaking, and understand when retreating was wiser than fighting.

The principles Lucien taught were familiar enough for Seran to recognize their quality.

That only made him more suspicious.

One afternoon, after watching Lucien reposition three groups before a mock attack, Seran finally asked, "Where did you learn all this?"

Lucien looked at him calmly. "I thought of it."

Seran stared.

Lucien smiled. "I’m a genius."

Seran looked as if he wanted to strike him.

The worst part was that nobody else found the answer strange.

Tavian passed nearby carrying practice spears and nodded. "He has always been clever."

Auren agreed without hesitation.

Even Mirelle barely looked up from the bolts she was counting.

Seran slowly looked around at all of them as though the entire village had conspired against him.

Lucien enjoyed that far more than he should have.

Fortunately, the villagers learned quickly.

Lucien had them repeat the same movements until they could change positions without colliding.

He made people push against the shield line until the front learned how to absorb pressure through their legs instead of relying only on their arms.

He extinguished lamps and forced them to reorganize under poor visibility.

He even sent Seran through their formation at random points because Seran possessed an irritating talent for finding exactly the sort of opening that an obedient opponent would never use.

The first time Seran slipped between two shields and tapped three people with a wooden knife before anyone stopped him, Lucien made the entire group repeat the drill.

After enough failures, Seran tried the same trick again and found a farmer waiting for him.

The man caught him around the waist and threw him into the dirt.

Laughter immediately spread across the training ground.

Seran remained on his back for several seconds before looking toward the farmer.

"I helped train you."

The farmer offered him a hand. "You trained us well."

Seran accepted it with a wounded expression.

Lucien watched the exchange with satisfaction.

The villagers were becoming better at fighting together, but there was one problem no formation could solve for them.

Most of these people had never killed another human being.

Lucien addressed that directly.

After one evening drill, he kept everyone gathered on the training ground and waited until the joking died down.

"If the Iron Jackals come here armed, they are not coming to talk."

The mood changed immediately.

Lucien looked across the familiar faces in front of him. These were people who had hunted animals, fought off predators, and survived the boar attack.

Human opponents would affect them differently.

"You will hesitate when you first see another person in front of you," Lucien continued. "That hesitation is normal. You need to understand what it can cost before it happens."

Tavian’s jaw tightened.

Auren looked toward the ground.

Lucien could see fear in both of them.

"If someone enters this village carrying a weapon and tries to kill the person beside you, you will not have time to decide whether you feel ready."

Mirelle swallowed.

Her hands were trembling around the practice crossbow she held, but she raised her chin anyway.

"I’ll fight."

Tavian glanced at her.

Mirelle noticed.

"I am terrified," she admitted. "That does not mean I am going to hide while everyone else protects me."

Auren rubbed the back of his neck. "Then I suppose I cannot hide either."

Tavian looked at him. "You drive the wagon. That is a respectable occupation."

Auren narrowed his eyes.

"It also gives you an excellent reason to stay away from swords."

Auren kicked him.

A few people laughed, and some of the tension eased.

Lucien had expected Aurelia to be among those most disturbed by the idea of killing. Her face had gone pale, but her answer came calmly.

"The people who raised Seran taught us something similar."

Seran turned toward her.

Aurelia continued, "If somebody has already decided to kill you, refusing to fight will not make them reconsider."

The laughter disappeared.

Luke and Cienna understood the same reality.

Neither of them wanted bloodshed in the village. They simply understood that armed raiders would not spare them because the villagers disliked killing.

Luke had also spoken with the villagers about the law.

If armed men raided a settlement, the villagers were allowed to defend themselves. Anyone entering the village by force with weapons would effectively be treated as a bandit.

The political consequences surrounding the Iron Jackals’ noble patron were another matter.

Lucien could deal with that only if they survived first.

So the training continued.

...

Days passed.

No Iron Jackals came.

Then, one night, the strange resonance returned.

Lucien had been lying awake near the window when the faint sound touched the edge of his awareness.

His eyes opened immediately.

For a moment, he wondered whether exhaustion had created it.

Then it strengthened.

Lucien sat up.

He listened carefully before leaving the bed and stepping toward the window.

Something felt wrong.

Tonight, the resonance felt different.

Lucien left the house.

The village had already begun settling into sleep. A few lamps still burned near doorways, and distant voices came from one of the houses where somebody had not yet gone to bed.

Lucien walked toward the forge.

The sound remained unchanged.

He turned toward the river.

Nothing shifted.

He continued farther.

The same resonance stayed around him.

Lucien gradually stopped walking.

His gaze moved across the village.

The realization sent a chill through him.

The sound was not pointing toward a single person or a single place.

It was covering the village.

Lucien moved at once.

Luke was the first person he woke. Cienna followed moments later.

Neither of them questioned him for long after seeing his face.

Quiet knocks spread from house to house.

Within minutes, people began gathering near the center of the village.

Some were still half asleep. One man had pulled his shirt on backward. Another arrived carrying a spear before realizing he had forgotten his boots.

Auren rubbed both eyes.

"Another drill?"

Lucien looked at him.

Auren’s expression immediately changed.

The others noticed too.

Lucien was not amused.

"Prepare the village."

Luke stepped closer. "What happened?"

"I think something is coming."

A few villagers exchanged looks.

"When?" Luke asked.

Lucien glanced toward the wall.

"I don’t know exactly. I think it will happen tonight."

A murmur spread through the group.

There had been no warning from travelers. No scout had returned with news. No strange movement had been seen near the road. Even the forest seemed unusually quiet.

One of the older villagers hesitated before asking, "Are you certain?"

Lucien thought about everything the sound had led him toward before.

"Yes."

That was enough.

Perhaps nobody fully understood why Lucien was certain. They had simply lived with his strange habits for years.

Preparing for one empty night would cost them sleep.

Ignoring him might cost them much more.

The village began moving.

The drills Lucien had forced them through now proved their value.

Nobody had to ask where to stand.

Weapons came out of storage. Crossbows were loaded. Spears were distributed. The gate remained closed.

Lucien ordered several lamps placed outside the wall while most of the lights within the village were extinguished.

From the road, the village still looked peaceful.

Warm light surrounded the gate and a few exterior posts, while the people waiting inside remained hidden in darkness.

The placement was deliberate.

Anyone approaching would be forced to look toward the light. The villagers watching from behind the wall would see clear silhouettes while remaining difficult to distinguish themselves.

Crossbow teams took positions behind narrow firing gaps.

The shield line waited farther inside where the gate approach narrowed.

Spearmen remained close behind them.

Luke commanded the center.

Seran stayed near Lucien.

Mirelle stood with one of the crossbow groups. Her hands trembled while she checked the string for the third time.

Aurelia stood beside another group.

Tavian remained closer to Luke with a spear.

Auren waited near one of the side positions.

Then everyone settled into silence.

At first, nothing happened.

The first half hour passed.

Then another.

The night seemed to grow quieter with every passing minute.

People shifted their weight.

Someone whispered that perhaps Lucien had been wrong.

Lucien heard him.

He said nothing.

Even Lucien had started to question himself.

The strange resonance remained.

That kept him in place.

Another quarter hour passed.

Then Seran suddenly turned his head.

Lucien heard it a moment later.

A faint rustling came from the direction of the road.

Someone was moving carefully.

The villagers stiffened.

Lucien slowly raised one hand.

Nobody moved.

The sound grew closer.

Shapes appeared between the trees.

Ten men became twenty.

More followed behind them.

Lucien counted at least thirty-four before the last figures disappeared behind the bend in the road.

The lamps caught pieces of metal as they approached.

Armor. Short swords. Bows.

Several men carried shields far better than anything common people should have possessed.

Seran had described the Iron Jackals thoroughly enough that there was no uncertainty.

Lucien narrowed his eyes.

Their equipment confirmed something else.

These men were being funded.

Properly forged weapons and organized armor were expensive. Their bows were maintained well enough to move quietly during a night raid.

Someone powerful was supporting them.

The noble connection was real.

Lucien kept his hand raised.

The villagers watched him from the darkness.

Several were already breathing too quickly.

No one fired.

The Iron Jackals moved closer to the wall.

One man approached with a hooked rope.

Another crouched near the gate hinges.

Lucien waited until they had committed themselves fully to the approach.

Then his hand dropped.

The silence shattered.