They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World-Chapter 133: Oakmere [1]

The village was surrounded by a wooden palisade that rose maybe fifteen feet high, the logs reinforced with crude but effective iron bands hammered into place.

The work looked fresh, some of the wood still showed pale, unweathered cuts where new sections had been added.

Watchtowers stood at intervals along the wall, their platforms barely high enough to see over the sparse treeline that marked the edge of Thornwood Forest in the distance. Smoke rose from chimneys within the walls, and the warm glow of lamplight flickered through windows, creating pockets of civilization against the gathering darkness.

But something felt off.

The usual sounds of evening village life, children playing their last games before dinner, merchants closing their shops and calling out final prices, neighbors gossiping across fences... these were completely absent.

Just eerie quiet broken occasionally by the creak of the watchtowers swaying in the wind and the distant call of some bird I didn’t recognize.

We approached the main gate, our footsteps loud on the packed dirt road.

Guards stood positioned along the wall above us. Not many. Maybe six or seven visible from where we stood, which seemed like far too few for a village this size.

They wore mismatched armor, some in boiled leather that had cracked with age, others in battered chainmail that had seen better days and showed signs of hasty repairs.

Village guards, mostly, with a few who looked like they might have been proper soldiers once.

One of them spotted us approaching and leaned over the palisade, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Hurry up and get inside the village!" His voice carried across the open ground, sharp with urgency.

I raised my hand in acknowledgment and kept walking at the same steady pace.

"Didn’t you hear me?!" The guard’s voice rose higher, almost frantic. "Hurry up and get inside! Now! Run!"

Hmm?

That made me pause.

The desperation in his tone wasn’t normal.

I picked up my pace, breaking into a jog.

We reached the gate just as it was being pulled open, the heavy timber door swinging inward. Two guards hauled on the iron rings with visible effort, muscles straining, both of them constantly glancing over their shoulders at us and then past us at the darkening landscape beyond.

"Inside, quickly!" one of them barked.

We stumbled through the opening, breathing hard.

The gate slammed shut behind us with a heavy thud that echoed through the empty streets.

I heard the bar being dropped into place with a solid thunk, followed by the sound of multiple locks being secured, chains being fastened.

More security than any village gate should need.

I turned to look at the village proper, trying to get my bearings.

And my stomach dropped.

Empty.

The streets were completely empty.

No people walking between houses to visit neighbors. No merchants packing up their wares from the day’s trading. No children darting around corners in that last burst of energy before bedtime. Not a single soul visible anywhere in the fading light.

Just abandoned streets and closed doors and shuttered windows that looked more like fortifications than homes. Many of the shutters had been reinforced with additional boards nailed across them. Some windows had been completely boarded over.

The village looked like it was preparing for a siege.

Agnes had gone pale beside me, her face draining of what little color the exhaustion had left her. Her eyes were wide as she took in the ghost town around us, her breathing quickening with barely controlled panic.

"Where is everyone?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Hurry up, follow me." The guard who’d shouted at us was already moving down the main street, his hand resting on the sword at his hip in a way that suggested he expected to need it at any moment.

His head swiveled constantly, checking corners, doorways, shadows. "I’ll get you to the shelter."

He started walking quickly toward what looked like the village center, not waiting to see if we’d follow.

What the hell is going on here?

I exchanged a glance with Scarlet, who looked just as confused and wary as I felt. Her ears were flat against her head beneath her hood, her entire posture screaming danger.

Then we followed, our footsteps echoing loudly in the unnaturally quiet streets. The sound seemed wrong, too loud, like we were announcing our presence to everything in the village.

"Shelter?" I called after the guard, having to jog slightly to keep up with his urgent pace. "What do you mean, shelter?"

"The village shelter," he said without slowing down or looking back, his eyes still scanning the darkening streets around us. "It’s underground. Where everyone goes when night falls."

His tone made it clear this wasn’t optional.

Agnes’s voice came out small and frightened, trembling slightly.

"Why do we need to go to a shelter? What happens at night?"

The guard finally stopped in front of a large building that looked like it might have been the village hall or meeting house. He turned to face us, and I could see his face properly for the first time.

His expression was grim. The look of someone who’d seen too much and slept too little.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes. His hands trembled slightly where they gripped his sword hilt.

"Because," he said solemnly, meeting each of our eyes in turn, his voice flat with the weight of terrible certainty, "we don’t know if any of us will survive tonight."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

Before I could ask what he meant, before I could demand answers, a sound cut through the silence.

Distant. Echoing across the darkening landscape beyond the walls.

A howl.

Long. Mournful. Inhuman.

And then another joined it. And another. A whole chorus of them rising into the evening air, coming from the direction of Thornwood Forest.

The guard’s face went even paler.

"Inside," he said urgently, pulling open the door to the building.

"Now. Before they come."