Drew surveyed the scene before him, a mix of satisfaction and frustration etched on his face. The camp was secured, but the victory felt incomplete. They'd managed to capture about 200 people, mostly the weaker ones who couldn't put up much of a fight. The real prizes, those with the weird abilities, had slipped through their fingers like smoke.

Finn, on the other hand, was practically bouncing with excitement as he took in their newfound treasures. "Holy crap, Drew! Look at all this stuff!"

The camp was a treasure trove of goodies. Clothes that weren't made of leaves? Check. Actual food that didn't involve berries or raw fish? Double check. And was that... wine? Finn's eyes widened at the sight of the barrels.

"Dude, we hit the jackpot!" Finn exclaimed, his eyes darting from one prize to another. There were tents that didn't look like they'd fall over in a stiff breeze, honest-to-god blankets, and even some crude metal tools. It was like Christmas, birthday, and every holiday in between had come at once.

Finn dramatically fell to his knees, arms spread wide. "Thank you, mystery world gods!" he shouted to the sky. "You're the real MVPs!"

Drew raised an eyebrow at his creator's antics but didn't comment. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "My lord, we need to discuss our next steps. This situation could escalate quickly."

Finn sobered up a bit, remembering that they weren't out of the woods yet - literally or figuratively. "Right, yeah. What's the plan, big guy?"

Drew's face hardened with determination. "I won't let this drag out. I'm formulating a strategy as we speak. The river's covered - our scouts have that side locked down tight. But those strange abilities... they're a wild card."

Finn nodded, trying to look wise and leader-like. "Good thinking. Oh, and make sure Lyra gets her hands on some of this stuff. If we can figure out how to make it ourselves, that'd be huge."

Drew looked mildly surprised, as if he hadn't expected Finn to have such a practical idea. "An excellent suggestion, my lord. I'll see to it immediately."

As Drew turned to leave, Finn called out, "Hey, Drew? Thanks for everything, man. You're killing it out there."

Drew froze, his back to Finn. When he spoke, his voice was oddly strained. "Why thank me? I failed you. I promised to crush our enemies, yet I let them escape."

Finn shrugged, even though Drew couldn't see it. "We got the camp. That was the main objective. In my book, that's a win."

Drew's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank you, my lord," he said quietly, before striding off to oversee the camp's fortification.

With Drew gone, Finn found himself accompanied by Gloria and a small contingent of guards. He decided to take a stroll through their new digs, curious to see what else they'd scored.

The camp was massive, easily big enough to house 5,000 people comfortably. Tents of various sizes dotted the landscape, some plain and utilitarian, others surprisingly ornate. Finn whistled as he passed a particularly fancy one with intricate designs stitched into the fabric.

"Looks like some of these bandits were living large," he commented to Gloria.

She nodded, her eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. "Indeed, my lord. It seems they were quite... successful in their endeavors."

As they walked, Finn noticed his creations hard at work. Some were digging ditches - apparently Drew's idea of a good defense - while others were sorting through the spoils of war. It was like watching the world's most efficient moving company in action.

Eventually, they reached what was clearly the crown jewel of the camp - a tent so big it was practically a portable mansion. Finn let out a low whistle. "Now that's what I call glamping."

As they approached, a group of creations emerged from the tent, carrying bundles of cloth. One of them stepped forward and presented the bundle to Finn with a bow. "Clothes that should fit you, my lord."

Finn's eyes widened, and for a moment, he thought he might actually cry. Real clothes. Not leaf underwear or improvised grass skirts, but honest-to-god fabric. He reached out and touched the bundle reverently, as if it might disappear at any moment.

"Oh man," he breathed. "This is... this is awesome."

Then, remembering he wasn't alone, he cleared his throat and tried to look more dignified. "Uh, find some for Gloria too, would you?"

Gloria started to object, but Finn held up a hand. "Ah ah ah! No arguments. If I have to wear clothes, so do you. It's in the Personal Assistant Handbook or something."

The creations quickly returned with clothes for Gloria, and Finn ushered them both into the tent. The interior was even more impressive than the outside. Plush rugs covered the ground, and actual furniture - chairs, tables, even a freaking bed - filled the space. Finn had to remind himself to close his mouth before he started catching flies.

"Alright, let's get dressed," Finn said, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. He'd gotten used to the whole nudity thing, but now that clothes were an option, he felt weirdly exposed.

He turned his back to give Gloria some privacy, fumbling with his own clothes. As he struggled with a particularly stubborn button, he caught a glimpse of Gloria out of the corner of his eye. She was beautiful, her body as perfect as the day he'd created her. Finn quickly looked away, his cheeks burning.

"You good?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yes, my lord," Gloria replied. "You may turn around now."

Finn did, and had to stifle a laugh. Gloria looked as uncomfortable in her new outfit as he felt in his. They probably looked like kids playing dress-up, but damn if it didn't feel good to wear actual clothes again.

Finn glanced down at his new threads. He was sporting a loose-fitting tunic made of rough-spun fabric, dyed a deep forest green. It was belted at the waist with a strip of leather, and paired with brown trousers that were a bit too short, showing off his ankles. Gloria was decked out in a similar style, her tunic a soft beige color that complemented her auburn hair.

"We look like we're cosplaying as medieval peasants," Finn chuckled. "But hey, beats leaf underwear, right?"

Before he could comment, a group of creations entered the tent, carrying bowls and plates of food. Finn's stomach growled loudly, reminding him that creating life and overseeing battles worked up quite an appetite.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The creations set the food on a large table near the entrance. Finn's eyes widened as he took in the spread. There was a steaming bowl of what looked like pottage - a thick soup made with whatever vegetables and grains were on hand. A loaf of crusty bread sat next to it, along with a platter of roasted venison. And was that... yes, it was. A jug of wine completed the feast.

"Holy crap," Finn breathed. "This is like a medieval five-star restaurant!"

He plopped down in a chair that was way comfier than anything he'd sat on since arriving in this world. Without waiting for ceremony, he dug in, alternating between spoonfuls of soup and tearing off chunks of bread to dunk.

"Oh man," he mumbled around a mouthful of venison. "This is amazing. Gloria, you gotta try this!"

Gloria smiled indulgently but shook her head. "I don't require sustenance, my lord. But I'm glad you're enjoying it."

Finn paused mid-chew, remembering that his creations didn't need to eat. It was a weird thought, but he pushed it aside in favor of enjoying his meal.

As he ate, Finn found himself relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. The food was warm and filling, the wine was sweet (if a bit strong for his taste), and he was wearing actual clothes while sitting in an actual chair. It was almost enough to make him forget the craziness of the past couple weeks.

Almost.

With a contented sigh, Finn pushed away his empty plate and stood up. He stretched, feeling the pleasant weight of a full stomach. "Man, I could get used to this," he said, stifling a yawn.

Gloria smiled. "Would my lord like to rest now? The bed looks quite comfortable."

Finn glanced at the bed - a real, honest-to-god bed with blankets and everything - and felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. "You know what? That sounds like a great idea."

He shuffled over to the bed and flopped down, letting out a groan of pure bliss. After weeks of sleeping on leaves and dirt, this felt like a cloud sent straight from heaven.

"Oh my god," Finn mumbled into the pillow. "I'm never moving again."

Gloria's smile widened. "Shall I leave you to rest, my lord?"

Finn managed to lift his head enough to nod. "Yeah, thanks G. You're the best."

…

The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the riverbank. Drew stood at attention, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. Around him, 200 creations mirrored his vigilance, their bodies tense and ready for action.

Hours had passed since Finn had retired to his new quarters. Drew allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at the thought of his lord resting comfortably. It was his duty to ensure that comfort continued uninterrupted.

Patrols like this one were stationed at regular intervals along the river and throughout the surrounding area. Drew had designed the security measures himself, a complex web of overlapping patrol routes and lookout points. It was as close to impenetrable as he could make it.

And yet, something nagged at the back of Drew's mind. Those rage-induced thoughts had been coming more frequently since his encounter with Jonny. He clenched his jaw, forcing the anger down. Control was essential. He'd made sure the other creations who'd had contact with Roran understood this as well.

As he paced along the riverbank, Drew ran through his plan once more in his mind. It was elegant in its simplicity, yet flexible enough to account for multiple contingencies.

First, fortify our position, he thought. The ditches will slow any ground assault, channeling attackers into predetermined zones where we'll have the advantage. Meanwhile, we'll send out small, fast-moving scout teams to locate the enemy's new camp.

Once we find them, we strike hard and fast. No prolonged engagement this time. We hit their key targets - leaders, powered individuals, supply caches - and withdraw before they can mount an effective defense. Repeat as necessary until their force is broken or they're willing to negotiate.

If they manage to break through our outer defenses, we have fallback positions prepared, each one designed to funnel them into increasingly disadvantageous terrain. And if all else fails...

Drew's thoughts were interrupted by something... odd. It wasn't quite a sound, more like a vibration in the air. He turned, his eyes landing on one of the lead creations. She was about to step forward, right where that strange disturbance was centered.

A sense of dread washed over Drew. "Get back!" he shouted, but it was too late.

The explosion rocked the night, sending creations flying. Drew was knocked off his feet, his ears ringing from the blast. But pain was just information, easily ignored. He sprang back up, weapon at the ready.

Around him, other creations were doing the same. Some were on fire, their skin blackened and peeling, but they showed no signs of slowing down. If they could stand, they could fight.

The explosion had been loud - too loud. Drew knew the other patrols would be converging on their position soon. But they weren't alone.

More of those strange vibrations filled the air, dozens of them, coming straight for Drew and his squad. And behind them, the sound of running feet and war cries.

"Defensive positions!" Drew barked. "Prepare for engagement!"

As his creations scrambled to form up, Drew caught sight of the approaching enemy. There were at least 400 of them, charging across the river in a wave of flashing steel and glowing red eyes.

How had they managed to sneak such a large force past their patrols? Drew pushed the question aside. It didn't matter now. What mattered was stopping them here and now.

Anger bubbled up inside him, hot and fierce. But this time, instead of suppressing it, Drew embraced it. His vision tinged with red, his muscles swelling and pulsing with newfound strength. It felt good. It felt right.

With a roar that was more animal than human, Drew charged forward, his massive weapon leading the way. The front line of the enemy faltered at the sight of him, their eyes widening in fear.

Drew's weapon, a crude but effective maul, crashed into the first rank of attackers. Bodies flew like rag dolls, bones shattering under the immense force of his blows. Blood sprayed in wide arcs, painting the night in crimson.

Five men with glowing red eyes and wickedly sharp swords converged on Drew. In his normal state, it might have been a challenge. But now, fueled by this strange, intoxicating rage, they might as well have been children swinging sticks.

Drew's maul swept low, shattering kneecaps and sending three of the men tumbling to the ground, screaming in agony. The fourth managed to dart in close, his sword slicing across Drew's chest. The blade bit deep, but Drew barely felt it. He grabbed the man by the throat and squeezed, feeling the delicate bones of the neck crumble in his grip.

The fifth attacker, seeing his comrades fall so easily, turned to run. Drew's maul caught him in the back, the sickening crunch of his spine giving way lost in the general chaos of battle.

Around him, Drew's creations fought with similar ferocity. They were outnumbered two to one, but what they lacked in numbers they made up for in sheer, inhuman determination. Wounds that would have felled a normal man were shrugged off as minor inconveniences.

One creation, missing an arm and half its face, continued to fight, using its remaining hand to gouge out an enemy's eyes. Another, its legs crushed by some unseen force, dragged itself across the ground, biting and clawing at any enemy feet that came within reach.

The battle was brutal, a dance of death played out on the blood-soaked banks of the river. And through it all, Drew fought on, his mind clear despite the red haze that clouded his vision. Each swing of his maul was precise, each step calculated for maximum efficiency.

But even as he fought, a small part of Drew's mind remained focused on the bigger picture. This attack was too well-coordinated, too precisely timed. It had to be a diversion. But for what?

…

Miles away, in the captured bandit camp, chaos erupted.

Gloria's eyes snapped open, her enhanced senses picking up the sounds of battle before the first alarm was raised. She was on her feet and moving towards Finn's tent in an instant.

Inside, Finn was sprawled across the bed, snoring softly. Any other time, Gloria might have smiled at the sight. Now, she shook him roughly.

"My lord," she said urgently. "You must wake up. We're under attack."

Finn groaned, his eyes fluttering open. "Wha...? Gloria? What's going on?"

"The camp is under attack," Gloria repeated, already moving to gather what weapons she could find. "We need to move, now."

That got Finn's attention. He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. "Attack? But how? Drew said we were safe!"

A scream cut through the night, followed by the clash of steel on steel. Finn rushed to the tent opening, peeking out cautiously.

His eyes widened in shock. The camp was in chaos. Tents were ablaze, casting a hellish glow over the scene. Creations and humans clashed in deadly combat, blood staining the ground. And there, in the center of it all, stood a familiar figure.

Alyssa, the bandit leader, her scarred face twisted in a feral grin as she cut down a creation with terrifying ease. Around her, at least 300 bandits fought with the desperation of those who had nothing left to lose.

Finn turned back to Gloria, his face pale in the flickering firelight. "They are in the camp."