John stood before his new subjects, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. Ten people looked at him expectantly, waiting for direction. He was no longer just a university student—he was a Lord. Even if it was only a small village, it was still something.

"Alright," he began, doing his best to sound confident. "Let’s start organizing the camp. Who here knows how to chop wood?"

Several hands went up. John nodded.

"Great. Grab some axes and start gathering lumber. We need to build shelters and secure the perimeter. Does anyone have experience with tools?"

Two more raised their hands. One of them, a broad-shouldered man in his thirties with calloused hands, spoke up.

"I’m a carpenter. I can help with construction."

"Perfect," John replied. "You’ll be in charge of building. The rest of you, assist him. Does anyone know anything about plants or hunting?"

A young woman with short brown hair hesitantly raised her hand.

"I’m an herbalist. I can try to find edible plants."

"Excellent," John nodded. "Focus on that. The rest of you, help where you can. We need to set everything up before nightfall."

The villagers got to work, moving with a purpose. As John watched them, he felt a strange warmth in his chest. These were his people now, and it was his duty to protect them. Yet something in their eyes unsettled him. They looked confused, almost as if they couldn’t remember who they were. When he asked the carpenter where he came from, the man only shrugged.

"I don’t know, Lord. I remember how to work with wood, but I don’t recall where I learned it."

John frowned. It seems like the system wipes their personal memories but leaves their skills intact. It was strange, but there was no time to dwell on it now.

He approached the summoning altar. The crystal at its center continued to pulse with a gentle glow. As he placed his hand on it, a new interface window appeared before him:

Summoning Altar. Level 1.

* You can summon 10 new residents daily.

* Next summon available in: 23 hours, 45 minutes.

"Good," he muttered. "Tomorrow, we’ll have more hands."

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He glanced around. The clearing—his newly acquired territory—felt small and vulnerable. The dense forest surrounding them was dark and foreboding, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching from within the trees. Every so often, strange sounds echoed from the depths—rustling leaves, snapping branches, and heavy, deliberate footsteps.

"We need to reinforce the perimeter," he told himself. "Otherwise, we might not survive the night."

He gripped the warhammer he had received from the starter pack, testing its weight. The weapon felt natural in his hands, but he knew he had no real experience using it. Before today, the heaviest thing he had lifted was a laptop. Now, he had no choice but to learn.

"Lord!" the carpenter called out. "We found something unusual."

John walked over to the group gathered at the edge of the clearing. On the ground lay a strange object—a small crystal, glowing faintly blue.

"What is it?" he asked, kneeling to examine it.

Minor Energy Crystal.

* Used for crafting and upgrading buildings.

* Essential for construction and enhancements.

"This could be useful," John said, picking it up. "Good find. Keep searching—there might be more valuable things around."

He slipped the crystal into his pocket and looked up. The sun was at its peak, bathing the clearing in warm light. He watched as his villagers worked—the carpenter and his helpers chopping wood, the herbalist gathering plants, and others clearing space for future buildings. Everything seemed to be going well, until a sudden noise broke the peace—a high-pitched screech mixed with a guttural growl.

"Lord!" one of the villagers shouted, stumbling back. "There’s something in the bushes!"

John turned just in time to see a small creature leap from the undergrowth. It had green skin, pointed ears, and narrow, hate-filled eyes. A goblin. In its hands, it clutched a crude wooden club, gnarled and splintered.

The goblin snarled and lunged at the nearest villager—a young man frozen in fear.

"Hey!" John shouted, gripping his warhammer. "Get away from him!"

The goblin ignored him, closing the distance fast. John didn’t think—he acted. He sprinted forward, heart pounding, instincts screaming at him to move faster. This was his village. These were his people. He had to protect them.

The goblin swung its club, but John intercepted the blow with his warhammer. Wood clashed against metal with a dull thunk, and the goblin recoiled, hissing in pain. John seized the opportunity, bringing his weapon down in a crushing arc. The goblin yelped as it was sent sprawling, its body motionless.

"Is everyone alright?" John asked, turning to the terrified villager.

"Y-yes, Lord," the man stammered. "Thank you."

John nodded, but his attention was already on the object the goblin had dropped. A tightly bound leather waterskin. He picked it up and shook it—liquid sloshed inside.

He pulled the stopper and sniffed cautiously.

"Water," he said, exhaling in relief. "Clean water."

This was a major find. He had been wondering how they would secure a water source, and this was a step in the right direction. He handed the waterskin to the herbalist.

"Take this. We need to set up water storage and find a way to collect more."

"Yes, Lord," she replied, taking it carefully.

John looked back at the forest. What had once seemed like just scenery now felt like an ominous wall of unknown dangers. If one goblin had found them, there could be more lurking beyond the trees.

"Listen up!" he called out to his people. "Work in groups. No one wanders too far from the camp. Stay alert—this world is unforgiving."

The villagers nodded, but fear flickered in their eyes. John understood their worry. They needed better defenses, more buildings, and more resources. But time was against them. The sun had already begun its descent, and as darkness crept closer, so did the dangers that lurked in the night.