Creating Civilization In My Private Island

The day after the test, Lorka, Amara, and Harek stand around the blacksmith's forge, looking at the three completed chest armors laid out before them. Each piece is identical, with a plain but solid design, and the strange, dark sheen of the creature's exoskeleton. They had worked through the night, using every last shard of the creature's body to forge these three pieces, but not a scrap remains.

"These are for us," Lorka says, his gaze moving between the three sets. "No weapons yet, but this armor alone is a victory."

Ruan, standing beside his fellow blacksmith, shakes his head with a tired but proud smile. "We tried everything, Chiefs. But with only one beast, there was just enough for these three chest plates. Not enough for weapons."

Amara nods, running her fingers along the cool, smooth surface of one armor. "Don't worry, we already ordered the hunting team to report if they see a creature similar to this," she says, her voice carrying a mix of determination and hope. "We know now that creatures like this hold the strength we need."

Lorka nods. "And next time, we'll be ready to take them down faster." He turns to Ruan and Harek. "You've done well, both of you. Our people will remember this day."

Villagers begin to gather around, the news spreading quickly that the three chiefs are to wear the new armor. The excitement is contagious as the villagers watch the chiefs take up the armors and fasten them over their tunics, each piece fitting perfectly as though the armor was made for them alone. Some villagers murmur in awe, while others exchange grins, pride filling their expressions.

From the back of the crowd, a voice calls out, "Chiefs, show us! Let us see how it works!"

Lorka raises a hand, signaling the crowd to quiet. He looks to Amara and Harek, a spark of challenge in his eyes. "Shall we give them a proper demonstration?" he says, a playful glint in his eye.

Amara chuckles, rolling her shoulders to settle the armor comfortably. "If the villagers want to see, who are we to deny them?" She glances at Harek, who nods his agreement, a smile tugging at his lips.

With a grin, Lorka steps into the open clearing, dagger still in hand. He and Amara exchange a nod, each settling into a ready stance as the villagers press closer, murmuring in excitement. The crowd falls silent as Lorka lunges forward, a blur of speed as he aims his strikes at Amara's shoulders and torso, testing every angle of the new armor.

Amara counters with swift footwork, deflecting some blows with her forearms, and soon both chiefs are engaged in a quick, calculated dance of feints and strikes. Her fists and elbows meet his dagger with a hollow clang each time, the armor absorbing every hit without a mark. The villagers are captivated, watching their chiefs spar like warriors in the middle of a true battle.

Finally, Amara manages to sidestep and throw Lorka slightly off-balance, just enough to reach out and tap her knuckles on his shoulder in a playful, victorious gesture.

"Looks like even your speed can't break this armor," she says, a laugh escaping her as she straightens. The villagers cheer, many of them smiling and calling out encouragements to their chief.

Lorka laughs, sheathing his dagger. "I'll give you this round, Amara." He gestures to the armor, impressed. "It's proven its worth."

Amara nods, looking down at the unscathed chest plate. "This will change everything," she says, voice softer now. She glances out at the villagers who watched with rapt attention. "They feel it too—the protection it offers."

As the crowd slowly disperses, Ruan, Lorka's blacksmith, moves forward, giving a respectful nod. "Chief Lorka, we should head back to the village before nightfall. It's been a long day."

Lorka places a hand on Ruan's shoulder, nodding. "You're right. We should go while there's still light." He turns to Amara, his expression a mix of pride and respect. "Chief Amara, may your people find strength in this armor. And may we meet again under clear skies."

She returns the nod, reaching out to clasp his forearm in a warrior's farewell. "And you, Lorka."

Meanwhile, Harek, Tygari's blacksmith, carefully picks up the third armor crafted for Chief Tygari. He nods to Amara and Lorka before making his way out of the village, the chest plate slung over his shoulder. "I'll see this reaches Tygari safely," he says, his tone determined. "Our work here will protect all of us."

With farewells exchanged, Lorka and Ruan turn back towards their own village, disappearing into the path that winds through the forest. Amara watches until they're out of sight, feeling the weight of the day settle in. This armor has marked a new beginning—a symbol of unity and strength among the Vorran chiefs.

A week passes quietly, the village basking in the safety of its newfound armor. Early one morning, as dawn's light filters through the village, Amara hears hurried footsteps approaching. She looks up to see Rylis, approaching with urgency in his step. His face is flushed, and his breathing comes in shallow gasps as he stops before her, offering a respectful nod before he speaks.

"Chief," he says, catching his breath. "We found them."

Amara raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"The creatures—ones like the one we killed before," Rylis says, his voice laced with both excitement and concern. "Although... they're smaller, not nearly as big. But," he pauses, his gaze shifting to the ground as a flicker of worry darkens his expression, "there are many of them. Always moving in groups. It's almost like they're... organized."

Amara's eyes narrow thoughtfully as she listens, but a smile begins to form on her lips. She crosses her arms, her voice calm but tinged with admiration. "Good work, Rylis. I knew I could count on you."

Rylis's felt good. He meets her eyes for a brief moment, feeling his heart race, though he tries to keep his expression steady. He's always admired Amara's strength and intelligence, but her words stir something deeper, something that's remained his quiet secret.

"Thank you, Chief," he replies, his voice a bit softer than he intends. "I... I only did what was necessary." He quickly glances away, trying to regain his composure.

Amara studies him for a moment, her gaze warm but sharp. "And you did it well. This information gives us the chance to prepare, to understand these creatures better," she says. "I'll gather the other chief. You'll need to be there to give them your full report."