Finn didn't even understand how the East Gate had opened. He believed it was because he thought about letting Tessa and the others who were carrying Old Hann get inside.
He didn't shout. He didn't raise his hand or even speak the words aloud. He just thought it.
He thought about opening the gate, and the gate moved.
It groaned under its own weight, timber creaking and metal hinges straining as it slowly parted. No one had touched it, yet it shifted open as if obeying a command no one else could hear.
Gasps broke out among the villagers nearby. A few staggered back, confused by what they were seeing. But there was no time for questions. No room for awe.
Then, amidst the chaos, Tessa's voice pierced the air like a blade.
"Get to Carna! Now!"
The name echoed through his mind.
Carna. The healer.
The oldest living woman in Riverwood. She had once stitched broken flesh and bone after every beast raid or battle against the bandits. She was a woman whose hands had seen more blood than most warriors.
She even brought more people back from the brink of death than any blade had ever saved. Stories said she had learned the craft before she was old enough to hold a blade, back when her own mother was the village healer.
Now, she was their last chance. Their only hope to save Old Hann.
Finn kept running. He didn't hesitate. He didn't slow down. He followed the others through the newly opened path as though it had always been meant for him.
The battlefield behind them had emptied. He had willed for the East Gate to close, too. He didn't dare to take any risk of allowing any danger to get inside their village.
The villagers who had just been clinging to the top of the stone wall were now descending rapidly. Some by rope while some jump with reckless urgency.
Others had already reached the ground, joining the rush toward the village's heart. And at the center of it all, carried like something sacred, was Old Hann.
Xabi cradled the Chief's upper body with both arms, gripping him with a mix of care and desperation. On either side, Rata and Taro each held one of the Chief's legs, their knuckles white with effort.
Blood streaked Hann's back like paint, trailing down with every step. He had long lost consciousness but they knew he was still alive. They believed that he just needed to be treated by Carna.
Tessa led them with eyes sharp and her axe secured behind her back. Her voice, hoarse from command, sliced through the murmuring crowd.
"Move! Give us room! Clear the road!"
People stepped aside as she passed, shocked into silence. Their eyes darted from the Chief's bloodied figure to the warriors hauling him forward.
Some raised trembling hands to their lips. Some began whispering desperate prayers beneath their breath. Others simply followed, their footsteps fast but uncertain, their faces pale with fear.
Finn ran just behind them. His breath came in shallow bursts. His legs ached from the earlier jump and the Daily Mission. But he didn't stop.
Thoughts crashed in his mind, one over the other.
The beast. The blow. The way his punch had failed. The moment Old Hann had stepped between him and death.
The crimson light that had poured from the Blood Devourer. The cleave that had split the monster in half. The faint smile Hann had worn even as his body broke.
'I wanted to protect them,' Finn thought. 'But I almost got myself and Old Hann killed instead.'
They reached the healer's house just as the sun climbed higher, casting sharp lines across the dirt road.
Carna was already at the doorway, her posture straight despite her age, her long silver hair tied in a tight braid that swung behind her like a banner of old wisdom.
The moment her eyes landed on the bloodied figure in Xabi's arms, her expression cracked. The calm vanished. Panic took its place.
"Inside. Now," she snapped. "Lay him on the long table. Be careful with his back!"
Her voice, though strained, left no room for hesitation. She turned and pushed open the wooden door fully with both hands. The smell of herbs and dried roots drifted out, clashing with the coppery scent of blood.
Only Xabi, Rata, and Taro were allowed through. Carna stopped everyone else at the door with a glare that cut sharper than any weapon.
"No more. I need space," she said.
Tessa, who had followed closely, halted at the threshold and nodded. "We'll wait."
She stepped back, her eyes flicking toward the crowd gathering behind them.
The door shut, and silence followed.
The villagers spread out across the healer's yard, some sitting against trees, some pacing with stiff shoulders, others just standing motionless as if unsure what to do with themselves.
Finn remained near the steps, eyes fixed on the closed door, chest still heaving from the run. Every minute that passed made it harder to breathe.
It felt like the world had slowed.
Inside that house, the Chief's life hung in the balance. Carna was their best hope, but even she had limits. Everyone knew it. No one said it.
The hours dragged on. Morning gave way to noon. Then noon stretched into afternoon.
Still, there was no word from inside.
Whispers began to rise.
First, about the walls. Then about the battle with the beast. And slowly, inevitably, the whispers turned toward Finn.
"I saw him jump down like a fool," someone said under their breath.
"Trying to play hero."
"If he hadn't gone down there… the Chief wouldn't have gotten hurt like that."
It started as murmurs, but soon others joined in.
"He got in the way."
"The Chief had to protect him."
"Because of him, we almost lost our leader."
The words hit like stones.
Finn didn't respond. He didn't argue. He just stood there, arms limp at his sides, the heat from the sun suddenly feeling distant and cold.
Because deep down… he couldn't deny it.
He thought he could end it in one punch. He thought the Master Builder System's strength would make him a warrior. He thought numbers meant something.
But none of it had mattered when it counted.
Old Hann had been the one who saved him.
Not the System. Not his sudden increase in strength.
Finn clenched his fists, but he couldn't stop the guilt rising inside. It was heavy, too heavy for him to bear anymore.
And as the weight of silence returned, only one question echoed in his mind.
'What if he never wakes up?'