For the next week he struggled with these thoughts, surviving against teen beasts of prey no longer difficult for him. Slowly he managed to close his heart to emotion, leaving only a small hole in this enclosure. His wife and children filling it and no one else.

So, time started flowing again, Edvard becoming colder and colder as the weeks turned into months. Even his memory of Yawen and his children started to fade. At night he would toss and turn as he failed to recall their voices.

Slowly even their faces started fading. Only his love for them stayed strong and kept him from growing insane and completely detached from life.

In this life, he had realized the limitations of a cave. Not only could it easily be flooded, but it could also become his grave. Yet, the same could be said of a normal house.

Instead, Edvard took to the trees. Having become proficient in rope making and weaving, and having the tools at the ready, he started with a basic treehouse at first. But as time passed he built more and more. Filling the ground with traps as that would be where the fighting took place. The trees were his haven.

A connection of trees with rope bridges between them, the main treehouse being a comfortable size and even having a hearth for a fire. The woven roof and walls were covered in mud to make them water-resistant. On the ground was his forge in the center of his garden. Traps spreading out from there as far as the eye can see.

By the time orcs and goblins appeared he was ready not just physically, but also mentally. Locking his heart and keeping himself from thinking he slaughtered them as they would him. He kept telling himself it was him or them. Each time this resounded in his mind. Turning his heart to ice.

Throughout the next year he started making more demanding traps. Adding pitfalls or a more complicated log falls. He even made an area where the trees would rain down poisoned spears. His last resort.

In this year the numbers of the enemies slowly increased, luckily so did the time between attacks. By the end of the year, it became one attack each day. Giving Edvard the time he needed to reset and maintain his traps, while also recovering from the fight and getting food and water. A task that never disappeared.

As the second year arrived, the orcs no longer came wielding wooden clubs, but rather swords, spears, battle-axes, and warhammers. This did not change much as the traps were just as deadly as before. It did however give Edvard access to better weapons and iron, at last.

He did not hesitate to make full use of the precious metal. Making his traps far more lethal and so too his arrows. Even crafting himself a shield and some armor for if things were to become hairy.

This also led to his skill in forging greatly increasing. Where his first attempts were crude shapes of iron, by the end of the year he was making things on par with a blacksmith apprentice. It might not sound great, but for someone who was self-taught in a survival hell, it was a massive accomplishment.

By the third year, he started focusing on making his home a fortress. The orcs were no longer just in a loincloth, but instead in full plate armor. A change that made his traps less effective but only because they were still mostly wood.

The increased donation of iron however quickly changed that. Edvard's crossbows also easily pierced their armor and he was busy making himself ballistae on the tree outposts.

Again the frequency of the attacks became less as they now often came in groups of ten, but only once a week. Often some of the orcs would even come riding beats, something that would have made survival near impossible if not for all the traps he had made throughout the years and him being high in the trees. Sniping them as they tried to make their way to his home.

"Dammit!" Edvard cursed as he dropped the white-hot iron onto the ground and rushed out of his forge. Three orcs were impaled by the reversed trap door, a simple spiked slab that fell from the trees if tripped. The others charged at them once they saw him, forgetting about the traps as they did.

Another three fell into pitfalls and two others died as their mounts failed to make it over his spiked fence. Edvard took his bow and quickly killed the last survivor, cursing as he knew it would take the rest of the day to reset all the traps.

"Let's get to it..." He mumbled first heading inside and making sure his forge was not in danger of setting anything aflame.

He had developed a proper routine over time and no matter what arrived he dealt with it efficiently. Yet, the fourth year changed this all.

Instead of rushing blindly, the orcs were in formation and the goblins were sent forward to trigger his traps. Causing them to get a pitiful amount of kills before the orcs made it through and into his garden.

Edvard had managed to survive thanks to his vantage in the trees and many backup plans which were finally used. His arrows flew accurately and his ballista took care of those that made it too close to his current location.

However, the damage they had caused to his traps was massive and while Edvard did his best to repair it all. The next month they had doubled in numbers and his traps only managed to take care of the goblins.

Jumping from tree to tree, Edvard put up a valiant effort. However, the orcs this time also brought bows and crossbows. While only six of them were armed with ranged weapons, they were protected by others with massive shields that could even block his ballista bolts.

'How am I supposed to survive that?' He asked as he fell from the trees, an arrow had found its target mid-jump. Edvard did not struggle after falling, the fall had broken his arm and probably a few ribs. Instead, he pulled out his dagger and slit his throat before the orcs could arrive.

'I don't think it is possible...' Edvard felt cheated. He still had had some hope, but them using tactics and working as an actual army had destroyed those hopes.

After killing the beast that came for his life, Edvard paced around on the spot as he thought about what he could do.

"Traps won't do. Treehouses are indeed amazing. Ballistae worked well..." He started going through all that had worked and what hadn't. Trying to figure out the most optimal path for this life.

'Basic traps for the goblin horde, and then larger more advanced ballistae for the orcs. However... Right, it won't be easy but just 1 can make the difference.'

With a plan set, he started getting to work. Finding a river first, setting up a temporary camp, and skinning the day's animals, while also starting his search for a cave for obsidian. Edvard did not wish to die again.