The night after the merchant’s visit was restless. Riaan lay on his mat, listening to the muffled laughter of villagers outside, their spirits lifted by the new well and irrigation. But his mind refused to rest. The merchant’s words echoed in his head:

*Progress attracts eyes. And not all eyes are kind.*

He turned onto his side. Until now, his focus had been survival—clean water, soap, food. But if outsiders came with envy or greed, what would happen to this fragile peace? Could the village withstand it?

Before dawn, Riaan rose quietly and made his way to the riverbank, where the shimmering light awaited. The portal to 5355 pulsed softly, like a heartbeat. He stepped through.

The air on the other side was sharp, sterile, filled with faint hums of unseen machines. The AI’s voice greeted him at once, calm and measured.

“Welcome back, Riaan. You return earlier than usual.”

Riaan crossed his arms. “I had no choice. Someone came to the village today. A merchant. He noticed the changes. Praised them, yes, but also warned me. He said outsiders might not look kindly on our progress.”

The AI paused, as though weighing his words. “That is a valid concern. Human societies, regardless of time period, often respond to innovation with both admiration and fear. Advancement disrupts the balance of power.”

“So what do I do?” Riaan asked. “I can’t hide the changes. Wells, clean streets—they’re already there. If word spreads, more people will come. Some may trade. Others may take.”

“You are correct,” the AI replied. “Your village is vulnerable. You lack walls, weapons, and political allies. If stronger groups view your progress as a threat, they could absorb or destroy you.”

The weight in Riaan’s chest deepened. “So… all this work, all these hopes—it could be stolen?”

“Only if you fail to prepare.”

Riaan clenched his fists. “Then tell me how to prepare.”

The AI’s tone shifted, more deliberate. “You must think in layers. Defense is not only walls or soldiers. It begins with unity. If your villagers trust you, they will stand together. That bond is your first shield.”

Riaan nodded slowly. Unity—he was starting to earn it, but it was fragile.

“Second,” the AI continued, “information. Learn who your neighbors are. What they trade. What they covet. Knowledge of others’ desires will let you anticipate threats.”

“Spies?” Riaan asked.

“In a primitive sense, yes. Travelers, merchants, even rumors—they are sources of intelligence.”

Riaan’s brow furrowed. The idea of watching others, of gathering secrets, felt uncomfortable… but necessary.

“And third,” said the AI, “infrastructure. Build not only for survival, but for resilience. Food stores, hidden supplies, places to retreat. Progress should serve both prosperity and protection.”

Riaan exhaled. “Unity, information, resilience… It’s more than I thought.”

The AI’s voice softened, almost human. “Riaan, progress always invites challenge. But you are not powerless. You stand at a unique intersection—armed with knowledge of two times. If you use it wisely, your village can thrive, even against stronger rivals.”

For the first time since the merchant’s warning, Riaan felt a flicker of steadiness return. “Then I’ll prepare. Quietly. I’ll make the village strong enough to stand, without showing too much too soon.”

“Good,” the AI said. “Remember: too much progress too quickly can be as dangerous as none at all.”

Riaan turned back toward the portal, determination hardening in his chest. The merchant’s cart had carried both opportunity and risk. If more outsiders came, the village must be ready.

As he stepped back into his own world, the first rays of dawn painted the sky. The villagers would soon rise, eager for another day of work. Riaan looked at their simple homes, their hopeful faces.

*I’ll protect this place,* he vowed silently. *No matter who comes.*