Dawn of Training
The first rays of sunlight broke across Eldoria's fields, casting a golden glow over the training ground. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-soaked grass. But peace was shattered by the sound of the horn.
"Up! All trainees, assemble!"
Kaen jolted awake, his muscles already sore from yesterday's drills. He rubbed his eyes and glanced around the shelter — children groaning, stretching, dragging themselves up. Riku tied her hair back quickly, her eyes heavy with fatigue but steady with determination.
Daren limped slightly, but his stubborn grin remained. "Guess they're not planning on letting us take it easy, huh?"
Kaen chuckled weakly. "Wouldn't be training if they did."
Together, they marched out.
The Physical Trial
The commander, Reius, stood tall at the edge of the field, arms crossed. His voice cut like steel.
"Strength is survival. Discipline is survival. Without both, you are prey. Today, you'll learn what it means to endure."
The first task: running laps around the village wall.
Kaen's breath burned within minutes. His legs screamed, each step heavier than the last. Beside him, Riku panted, her determination etched in every strained breath. Lyra ran ahead, refusing to let anyone outpace her. Finn stumbled early, nearly collapsing, but Kaen slowed, grabbing his arm.
"Don't stop. Just keep moving."
Finn's eyes wavered. "…I can't—"
"Yes, you can," Kaen cut in, dragging him forward. "One step at a time."
The guards watching didn't interfere. They observed silently, measuring not speed, but willpower.
After laps came climbing drills—scaling rough wooden walls, hauling themselves over logs, pulling their bodies with trembling arms. Kaen's palms tore against the wood, blood seeping into the grain. His chest heaved, sweat stinging his eyes.
"Again!" the instructor barked.
Kaen dropped down, knees buckling, but forced himself up. His mother's voice echoed in his memory—Protect the lost.
That alone kept him moving.
Sword Training
By midday, wooden swords were handed out. The trainees gathered in the practice ring.
"In your hands," Reius declared, "a weapon is not wood or steel—it is life or death. Respect it. Master it."
The clatter of wooden blades filled the air as they began drills. Kaen gripped his sword tightly, focusing on his stance. Step, swing, recover. Again. Again.
But when paired for sparring, he froze for a moment. The image of the small dinosaur he had killed flashed before his eyes—the way blood had sprayed across his hands, the weight of the spear sinking into its chest.
His hands trembled.
"Kaen?" Riku's voice broke through, standing across from him with her wooden sword ready. She lowered it slightly. "You don't have to rush."
Kaen shook his head, swallowing hard. "…No. If I stop now, I'll never move forward."
They began.
Riku swung clumsily, but with determination. Kaen blocked, his movements sharp, practiced—yet each strike rattled his arms, sending tremors down his spine. He forced himself to focus, not on the past, but on the rhythm. Strike, block, counter.
When the session ended, Riku smiled faintly through her exhaustion. "See? You didn't freeze."
Kaen exhaled, gripping the sword tighter. "…Not this time."
The Lecture Hall
The veteran soldier unrolled another parchment, his scarred hand steady.
"You've met fear. But to survive, you must know your enemy. Study them. Memorize their strengths and their flaws. Hesitation is death."
He pointed to the first drawing.
1. The Ravager Drake – "Pack hunters. Small but swift, with razor teeth. They circle their prey and strike when you're distracted. Never face them alone."
Gasps rippled through the room.
2. The Ironhide Lorthos – "A fortress of flesh and bone. Swords bounce off it. Avoid its charge; only its underbelly shows weakness."
3. The Skyrend Talon – "The predator of silence. It dives from above—by the time you hear its wings, you're already in its grasp."
He paused, then flipped to another sketch.
4. The Mirefang Stalker – a reptilian beast with slick, swamp-colored scales, its jaw unnaturally long.
"Lives in rivers, marshes, and deep waters. It waits just beneath the surface. Step too close, and it drags you under before you can scream. Always probe water before crossing."
The trainees shivered, some glancing at their drinking flasks.
5. The Bonecrusher Rylok – drawn massive, its skull lined with blunt, hammer-like ridges.
"A brute. Its bite can shatter stone, but its true weapon is its head. It charges walls, trees, even armored soldiers, breaking through with sheer force. Keep your distance—close range is certain death."
6. The Shadeclaw Revenant – unlike the others, its sketch was rough, almost fearful. The silhouette seemed wrong, as though it blurred at the edges.
"This one… lurks in caves, ruins, and shadows. Silent, unseen until it strikes. Few who've encountered it lived to describe more than a pair of glowing eyes."
The hall was dead silent. No one breathed.
Kaen leaned forward, his jaw tight, memorizing every detail. His mind echoed one thought: If I'm going to protect anyone, I need to know them all.
Beside him, Riku whispered shakily:
"…They're everywhere."
Kaen clenched his fists. "Then we'll learn. Every weakness. Every way to fight them. We have to."
Wooden Dolls
Evening training returned them to the grounds. Wooden dummies stood in rows, painted crudely to resemble dinosaurs.
The instructor barked: "Attack with intent! Every swing should carry your will to survive!"
Kaen raised his sword. For a moment, the wooden doll blurred into the beast from that night. Its snarling maw. Its claws tearing toward Riku.
His body trembled. Then he roared, driving the blade forward with all his strength. The wood cracked under the strike. He slashed again, faster, harder—each swing an echo of grief, anger, and resolve.
By the time he stopped, his arms were numb, sweat dripping from his chin.
Riku approached, her own strikes shaky but persistent. She glanced at his cracked dummy. "…Kaen, you'll break yourself before you break them."
He let out a breathless laugh. "Maybe that's what it takes."
She shook her head, but her eyes softened. "…No. It takes balance. Not just rage."
Her words lingered in his mind.
Night in the Shelter
Night fell. The trainees collapsed into the shelter, their bodies aching. Lanterns cast a soft glow across weary faces. Some cried quietly into their blankets. Others whispered about the future.
Kaen sat near the window, staring at the stars. His hands, blistered and raw, rested on his knees.
Riku lay down beside him, her voice gentle. "You pushed yourself too hard today."
"…I have to."
"You'll burn out if you keep going like this."
Kaen turned, meeting her gaze. Her eyes weren't scolding—just worried. That worry struck deeper than any wound.
He looked away, whispering, "…If I don't, I'll never be strong enough. I couldn't save anyone before. I won't let that happen again."
Silence stretched between them. Then Riku reached out, brushing her fingers against his hand.
"You don't have to carry it alone."
Kaen froze. The warmth of her touch felt fragile, yet steady. Slowly, he nodded.
"…Alright."
For the first time in days, his breathing eased. The weight didn't vanish—but it felt lighter.
Outside, Eldoria slept beneath the stars, its walls standing tall, its people safe—for now. And within the shelter, Kaen closed his eyes, the echoes of the day fading into dreams of strength yet to be forged.
A montage fades across the screen in silence:
Kaen striking the wooden doll again and again, sweat dripping.
Riku struggling, then adjusting her stance, smiling faintly when she improves.
Lyra sparring fiercely, sparks in her eyes.
Finn collapsing in exhaustion, then dragging himself up with trembling arms.
Daren practicing despite his injured leg, sweat running down his brow.
Over the montage, Reius's voice echoes:
"Strength is not given. It is carved, day by day, in sweat, in pain, in persistence. Those who endure, survive. Those who falter, perish. Which will you be?"
The final shot lingers on Kaen gripping his wooden sword tightly, his eyes burning with quiet resolve.