Training, Taming, and Forging

Julian hadn't slept well.

Nightmares had filled his dreams, leaving him restless, but when morning came, he still got up.

He wasn't about to miss training—not after everything.

For once, Emma had planned to give him a break. She figured he'd sleep in after what he'd been through. She even set aside a little extra time before checking in on him.

But then came the knock.

"Emma? Are you there?" Julian's voice called from just outside her door.

She blinked in surprise, then smirked.

"And here I was planning to let you sleep longer today…" she said, swinging the door open.

Julian stood there, already dressed and looking surprisingly alert, though his eyes were still a little groggy.

His gaze drifted past her shoulder for a second.

Emma's room wasn't what he expected.

It was bigger than his—and warmer, too. The soft pink-and-white tones stood out from the more spartan rooms of the enclave. It almost looked like something from back home.

Julian quickly turned his eyes back to her, not wanting to seem rude.

Emma, already in her usual training outfit, tilted her head as she caught his awkward glance.

Black tights covered her legs, snug beneath a layer of black shorts. A sleeveless green top covered the tight sleeves beneath, forming a practical—but unusually sporty—look.

"Surprised?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "It… was a gift."

Julian blinked. "From who?"

"Sarah," Emma said, stepping back into her room. "She came across a merchant ship that crashed into an island. It had a bunch of clothes on board—mostly women's stuff, but still useful."

She gave a small shrug, then turned to grab her sneakers.

"Most people don't get this lucky," she added. "But I guess sometimes the sea brings more than just trouble."

Julian nodded slowly, still digesting the sight, the story, and the surrealness of this strange, new life he was starting to understand—one morning at a time.

"True… but at least it looks good on you."

Julian coughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned toward the door.

"Let's just go."

He didn't want to linger too long—not after realizing how obvious his stare had been.

His own wardrobe was far from impressive. Two shirts. A single pair of pants. That was it. And even those were loose in some places—hand-me-downs from people built nothing like him.

Emma noticed his discomfort and didn't comment, instead walking ahead at a steady pace.

"Don't worry," she said as they made their way toward the training field. "The enclave trade is coming up soon. You've been saving your coins, right?"

Julian gave a small shrug.

"You'll want to. We don't get many chances to shop like that—some enclaves only align with ours once or twice a year. When they do, it's just for a few hours. So be ready."

The field came into view.

Without needing to say anything else, they both broke into a run, falling into a rhythm that had grown familiar. A few laps to warm up. Then stretching. Then sparring until the sun crested higher.

Julian was different today.

He moved sharper. Quicker.

He didn't flinch as much. His footwork still needed work, but his timing was tighter—his swings more deliberate.

The sticks he used in place of real blades moved with a confidence he hadn't shown two weeks ago when he arrived.

He landed four clean blows on Emma that morning. Nothing that would win him a match, but better than the three from yesterday—and way better than the zero on his first day.

Emma smiled as she tapped her rapier gently against his shoulder during their cooldown.

"You're getting better," she said.

"But remember—it's not just about swinging faster. Dodging. Footwork. Reading the other person's movement. That's what keeps you alive."

Julian nodded, wiping sweat from his brow as they turned toward the dining area.

His stomach was already growling.

"So…" Julian glanced at her as they walked. "What did you guys find yesterday? Was it worth all that trouble?"

Emma gave him a small smile.

"Well, it was a priceless metal—something that'll help improve the gate batons," she said casually. "And… oh, here's your share."

She reached into her pouch and handed him something small.

It looked like an ordinary pebble.

But the moment it touched his palm, Julian felt it hum faintly, a low vibration pulsing through his fingers.

"That's a taming stone," Emma explained. "With a special tool my father made, we split it in two. One half goes into us, the other into the beast we want to bond with."

Julian blinked, holding the stone carefully as if it might vanish.

"It's one of the few ways we survive out here," Emma added. "Keep it safe. You'll know when it's time to use it. When you do, inject your half into yourself first."

She gave him a wink before jogging ahead toward the kitchen area.

"Don't worry," she called over her shoulder. "I'll show you how it works when the time comes."

Julian stood there for a moment, watching her go.

Then, instead of wandering off, he followed.

This time, he helped Suzi too—joining Emma in slicing vegetables, stirring pots, and passing out bowls. It felt good to be useful and of course get paid.

By the end of the hour, breakfast had been served, cleaned up, and the morning work was done.

Julian made his way to the forge, apron tied tightly, hands already tingling with anticipation.

He wasn't just here to learn anymore.

He had a goal: to forge his own blades.

And with the trade market coming soon, he'd need to earn and save enough to buy the right materials—maybe high-quality ore, or even better… triceratops horns.

Shields, bracers, hilts—those things were worth more than gold out here.

"Hey Kevin," Julian called as he stepped into the warm glow of the forge. "Anything new today?"

"Same old, same old," the blacksmith replied, hammering steadily against a sword.

"Anvil work. Touch-ups. The usual."

He glanced up, eyes narrowing with thought.

"The hunters have been getting careless again. More carnivores have been showing up near the enclave."

Julian frowned. "That sounds dangerous… don't we have anything stronger? Like… I don't know, a minigun?"

Kevin laughed dryly, not missing a beat.

"What kind of dream world are you living in, kid? A minigun?" He smirked. "If we had one of those, you think I'd be busting my back hammering steel all day, I only learned of such guns from books from the future, we would need a real capable gun smith and material?"

He shook his head, still working.

"The best we've got is thick dino bone for walls and armor. Maybe a heavy spear, but only the real brutes can lift them. We're not equipped to fight a Rex head-on, let me tell you."

Julian nodded, the weight of reality settling in again.

"That's why I'm always refining my technique," Kevin continued, voice quieter now.

"When we come across something rare—like those reactor metals—we need to be ready. Even a sword like this one could tip the scales someday…"

He held the blade up, eyes reflecting the glow of the forge.

"Or at least," he muttered, almost to himself, "that's what I like to believe."