As I pushed my body to its limits, every ragged breath seemed to sharpen the world around me. Every step revealed a village on the edge of collapse—a place barely holding itself together. The buildings surrounding the training grounds were a patchwork of decay, sagging roofs and crumbling walls that seemed as tired as the villagers who shuffled past them. Each of them had the face of an animal—a fox, a crow, a goat—all with humanoid bodies covered in fur, scales, or leathery skin.
They moved like ghosts, casting weary glances at me and Lenny, though most kept their eyes low, faces hollow and distant. And yet, despite the exhaustion lining every expression, there was something in their silent endurance that struck a chord in me. Their suffering was clear, and as I trained, I felt a flicker of sympathy. But deep down, my drive was simpler, maybe even a little selfish—I wanted strength, but not just to survive here. I wanted the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead of me and to find my way home.
I stumbled over a pile of rubble, barely catching myself before hitting the ground. Lenny's voice lashed out like a whip. "Keep your focus! If you let every crack in the ground trip you up, you'll never survive in a real fight!"
Shame burned in me, hot and sharp. Lenny had no patience for missteps, no tolerance for weakness, and he was right. But no matter how I tried to focus, I couldn't ignore the scenes playing out around me. This wasn't just training—it was like fighting in the middle of a nightmare.
A frail woman with a rabbit's face struggled to carry a basket of wilted vegetables. Her fur was thin and patchy, her bent back stooped even lower with the weight. I noticed a young boy with the face of a hamster standing a few paces away, dirt-smudged and barefoot. He watched her basket with a hungry stare, but he didn't approach.
I watched the villagers moving past us, each one carrying the weight of their struggles. Their hollow faces, the sagging buildings, the harsh looks exchanged over scraps of food—it all painted a bleak picture. I couldn't deny the sympathy welling up inside me, but it felt conflicted, almost misplaced. A selfish part of me pushed back, a reminder that this wasn't my world. I was here to learn, to get stronger, to find my way back home, not to get caught up in a prophecy I barely understood.
Yet, as much as I wanted to keep that focus, the question gnawed at me: were these the people from the prophecy? The ones locked in time and space, awaiting some kind of deliverance? Could this broken village be the place I was somehow supposed to help?
A chill ran through me at the thought. If the prophecy really was about them, then I was expected to be more than just a fighter. I'd be something more like…a leader. But the idea felt absurd. I could barely keep myself together. Was I supposed to be some kind of savior to them?
I looked back at the faces around me. The woman with the rabbit face, struggling with her meager basket. The young boy with the face of a hamster, watching with that haunted hunger in his eyes. Could they really be waiting for someone like me? Or had the prophecy been misread, misunderstood?
The flicker of doubt turned into a flame, and I found myself wrestling with the weight of it. Maybe I wasn't the one they were waiting for. Maybe all this training, all this pain, was meant to shape someone else for the role. What if I was just a shadow passing through, gaining strength for my own battles while they waited, only to be disappointed in the end?
I pushed the thought aside, trying to force my mind back to the training. But even as I resumed my exercises, the question lingered, heavy as the rubble around us: was I here for myself, or was I supposed to be something more?
I sat on the moss filled floor and Between rounds, Griz handed me a flask of water. His broad, bear-like face showed no hint of approval, only a steady, unreadable look. "Rest. But don't let your guard down," he would say, his tone soft but firm.
I drank gratefully, the water cooling my throat. As I lowered the flask, I caught sight of a weasel-faced man hurrying down the road, clutching a ragged sack close to his chest. Another villager, with cold, narrow eyes like a hawk, blocked his path and demanded a share. They exchanged tense, hushed words before the weasel-faced man slipped away, casting a fearful look over his shoulder.
The village was a wound, raw and bleeding. Every face, every moment, was a reminder of what they endured. And yet, as much as I felt their suffering, my motivation was driven by something closer to home. If I could become strong enough to endure this place, to survive its challenges, then maybe—just maybe—I could find my way back. I was finally learning what it took to be stronger, not just physically, but to be self-reliant, to be someone who could stand against whatever lay between me and home.
Just as I was beginning to catch my breath, I saw the same rabbit-faced woman from before hobbling past, her basket balanced precariously in her hands. She glanced at me and offered a timid nod before stumbling over a stone. Her produce scattered across the dirt, rolling to a stop near my feet.
Without thinking, I rushed over to help her. "Are you alright, ma'am?" I asked, bending down to gather the bruised fruits.
She looked at me with weary eyes, her voice soft and almost kind. "Thank you, young man," she said, and for a moment, her tone made me relax. But as I reached for the last piece, a sudden, cold pressure jabbed into my side—a knife, hidden beneath her shawl.
I froze, my heart pounding as the gentle-faced woman's grip tightened on my arm. "Don't make a sound," she hissed, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
All the training I'd endured vanished in an instant. I hadn't seen this coming. I felt as though I'd been plunged into ice. Fear twisted in my stomach, and I realized, painfully, how little I understood about survival here.
Then Lenny's voice cut through the air, calm and sharp. "Looks can be deceiving." His footsteps crunched over the dirt as he approached, and I looked up to see him watching with something between amusement and irritation. "You think everyone's as sweet as they seem?" He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. "Always be on your guard. Even a soft hand can hold a sharp knife."
The woman—Old Lady Sadie, I later learned—held her ground for a moment, her grip on the knife still tight. But under Lenny's intense stare, her resolve wavered. She pulled back, shooting me a final, hard look before gathering her spilled produce and hobbling off. As she moved away, I glanced at the hamster-faced boy still standing nearby. It hit me, suddenly, why he hadn't approached her; he knew what I didn't. He knew better than to trust her sweet voice and tired smile.
I barely had time to process before Griz approached, his expression as unreadable as ever. "That was a test," he said, his tone steady. There was no hint of approval in his voice, only a grim sense of purpose. "Old Lady Sadie is dangerous, as you can see. You'll need to beware of her, and of anyone else who might seem harmless. I'll be training you on more than just the physical aspect of combat, Jeremiah," he continued, his deep voice steady and rumbling. "I'll teach you how to deceive, how to pick up on deception… how to take in your surroundings in a single glance and use them to your advantage. These are skills crucial in any battle."
I nodded, a cold determination settling in me. There was so much more to strength than I'd realized. Until now, I'd thought I only needed power—to hit back, to endure—but Griz was right. If I didn't train my mind as well as my body, I'd never make it. The path home was littered with challenges I could only overcome by learning to read people, to see the hidden dangers beneath even the gentlest faces.
But Lenny let out a growl, stepping forward with his brows furrowed in irritation. "Don't interrupt my training, Griz," he snapped. "All your 'mental tricks' are meaningless if he can't even evade the first attack. Let him learn how to stand his ground before filling his head with your strategies."
Griz met Lenny's glare with a steady look, his voice calm and unwavering. "A mind untrained is a body unprotected," he replied, his tone cool. "What's the point of brute strength if he can't see the attack coming?"
Lenny's mane bristled, and for a moment, I thought they might actually come to blows. I felt their intensity clashing over me like waves, each man wanting to mold me in his own way. But then Lenny let out a dismissive snort, fixing me with a hard stare. "Fine. Learn what you will from him," he muttered. "But if you want to survive, start paying attention. Next time, I won't step in to save you."
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their words settle on me. Both of them were right, in their own way. Griz's quiet patience and Lenny's fierce drive—they were different paths leading to the same goal: survival. If I wanted to see home again, I would have to learn from both of them.
For the first time, hope flickered within me—not because the village's future looked brighter, but because I felt myself growing stronger. I was learning, not just in body but in mind. There was a long way to go, but I could see the path now, clearer than ever.
As we moved on, training continued. This time, I kept my eyes open, taking in each lesson with new purpose. Whatever lay ahead, I knew I was becoming someone who could face it. And, maybe someday, I would be strong enough to find my way back.
Here's a continuation that captures Jeremiah's grueling training under Lenny's strict regimen, emphasizing his physical endurance and the passage of time:
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I hadn't realized just how endless this training would feel. Lenny's commands came like the beat of a relentless drum, driving me through exercise after exercise. I was running laps around the dusty training grounds, my feet pounding against the ground with every step, feeling like they were sinking deeper with each circuit.
"Faster!" Lenny's voice cut through the thickening air. "You're not here for a stroll. I want speed. I want power!"
I pushed harder, my legs burning with every stride. The midday sun had blazed down on me at the start, its heat bearing down as if I were standing under a furnace. Now, the light was beginning to change, growing softer as shadows stretched longer across the village. I glanced up and saw the sky was deepening, the sun dipping lower, painting the world in hues of amber and violet. But there was no relief from Lenny's demands.
"Drop and give me fifty," he barked as I finished a lap, barely giving me a chance to catch my breath.
I hit the ground, dust puffing up around me as I set into the push-ups. My arms shook with every rise and fall, the muscles tightening and screaming for rest. I wanted to stop. But every time I faltered, every time my arms shook too hard or my legs gave the slightest tremor, Lenny's voice cut through my exhaustion like a whip, dragging me back to task.
"Keep going. If you're weak here, you're useless in battle."
I gritted my teeth, pushing past the burn, counting down each push-up in my head. The soreness was seeping into my bones, but I couldn't give Lenny the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not yet.
"Good," he grunted when I finished. "Now sit-ups. Sixty."
I dropped back into the dust, my stomach muscles already aching from earlier rounds. The earth felt cool beneath me as I started the sit-ups, but even that small comfort faded fast as the strain took over. Each crunch felt like a slow tear through my midsection, but I kept going, the only sounds my labored breaths and the faint rustle of the village beyond the training grounds.
It was strange how the village went on, oblivious to the struggle here. I watched shadows lengthen across the buildings as I strained through each exercise, feeling the press of time as midday faded into evening, and evening began to slip toward night.
When I finally collapsed back into the dust, arms and legs trembling, Lenny studied me, his eyes cold and calculating. He had an odd way of knowing exactly when I'd reached my limit. He gave me a curt nod, his voice as hard as ever but somehow carrying a hint of something that felt like approval. "Break. One hour."
I barely managed to sit up, and he moved off, leaving me to catch my breath. I took in the cooling air, every muscle throbbing with fatigue. One hour. It was just enough time for the pain to ebb, for my body to stop screaming and settle into a deep ache. Just enough time for me to think this might be over for the day.
But the hour came and went too fast. Just as the stars began to blink awake in the darkening sky, Lenny returned. I could feel his presence before he even spoke, the weight of his expectations crashing over me like a wave. "Up. We're not done yet."
I staggered to my feet, the ache in my muscles flaring up all over again. Part of me wanted to argue, to tell him that no one could train like this and survive. But I swallowed it down. Arguing with Lenny was pointless, and besides… some part of me knew this was exactly what I needed.
We continued, each round of exercises a battle against the limits of my body. My legs burned with every lap, my arms felt like lead during each push-up, and my stomach twisted with each sit-up. The night deepened around us, the village slipping into quiet, but there was no rest for me. Only the harsh demands of Lenny's training and the persistent ache of muscles that begged for relief.
Time became a blur, broken only by the brief respites Lenny allowed when he saw me nearing my breaking point. An hour's rest, just enough to recover before he drove me back into another round. Over and over, he pushed me to that edge, then pulled me back just enough to keep me going.
It was brutal, but with every repetition, every lap, I felt something changing. The soreness was there, the exhaustion biting deeper each time, but there was a part of me growing stronger, a part that learned to endure. Maybe it was the memory of the prophecy or the flickering hope of returning home, but somewhere beneath the fatigue, a fire burned, refusing to go out.
By the time Lenny finally called an end to the training, the sky was fully dark, stars scattered across the night like fragments of glass. My body ached in ways I hadn't thought possible. I could barely stand, my breath ragged and my vision blurred with exhaustion.
Lenny looked me over, his face unreadable in the dim light. "You're getting there," he said, his voice softer, almost begrudging. "But don't get comfortable. Tomorrow will be harder."
I fell flat on the ground my arms and legs out, my muscles pulsing and my body over heating in the cool night air.
Then Grizz walked up, towering over me , looking down at me.
"It's time for the night lessons" he said a huge smile spread across his face. Ive never seen Grizz smiles once before and this was terrifying.