Kael woke to the sharp sound of a bell ringing in the distance. His muscles protested as he pushed himself up from the hard cot, the thin blanket falling to the floor. The barracks was already bustling with activity, men and women moving with practiced efficiency as they prepared for the day.

Lyra appeared in the doorway, her expression as unreadable as ever. "Up already? Good. Follow me."

Kael rubbed his eyes and nodded, forcing himself to his feet. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but after the previous day’s events, he knew better than to let his guard down.

The settlement was bathed in the pale light of the eternal twilight. The metallic hum of the Rift Plains still lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the strange, dangerous world beyond the wooden walls. Lyra led Kael to a clearing near the edge of the settlement, where a group of people had gathered.

A man with a burly frame and scars crisscrossing his arms stood at the center. He carried a massive warhammer slung across his back, its head engraved with strange runes that glowed faintly. His piercing eyes scanned the group as Lyra and Kael approached.

"New blood?" the man asked, his voice gravelly.

Lyra nodded. "His name’s Kael. Found him wandering the Plains."

The man snorted. "If he survived out there, he might be worth something. But we’ll see." He stepped closer, towering over Kael. "I’m Garrick. I train the fighters here. If you want to stay, you’ll need to prove you’re not dead weight."

Kael met Garrick’s gaze, his fists clenching. "I’ll prove it."

Garrick smirked, gesturing to a rack of weapons nearby. "Pick one. Let’s see what you’ve got."

Kael glanced at the rack, his heart racing. Swords, axes, and spears lined the wooden frame, each weapon worn but sturdy. He hesitated before selecting a simple longsword, its hilt wrapped in frayed leather.

The other fighters stepped back as Garrick unslung his warhammer. He grinned, the light glinting off his scars. "Don’t hold back, boy. If you’re soft, I’ll break you."

Kael tightened his grip on the sword, his palms slick with sweat. The memories of his fight with the shadow creatures flashed through his mind, but this was different. Garrick wasn’t a mindless beast; he was a seasoned warrior.

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Garrick moved first, his warhammer swinging in a wide arc. Kael barely managed to dodge, the air crackling as the hammer struck the ground with a deafening thud. He stumbled back, his mind racing.

"Stay calm. Focus," he told himself, adjusting his stance.

Garrick didn’t give him time to think. The warhammer came down again, faster this time. Kael raised his sword instinctively, the impact jarring his arms and sending him sprawling.

The onlookers muttered among themselves, some shaking their heads. Lyra crossed her arms, her expression unreadable.

Kael gritted his teeth, forcing himself back to his feet. His arms ached, but the warmth of the Core flickered faintly in his chest. He closed his eyes briefly, focusing on the sensation.

Garrick smirked. "Done already?"

Kael’s eyes snapped open, determination burning within them. He stepped forward, sidestepping Garrick’s next swing and slashing at the man’s side. Garrick twisted, deflecting the blow with the shaft of his hammer.

"Better," Garrick said, his grin widening. "But not good enough."

The two exchanged blows, Kael relying on speed and instinct to keep up with Garrick’s raw power. Each clash of weapons sent vibrations through Kael’s arms, but he refused to back down.

As the fight wore on, Kael began to notice a pattern in Garrick’s movements. The warhammer, while devastating, left Garrick exposed after each swing. Timing his movements carefully, Kael ducked under a wide arc and aimed a strike at Garrick’s legs.

The blow landed, and Garrick staggered, his footing momentarily unsteady. Kael pressed the advantage, delivering a series of quick strikes that forced Garrick to step back.

"That’s enough!" Garrick bellowed, raising a hand to signal the end of the bout.

Kael stepped back, breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down his face, and his arms felt like lead, but he couldn’t suppress a small grin.

Garrick laughed, slinging the warhammer over his shoulder. "Not bad, boy. You’ve got spirit. Still rough around the edges, but we can work with that."

The onlookers nodded in approval, and even Lyra’s lips twitched in what might have been the faintest hint of a smile.

Garrick clapped a hand on Kael’s shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "You’ve earned your place, but don’t get comfortable. Training starts tomorrow at dawn. Rest while you can."

Kael nodded, exhaustion washing over him. As the crowd dispersed, Lyra approached, her arms still crossed.

"Not bad," she said, her tone grudgingly respectful. "But don’t let it go to your head. Garrick went easy on you."

Kael smirked weakly. "Good to know."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "Come on. You’ll need food and a proper place to sleep if you want to survive training."

As they walked back toward the settlement, Kael couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. For the first time since arriving in this strange world, he had taken a step forward. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The Core pulsed faintly in his chest, a constant reminder of the power that lay within him. If I can grow stronger, I can find answers. I can survive.

Kael clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. This world won’t break me.