The next morning, he woke early. He’d ended his tour with Fizo prematurely, as it was a lot to take in. There were so many strange customs to remember, and there was no chance he’d be able to absorb them all in a single day. Spreading the tour out over two days made much more sense.

  Thankfully, he didn’t have to spend another night in the hutch. Fizo showed him to a small, unoccupied hut nestled among the rest. This had surprised him, for he had expected to be stationed away from the others—almost wanted to be, but it was nice to know that they were trying to integrate him.

  The breadth of information Fizo pumped into him wasn’t the only reason to cease the tour early. He needed some time to himself to think. Away from the ekari, where he always felt a little on edge. A lot had come to light in the last 24 hours. He’d been killed in his own world and resurrected in this one, but the reason remained unclear, even to his captors. If that’s even what he should call them. He didn’t quite know how to feel about his hosts just yet.

  Supposedly, Summons only appeared at the Summoning Gates in one of the human kingdoms. What had happened for this to go awry? Did it have something to do with his death? He recalled that the Chief mentioned that Summons are not reincarnated, but instead transported. As such, he was an anomaly. The reasoning behind his arrival gnawed at him, but it wasn’t his primary concern; no, that was his safety.

  Was he safe here? It’s clear that the Chief’s decision to welcome him to the clan was a divisive one. The ekari despised his kind. And while he saw evidence that they were trying to welcome him, it would only take one angry individual to end his story a second time. He needed to be able to defend himself, and currently, he was grossly underequipped for the task.

  Based on what Fizo had told him, every ekari child receives education in all aspects of life, at least to some extent. This means every ekari in the village knows how to swing a sword, meaning he may well be the weakest person in the entire village, that is, excluding the young children. This, he needed to rectify as soon as possible. In order to protect himself, he needed to learn how to swing a sword. This was his top priority, but he had a second one in mind.

  Rolling out of bed, he put on his dirty clothes and walked outside. He couldn’t smell his stench, but he knew it was there. He hadn’t bathed since he had arrived in this world. And with all the running for his life and spending a night in the hutch, his clothes were filthy and needed a good wash, but that could come later.

  He walked through the village as the sun rose. It was a lot more lively than he expected, but still quiet enough that he didn’t turn too many heads. Yesterday, he had spotted a small open area behind the stonemason’s workshop. This was where he headed. Upon arriving, he looked around for any prying eyes. There weren't any. The area was isolated from the bustle of the village, even serving as a blind spot to the watch towers situated at every corner of the village.

  Now he could begin. For it was not only wielding the sword that would guarantee his safety, but also wielding electricity. Not a second had gone by since yesterday morning that he hadn’t thought about it. The thrill of electricity shooting through his body. He had never experienced anything so profound, and he yearned to feel it once more.

  He began by extending his hand in violent motions, willing the electricity to shoot out of him. The power didn’t answer the call. Next, he turned to cupping his hands, attempting to somehow accumulate the electricity into a makeshift pool. He wasn’t hoping for much. Maybe a spark or two, but this proved just as ineffective.

  For the next hour, he tried all manner of movements and techniques. Martial arts, meditation, pain inducement, but each proved as useless as the last. Disappointed, he headed to the Eating Hall. There, he chowed down on another alien breakfast. The only thing of familiarity was the milk, but even that was noticeably thicker than usual; lord knows where it came from.

  Afterward, he came across Fizo as he had yesterday, playing a board game with the Chief, despite the fact Fizo was supposed to beat someone called Krag before getting a rematch. More than likely, Fizo had nagged his way to getting what he wanted.

  Perhaps this was the reason Fizo wasn't just beaten today. He was crushed. This was betrayed by his stern scowl and crossed arms while looking at the board. The Chief, on the other hand, was happily looking up at the sky, not appearing to have a care in the world.

  “Chief,” Thomas called, approaching. “Can I begin training with the sword today?”

  “Greetings, Thomas,” he said, spinning on his chair to face him. “I must say I’m surprised by the eagerness. I thought you would take some convincing.” Thomas shrugged his shoulders.

  “I figured it would be best if I got a start on it. See if there’s any aptitude there.”

  “That’s a great idea,” the Chief agreed. You can join the morning training session. It begins in around 30 minutes. Although I must insist that you complete your tour of the village afterward. It’s important you know how things work here. I won’t give you special treatment as a Summon. I hope you understand.”

  “Loud and clear. I’ll meet up with Fizo this afternoon to see the remainder of the village. That okay with you?” he asked, turning to Fizo. The boy was still looking down at the game board, replaying the moves in his mind. He didn’t say anything, just gave a thumbs up.

  “In that case, I’m heading off,” the Chief announced. “Training takes place over there in that circular area. If Akesh asks, you can tell him that I authorized you to attend. Best of luck!” he added, before walking away, his hands behind his back.

  It didn’t take long for warriors to start filling the area. He counted 73 in all. No doubt warrior was the most popular profession among the ekari. He hung back, wanting to observe. While there were several huge ekari of over 6 and a half feet in their ranks, he was surprised to see just how many average-sized warriors there were. In fact, most were around his height. Yet even more shockingly, there were plenty of women. Not as many as the men, around 15, but their presence was still rather jarring.

  As a man who had spent years training regularly in MMA before slowing down, he was not ignorant of the power gap between the sexes, so it was odd to see so many women who were happy to accept the disadvantage. Or perhaps he had it all wrong. Yesterday was certainly eye-opening.

  Maybe the female ekari weren’t weaker than the males. He recalled that among some species, the females were actually stronger than their male counterparts. Who knew? Maybe this was one of those cases. He looked from man to woman. Nah. He just couldn’t see it. While muscular, they were simply not as well filled out as the men.

  A man approached from behind the crowd of warriors, and they rushed to form a semicircle. He decided this was a good time to join the group, at which point a collection of apprehensive and surprised faces met his gaze before quickly turning back to the approaching man.

  “Attention!” he declared. “It seems we have a new member among us,” he pointed out, ensuring all who had not seen him would now know of his presence. Gee. Thanks for that. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Thomas. I had not expected to see you today. Does the Chief know you are here?”

  “Akesh, I take it. The pleasure is all mine. And yes, he told me I can attend.”

  “Very well. Then let us begin. As you have deduced, I am Akesh, the combat instructor of this village. Before you are our warriors,” he explained, motioning with an arm. “These brave ekari are perhaps the most essential people in the entire village. They keep everyone safe and will give up their lives if it means saving another. They are also quite skilled,” he added, a grin overcoming his face.

  “I should know. I trained them myself. Even the weakest among us can stand single-handedly against two humans. “And the best,” he added, looking to Luran, “can probably handle a dozen or so.” Luran didn’t say a word, but Thomas noticed his lips curve into a faint smile.

  “How about we start with a short display? Ravad, Darcel. Take to the field. Show Thomas what the ekari are made of.”

  He was still trying to reconcile Akesh’s earlier statement. Every ekari warrior can take two humans, and the best can take a dozen. There goes his plan up in smoke. Even if he somehow became a prodigy with the sword, every ekari warrior would be able to cut him down with the ease of tying a pair of shoelaces.

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  This caused the motivation from earlier to wither away like a flower deprived of sunlight. Nevertheless, he was still eager to see how the ekari fought. He wondered if their horns ever came into play or whether they exclusively used the sword.

  Ravad and Darcel took up positions opposite one another, and each drew their wooden training sword and assumed a fighting stance.

  “Ready…” Akesh announced. The onlookers were completely silent as the warriors sank a little lower in their stance, preparing to attack.

  “Begin!” Akesh boomed.

  The pair darted towards one another the second Akesh stopped speaking, their speed making Thomas jump. Ravad opted for a heavy overhead strike to commence his attack, and Darcel blocked. The cracking sound of wood clashing into wood filled the air, and he was half-surprised the sword defending didn’t splinter under the weight of the offending sword.

  What proceeded was a flurry of strikes and counters that he could barely make out. One warrior would advance in a quick offensive display before retreating as the other seized openings to counter. Back and forth they went, blow after blow, but no warrior could land anything substantial. A glancing slice to the wrist here, a faint slash to the thigh there, it was clear the pair respected one another and were focusing on defense.

  They were so well matched that he thought neither could better the other, but then the moment came. Darcel smashed his sword into Ravad’s, and as the two battled for control, trying to push the other back, Darcel unexpectedly placed his free hand over Ravad’s sword hand, restricting his movement. Upon realizing what was happening, Ravad attempted to mirror the motion. Yet Darcel cast his sword away so that there was nothing to grip, and struck Ravad in the face with such force that the onlooking warriors gave out a collective wince.

  As Ravad dropped to one knee, Darcel leapt at the opportunity, manipulating his wrist. In doing so, forcing him to relinquish control of the sword, and with that, the fight was done.

  “An impressive showing!” Akesh commended, clapping his hands as he walked forward to help his pupil back to his feet. “A touch reckless,” he added, narrowing his eyes at Darcel, “But impressive nonetheless.”

  “So what do you think, Thomas? How did the pair do?” He gulped, feeling way out of his depth.

  “They were very impressive,” he responded. “And so quick! I could barely tell what was going on.”

  “That’s to be expected. I take it you have no experience with the sword?” He dropped his head slightly, feeling singled out at the remark.

  “I’m afraid not. Never held a sword in my life.”

  “Not to worry. We will mold you into the warrior you were made to be. Just know this,” he said, stepping towards him so that he was a little too close. “I do not care what you are. Ekari, human, thrakarr, it doesn't matter in the least to me. Zerron has accepted you into this clan, and that’s the end of it. What does matter are your actions. When I speak, you listen, and if you can’t do that, you have no place in my training classes. Do I make myself clear?” Despite the intimidating undertone, the speech was pretty fair, and he had no objections to it.

  “I understand,” he confirmed. Akesh smiled and spun on his heels, walking back to the middle to address the group.

  “And to the rest of you,” he bellowed. “I understand having a Summon among us may be unsettling to some, but let me be clear. I will not tolerate unnecessary harm to Thomas. He is here to learn, just like the rest of you. Remember, he is a novice and should be treated as such. You were all once where he is now—remember that. It is our hope that one day he will grow into a fine warrior. Lend him your wisdom so that he may bolster our strength.”

  The warriors were mostly silent, except for a few whispers and one exaggerated humph. He looked to see the source, and surprise, surprise, it was the red-headed girl.

  “Is there a problem, Elarissé?” Akesh inquired, unblinking, his tone accusing.

  “Not at all,” Elarissé growled, crossing her arms and looking away.

  “In that case, you won’t mind Thomas joining your band, will you?” Her mouth dropped, and her eyes seemed to double in size.

  “You can’t honestly expect me to work with him. He’s a filthy human!”

  “A Summon,” he corrected. “And he’s as much a part of this clan as you or me… or do you have a problem with the Chief’s declaration?” Furious, Elarissé attempted to retort, but thought better of it.

  “No,” she growled, her jaw tensing as her teeth ground against one another.

  “Excellent. Thomas, you’re with Elarissé’s band. The rest of you, break off into your war bands and begin working on arcing blows and evasive maneuvers. I will come around to give you pointers. Oh, and Thomas, have Luran teach you the basics.”

  The warriors split off into their respective parties, leaving him with Elarissé, Luran, and a unit of an ekari that he didn’t recognize. He stood approximately 7 ft tall and looked to weigh somewhere in the region of 350 lbs, and while he wasn’t shredded by any means, he undoubtedly had more muscle than anyone else.

  Before Thomas had a second to introduce himself, the man stepped forward, grabbed his hand, and shook it with ferocity. The force of his grip made Thomas’s knuckles click.

  “Hey! Nice to meet you. Those electricity powers you have sure are cool! I’m Kragetherion, but you can call me Krag. Everyone does. Your name is Thomas, right? Can I call you Tommy?”

  Thomas fell silent for a moment as if he was stuck buffering. That wasn’t the reception he expected from such an intimidating, hulking man. His voice was incredibly deep with a faint hint of goofiness. To be frank, the ekari seemed a little dumb, and the grandness of such a name of Kragtherion seemed entirely unfitting. It’s no wonder everyone called him Krag.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Krag,” he exclaimed, trying not to wince at the pressure his hand was under. This handshake was going on too long, but he dared not break it. Krag had taken a liking to him for some reason, and if he could mold this into a friendship, perhaps his safety would be a little more assured.

  Given his ridiculous size, he doubted anyone would be so bold as to try and pick a fight with him. Of course, he was getting ahead of himself. It was their very first exchange.

  “Kragtherion!” Luran snapped, “Stop trying to make friends with the human.” Breaking the handshake apart, Luran pushed Thomas back with his pointer finger until the pair were out of earshot of the others. Krag tried to protest, but Luran acted as if he didn’t exist.

  “You listen to me, and you listen well,” he threatened, continuing to jab his finger into Thomas’s chest. “The Chief may have accepted you into this clan, but you are not one of us, and you never will be. If it were up to me, you would be nestling with the worms by now, but alas, I don’t make the rules. Just know that I am watching you. You give me the slightest inclination that you will betray us and endanger those that dwell within these walls, and I will cut you down without a moment’s hesitation. Do you understand, human?”

  He looked deep into Luran’s fierce unblinking eyes, and those of a killer stared back at him. Luran meant every word he said; that was plain to see.

  “I’d never betray you,” he explained, focusing on keeping his voice steady as he held his hands up to show his innocence.

  “Good,” Luran sneered, withdrawing his finger. “Go on then, move!” he instructed, motioning for him to join Elarissé and Krag. He obliged, eager to escape Luran’s intensity. What followed was an unprovoked kick in the back with such force that he flew through the air and ended up on the ground five feet from where he was standing. It knocked the wind out of him, and he tried to breathe, but his lungs refused to take in any oxygen. Elarissé sniggered at his discomfort.

  “Rule one of combat, expect the unexpected,” Luran announced. “It’s the attack you don’t see that gets you killed.”

  He rolled around on the ground as if to try and force oxygen back into his lungs, but this proved completely ineffective. Fortunately, after a few moments had passed, he managed to draw in a strained breath.

  “Luran, that was a bit mean. You didn’t have to do that,” Krag argued, walking to his side to help him up. He wasn’t quite yet ready to stand, still gasping for breath, but Krag lifted him onto his feet as if he were weightless.

  “Oh, lighten up, Krag, would you? It was funny!” Elarissé mocked, slapping Krag on the back with such force that he felt the blow through Krag, who was still holding his arm.

  “The world is a cruel place, Krag, as you are well aware,” Luran explained, giving him a knowing look. “The quicker 'Thomas,’ here,” he named with exaggerated derision, “learns that, the better.” Krag said nothing, seemingly agreeing with Luran’s statement to some extent.

  In fairness, even he agreed with it. He knew more than most how cruel the world could be; he had been framed and put to death, after all. Yet Luran’s method was unnecessary, cruel in its own right. He wanted to hurt him—it didn’t matter how he dressed it up.

  “You two will have to train as a pair today, I’m on babysitting duty, it seems,” Luran said, pulling two sparring swords from the cylinder they were housed in and throwing one at him with unnecessary force. He managed to catch it at the handle, but the momentum carried through the weapon, causing the wooden blade to slap him in the face. He glared at Luran, who grinned.

  “Right then, human. Show me what you can do.”