The first light of dawn filtered through the fractured skyline of Kitimat, illuminating the jagged ruins and twisted metal that had become their battlefield. Joel stretched his sore muscles, his thoughts still churning over the events of the night before. The boy in the cage, Gideon’s biting words, the lizard clan—all of it weighed on him like a heavy hammer in his hand.


    As he walked out of his tent, which was summoned by his heart deck, he heard movement.


    “Ready to get moving?” Gideon’s voice broke through his thoughts. The rabbit stood a few feet away, casually leaning against a broken streetlamp, his ears twitching as he surveyed their surroundings. “We’ve got a lot to cover if you’re serious about this.”


    Joel met his gaze, the memory of the caged boy still fresh in his mind. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice steady.


    “Good.” Gideon pushed off the lamp and motioned for Joel to follow. “If we’re going to take down those lizards, you’ll need more than brute strength. You’ve got potential, but potential doesn’t win fights.”


    They started walking, weaving through the rubble-strewn streets. Gideon moved with an effortless grace, his steps almost soundless on the cracked asphalt. Joel, trying to mimic the rabbit’s movements, felt clumsy in comparison.


    Their first stop was a clearing near an old industrial site, where the ground was packed dirt and the remains of heavy machinery lay rusting in the corners. Gideon turned to face Joel, his expression suddenly serious.


    “Lesson one,” Gideon said, pacing in front of him. “Fighting isn’t just about strength or speed. It’s about control. About knowing when to strike and when to wait. You’ve got power in that mechanical core of yours, but it’s useless if you can’t wield it properly.”


    Joel crossed his arms. “I’ve been in my fair share of fights.”


    Gideon smirked. “I’m sure you have, but this isn’t some bar brawl.” Flashbacks of Ben’s words came to his mind, but he forced his focus on Gideon. “The smaller lizard clan fights as a unit and their leader? He’s not going to give you the chance to swing first.”


    Joel’s jaw tightened. “So what’s the plan?”


    Gideon crouched low, grabbing a handful of dirt and letting it fall through his fingers. “We’re going to start with the basics. Movement, observation, and precision. If you can’t outmuscle them, you’ll need to outthink them.”


    For the next several hours, Gideon put Joel through a relentless series of drills, each more gruelling than the last. They began with footwork, Gideon’s sharp eyes catching every misstep and clumsy shift of weight.


    “Keep your balance,” Gideon snapped as Joel stumbled over a loose piece of concrete. “Your feet are the foundation of everything. If they’re not steady, you’re a dead man walking.”


    Joel gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling to the surface with each correction. His legs burned, and his boots felt heavy as iron against the uneven ground. But every time he faltered, the memory of the boy in the cage spurred him on.


    “Again!” Gideon barked, his tone unyielding. “Step, pivot, strike. Faster this time.”


    They moved to agility drills, weaving through makeshift obstacles Gideon had constructed out of rubble and scrap metal. Joel lunged, ducked, and sidestepped, the sharp edges of twisted beams and jagged concrete brushing uncomfortably close.


    “Don’t look down,” Gideon warned. “Your eyes should always be on your surroundings. The enemy won’t wait for you to figure it out.”


    Joel stumbled again, catching his balance at the last second. Sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision.


    “You’re hesitating,” Gideon said, stepping forward. “Stop thinking and move. Your body knows what to do if you let it.”


    Joel sank to the ground, exhaustion threatening to pull him under, but a strange sense of clarity began to settle over him. Every movement, every correction Gideon had barked out during their training, felt etched into his muscles, into his very being. He flexed his fingers, the pipe still clutched in his grip and noticed how much lighter it felt now, as though the weight wasn’t just physical anymore but something he’d learned to manage.


    A faint, familiar hum resonated deep within him, and the System Notification materialized, glowing faintly in his vision.


    <hr>


    System Notification:


    Skill Unlocked: Movement Skills - Level 1


    By observing and training under a masterful teacher, you have begun to hone your abilities in precise, efficient movement.


    Bonus:


    Due to advanced training from a master, your skill has been boosted to Level 5.


    Your connection to your Mechanical Core has deepened. Movements now flow with greater ease, enhancing balance, agility, and speed.


    <hr>


    Joel blinked, the words sinking in as a new sensation coursed through him. His body felt... different. Lighter, like the air around him no longer resisted his movements as much. He pushed himself to his feet, the weight of exhaustion still present but muted beneath this newfound awareness.


    He took a cautious step forward, then another, testing the changes. Each movement felt smoother, as though his body had found a rhythm it hadn’t known before. A quiet bond seemed to hum between him and his Mechanical Core, deeper than the surface-level familiarity he’d had before.


    Gideon watched him with an approving nod. “You’re starting to feel it, aren’t you? That’s the difference between raw instinct and practiced skill. Now, you’re starting to move like someone who belongs in this world.”


    Joel met Gideon’s gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the lingering ache in his muscles. Whatever this world threw at him next, he felt ready to face it—step by deliberate step. The mechanic nodded. “I am. I am ready for more.”


    Next came precision drills. They moved into a dim, cavernous warehouse hummed with a tense energy. Streaks of rust marred with the peeling paint, and shadows danced in the corners, casting grotesque shapes. A makeshift range, a cruel ballet of destruction, dominated the space. Empty beer cans, their sides dented and paint chipped, perched precariously on rusted pipes. Broken glass bottles, jagged edges glinting in the dim light, completed the deadly tableau. Gideon set up a series of targets using the empty cans and broken glass bottles, perching them precariously on beams and pipes. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Joel was handed a dull-edged metal rod, its weight uneven and awkward. Joel, his muscles already aching, gripped the uneven metal rod. Its weight, is a constant reminder of his limitations. His mind raced, a whirlwind of doubt and determination. He thought of his baby girl, her tiny hand clutching Oliver’s finger. Her innocent eyes, full of wonder, spurred him on. He couldn''t fail her.


    “Strike only what I tell you to,” Gideon instructed. “No more, no less.”


    Joel nodded, raising the rod, but his first swing sent two cans tumbling instead of one.


    “Too much force,” Gideon said with a sigh. “Control is about finesse, not brute strength. Again.”


    They repeated the exercise over and over. "One miss and you''ll feel the consequences," Gideon''s voice, a low growl. Joel nodded, his heart pounding. He swung, the rod arcing through the air. A can shattered, but another teetered, and fell.


    "Too hasty," Gideon''s voice, a cold reprimand. "Precision, not power. Again."


    With each swing, Joel felt the weight of expectation, the fear of failure. But beneath the fear, a stubborn determination burned. He would master this, or he would perish trying for his family.


    The air hung heavy with the tension, the only sound was the rhythmic clang of metal on metal. Joel, his grip tightening on the cold, unforgiving rod, swung again. This time, with a focused mind and a steady hand, he struck true. A beer can explode, and shards of glass and aluminum spray across the concrete floor. The satisfying thud of the can hitting the ground was followed by a cacophony of clinking glass.


    Sweat trickled down Joel''s temples, forming tiny droplets that cascaded over his defined cheekbones. His muscles, taut and glistening, rippled beneath the sheen of perspiration. The weight of the metal rod, once a burden, now felt like an extension of his arm. His grip tightened, leaving ridges in his palms, and his knuckles whitened with exertion. He was beginning to find a rhythm, a dance of destruction.


    Gideon, his eyes narrowed in concentration, watched Joel''s progress. A flicker of approval crossed his face. "Good," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din of the training session. "Now, let''s increase the difficulty."


    With that, Gideon rearranged the targets, placing them higher and further apart. The challenge was amplified, but so was Joel''s determination. With each swing, Joel''s muscles flexed, highlighting the corded definition of his arms and the impressive breadth of his shoulders. Beads of sweat glistened on his chest, tracing the contours of his pecs as they expanded and contracted with each movement. He swung the rod, each strike a testament to his growing skill. The sounds of the warehouse filled the air: the clink of shattered glass, the thud of falling metal, and the harsh, laboured breathing of the man.


    Joel’s arms ached from the strain, but gradually, his movements grew more deliberate. The crashes of metal and glass became fewer, replaced by the satisfying sound of a clean strike.


    “Better,” Gideon said, a rare note of approval in his voice. “But not great.”


    As the sun climbed higher, casting long, dancing shadows across the warehouse floor, the intensity of the training shifted. Gideon, his eyes hard and focused, outlined the next phase of their exercise: combat drills. Joel, his muscles already aching, felt a surge of adrenaline. This was the real test, the culmination of their gruelling training.


    “This isn’t about winning,” Gideon said, circling Joel like a predator. “It’s about survival. Stay on your feet, stay alive.”


    Joel''s thoughts raced as he readied himself for the upcoming confrontation. He thought of his brother, on the battlefield years ago, before The Company took over the whole area. Now, this new conflict had him racing. He had a new family and he would not fail them, he would not fail himself. With each breath, he pushed aside the doubt and embraced the challenge. He would emerge from this trial, stronger, more skilled, and ready for whatever lay ahead.


    “I got this,” he whispered to himself as he clenched his fist.


    The first clash was almost humiliating. Gideon’s strikes came fast and hard, forcing Joel to retreat step after step. Gideon''s motivations were shrouded in mystery. Was he merely preparing Joel for a specific mission, a cog in a larger machine? Or was there something more personal at stake? A debt to repay, a legacy to uphold? Joel couldn''t fathom the depths of Gideon''s mind, but he knew one thing: the rabbit was relentless in his pursuit of perfection.


    "Keep your guard up!" Gideon barked, his voice cutting through the humid air. Joel barely managed to deflect a swift jab aimed at his ribs, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his side. He stumbled back, his breath ragged, his vision blurring.


    Sweat stung his eyes, blurring his vision. The weight of Gideon’s strikes was relentless, each one a reminder of Joel’s shortcomings. He swung wildly, a desperate attempt to land a blow, but Gideon, with his years of experience, effortlessly sidestepped the attack. A swift counterattack followed a precise strike to Joel''s forearm that sent a wave of pain shooting up his arm.


    "Stop swinging wildly!" Gideon bellowed, his voice laced with frustration. "Think! Every move should have a purpose."


    Joel gritted his teeth, his mind racing. He needed to regain control, to think strategically. He focused on his breath, calming his racing heart. With renewed determination, he launched a feint, drawing Gideon''s attention before executing a swift, decisive strike. Gideon was caught off guard and stumbled back, a rare look of surprise crossing his face.


    As the night wore on, Joel began to notice patterns in Gideon''s movements. Subtle shifts in his stance, a slight hesitation before a lunge - these were the clues that Joel needed. He started to anticipate Gideon''s attacks, blocking with more confidence and even landing a few glancing strikes of his own.


    That was when the rabbit pulled out a dagger.


    "You''re kidding, right?" Joel asked, his voice barely a whisper, as he eyed the blade.


    Gideon grinned, a predatory glint in his eyes. "You''ll learn faster this way. Trust me."


    “I guess you are right.” Joel paused.


    “Besides, those lizards aren’t going to come after you with hugs and kisses.”


    They both acknowledged the point and continued the training.


    Before Joel could react, Gideon lunged. The blade, a blur of silver, sliced through the air. Joel raised his rod to block, but the impact sent shockwaves through his arms. He stumbled back, his grip loosening on the weapon.


    "Keep your stance low!" Gideon barked, his voice echoing through the warehouse. "Don''t let me dictate the pace of the fight."


    Joel struggled to keep up, his muscles burning, his breath ragged. Yet, with each exchange, he grew stronger and more resilient. He was learning, adapting, and evolving. By the time Gideon called for a break, Joel was drenched in sweat, his muscles trembling from exhaustion. His legs, sleek and powerful, glistened with perspiration. Each taut muscle, corded and defined, rippled beneath his skin. He even had a few new cuts and scapes from Gideon’s training blade.


    “Not bad,” Gideon said, sheathing his blade. “You’ve got a long way to go, but you’re learning.”


    Joel leaned on the rod, trying to catch his breath, and wiping the sweat from his face. “Is this how you trained?”


    Gideon’s gaze was distant. “Not everyone gets the chance. Consider yourself lucky.” Gideon’s expression flickered—just for a moment—with something Joel couldn’t quite place. Sadness? Regret? Joel didn’t press, but as they packed up and prepared to move on, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Gideon’s story than he was letting on. For now, though, he focused on the task ahead.


    “Something like that,” Gideon finally said as their bags were packed, his tone softer than before. Then, with a flick of his ear, he was back to business. “Rest while you can. Tomorrow, we start on tactics.”


    Joel nodded, too tired to argue. As he sat down, his thoughts returned to the boy in the cage. This wasn’t just training for him anymore. It was a promise—a promise to be strong enough to make a difference.


    “Where are we going? Are we camping close by,” Joel asked.


    “Oh, we aren’t staying here. We are going to the burrow, I got a pair of friends who would love to meet you,” Gideon the rabbit laughed.


    The lizard clan was waiting, and Joel intended to be ready.