Ember got into what he assumed was a sword-fighting stance, putting his right leg in front of him and his back leg behind him, then holding the sword equal to his waist with both hands.

  Chris snorted. “Dude, come on.”

  “What?” Ember replied, somewhat annoyed.

  “If you grip the sword any harder, you’re going to break it. Loosen up a little bit, man.”

  Ember looked down and saw that, indeed, his hands were gripping the handle so tightly that his entire hand was turning white. He loosened his hold a little bit, and his hand tingled from the pain.

  “All right,” Chris said. He put his shield in front of him. “Now, I want you to come at me and swing as hard as you can against my shield.”

  “As hard as I can?”

  “As hard as you can,” he emphasized.

  “All right,” Ember said and ran up to him. He swung down with all of his force, stomping his foot hard enough into the ground to feel it give a little. Chris, as soon as the sword edge touched the shield, angled it, and the sword slid off. As did Ember, and he lost his balance. When his sword touched the ground, he felt the warm edge of Chris’s wooden sword against his neck.

  “First lesson. Never attack something with all your strength unless you’re one hundred percent positive it’ll land. Also, your movements are far too big. Speed is a better weapon than pure power.”

  Ember stood back up from his crouched position. “Okay.”

  Chris got ready again, and Ember got back into his stance.

  “Now, strike me again.”

  With a swipe, Ember came down again, this time lighter and faster, not rearing up like he did last time. But it was so light that as soon as the sword tapped Chris’s shield, he pushed off, deflecting it and causing Ember’s arms to fling upward, the sword flying out of his grip. Once again, he felt the edge of Chris’s wooden sword against his neck.

  “Lesson two. You don’t want to be too light when you attack, either, or else that’ll happen.”

  Ember mumbled something—a snarky comeback—to himself as he went over and picked up his sword.

  “Again,” Chris said.

  Ember struck again. This time, he went a little heavier, but it was too heavy, and once again, he got countered. He tried to adjust his speed, the amount of force, even going as far as to try feints. Everything was too slow and telegraphed.

  This went on for almost two hours—Ember striking, Chris deflecting or parrying, then chewing Ember out for not getting the correct weight or angle down. At multiple points, Ember just wanted to quit, but Chris wouldn’t let him. The moment he thought about stopping, he’d get swiped in the ribs with the sword, which did not feel good.

  By the time the sun was setting, Ember lay on his back, panting, covered in sweat and bruises, his mind reeling from the beating he had just taken. His hands stung from the constant vibrations.

  Chris shook his head. “You’ve got good reaction speed and timing, but that’s about all you’ve got.” He chuckled. “I can tell that you clearly aren’t a fighter, or weren’t one before you came here.”

  “You don’t say,” Ember panted, all of his muscles aching. He sat up, brushing grass and dirt off his clothes. The sweat on his arms was already drying, and the cool air was doing nothing to make him feel better.

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  “All right, let me make us something to eat,” Chris said as he walked over to the campfire. He started pulling dried meat and various vegetables out of the cart. “Tomorrow, we’re going to keep traveling, but we’ll probably do something similar and stop around noon to continue working on your swordplay. I doubt you’ll be strong enough to fight most people, but if we can refine your skill, that reaction speed of yours should help carry you. I also want to teach you—”

  He sighed, palming his forehead, “I haven’t even gotten into ichor yet. Oh man. This is going to be harder than I thought.”

  “It’s not my fault,” Ember grumbled as he trudged over to the fire. He grabbed one of the small wooden stools from the cart and set himself up across from Chris. I wonder what ichor is? “Like I said, I grew up in a time when fighting, especially melee fighting, wasn’t a requirement.”

  “Well, hopefully we don’t come across any monsters before we get to the sub city. If we do, it might be a little rough. Though nothing I probably can’t handle myself.”

  Ember watched as Chris made a very simple stew and handed it to him. He stared at it, some potatoes and meat with gravy. The thought of what the meat could be crossed his mind. He wasn’t sure if they had deer. Maybe it was monster meat. He cast the thought aside. There was no point in worrying about it. At least he had something to eat.

  He took a tentative taste. It was good, to his surprise. The meat was salty but very tender, and the gravy was smooth and rich.

  As they ate in silence, Ember thought back on what had happened so far. A lot had happened in a short time. He’d only been here a week at most, and all he’d done was follow Chris so far. It felt like he had no agency in what was happening. Then again, I suppose it’s better this way. At least I’m still alive—which is more than I can say for some people.

  Ember finished his dinner, and then Chris made him shoot arrows until there was zero light left, before finally letting him go to sleep. Everything ached, and everything hurt. It took him an hour to finally find a position he could actually sleep in.

  When he woke the next morning, Chris had already packed up the entire camp besides his tent.

  “Let’s get going,” Chris said. Ember nodded glumly as he slowly took down his tent. Every muscle in his arms screamed in protest, and his ribs made him wince every time he bent down. Ten minutes later, they were headed down the road.

  This time, Chris was a little more talkative. He didn’t really say much about himself, but he spoke about the forest, and Ember learned that this massive sequoia forest went on for hundreds of miles in all directions. Really made him realize how different this world was from his own, even if it had some similarities.

  They came across a few travelers, but most of them ignored them or didn’t seem to care. Very few rode horses, but all of them had weapons visible.

  Ember brought up traversers after they passed a particular passerby who looked a little out of place. They wore jeans. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t spare a glance Ember’s way. “You talked about them. What exactly are they?”

  Chris hummed. “They’re like you. They come from other worlds, other Earths, time periods, so on and so forth. They’re all over the place. They tend to keep to themselves most of the time, though. You won’t see a lot of traversers out here in the frontier willingly. But there are quite a few who are in influential areas in the civilized world.”

  “Is there anything special about traversers, besides the fact that they just come from another world?”

  “Sometimes,” Chris said after a moment of thought. “There’s a few that have abilities most people can’t make sense of. And some that are smarter or look different than everything else around them. But overall, they’re just like regular people most of the time.”

  He gave Ember a side eye, his violet eyes sparkling in the sun, “Some handle the transition better than others. It’s not rare for a traverser to go insane. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

  “Huh.” Ember leaned against the bench. “I sure as hell don’t feel lucky. Nor do I have anything special about me.”

  “You got that sword,” Chris said, motioning to the weapon resting on his lap.

  “Yeah, but I don’t know what to do with it.” He pulled it free and tilted the weapon in the sunlight. “I mean, it looks cool, but outside of that, that’s about it. I haven’t felt anything special from it since the Cathedral.” His voice caught when he said that. If his companion noticed, he didn’t act like he did.

  Chris nodded, snapping the reins to speed the horses up a bit. “That’s because you don’t know how to use ichor. It’s kind of hard to explain, but when we get to a point where I feel like we’re in a safe place, I’ll discuss it with you. It’s pretty much the thing that makes anyone able to fight monsters in this world.”

  “Ichor…” Ember stared at his sword before putting it back.

  Two more days went by, and all Ember did was train and train and train—until finally, on the third day, Chris decided it was time to get into the weeds of combat.