The seventh year of James's life in this world marked the dawn of change. Not a quiet change hidden behind the slow passage of days, but one born from sharp decisions and bold commands. The young warrior, now known to the tribe as the Flame Survivor, stood before the gathered council beneath the orange glow of torchlight. The shadows flickered along the stone walls, tall and wavering like spirits called to attention.
James stood tall for his age, shoulders square, gaze unwavering. There was something in his presence that unsettled the old warriors. Something unspoken.
"You asked how we might survive the Skarn," James said, his voice low but firm. "Then listen carefully. I want full command of the tribe's preparations."
The room stirred. One elder leaned forward, gray braids falling across his shoulders. "You're still a child, Flame Survivor. You may have bested Tharak, but this is war."
James didn't flinch. "Then treat this as war. And understand that I will win it."
Ataka, the war chief, motioned for silence. His eyes were heavy with experience, but also curiosity. "Speak your plan, then."
James took a breath, stepping toward the central fire pit.
"First, we build walls. Not just sharpened stakes, but layered barricades. Sturdy walls made from stone, dried timber, and clay. Two levels deep, surrounding the inner village. Each gate reinforced with crossbeams. We'll make the Skarn climb, and while they do…"
He paused, scanning the room.
"…we rain hell on them."
He pointed to the hunter's perch sketched in the sand map at his feet. "Towers. Four at least. Each with men trained to throw spears and heavy stones from height. Every able-bodied male over the age of ten will train daily in these arts."
Gasps. Murmurs. The tribe had never organized war beyond brute strength and scattered traps.
"Throwing stones?" one of the warriors said, scoffing. "We are not children."
James turned toward him. "The Romans—" He stopped himself. No, Earth history meant nothing here. "The greatest warriors don't just fight harder. They fight smarter. If you want to meet the Skarn head-on with blades, you'll die in the sand. If you follow my command, we will survive—and more than that, we will win."
Silence followed.
Ataka looked at him a long moment, then gave a slow nod. "Then it is done. The tribe will follow your command for the cycle to come. But if we fall…"
James nodded. "Then let my name burn with yours."
As the tribe began construction, James focused on training. Not just his body—but the Force.
It had started with a stone.
The night after he had killed the beast in the canyon years ago, James had felt a strange pull when he stared at a pebble beside his sleeping mat. He reached out—not with his hand, but with his will.
And the stone had shivered.
Since then, he practiced every night. Slowly. Quietly. Always alone.
At age six, he could make stones the size of his fist hover for a few seconds.
[Force Telekinesis: 4% → 5%]
At seven, he could lift a spear for over a minute, guide it across the tent, and drop it gently into his mother's hands. She had smiled, but said nothing. She always kept his secret.
[Force Telekinesis: 7% → 12%]
By eight, James was moving multiple objects at once. Small stones spinning in a slow orbit around his seated form as he meditated beneath the twin moons.
[Force Telekinesis: 15%]
[New Skill Branch Unlocked: Kinetic Control (Lv. 1)]
He began practicing pressure—compressing air with invisible force. Creating small pockets of tension. Enough to knock over water jugs or topple a training dummy.
[Kinetic Control: 4%]
The Force felt like breath—natural, flowing, but dangerous if held too tightly. James learned to move with it. To guide rather than command. Sometimes it answered him with warmth. Sometimes with a whisper of resistance.
By the time the new cycle approached—when the scouts first saw dust trails on the western horizon—the village was no longer the scattered huts it had once been.
Stone walls rose, layered with sun-dried clay and reinforced with heavy beams. Watchtowers overlooked every direction. Training fields echoed with the sound of grunts, thuds, and war cries. Spears flew with practiced accuracy. Stones struck painted targets at increasingly longer distances.
James walked the walltop each morning, staff in hand, system alerts quietly ticking in his mind.
[Spear Training: 28%]
[Tactical Planning: 34% – Subskill Unlocked: Formation Theory]
[Force Telekinesis: 21% – Subskill Unlocked: Guided Trajectory (Lv. 1)]
Some of the elders still grumbled behind closed doors, but the warriors—those who saw James train, who felt the effect of his drills—began to call him something new.
Not just Flame Survivor.
But Flame Commander.
And when the first Skarn horn echoed across the sands, James stood atop the main tower, cloak fluttering in the dry wind.
He didn't feel fear.
He felt ready.
The battle hadn't begun.
But it would.
And this time, the tribe would not break.
They would burn bright—and survive.