By the time lunch rolled around, he was utterly exhausted. The warriors filed out of the combat area and through the village into the Eating Hall. It was weird not being able to tell the time. He relied on the movement of everyone else to know when it was time to eat. Sure, he was aware that the sun rose in the east and set in the west, but it was tough to estimate the exact time with only the sun’s position. He would get better with practice.

  After getting his fill of meat and carbs, he found Fizo waiting outside for him.

  “You look rather happy,” Thomas mumbled, feeling the aches and pains of the day catch up with his body.

  “Of course I am. Today you get to see the armory!” he beamed.

  “Oh, yes, that’s right. Your dad runs it, doesn’t he?”

  “Yep, and soon it will be the pair of us. Come on! Let’s get going!” he protested, pulling at his sleeve.

  “By all means. Lead the way,” Thomas responded.

  The sun beat down on his neck as they walked. His pasty skin wasn’t cut out for all this sunlight; he really needed some sunscreen. Looking up, he saw a brilliant blue sky with a smattering of thin wispy clouds. It gave no indication that he was in another world, well, except for the giant tear that stretched vertically across the sky. The size of the thing was tough to guess, but based on its distance from the village, he suspected it was several hundred feet tall.

  Its structure resembled a lightning bolt, jagged and asymmetrical, like the fabric of the world had resisted its creation before finally being ripped in two. At its center, it was black, but around it emanated an ominous purple hue. It somewhat reminded him of a nebula, but the presence of it in the sky rather than in space made it far more unsettling.

  “Hey Fizo, what’s the deal with the Tear?”

  “Oh, that?” he asked, not missing a beat.” That’s where the nightspawn come from,” he explained.

  “Yes, I know that much, but what is it really? Has it always been there? Are there others?”

  “Well, we don’t know what it is. It just appeared three months back…” he explained, trailing off, his face becoming vacant. “We lost a lot of people that night. Had a hunting party in the forest. When the nightspawn descended, they caught them completely unaware. Fortunately, Luran was among the group. Had he not been, I fear we may have lost many more.”

  So it hadn’t always been there. It had miraculously appeared, just like he had. But what had caused it? He allowed silence to fill the air while he thought. He didn’t want to offend Fizo by responding too keenly; it was a delicate subject.

  “So it’s the only one?” he asked, after waiting what he considered to be an adequate amount of time.

  “I think so,” Fizo answered, rather monotone, seemingly replaying the events of the first night in his head.”

  “And you don’t know what caused it? Could it have been the humans? They’re responsible for bringing forth the Summons, are they not?” Fizo furrowed his brow.

  “I suppose they could have, but I doubt it. Remember, Summons are brought forth at the Summoning Gates. It's nothing like that,” he explained, pointing to the Tear. “This is something different.”

  “You say that, but I appeared here in the forest, didn’t I? No Summoning Gate for me.”

  “True… but you’re an exception. That tear is beyond the capabilities of the humans, and besides, what would be the point?”

  “To cull all of the monsters?” he responded. That much seemed rather obvious.

  “Sure, that could be a good enough motive, if it weren’t for the fact that the nightspawn kill everything in sight. It’s not just us in the forest that have to worry about them. It’s those in Valoria, too. Nighttime lasts for what? Say 9 hours? That's more than enough time for the nightspawn to fan out across Valoria.”

  For some reason, he hadn’t considered this. Monsters resided in the forest, and that was that, but of course, they could leave if they wanted to. He felt rather stupid at the realization.

  “So what of the humans? Surely whoever is in charge of Valoria can’t protect everyone from the nightspawn?”

  “That would be King Avaclese. And I expect not, no. But seeing as we are at odds with the humans, we have no idea how they are managing. They have a big military, but with such a vast area to protect, I cannot imagine there are no casualties. But enough of that horrible talk!” he exclaimed, shaking his head violently as if to dispel it by force. “Let’s talk armor!” he chirped as the pair arrived at the armory.

  “Dad, we’re here!” he shouted, bursting through the door and causing it to smack against the inside wall.

  “What have I told you about banging that door, boy?!” the ekari behind the counter boomed. He was a hefty man with an incredible beard. Not a speck of skin showed through it—he must be bristling with testosterone. It wasn’t especially well-groomed, but it stretched all the way down to his pecs, giving him a rugged and intense appearance.

  “Sorry, Dad!” Fizo responded, dashing to the counter. The man broke into a smile from ear to ear.

  “What am I going to do with you, eh?” he asked, ruffling Fizo’s hair, causing him to giggle. “So, you are Thomas, I take it? I’m Oshil. This one’s father,” the man roared. “How are you finding the village?” He forced an awkward smile.

  “It’s an adjustment for sure. But it’s pretty neat,” he added quickly, to not offend. While life here seemed satisfactory, that was all it was. He missed his hobbies from back home. Watching movies, playing video games, listening to music, they were all snatched from his grasp the second he set foot in this world.

  “No need to put on an act, lad. No one expects you to love the village right away. It’s natural to want to leave. Not having any of your own kind around… well, I dare say I would want to leave if I were in your shoes,” he sympathized, patting Fizo on the head.

  His forced smile turned into an authentic one, albeit brief, as he remembered his sister, the person he wanted to be reunited with more than anyone else in the world.

  “Thanks, Oshil. I’m glad someone understands. I just need time to adjust to this new reality.”

  “And you have nothing but!” he boomed, extending his arm into a crucifix. “And what better way to fill your time than learning about all the delights of armor?” Fizo cheered, and he couldn’t help but laugh. It was the first time he had laughed in a long time.

  “Let me show you around,” Oshil declared, scurrying out from behind the counter. The tour began at the breastplates, and Oshil’s craftsmanship did not disappoint. Before him stood six dazzling metal breastplates sporting different designs. While some were angular and imposing, others were more contoured, probably better at deflecting incoming attacks. But what was consistent among all designs was the quality; each was immaculate and perfectly symmetrical to the naked eye. Well, those that were intended to be symmetrical anyway. Oshil was a master armorer to be sure.

  “I’m particularly proud of this piece,” he explained, picking up one of the chestplates and handing it to him. “See the outside lining? It’s made of Sunflare Deer antler. Imbue your essence into this, and it shines like a mini sun. Blinds whoever it is you’re fighting. Never seen anyone incorporate it into armor before, so it’s the last thing anyone would expect!”

  He ran his finger across the outer edge of the armor, which had a red hue. At first glance he had figured it was paint, but no, it was indeed a different material altogether. Antler, just as Oshil had said.

  “Essence? What’s that?” he asked, spinning to look at the man.

  “You don’t know what essence is?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Fizo! I thought you were teaching him!” Fizo jumped out of his skin.

  “Sorry! I kind of forgot! You can’t blame me—there’s a lot to cover!” Oshil shook his head, his eyes lingering on Fizo.

  “Very well, I’ll be happy to explain it to you. Essence, simply put, is the arcane power that dwells within us. It’s what enables monsters to use their abilities. Without it, they have no means of activation.”

  “So it’s like fuel?”

  “Exactly! And given that essence is common among all monsters, it acts as a universal power source. This means that by harvesting specific parts from fallen monsters, we can add their power to our own, enabling us to use their abilities for a time.”

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  He found the concept intriguing, but noticed one all-consuming drawback. If any monster could use the abilities of another by killing them and harvesting their parts, that meant only one thing—many races were likely being hunted ruthlessly for no other reason than their powers. What if they were intelligent like humans or the ekari? It made him feel uncomfortable.

  “I take it you target specific monsters with the most useful abilities? But if I may be so blunt,” he paused, trying to phrase his question in the right way, “Where do you draw the line between usefulness and, well, morality?”

  Oshil took the question much better than he had expected. His cheery expression didn’t change in the slightest. If he had to guess, it seemed like Oshil was expecting the question already.

  “Take it from me, Thomas. We have the utmost respect for all creatures. When you spend a day with the harvester, that much will become clear. Not a piece of the body is wasted. And we are very selective of what we hunt. Any intelligent race is strictly off-limits—we will only ever use their parts if we fell such a monster as a result of need. Usually, either protecting the village or acts of self-defense.”

  “I see,” Thomas responded, thinking of his next question. “And what do you consider intelligent, might I add?”

  “Simple. Any race that can converse with us.”

  He tried to hide his judgment of that answer, but felt he didn’t do a very good job. How could speech alone be the means of determining intelligence? He imagined many of the monsters spoke their own languages. Surely, some among them were at least on par with the ekari intellectually speaking.

  “I don't mean to be rude, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me,” he responded, staring at the shield, not able to meet Oshil’s gaze.

  “And why is that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  “Well, I’m not sure how things work here, but back where I’m from, humans speak all kinds of languages. So, by your way of thinking, we would be justified in culling our own kind. That doesn’t sit very well with me.” Oshil slapped him playfully on the back so hard that he nearly dropped the shield.

  “Oh dear! Fizo hasn’t done a very good job explaining things at all, has he!” Oshil jested, laughing. Fizo went to open his mouth to defend himself, but stopped, thinking better of it.

  “That’s the beauty of the forest,” Oshil explained. “All intelligent species share the same tongue here. Language is a conduit for the arcane. It translates all intelligent languages automatically. You think you’re speaking ekari, right now?” Oshil asked, pointing at his mouth. He hadn’t thought of that.

  “No. You’re speaking human, and we are speaking ekari; the forest does the rest.” He quickly stopped himself. “Actually, it might be a little different for you,” he said, itching underneath his beard. “I recall some of our warriors had a run-in with a Summon outside the forest long ago, and they shared a brief exchange before our warriors fled. Either that Summon learned ekari, or Summons can understand monster languages. I know which I think is more likely. You’re quite literally brimming with essence, far more than any of us, so it’s more than likely down to that.”

  He furrowed his brow, thinking on what he had just learned. So he could speak the languages of all intelligent monsters, eh? How unexpected. Being a Summon was full of all sorts of surprises. He wondered what else would come to light with time.

  “Sorry for being so judgmental about what you hunt. It makes sense now. One final question. Is that why the ekari are at odds with the humans? Are they hunting monsters to harvest their parts? It’s the sort of thing I could see them doing.” Oshil sighed.

  “Nope. I could see why you might think that, but no, our bloody history goes back a long way. Around a thousand years. Various motivations have fuelled this conflict, but harvesting our remains has never been the cause. You see. Humans don’t have essence. Therefore, they have no use for our parts.”

  His eyes bulged in surprise. Of course, they didn’t have essence. Otherwise, everyone would be shooting lightning or channeling some other potent ability.

  “It’s something to do with you coming from another world,” Oship added. You were summoned using the arcane; perhaps it altered your biology. I have no idea. But in any case, it was that act that gave you your essence, and an abundance of it,“ he revealed, looking Thomas up and down as if he were leaking essence from his very being.

  “Once you learn to control it, you’ll be almost unstoppable. I just pray that when that point comes, you’ll do the right thing and protect those who sheltered you when you had no one.”

  He flinched at the notion. Almost unstoppable? Could he really become that powerful? No wonder they all feared him. If he were in their shoes, would he have let him live? He wasn’t so sure. It put the entire village at risk. The safest thing to do would have been to put him down. Thank goodness for the Chief.

  “Don’t you worry, Oshil. I have no ties to the humans of this world. In truth, I’ve come to despise many of my kind,” he explained, thinking back to the humans who framed him and those who put him to death. “If ever humans march on this village, I will fight alongside the rest of you,” he explained, scratching the back of his head. “But I can’t promise I will be any good at it. You should have seen my first sword lesson. Tragic is an understatement.” Oshil smiled.

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  The tour continued with more chestplates, but unlike the first batch he was shown, these were made of a range of different materials. There were also far more of them. Leather seemed to be the most common, closely followed by scales. He moved to get a closer look at the latter. Most were a dull green, but there were different shades on offer too, such as one chestplate which shimmered ocean blue. He ran his hand across the material. They were firm and quite rough.

  “What are these?” he asked with growing enthusiasm.

  “Awesome, aren’t they! That’s authentic cryshari scale armor you’re holding right there. Ultra lightweight and tough as steel. Best scales there are! Shame we can’t get our hands on more. Cryshari are tough beasts to track down. Like it?” Oshori chortled. He shot the ekari a sarcastic look.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen a single thing in this shop I haven’t liked.”

  “You really know how to flatter a man,” Oshil roared. “Let’s show you the rest of the goods,” he said in a devilish tone, putting a hand on his shoulder and his face far too close.

  From greaves to gauntlets to pauldrons, Oshil’s armory had it all. Some of the types of armor he couldn’t even identify, which, given his love for video games, was a real surprise. Although he wanted to know what they were, he held off on asking. Better to stick to more pressing questions—he didn’t want to be a pain, and his self-imposed question quota was quickly filling up.

  Scanning the room, he noticed a distinct lack of armor sets. While each piece was beautifully crafted, there were but three armor sets in the entire store. How odd. No armor store he had even seen had focused so heavily on individual items, not that he had seen many real armor stores. Armor stores in games, armor stores in real life—same difference.

  All shops displayed their finest armor sets in the windows to draw in buyers. And that's what they were: sets. Tempt shoppers with a few pieces, and they might as well buy the whole bundle.

  Oh, but that’s right, he realized. This wasn’t a shop, was it? The whole moneyless thing was going to take some getting used to. Oshil must focus on individual armor pieces because he does not need to incentivize people to buy a whole set of armor. Besides, as he recalled, the warriors of the village weren’t all that big on armor, at least not as much as he expected them to be. Most opted for a select few pieces here and there, rather than being covered from head to toe like knights. It was probably the weight.

  “Say, Oshil, I get that the warriors likely only wear a few pieces of armor because they favor mobility, but why not pick out a full set made of light materials such as those scales? You mentioned you can incorporate monster parts for buff-ups, right? Surely, it makes sense to have as much as possible. Or am I missing something?”

  “Buff-ups? I’ve never heard that one before—l like it! In any case, back to your question. You're bang on about weight. Mobility is everything in a fight. We ekari are fast, strong, and durable; we don’t need to supplement with mountains of armor like, say, the humans do. Sure, we could sacrifice a little speed and endurance for a full set of scale armor as you say, but the payoff isn’t worth it,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Your pool of essence is finite, and if you deplete it too much, you risk passing out. We don’t have the reserves to fuel an entire amplified armor set. That’s why most warriors choose a few amplified pieces, usually a chest plate and boots. Do you know I can make near-silent boots using the pads of a few Stalker Leopards?

  “What?! No way! That’s so cool!” he exclaimed, his eyes as big as saucers. “I want some!”

  “I thought you might!” Oshil chuckled, pretending to go to pick up a pair from behind the counter before revealing his empty hands. Thomas scowled.

  “So when do I get some armor anyway? I’m training with the sword and could do with some. Luran’s a rough teacher,” he croaked, rubbing a bruise that had formed on his hip.

  “You’re not ready for a proper set of armor!” Oshil jested. “You’ve just started! You don’t even know what your fighting style is going to be yet!” This was the last thing he wanted to hear after being paraded around an armory for the last few hours.

  “Oh come on!” he moaned. “Don’t be so damn heartless! You’ve spent the last two hours showing me all your fine armor, and now you’re telling me I can’t have any! What the hell?” Oshil grinned.

  “Look. It’s too early for a proper set, but if you’re really set on leaving with something, take these.” He handed Thomas a leather chestplate, pauldrons, bracers, and greaves. They were dark brown and appeared rather basic among the rest of the armor he had seen. They would leave much of his body exposed, but they were a welcome gift.

  “It’s nothing flashy, but it’s lightweight and will get you used to wearing armor. Best of all, it’s not very restrictive, so it shouldn’t hinder your training in any way.

  He had hoped for a little more, but there was no need to get pushy. If he chose the path of the warrior as everyone expected, Oshil would probably make him any armor he wanted in time. Better to be thankful.

  “Much appreciated, Oshil. I’ll take good care of it.”

  Like the day prior at the weaponsmith, his visit to the armory ate out a significant portion of his tour time around the village. Upon leaving, Fizo rushed him from place to place, spending no more than ten minutes in any one spot. For many, he didn’t even venture inside, likely because this would initiate a lengthy conversation with the worker.

  “Why are we in such a rush, Fizo? Can’t we just come back tomorrow? Hell, we could extend it to a week, couldn’t we? I don’t see the problem.” Fizo continued to lead him to the next destination, not breaking stride.

  “It’s the Chief’s idea. He was very adamant that I compact your tour as much as possible. I don’t know the reason, but my best guess is he wants you to do a lot of the exploration on your own. It’s no secret that a lot of the villagers are wary of you, but if you’re forced to talk with people one-on-one, they should see that they have nothing to fear.”

  He gave the idea some thought. As much as being rushed irritated him, it made a lot of sense. And if he could develop relationships with ekari one-on-one, this would likely snowball as word got out.

  “So what do you think of me then, Fizo?” he asked, giving the ekari a curious look. Fizo smiled.

  “You’re not much like I expected,” he said before pausing, considering how to continue. “But I think you’re pretty great! You’ll fit into this village rather nicely,” he answered honestly.

  “Only time will tell!” Thomas sighed, looking up at the dying light of the sky. If he couldn’t fit in among his own kind, how could he possibly fit in among monsters?