The morning broke colder than expected. The fog draped the village like a second skin, thick and clinging. But beneath it, movement stirred—measured, determined, and unified. The central field had been cleared of its scattered stones and roots. Now, rows of men and women stood shoulder to shoulder, muscles taut, faces solemn.
Zaruko stood before them.
"This is not a tribe of hunters anymore," he said, voice steady. "We are a people with a future. And that future must be defended."
He turned to the side and raised his hand. Two warriors stepped forward and unfurled a hide parchment etched with charcoal symbols—Zaruko's recreation of a military structure from a time long gone.
Commanders, chosen from those with calm minds and sharp instincts, would lead small groups—Units of ten to fifteen. Each unit would have scouts, runners, and two who knew the paths of the wild well enough to serve as guides. Everyone else would learn to fight, move in formation, and think like one.
Beneath the old sheltering tree, blacksmiths had begun gathering materials—bones, metal scraps, volcanic stone, and thick vines. A new forge, adjacent to Ogou's but separate from it, had been built. This one was for the warriors. Ogou's forge remained sacred, untouched unless called upon. Here, apprentice smiths—those who had begun learning from Ogou's chosen—began shaping crude but efficient weapons. Spears hardened in fire, daggers carved from obsidian, bows strung from sinew.
Zaruko paced through the ranks, adjusting stances, pointing out weaknesses, correcting grips. "We're not building warriors who wait to fight," he told them. "We're building guardians. You'll be tired. Hungry. Tested. But you'll be ready."
Training drills were broken into parts. The morning was for endurance—running the perimeter of the village with weighted logs, climbing ropes strung between trees. The afternoon focused on technique—practice strikes, defensive positioning, disarming methods. As evening came, the scouts gathered separately with the elders who knew the land best. They were taught how to read broken branches, track through stone, and mark hidden trails with natural signs only tribe members could decipher.
Communication came next.
Drums were too loud—drawing attention from predators and other tribes. Instead, Zaruko introduced a system of hand signs and signal stones. A specific color placed on the edge of a trail told whether danger was near, safe passage ahead, or a rendezvous point had changed. It was subtle, quiet, and could save lives.
Nightfall brought not rest but planning. In a central meeting circle, Zaruko met with the unit leaders, inner circle, and elders. There they discussed strategy. He drew diagrams in ash, circling potential points of ambush around the region. They spoke of surrounding tribes, likely dangers, how to move without being seen, how to divide food and water during long patrols. Ration management was key now.
"The enemy won't wait for fair weather," Zaruko said. "So we won't either."
The following day, they began to organize their supplies. Hunters were given assigned zones to maintain food supply. Storage pits were dug and lined with stone and moss to preserve dried meat, roots, and herbs. A portion of the healers began organizing medicine packs—using dried leaves, salves, and crushed minerals—to distribute to each unit. This was logistics, Zaruko explained. A fighting force is only as good as its stomach and its wounds.
Some warriors asked if they would receive new weapons from Ogou.
"Not until he says so," Zaruko replied. "But you are already stronger. Look around."
And it was true. Those marked by Ogou's sigil—whether carved into flesh by the god himself or burned into their memory through their actions—were changing. The cold no longer bit them as fiercely. Their muscles did not wear down as fast. Reflexes sharpened. Wounds that should have lingered closed quicker, leaving behind darker scars.
But Zaruko made it clear: "This power comes with responsibility. You don't wield Ogou's mark to conquer. You carry it to protect."
Discipline became the rhythm of life. Children watched their older siblings march in practiced silence, imitating their steps. Women volunteered to patrol. Elders began to craft symbols of unity—woven cords dyed in earth tones, bound around each warrior's left wrist.
In the evenings, Zaruko would walk to the forge. Sometimes Maela joined him, bringing food or just silence. Together, they would watch the embers glow. No chants, no rituals. Just the steady, quiet understanding that they were shaping something lasting.
Not just a military.
A people who refused to kneel again.
As the sun sank behind the western ridge, casting long shadows across the training field, Zaruko stood before the assembled warriors. The fires around the perimeter had been lit, not for warmth but for illumination. Tonight marked a new phase.
"Kan Ogou will not just survive. It will endure. And to endure, we need structure."
He raised his hand, and four warriors stepped forward, each bearing a woven band dyed in a different color—red, blue, green, and black.
"These four will lead our shield."
He gestured first to Toma, broad-shouldered and silent, his eyes sharp like a falcon. "Toma will lead the Northern Guard. The path north is mountainous, rocky, and filled with narrow passes. He has hunted that terrain all his life. He knows the cliffs like breath. If enemies come from the north, they will be met with stone and silence."
Next, he turned to Senja, lean, quick, with hair braided back and eyes that missed nothing. "Senja will command the Eastern Watch. The jungles there are dense, and the rivers unpredictable. She has crossed them in monsoon and drought. Her warriors will be shadows beneath the trees."
Then, a nod to Bakari, tall and dark-skinned with arms wrapped in tattoos of battles past. "Bakari holds the Western Line. Where the sun dies, so will those who threaten us. That land is open — too easy to cross. His people will be the wall no one sees until it is too late."
Finally, he faced Niazo, quiet, always calm. A former hunter turned soldier. "Niazo guards the Southern Reach, where remnants of rival tribes and beasts still wander. He will keep the path clear and the people safe. Where the earth softens, he will harden."
Each leader stepped forward and clasped wrists with Zaruko. Behind them, their chosen warriors—those who had proven themselves in drills, sparring, and patrols—stood at attention. No chants were sung. No horns were blown. The declaration was simple.
Four directions.
Four guardians.
One tribe.
From this point on, each group trained and patrolled in rotation. The Northern Guard scaled stone cliffs, learning to fight from high ground. The Eastern Watch practiced ambushes and silent movement through tangled brush. The Western Line drilled in open field formation, spear walls and running flanks. The Southern Reach tested traps and ranged weapons, knowing their terrain was the most unpredictable.
Zaruko watched from above, standing on the wooden rise they had built near the forge. His arms crossed, his eyes measured.
The army was no longer an idea.
It was now the shield of Kan Ogou.
And behind that shield, a people would thrive.
With the four divisions formed and their leaders chosen, Zaruko summoned them to the council space outside the forge the next morning. A fresh breeze rolled through the village, but the air beneath the canopy was still, heavy with anticipation.
"In our world, strength alone is not enough," Zaruko began. "Discipline, coordination, and precision—these will set us apart from the beasts and the wildmen."
He laid down four bark-scrolls, one for each commander. Each contained a structured training schedule, rooted in the principles he had learned in his past life. It was a system designed to refine calisthenically fit warriors into elite soldiers.
Daily Training Plan (All Divisions)
Morning Phase (Sunrise – Mid-Morning):
Mobility & Agility Drills:
Sprint intervals across uneven terrain, climbing natural structures, leap training across logs, low-branch ducking drills.
Group Coordination Runs:
Full-unit marches and synchronized movement with full gear over 5 to 10 kilometers depending on terrain.
Combat Readiness Warm-Up:
Partnered grappling, balance training, and breath control under strain.
Midday Phase (Late Morning – Noon):
Spear, Blade, and Club Practice:
Target strikes, defensive forms, weapon rotation (3 weapons per warrior over 3-day cycles).
Unit Drills & Mock Battle:
Practice tactical formations (wedge, pincer, shield ring) against opposing units using padded weapons.
Observation & Reaction:
Blindfolded hearing tests, response to command signals, simulated ambushes.
Afternoon Phase (Midday – Early Afternoon):
Strength Maintenance:
Weighted carries (using logs, stones), hill climbs, drag drills (wounded warrior simulations).
Shield and Formation Wall Practice:
Frontline cohesion under pressure. Warriors push against each other in rhythm to simulate crowd and enemy contact.
Command Rotation:
Junior warriors lead small sections for leadership exposure.
Evening Phase (Twilight – Nightfall):
Silent Movement & Stealth Training:
Move through brush, water, and canopy paths without sound—avoiding bells tied to branches.
Cultural & Mental Training:
Group discussions on tactics, storytelling from past battles, symbolic meanings of the sigil. Warriors are expected to teach and learn.
Devotion & Solitude:
Time offered to sit at the forge's open offering zone. No sacrifice required—only reflection.
Specialized Enhancements by Division:
Northern Guard (Toma):
Advanced climbing techniques, avalanche response drills, rock-slide simulations. Night watch readiness and low-oxygen training at elevation.
Eastern Watch (Senja):
Stealth-based combat, ambush drills, natural camouflage, and venom identification. High-focus endurance crawling through swamp terrain.
Western Line (Bakari):
Large formation movement, anti-cavalry techniques (for when beasts charge), open-ground spear tossing, and shock formation strength.
Southern Reach (Niazo):
Ranged weapon drills (sling, thrown spear, bolas), trap-setting, wide-patrol mapping, and resistance to sudden temperature shifts.
Zaruko stood before them as the four commanders read the schedules in silence. Their expressions were focused, no one flinched or asked to alter the load. It was not a test—it was an invitation to greatness.
"If you follow this," Zaruko said, "you will not just survive what comes… you will bend it to your will."
Each commander gave a crisp nod and turned to begin at once. By the next morning, drums were beating at dawn—not for war, but for unity. The forge's fire watched, and from its shadow, Ogou listened.