The bunker we found has been a blessing. Aside from the usual complaints from Derek and Sterling, the others are adapting quickly. They've improved fast—faster than I expected. That's mostly because I sparred with each of them personally. No mercy, even Charlotte. They needed to feel what real pain was like, how it feels to lose… so they'd fight harder next time. And it worked. Their growth accelerated.
Tomorrow, we start practical hunting—wild boars, maybe something bigger. We need meat, and we need to learn how to kill without hesitation. This bunker has signs of wildlife, and I spotted some fresh tracks this morning. We'll hunt at dawn.
I also found some clothing—fifteen long coats, hooded, dark, reaching down to the knees. Kind of gives off a cool, uniformed look. I decided these will be our group's signature attire. There are still only twelve of us, though… looks like we'll need to recruit three more.
Out of everyone, Troy stands out. He has a head start—sharp instincts, quick learner, and not afraid to get his hands dirty. He's already organizing our food rations. For now, it's just berries, some dried rations we scavenged, and fruits we managed to find earlier. Barely enough, but it'll do for now.
The others are handling the training well. Today I focused on spear drills—both melee and throwing. I taught them basic javelin techniques. Spear is our main weapon for now. We've crafted 20 makeshift spears. Once they're confident with using them, we'll start the real mission—hunting grounders… or reapers.
I'm sure those bastards are strong. But they're nothing compared to what I've been preparing for. I'm not just planning to kill—I'm planning to capture a few of them. My people need real enemies to sharpen their edge.
And their weapons? They'll be mine. I'm practically drooling at the thought of holding a real sword again.
Soon.
From what I can tell, the camp must already think we're dead. I'd be surprised if they didn't. It's been a while since we left. Judging from how the original timeline plays out, this should be about the time when Clarke, Finn, Wells, Bellamy, and Murphy find Jasper strung up to that tree, just like in the show. Poor guy.
As for who attacked him? Likely one of the Grounders—maybe even a Reaper. The spear in Jasper's chest was a dead giveaway. That wasn't one of ours. And considering both the Grounders and Mountain Men have probably known about us since we landed, it only makes sense that one of them made the first move.
I'm tempted to return to camp now—rally them, take command, change things. But I know I can't do that. Not yet.
The reason I immediately gathered and trained this group the moment we landed was simple—survival. Real survival. Not the kind that comes from hiding behind the walls of a camp while others do the work, but the kind where you can look death in the eyes and not flinch. I'm building something better—an elite force. Warriors.
I know for a fact most of the others in camp are probably still goofing off, acting like it's summer camp. Sure, people like Atom, Bellamy, Clarke, and Wells are exceptions. They care. They fight. But the majority? They're just kids trying to live like nothing's changed.
Wells… yeah. I still can't believe what happened to him in the original timeline. The moment we landed, I already felt that he had the potential to be something great—a leader in his own right. But the writers just decided to toss him away like that? Wasteful.
At least in this world—my version—Charlotte is with me. She won't be there to kill Wells in a confused rage. This time, he lives.
The reason Charlotte killed Wells in the original timeline was because she saw Clarke mercy-kill Atom while hiding up in a tree. That moment—it gave her the courage to act, even if it was the wrong kind of courage. She's only twelve, but the grief she carries from losing her parents—blaming Wells' father for it all—must be a weight no child should ever bear.
I can't exactly blame her, though. I've taken lives in anger too. I know how rage can cloud everything, how it twists grief into something sharp and dangerous.
That's why I've been keeping an eye on her. I check in with her daily—ask how she's feeling, how training is going. So far, she hasn't complained once. She trains harder than most of the others, alongside Connor. The two of them, they're the most hardworking of the group.
Myles, on the other hand… he still trains, but let's be honest—he's the weakest among us. Still, he's the clown of the group. Always trying to make someone laugh. Right now, he's over there cracking jokes in front of Fox and the others, grinning like he doesn't have a care in the world.
I sigh, watching him fumble through another gag. At least he lightens the mood.
"All right," I said, clapping my hands once. "Let's continue the training."
"Let's rest more!" Myles groaned dramatically.
"Nope. Can't do," I replied flatly.
Connor just smirked, walked over, and dragged Myles by the arm back to the training circle.
"C'mon clown," he muttered, "You're gonna thank us when the Grounders come knocking."
That's right—they already know there are Grounders out here.
Earlier this morning, while we were gathering berries near the edge of the woods, a scout passed through. Tall, silent, fast—just like I expected. It caught me off guard for a moment, but I managed to signal my group to get down before we were spotted.
The others followed my lead, though I could see the surprise and fear in their eyes. Most of them froze, stunned by the sudden, silent presence that vanished into the trees as quickly as it appeared.
I knew it was only a matter of time before we encountered one. Still, seeing one so soon—so close—reminded me that the forest is never really empty.
After the Grounder vanished into the underbrush, the others looked to me for answers. Myles was pale, no longer joking. Charlotte clutched her wooden practice spear a little tighter. Even Connor tensed up, jaw clenched.
"We're not alone," I said quietly."
That shook them. But it also lit a fire under them. That's the reason I pushed training so hard today. If that Grounder reports back—and they always do—we'll need to be ready. The camp might still think we're dead, but out here, that kind of ignorance gets you killed.
This world isn't safe. And the sooner my group understands that, the better their chances.
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