Tal could walk, but only barely.
They had argued about it for maybe half a minute, all in words Conner did not understand but read in tone. Rava sounded practical and sharp. Dorn sounded like a man who thought pain built character. Tal sounded like someone who would rather gnaw his own arm off than show weakness.
In the end, Tal pushed Rava's arm away and stood on his own feet.
His face was white under the dirt. Sweat shone on his brow. Each breath came slow and careful, like he was counting.
Conner kept one eye on the bandage. It was already stained red, but the bleeding had slowed. That was something.
Dorn pointed his spear toward the trees. He barked a word, short and heavy.
"Gron."
Rava rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like "You always do this" in any language. She grabbed the dead feathered beast by one leg and gave it a tug. The thing barely shifted. It had to weigh several hundred pounds.
Dorn stepped over and took one of the other legs, muscles rolling under his skin as he lifted. The carcass rose a few inches, then dragged forward with a loud scrape through the dirt.
Tal limped along behind them, knife still in hand, jaw clenched.
Conner stood there for a heartbeat, feeling like someone who had accidentally walked onstage in the middle of a play. Then he shook himself.
If he did nothing, he was dead weight. Dead weight did not last long in a world like this. He grabbed one of the remaining legs and heaved.
The beast was heavy, but his new Strength and Endurance stat bumps helped. The weight settled into his shoulders and back. His sneakers slipped in the churned-up soil, but he held on.
The system flickered.
Community assistance detected.Minor contribution: +1 PointTotal Points: 3
Conner hid a small smile and focused on dragging.
They moved through the trees in a slow, grinding line. The carcass left a bloody furrow behind them. Insects arrived in a buzzing cloud within minutes.
The smell hit soon after. Copper and wet feathers and something sour underneath.
Tal's breathing turned ragged. He kept his chin high, but his steps grew uncertain.
Conner kept glancing back at him. The cloth bandage clung dark and damp to his side.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek. There was a better way to do this.
The carcass had value. Meat, hide, bones. He got that. But the way they dragged it was slow and loud. It painted a red line through the forest.
An idea formed, simple and ugly.
They needed a stretcher.
Or something like one.
He let go of the beast. Rava glanced back at him with a quick frown, then returned to hauling.
Conner put his hands up, palms out.
"Give me a minute," he said. "I can make this easier."
They did not understand the words, but they got the intent. Dorn grunted, eyes narrowing, and jerked his chin toward Conner as if saying, "Fine. Show me."
Conner scanned the clearing edge. Two fallen saplings lay nearby, each about as long as he was tall, straight and reasonably light. He dragged them closer, then grabbed a thick branch and broke it into shorter crosspieces, using his new strength to snap it over his knee.
Wood cracked sharp in the quiet.
He pulled tape and the spool of wire from his backpack. To them it probably looked like shiny animal guts. He did not care.
He laid the two saplings parallel on the ground, spaced shoulder-width apart. Then he lashed the shorter branches across them as crossbars, twisting wire tight, reinforcing at key points with tape. A crude frame took shape. He ripped more fabric from his hoodie and stretched it across the frame, tying it off. Not perfect, but enough to spread weight.
His fingers moved fast. This was a basic problem. Build a support. Use leverage. Reduce load.
The system pulsed.
New craft created.Item: Crude Stretcher (Wood/Fabric)Crafting Points: +3Total Points: 6
Conner let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding.
He lifted one end of the stretcher and jerked his chin toward Tal.
"Here. Ride."
Rava watched him with open curiosity now. She pointed at the stretcher and said something to Dorn, her tone grudging but impressed.
Dorn eyed the frame like he expected it to snap. He gave it a testing kick. It held.
After a moment, he jerked his head at Tal and said something short.
Tal shot back a sharp word that sounded a lot like the universal version of "I am fine," then almost collapsed.
Rava snorted and grabbed him by the arm. Between the two of them, they got him onto the stretcher. He grunted as his weight settled, face tightening, but he did not protest further.
Conner took the front end. Dorn took the rear.
They lifted together.
The stretcher flexed but held. Conner adjusted his grip, feeling the strain settle evenly across his shoulders. This was still work, but with four hands instead of two and no dead beast dragging behind, their speed improved.
Rava walked beside them, one hand on the dinosaur carcass as she started cutting strips of meat free with a sharp stone knife. She hung them over her shoulder like bloody scarves.
The forest moved around them. Smaller creatures scattered at their approach. Unknown birds shrieked overhead. Once, something large crashed away through the underbrush ahead, snapping branches like twigs.
Every new sound set Conner's nerves on edge.
He glanced at the system quickly.
Points: 6Body: Strength 1, Endurance 1Blueprints: Simple Shelter, Reinforced Spear, Basic Trap (Snare)
He eyed the Reinforced Spear blueprint. Cost: 1 point.
The Basic Trap: 1 point.
Simple Shelter: 1 point.
His hand tightened on the stretcher's handle.
He might need a better weapon before night fell. On the other hand, shelter meant not sleeping in the open like an idiot snack.
He glanced at Dorn's spear. The stone point gleamed even under dirt, the lashings tight and neat. It was more than Conner could improvise alone right now, but a blueprint might show him an easier way.
He gritted his teeth and opened the Spend menu. Quietly, he tapped Blueprint: Reinforced Spear.
Points: 6 → 5.
The world did not change, but his mind did. A clear design flickered behind his eyes, like a tutorial screen in his head. Proper shaft length for leverage. Counterweight options. Optimal angles for a sharpened stone head. Lashing patterns that would take strain without slipping.
He almost stumbled under the sudden influx of knowledge.
Dorn grunted. Conner recovered fast.
"Fine. No tripping in front of the barbarians," he muttered to himself.
The trek continued.
After what felt like an hour, the forest began to thin. The trees spread out, undergrowth less dense. The smell of smoke reached Conner's nose, faint but clear.
Rava's head turned. She sniffed once, then quickened her pace.
They broke through the last line of tall pines and stepped into the edge of a wide clearing.
For a moment, Conner forgot about Tal's bandage, his sore shoulders, the dinosaur blood drying on his hands.
He just stared.
The village looked like something out of a museum exhibit, but raw and real and alive.
Dozens of huts dotted the clearing, each one a rough dome of wood and hide. Thick poles bent toward each other formed frames, covered in layers of animal skins and woven mats. Smoke drifted from holes at the tops where fires burned inside.
A ring of sharpened stakes encircled the whole settlement. Not a perfect wall, but enough to slow something big. Bone charms and feathered totems hung at intervals, clacking softly in the breeze.
People moved everywhere.
Children with thick limbs and wild hair chased each other between huts, bare feet kicking up dust. Women with strong arms and wide shoulders scraped hides, stirred pots over open fires, or carried baskets of roots and meat.
Men and women both worked on weapons at the edge of the clearing. Some chipped stone into points. Others carved shafts, their hands quick and sure. Several older men sat in a circle near the center, tattoos spiraling up their arms, talking low.
At the far side, a line of drying racks held strips of meat and tanned hides. Massive bones stacked together formed an arch near what seemed to be the main entrance to the village.
The smell hit next: smoke, cooked meat, sweat, earth, and something oily he could not name.
Conversation fell as people noticed Dorn, Rava, and Tal.
Dozens of eyes turned toward them.
Then to Conner.
The noise shifted from idle chatter to low, wary murmurs. Hands moved toward weapons. Children were pulled back.
Dorn barked something loud and commanding. The sound cut through everything.
The older men at the center lifted their heads. One of them stood.
He was taller than Dorn, with hair gone gray at the temples and scars that had faded to pale white lines over deeply tanned skin. A necklace of teeth and polished bone hung around his neck. His eyes were dark and sharp, missing nothing.
He walked toward them, spear in hand but pointed at the ground.
Conner swallowed hard and tried not to show it.
Dorn and Rava lowered the stretcher. Rava moved first, sliding under Tal's arm to help him sit up. She spoke quickly, gesturing at the dead beast meat on her shoulder, then toward Conner. Her tone was fast and animated, like someone who had a good story to tell and not enough breath.
Dorn added his own short, blunt phrases.
The older man listened, expression unreadable.
His gaze slid to Conner.
He stepped closer.
Conner stayed still. Running now would only make him look guilty. He kept his hands visible and his body relaxed.
The elder reached out and gripped Conner's chin with thick fingers, turning his head one way, then the other. His thumb brushed Conner's cheekbone. His hand smelled like smoke and leather.
Conner stared back, doing his best to look harmless and slightly useful.
After a moment, the elder let go. He said one word, firm.
The crowd's tension shifted. Not gone, but dulled.
The man thumped his own chest.
"Garr," he said.
He jerked his chin at Conner.
Conner pointed to himself. "Conner."
"Kon-ner," Garr repeated, the sound rougher but close.
He nodded once, like that settled things for now.
Tal said something choked. Garr turned toward him. His gaze dropped to Tal's bandaged side. He reached out and poked the cloth with a finger. When he pulled it back, he looked at the faint smear of blood on his skin, then at Conner again.
His brows rose.
Rava spoke quickly, holding up her hands, miming Conner's earlier actions. Pouring. Pressing. Wrapping. She sliced the air with her hand for emphasis, then clapped Dorn on the shoulder hard enough to make him grunt.
The elder's lips tugged in the tiniest hint of a smile.
He said something short. One of the nearby women hurried forward, took Tal's other arm, and together she and Rava helped him toward one of the larger huts.
The crowd started to break apart, interest fading once immediate danger and curiosity were satisfied.
Conner let out a slow breath.
The system chimed.
Community recognized: Stonefang Clan.Status: Guest (Watched).Community Panel updated.
A new tab appeared in his interface. He flicked his eyes toward it.
Community: Stonefang ClanPopulation: 57Current Focus: Hunt, Defend, Endure
Available Contributions:– Improved tools– Reinforced defenses– Food processing
Points can be invested later to unlock Community Upgrades.
He felt the weight of that.
Fifty-seven people. Fifty-seven lives clinging to this clearing in a world full of teeth. No electricity. No steel. No medicine stronger than herbs and grit.
He imagined what simple things could do here. Better shelters. Smarter traps. Stronger walls.
His mind started spinning in design lines and simple plans.
Garr's hand on his shoulder snapped him out of it.
The elder squeezed once, hard enough to say he could crush bone if he wanted to. Then he pointed with his spear toward a smaller hut near the outskirts of the village.
He said something low. It sounded like direction and warning wrapped together.
Conner nodded. "Got it. Stay put. Do not cause trouble."
Garr grunted approval, as if tone was enough.
He turned away, already shouting instructions at a group of hunters who had gathered near the entrance. Within seconds, the village moved back into its pattern. Work resumed. Fires crackled. Children stared at Conner from behind their parents' legs, eyes wide.
Conner picked up his backpack and followed the point of Garr's spear.
The hut was small, half the size of the others. It smelled less lived-in, more like a storage space converted in a hurry. Inside, the air was warm and smoky. Furs covered the ground in a thick layer. A small fire burned in a shallow pit, its smoke drifting out through a hole in the roof.
He ducked his head and stepped inside.
The moment he did, the noise of the village dropped away, muffled by hide walls. Only the crackle of fire and distant shouts seeped through.
He let his pack slide from his shoulder and sat down on the furs. His body sagged in relief.
Everything hit at once. The dinosaur, the fight, the stretcher, the village. His hands shook when he looked at them.
There was dried blood under his nails.
He wiped them on the fur beneath him and winced at himself. Great first impression, using someone's bedding as a towel.
The system interface hovered in the corner of his vision, patient and quiet.
He opened it.
Points: 5
He blinked. He thought he had 5 after buying the spear blueprint, gained 1 from the stretcher and 2 from medical aid, and 1 from helping carry. That tracked.
He looked at his options.
Body was tempting. More strength and endurance meant less dying.
But blueprints…
He thought about the wall. Sharpened stakes were a start, but a single panicked dinosaur could crash through that if it really wanted. He did not have the points for serious fortifications yet, but traps and simple reinforcements could matter.
Blue sky thinking was fun. Surviving the night came first.
He tapped Blueprint: Simple Shelter.
Points: 5 → 4.
Images flooded his head again. Methods of arranging branches in a lean-to shape. Using hides to block wind. Simple drainage trenches to keep water from pooling. Anchoring frames with rocks or buried stakes so the first storm did not rip them away.
He saw weak points in the current huts now, even without inspecting them.
Next, he eyed Blueprint: Basic Trap (Snare).
Cost: 1.
He pictured the dinosaur dragging its prey into the trees. Meat was a resource. The Stonefangs were hunters. If he improved their hunts, they would eat better and like him more, and the system would probably reward him.
He tapped the snare blueprint.
Points: 4 → 3.
Simple loops. Trigger branches. Tension control. Kill versus capture. His brain filed it away.
He closed the blueprint menu and leaned back, resting against the curved wall. The hide felt warm and oddly comforting.
His eyes burned.
He had not thought about home since glimpsing the dinosaur. Now that his body had a moment to sit still, memory seeped in.
His tiny apartment above the diner. His battered laptop with stickers on it. The white board covered in scribbles about energy distributions and possible improvements to the experimental reactor. The tangle of chargers on his floor. The greasy smell of fries that never quite left his clothes.
His phone, probably still in his pocket, dead and useless.
He dug for it with sudden hope. He found it in his jeans, pulled it out, and hit the power button.
Nothing.
He held it longer.
Still nothing.
He stared at the blank screen. It reflected a distorted version of his face. Wild hair, streaks of dirt, a cut on his cheek he had not even felt happen.
Conner closed his eyes, pressed the phone to his forehead, and laughed once, short and bitter.
"Of course."
He set it beside him. It was no better than a chunk of glass now, but he could not bring himself to throw it away.
Bad idea. Good habit.
He took a deep breath, then another, counting each one. It brought his mind back to the present.
He had problems that needed solving now.
Food. Water. Shelter. Trust.
He unscrewed the cap from his water bottle and took a long drink, careful not to finish it. He would have to figure out where they got their water and how safe it was.
Someone coughed at the hut entrance.
Conner looked up.
Rava stood there, one hand on the hide flap, the other holding a small clay bowl that steamed in the dim light.
She ducked inside without waiting for an invitation.
Up close, she looked even more dangerous. Her arms were thick with muscle where his were wiry. A scar curved along her jawline. Her braids were tied back with strips of leather that might have been tanned skin.
She held out the bowl.
The smell made Conner's mouth flood with saliva. Meat, herbs, and some kind of root. Soup, prehistoric edition.
He took it with both hands.
"Thanks," he said softly.
She did not react to the words, only to his tone. She nodded once and sat down across from him, cross-legged, club resting at her side.
He tasted the soup.
It was rich and salty, the meat stringy but cooked through. There was a bitterness from some plant, but not enough to be nasty. Heat spread down into his chest.
His stomach growled loud enough for both of them to hear.
Rava snorted.
He rolled his eyes at himself and kept eating.
After a few quiet spoons, she pointed at him with her chin.
"Konner," she said, more sure of the name now.
He tapped his own chest. "Conner."
She shrugged. "Konner."
Good enough.
She tapped her own chest. "Rava."
He nodded. "Rava."
She nodded back, satisfied.
Then she pointed at his backpack.
He tensed for a second. His gear was all he had of his old world. Losing it would hurt.
But she just raised an eyebrow.
He set the bowl down carefully and pulled the pack closer. He opened it slowly so she could see he was not hiding anything dangerous.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the various items. She picked up the multitool, turning it over in her hand. When she flipped out the pliers, she nearly dropped it.
He reached out and gently showed her, guiding her fingers over the hinge, opening and closing it. She laughed once, a short bark of delight.
The system chimed.
Demonstration of a complex tool.Cultural Knowledge gained: +1 PointTotal Points: 4
Rava pointed at the tape next. He peeled off a strip, stuck it to his arm, then peeled it off again. She touched the sticky side, eyes narrowing in suspicious wonder.
She said something that sounded like awe and insult combined.
He grinned. "Yeah, we cheat a lot where I am from."
She did not understand, but his smile made her lips twitch.
Her expression sobered. She mimed, as well as she could, bandaging again. Then she held up two fingers and slowly lowered one of them, like a candle going out.
Tal.
She pointed toward the other hut, the one he had been carried to.
Conner set the bowl aside completely.
He stood up.
Rava rose with him, grabbed his arm, and tugged him toward the door.
Out in the open again, the village seemed calmer. People had returned to work, but eyes still tracked him here and there, some curious, some wary, a few openly hostile.
Rava ignored them all.
She led him to a slightly larger hut near the center of the clearing. Two bone totems hung over the entrance, carved with swirling lines. A faint smell of herbs drifted out.
Inside, the light was dim and greenish, filtered through hides and hanging plants.
Tal lay on a bed of furs near the far wall. His chest rose and fell in steady, measured breaths. The bandage Conner had tied now had extra layers of hide over it, held in place by woven cords.
An old woman sat beside him, knees folded under her. Her hair was pure white, braided tight, wrapped around her head like a crown. Her skin was a map of fine lines. A necklace of dried plants hung around her neck, and her hands were stained green and brown from herbs.
She looked up when they entered. Her eyes were milky in the firelight but sharp. She saw Conner, saw the tape on his arm, saw the tool in Rava's hand, and put several things together without words.
She said something short and clipped.
Rava answered, gesturing at Tal's side, then at Conner, then at the backpack.
The old woman sniffed.
Then, surprisingly, she beckoned Conner closer with two crooked fingers.
He obeyed.
She lifted the top hide covering Tal's bandage.
The cloth underneath was still relatively clean. Minimal fresh blood. The skin around the wound looked less angry than he feared. She had smeared some kind of paste along the edges, a dark green mixture that smelled sharp and medicinal.
Conner leaned in to get a better look.
The old woman watched him, waiting.
He took a breath and nodded once.
"Looks good," he said softly. "Still needs rest. No heavy dinosaur riding for him."
She could not understand, but the approval in his tone got through. She grunted, almost pleased.
The system flickered.
Shared medical effort.Community trust increased (Minor).Stonefang Clan: Guest (Watched) → Guest (Tolerated).
The old woman pressed something small into his hand.
He looked down.
It was a carved piece of bone, smoothed and rounded. Three lines were etched into one side. A small hole drilled through the top let a thin strip of leather pass through like a loop.
She gestured for him to put it on.
He did.
The bone piece rested against his chest, warm from her touch.
Rava smiled wider now. She tapped the bone and said something that sounded like "safe" and "marked."
So maybe he would not get stabbed on sight if he walked around alone now. That was nice.
He stepped back, letting the old woman continue her work. Tal's face was softer in sleep. Without the rage and tension, he looked younger. Maybe eighteen, nineteen.
Conner thought about his own life at that age, sitting in air-conditioned classrooms, complaining about exams. This kid's version of a bad semester was getting mauled by a dinosaur.
Rava touched his arm and pointed toward the outside again.
He followed her.
The sun was lower now. Shadows stretched long across the clearing. Fires burned brighter. Someone had started beating a drum in a slow, steady rhythm near the center.
Dorn was there, along with Garr and several other warriors. The dinosaur carcass had been hauled in and lay in the middle of the open space, skinned now, its hide spread out to dry. Blood streaked the dirt beneath it. People worked over it, carving out ribs, slicing meat.
Garr stood with his spear butt planted in the ground, talking to Dorn in low tones. His gaze cut toward Conner as they approached.
Rava let out a shout to catch his attention, then shoved Conner forward a step.
He suddenly found himself standing in front of the clan leader, feeling completely underdressed and overly fragile.
Garr considered him for a long moment.
Then he pointed at the carcass and said something sharp, accompanied by several gestures. He pointed at the wall of stakes next. Then to the darkening tree line beyond the village.
Conner did not have a translator, but he had context.
Predators. Walls. Meat is attracting trouble.
He nodded slowly.
"You are worried the smell will draw every big ugly in a ten-mile radius," he said. "You want better defenses. And maybe you want to see what this weird little guy can actually do."
Garr waited, expression flat.
Conner looked at the wall.
The sharpened stakes were set at uneven heights. Some leaned. Some had gaps between them wide enough to squeeze through. There were no platforms, no vantage points. It would slow something, but not stop it.
He scanned the ground just inside the wall. The earth was packed hard by many feet. No trenches. No kill pits. No traps.
His new snare blueprint throbbed in the back of his mind.
He walked slowly toward the wall. A few nearby villagers tensed, hands on weapons, but Garr raised a hand and muttered something that kept them in place.
Conner crouched near one of the stakes and ran his fingers through the soil. It was firm a few inches down, but not rock hard. Easy enough to dig with the right tools.
He looked at Rava and pointed at the ground, then made a digging motion with both hands. He mimed a hole, made a circle with his arms, then stuck his fingers into it like sharp stakes. He mimed something heavy falling and impaling itself.
Rava watched, then turned to Garr and rattled off an explanation, copying his gestures. Her tone held excitement. She seemed to like this.
Garr's eyes narrowed. He walked over and crouched beside Conner, watching him draw in the dirt.
Conner sketched quickly. A rough circle for the village. A line for the wall. A second line, staggered outside it, marked with Xs where traps could be dug. He drew a big blob with teeth, then showed it falling into one of the Xs.
Rava laughed aloud at his crude art. Dorn grunted, lips twitching.
Garr traced one of the Xs with his spear tip, thinking.
Finally, he stabbed the ground once and said a single firm word.
Permission.
Conner stood up, heart beating faster. He was in.
Time to build something that would keep him and these people alive when the real monsters came sniffing.
He gestured around at a group of young men and women who had been hovering nearby, watching. He pointed at the ground, then mimed digging again. He grabbed a random flat bone piece from a nearby pile and used it as a pretend shovel, scooping imaginary dirt.
One of the young men, tall and lean with hair tied up in a knot, snorted but stepped forward. He grabbed a real digging tool, a flat rock tied to a short handle, and jabbed it into the dirt.
Others joined. Within minutes, Conner had five people ready to work.
He moved along the inside of the wall, marking spots with his foot, spacing them at regular intervals where he imagined large creatures might try to push in. At each mark, his small team began to dig.
The soil came up in heavy clumps. The tools were rough, but the arms using them were strong. The holes deepened fast.
As they dug, Conner walked to the drying racks and, with a few apologetic looks, "borrowed" several long, narrow stakes. The villagers watched, curious but not stopping him.
He stripped bark where needed, sharpening tips with his multitool knife blade when he could get away with it or with cracked stone when eyes were on him. He arranged the stakes in bundles, tied with rope made from braided vine.
The system tracked his every move.
Multiple crafts in progress.Temporary project: Defensive Snare Pit.Anticipated reward: Moderate Points + Community Favor.
Night crept closer.
The sky bled orange and purple at the horizon. Shadows stretched long across the ground. In the distance, something howled, high and long.
People moved faster. Fires were stoked higher. Children were pulled into huts. Weapons were checked.
Conner's group finished the first pit. It was about six feet deep and wide enough that a big animal could easily step in. The bottom was narrow and uneven.
He dropped in on himself to test.
The earth was cool and damp. The walls were steep but rough. Easy for someone like Dorn to climb, maybe, but not something with short arms and too much weight in the front.
He called up to Rava and pantomimed dropping stakes in.
She handed them down.
He wedged them upright in the dirt at the bottom, sharp ends pointing up at different angles. He tested each one by pressing on it with his foot to make sure it would not shift too easily.
By the time he climbed out, his arms and legs were aching again, Endurance boost or not.
He covered the pit with a loose lattice of branches, then wove grass and leaves over it until it blended with the surrounding ground. A casual look would not see it.
He stepped back and eyed the camouflaged trap from different angles. It did not show.
Rava walked around it twice, eyes narrowed. She dropped a small stone on it. The cover flexed but held. She huffed, then grabbed a heavier rock with a grin.
"Hey, wait, maybe not that big, we have limited time here," Conner started.
She dropped it anyway.
The branches snapped. The rock crashed through, spearing itself on one of the stakes below with a cracking sound.
Everyone flinched. Then they laughed, a short ripple of relief.
The system chimed like someone had dropped a coin in an invisible jar.
Complex trap constructed: Defensive Snare PitCrafting Points: +6Total Points: 10
Community Defense improved (Minor).
Stonefang Clan: Tolerated → Cautious Respect.
Conner wiped sweat from his face with his arm and let himself smile. It was small and tired, but it was real.
They did not have time to build many pits before full dark, but they managed two more along the most vulnerable stretch of the wall, working by torchlight now. Each one went faster as the small crew learned the pattern.
By the time the last pit was covered, stars had bloomed overhead, sharp and unfamiliar. The moon was a thin, bright curve.
Drums beat faster now near the center of the village. People gathered in a loose ring around a large fire. The carcass of the dinosaur was mostly stripped, meat already smoking on racks. What bones remained gleamed in the flickering light.
Conner's stomach growled again. Sweat had dried stiff on his skin. His arms ached. His hands were blistered in places his old life had never asked him to use.
He felt more alive than he had in years.
Rava slapped him on the back hard enough to stagger him.
He stumbled, then laughed.
Garr stepped into the firelight. He said something loud, voice carrying. Heads turned. People quieted.
He gestured toward the dinosaur corpse. The crowd answered with a low roar of approval.
Then he pointed his spear at Dorn, Rava, and, to Conner's surprise, Conner himself.
Dozens of eyes turned to him.
Garr said more, the cadence of his words telling Conner this was a ritual. A hunt retelling. A story of the day.
Rava leaned down and muttered something in his ear, grinning. He did not understand, but her tone was pure mischief.
Dorn stepped forward and mimed the fight again, stabbing at the air, showing how Tal had leaped onto the beast's back, Rava had smashed its leg, and he had speared its chest. People cheered and stomped.
Then Rava, never one to miss a stage, shoved Conner gently into the center of the circle.
He almost tripped over the fire.
A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd.
Heat flushed his face. He wanted to sink into the dirt.
But then he caught sight of Tal sitting near the edge of the circle, propped up on some furs, watching with tired but amused eyes. The old medicine woman sat behind him, arms folded, expression unreadable.
Conner straightened.
He picked up a random stick, held it like a spear, and mimed holding up his hands, showing his empty palms. Then he pointed at Tal's side and mimed bandaging again, making overdramatic faces.
The children laughed.
He exaggerated the stretcher building, flailing with pretend tools, then puffed out his chest like he was stronger than Dorn for a second. Dorn snorted and shoved him lightly.
Conner stumbled and turned it into a spin, pointing at the pits outside, making a stomping motion, and then jerking his leg like something had fallen. He flopped to the ground, stuck his foot in the air, and made a dying animal noise.
The village roared with laughter now.
Garr's lips curled into the smallest of smiles.
The fire popped. Sparks flew up into the dark.
The system chimed, quiet beneath the noise.
Social integration event.Stonefang Clan morale: Slightly increased.Personal Affinity: Improved.
New Community Upgrade available: Basic Fortification (Tier 1).
Conner stood, breathing hard as if he had actually fought something, and bowed awkwardly.
People clapped their hands against their thighs or chests. Some thumped their weapons on the ground.
For a few solid minutes, he was not an outsider from another time. He was just someone who had helped keep one of theirs alive and made the next hunt safer.
Later, when the celebration thinned and people drifted back to their huts, Conner walked slowly toward his own small shelter.
The village was quieter now. Only a few torches burned low at the gate. The night sounds beyond the wall grew louder. Screeches. Distant roars. The rustling of unseen bodies moving through the dark.
He paused near one of the pits, looking out into the black forest. His bone token lay warm against his chest.
The system hovered at the edge of his vision.
Points: 10
He could spend them now. Get stronger. Tougher. Sharper.
He opened the Body menu.
Strength Lv. 2: 4 points.Endurance Lv. 2: 4 points.Perception Lv. 1: 2 points.
If he wanted to keep building and not die while doing it, Perception might be worth more than another notch of strength right now.
He thought of the way the predator had almost turned toward him earlier, how he had not seen it until it was nearly on him.
He tapped Perception Lv. 1.
Points: 10 → 8.
The world shifted.
Sounds separated. The crackle of distant fire. The rustle of grass in a light breeze. The quiet creak of wood somewhere in the wall. He smelled smoke more clearly, but also the faint stink of rotting meat somewhere far off and the sharp tang of some plant nearby.
His eyes adjusted faster to the dark. Shadows gained depth. The tree line was still a solid black curtain, but he could pick out individual trunks a little better.
He exhaled.
Then, after a moment, he tapped Endurance Lv. 2.
Points: 8 → 4.
Warmth poured into his chest again, deeper this time. The persistent ache in his muscles eased. The small cuts and scrapes on his hands tingled, not healed, but less angry.
He left Strength at 1 for now. His brain whispered that surviving would not always mean hitting something harder. Sometimes it meant running longer and seeing trouble first.
He walked back to his hut and ducked inside.
The fire inside had burned down to embers. The air was warm and thick with smoke, but sleep came fast when he lay down on the furs.
His last clear thought before he drifted off was not of home, or of the lab, or of the life he had lost.
It was of the wall outside, of traps half finished, of simple shelters that could be improved, of tools that did not exist yet but could.
He fell asleep planning.
Outside, under the bright, sharp stars of a sky far older than his world had ever known, something large prowled near the edge of the forest.
It sniffed the air, scenting blood and smoke and fresh meat. It took a step toward the faint glow of the village.
The ground gave way under its foreleg.
Wood snapped. It crashed down into the pit with a furious roar, impaled on sharpened stakes. Its scream tore through the night like a siren.
The village woke, weapons grabbed, hearts hammering.
Conner sat bolt upright in the dark, the sound drilling into his bones.
The system chimed in his vision, bright and clear.
Defensive trap triggered: Successful.Threat delayed.Crafting XP increased.
The real war for survival in this world had only just begun.