SSS Ranked Awakening: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 755: Before the Title

"Stop," the boy said. "Everyone stop. Spears down."

Six grown men lowered their practice spears. At the fence, Leon straightened a little.

They had been practicing a turning thrust. A step, a pivot, then the spear came around and drove forward. Two men made it look easy. Three nearly tangled their feet. Grandfather Oren completed the movement twice before beginning to lean on his shaft whenever he turned.

Dorin had noticed. Leon watched him glance at the old man’s knee, then look along the rest of the line.

"Back to the two-step."

Bram groaned. "We did that all last week."

"Then you should be good at it." Dorin picked up his own spear. "Grandfather, take the left end. You can keep your bad leg behind you there. No turns today."

Oren opened his mouth.

"For any of us," Dorin added quickly.

The old man studied him, then moved without arguing.

Leon hid a smile against his knuckles. The boy had made that much easier than Leon would have. His first thought had been to tell Oren to sit down, which probably would have kept the stubborn old fellow standing until dinner.

Dorin was fifteen, thin, and growing faster than he knew what to do with. He caught his elbow on his own spear as he turned, frowned at it, and shifted his grip. Through his clone, Leon had watched him helping with these drills for a month. He knew the boy could be patient with a slow learner. Yesterday, he had promised to come and watch properly.

Unfortunately, Dorin remembered that promise just as he looked toward the fence.

"Lord—Master—sir. We’re doing the two-step thrust. From the beginning." He swallowed. "If that’s acceptable."

"You’re teaching them," Leon said. "Keep going."

For three repetitions, Dorin called the movements as though someone were writing down every word. His shoulders crept toward his ears.

Then Bram’s spear point dipped on the recovery.

"Bram! Point up!" Dorin forgot Leon immediately. "If you drop it there, someone can walk straight into your belly."

"It’s heavy."

"It’s a stick with cloth on the end!"

Two men grinned. Bram lifted the point, looking offended on behalf of his arms.

Leon climbed over the fence.

"Show me your grip." He stopped beside Bram, who immediately stood straighter. "Relax. I want to see how you were holding it before I came over."

Bram obeyed. Leon guided his rear hand forward by a palm’s width.

"Try recovering from there."

The point stayed up.

Bram tried again, then looked suspiciously at the shaft.

"You lose a little reach," Leon said, "but you can bring it back without fighting the weight. Dorin, check their grips individually. They’re different heights."

The boy nodded so hard his fringe fell into his eyes.

Leon let the men resume, then drew him a few steps aside.

"Why that drill?" he asked. "There are easier ones."

"Bram can do this when he doesn’t rush. Oren can manage the short steps, as long as he doesn’t twist his knee." Dorin glanced down the line. "Hal and Garret get bored if I leave them standing still. Then they start trying to hit each other faster than I can count."

"And the turning thrust?"

"I wanted to try it." Dorin’s ears reddened. "It looked better when I did it alone."

Leon liked that answer more than a clever excuse.

"What happens when these six get frightened?"

Dorin considered it. "Bram drops his point. The others hurry. Oren tries to keep up."

"So?"

"So I need them doing this properly before I give them something harder." The boy looked back at the line. "And Oren needs something he can actually use."

"Good," Leon said. "You’re watching the people, not just the spears."

Dorin’s expression made Leon briefly regret saying it where the men could see. The boy looked ready to float off the ground.

He nearly did forget the next count.

Leon stayed until the lesson finished. A promising morning deserved support, and he already knew what would help. The shafts varied in length and balance; one had a knot precisely where its owner needed to grip it.

That afternoon, he spoke to the settlement smith about six proper practice spears. Smooth shafts, balanced to suit their users, padded heads that would survive more than a few sessions. They were for learning, not for proving whose wrists could bear the most weight.

He also wrote down twelve drills, with simpler alternatives beside the movements Oren’s knee would not tolerate. At the bottom he added a reminder:

Dorin read the page twice before looking up.

"The ladies," he began. "What you gave them. With the pillars..."

Leon waited.

"I wasn’t asking," Dorin said quickly.

"You hadn’t quite reached the asking part."

The boy struggled for a moment, then grinned in embarrassment. "Would it help me teach?"

"You need practice teaching. You’ll get that here." Leon tapped the page. "This isn’t a test for a title, Dorin. Get these men home with fewer bruises and something useful learned. That’s enough work for now."

Dorin glanced toward Oren, who was explaining to Bram why his improved thrust had obviously been a matter of experience.

"It might take a while," the boy admitted.

"I expect it will."

At the far end of the path, Leon’s clone approached with the settlement ledger. Part of his attention was already on a repair request recorded there; the rest watched Dorin carefully fold the drills and tuck them inside his shirt.

He would keep following the boy’s progress. There was no need to turn one good lesson into a promise neither of them understood yet.

Vyra was sitting on the porch when he returned, her notes spread across her knees.

"He’ll remember that visit," she said.

Leon sat on the step below her. "Hopefully he’ll remember the grip adjustment too."

"He was watching you climb the fence. You may have to demonstrate it again."

Leon looked back toward the training ground. Dorin was showing Bram something with his hands, speaking quickly enough that Bram had begun to look alarmed.

"At least he’s enthusiastic."

"You were careful about the title," Vyra said.

"He’s doing well. I’d like to see whether he keeps doing well when nobody important is standing at the fence."

She nodded. "I’m glad you told him what you actually expect. He could spend months trying to guess otherwise."

Her thumb rested against the edge of her notes. Leon noticed that she had stopped reading them some time ago.

"Something on your mind?" he asked.

"My Core."

He turned toward her.

"The materials are prepared," Vyra said. "The hearthseal stones worked as stabilizers in the small trials. I’ve mapped the condensation sequence." She paused. "There’s one thing I want settled before I attempt it."

A thread of Crownfire appeared above her palm. She compressed it into a bright, narrow needle, then directed it left.

The needle lagged. When it finally turned, it went too far.

Vyra caught it before it touched the porch and let it disperse.

"That," she said, watching the empty space above her hand, "would be a very expensive mistake inside a Core."

Leon leaned closer. "It changes that much under compression?"

"Enough." She looked at him. "I want the extra power. But I intend to keep deciding exactly where it goes."