Chương 39: Nine Days

The stables were quiet, the air thick with the scent of hay and animals settling in for the evening. Runelights carved into the central beam kept the space lit with a gentle glow. The main aisle was clear, its length occupied only by the soft sounds of horses restless in their stalls. He found Corinne and Leo already waiting, their practice spears leaning against a stall.

"Thal!" Corinne called from the stables as she bounded outside, her energy infectious even at this late hour.

"Ready to become unstoppable?" Caleb asked, injecting enthusiasm into his voice despite his own uncertainties.

"Ready!" Corinne declared, executing a theatrical flourish with her wooden spear that nearly sent it flying from her grip. Leo managed a wan smile.

"I'm… ready as I'll ever be."

"Good. First, I want to see where you both stand." Caleb crossed his arms.

"Let's run through the basic forms. [Iron Root Stance] into [Breaching Thrust], then [Phalanx Guard]. Take your time with it; technique over speed." As they moved into position Caleb dove into his memory, deliberately calling up every training session he'd taken part in with them both, every mistake he'd witnessed, and every moment of struggle or breakthrough. He worked to create a complete map of their individual strengths and weaknesses.

Corinne settled into position with admirable confidence, feet properly spaced, spear held correctly. But as she executed the attack, [Perfect Memory] showed him the replay of a spar against Mala: the way she over-rotated her hips in her eagerness to generate power, leaving her flank momentarily exposed. The same mistake played out now in miniature; barely perceptible but present. Leo's issues were more fundamental. His [Iron Root Stance] looked sufficient from a distance, but the memories revealed the truth.

During every drill, every sparring session and moment of pressure, he unconsciously shifted his weight backward onto his heels. Fear made him retreat mentally before any contact even occurred, and his body followed that psychological withdrawal. So we've got personality quirks manifesting as technical errors: Corinne's eagerness makes her over-commit, while Leo's fear makes him pull back.

"Good job you two," Caleb said as they completed the sequence.

"Now, let's address the specific problems I see." He turned to Leo first, recognizing that the quiet boy's confidence needed the most careful handling.

"Leo, I want you to practice [Turning the Point] against my attacks. Light pressure, mind you, just enough to test your form." Caleb took position several feet away, his practice spear held in a relaxed grip, and smiled.

"Don't worry, buddy, we'll start slow. Try not to let me hit you." The baker-to-be nodded nervously, dropping into his defensive stance. Even now, Caleb tracked the telltale retreat in the boy's posture, the way he leaned away from the threat. Caleb began with a straightforward probe, the tip of his practice spear gliding forward to test Leo's guard. Leo absorbed the full impact on his arms, sliding backward as he instinctively pulled back from the conflict.

"Stop," Caleb said, his voice gentle but firm enough to cut through the boy's flustered state. He saw the shame clouding Leo, saw the boy slump in defeat after a single failure. He thinks defense is about being immovable, about enduring the hit. That was the core of the problem. Whether it was a misunderstanding rooted in his fear, or something pounded into him by his dad, Caleb didn't know. It didn't matter. They were going to fix it.

"It looks to me like you're trying to be a wall, Leo. But a wall just breaks when the force is great enough. Be a… a ramp! Yes, be a ramp instead. Your only job is to give my spear a new direction to go and help it on its way. You don't need to worry about stopping it cold." I've only been fighting for a few weeks. Never have I had a deep appreciation for the 'I don't know what I'm doing' meme than right now. He moved to Leo's side, adjusting the teen's grip and the angle of his weapon.

"Feel the difference? You need to be a bit looser so that you can stay flexible and respond to changes, focusing on redirecting my force. It's like… like water flowing around a rock." The mental imagery seemed to resonate with Leo. Caleb attacked again. Leo angled his spear to guide the attack past, and Caleb's weapon slid away with a smooth shiiing.

"There! Did you feel that?" Leo nodded, eyes wide.

"Good job, buddy! Let's do it again, but a little faster this time." Caleb reset and lunged, adding a fraction more speed. Leo flinched, squeezing his eyes shut for the barest second. He jerked back onto his heels and met the attack with a rigid, desperate block, stumbling as he stammered an apology.

"No," Caleb said gently. He saw the frustration welling up in Leo.

"You're letting the fear take over. But in a real fight that will get you hurt, or worse. You know that, just like you know what you need to do. Your body is defaulting to its old habits, and we're going to fix that. Keep your eyes open, Leo. Don't take your eyes off my spear tip." Leo took a shaky breath, his knuckles white on the spear's haft.

"I'm trying."

"I know, and I don't want you to feel any shame in my words. I'm not disappointed in you. This stuff is scary, trust me, I know. But you asked me to help, so we have to work through the problems I'm seeing, even if it's hard. Even if it's uncomfortable. Here, let's try something else," Caleb stepped beside him, placing a hand on his back.

"Feel your weight? It's all back here." He gave a gentle push.

"Get it forward. On the balls of your feet. I am going to start again slowly now, ok? Don't try to block. I just want you to stay on your toes and use the tip of your spear to tap the side of mine as it goes past you, okay?" Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Leo gave a tight nod. Caleb stepped back and began a slow, telegraphed thrust. Leo kept his eyes locked on the spear tip, his entire body tensing. As it approached, he did as instructed, just tapping its side.

The contact was minimal, but it brought Caleb's spear slightly offline.

"Good! Again." He repeated the slow technique. This time, Leo's touch was more confident, turning the spear further.

"You see?" Caleb said.

"A small touch, but a big result. Now, combine that nudge with the rest of your body and use the full technique. Keep your eyes open. Weight forward." He gave Leo a moment, then delivered another thrust at medium-speed. This time, Leo stood firm. He stayed locked on the target. He shifted his weight forward, angled his spear, and met the attack with a guiding hand. Shiiing. The deflection was clean and effortless. Leo stared at his spear, then looked up at Caleb, wide-eyed.

A slow, hesitant smile broke through his usual mask of anxiety.

"I... I did it. I actually did it."

"Yes!" Corinne cheered from the side.

"That was brilliant, Leo!" The transformation in Leo was remarkable. The perpetual fear and meekness that usually dominated his features gave way for the first time. He looked proud. [Your proficiency with Teaching (F) has increased to Practiced]"Excellent." Caleb smiled brightly.

"That's the foundation for everything else we'll work on. You don't have to be the strongest or the fastest. Proper technique goes a long way." Building on this breakthrough, Caleb shifted his approach for the entire session, tailoring their training to counter specific opponents.

"Narbok is a charging bull," he explained as they gathered around him.

"He's aggressive, he's powerful, and he has a temper. So we'll just dodge aside and trip him when he gets angry. Fighting Narbok head-on isn't really worth the risk. And honestly, this same strategy can be used for a lot of our cohort." For Leo, this meant combining the redirecting deflections with evasive footwork. Caleb took the role of the aggressor, launching a series of powerful thrusts that forced Leo to slide aside while simultaneously redirecting the attacks into empty air.

"Remember, there's nothing wrong with feeling fear," Caleb told him.

"Your instinct to avoid danger is correct. But sometimes failing to face our fear puts us in even worse danger." For Corinne, the method was different. Her natural aggression could be an asset if properly harnessed.

"Your problem is impatience," he said as she practiced her forms.

"You see an opening and you commit everything to it. While most of the trainees rarely bother with creating false openings, it is something they can and will do. You need to be ready for it, not giving into the temptation to take an easy shot while waiting for your moment. I want you to focus on the [Linebreaker Sweep]." The technique used the spear's haft to trip an opponent's leg, disrupting their balance to create genuine opportunities.

It required restraint and timing: exactly the qualities Corinne needed to foster.

"Wait for your opponent to over-commit to an attack," Caleb instructed as she drilled the movement.

"Let them put all their weight into their lead leg, then sweep their footing away. They can't recover from what they can't control." Corinne tried it against him, moving a fraction too soon, and he easily stayed upright.

"Again," Caleb said.

"Let me commit." On his next thrust, she waited, letting him bring his weight forward… then she sent him into the dirt.

"Good!" Caleb laughed, picking a bit of straw out of his hair. They worked these concepts methodically, each repetition building muscle memory and assurance. Caleb found himself drawing on his [Teaching] experience more, breaking down compound movements into manageable components and adjusting his explanations to match each teen's learning style. As the session progressed, he watched their movements grow more confident and precise.

Leo's defensive techniques became more fluid and natural, his fear transformed into tactical awareness. Corinne's attacks grew more controlled, her eagerness channeled into patience and timing. This… is actually working. The realization came with some gratification and a feeling of duty. Their improvement was real and measurable, but it also meant they were counting on him to continue leading them.

Any mistakes he made in their training, any gaps in his knowledge would directly impact their safety in the tournament. As they finished the drills and began packing up their equipment, that burden of responsibility settled over him.

"Same time tomorrow?" Corinne asked, glowing with the satisfaction of hard work and visible progress.

"Absolutely," Caleb confirmed.

"We'll build on what y'all learned tonight." Leo approached more quietly.

"T-thank you, Thal. For the first time, I actually believe I may not completely embarrass myself."

"You won't," Caleb replied with conviction.

"You're both going to surprise people." As his friends departed, their voices fading into the night, Caleb found himself alone in the quiet stables, the silence magnified after the energy of their training. A horse snorted softly in a nearby stall, the only sound breaking the quiet. Well, they're improving, Foster. What about you? He thought of the gold from the Guild transactions. His first instinct after Hatch's announcement had been to rush to Jakob's and buy as many essence stones as he could afford.

Luckily, he hadn't had time, and Cassia's advice had been wise.

"Wait for the festival, dear," she had said." The caravans will be in, and the competition will drive prices down. Your gold will go further if you have a little patience." She was right. It was a simple matter of supply and demand, a lesson he knew well from his old life. Still, the waiting was a trial in itself. Caleb walked to the center of the main aisle, the haft of his weapon resting easy in his palms. The responsibility of teaching had clarified something important in his mind.

Leo and Corinne would face the tournament with enhanced Skills and tactical awareness, but they would still be what they were: talented beginners with limited experience. They could hold their own against most of their peers, but against the truly dangerous opponents... The goal of keeping them unhurt demanded more than a bit of extra practice when it came to those monsters. The image of the effortless violence of the elites from the garrison yard punched through his thoughts. A fist wreathed in actual flame.

A spear that left pale afterimages in the air. They possessed a grace and power that came from years of private instruction, and likely one of those Soul-Bound Legacies or bloodlines. They were a different class of fighter entirely. The true predators in the upcoming tournament. Narbok was just the loudest beast in the herd. Caleb settled into [Iron Root Stance], his attention narrowing to one consuming thought. I've only got nine days. The tournament had become a deadline.

A test that would determine both his own future and the safety of the people who had come to depend on him. The cool night air filled his lungs as he took a deep breath. Around him, the stable was a pocket of tranquility, the rune light a singular beacon in the growing darkness. His friends' progress was encouraging, yet the thought of the elites highlighted exactly how much further he needed to go. He wouldn't waste a moment.

Caleb exploded into motion, his first [Sundering Strike] of the night whistling through the air.