CHAPTER 68: ART OF THE SPEAR

"Twenty-five gold per month," Alaric continued, his voice rising slightly. "Plus any additional compensation you might earn through freelance activities. Consider it a retainer for your expertise in matters relating to divine politics and chosen one affairs."

Jack’s eyes widened at the sum. Fifty gold per month was a substantial wage, enough to live comfortably as minor nobility. His father was clearly serious about ensuring Jack had access to the best possible guidance.

"There is one additional matter," Alaric added, his voice dropping to a more dangerous register. "Lady Genevieve has expressed displeasure about a certain escaped prisoner. George, I believe his name was. The one convicted of multiple counts of rape and murder."

Even from a distance, Jack could see Finn’s eye narrow at the mention of the name. The former chosen one’s jaw tightened, and his hand moved unconsciously toward where a weapon would normally rest.

"She would very much like to have a conversation with him about his choice to flee rather than serve his sentence," Alaric continued with the kind of casual tone that promised terrible things. "I find it important to keep my wife happy, and George’s continued freedom complicates that goal."

Finn’s response was immediate and cold. "I’ll find him."

The simple statement carried such absolute certainty that Jack felt a chill run down his spine. Whatever Finn intended to do when he located the escaped prisoner, it wouldn’t end well for George.

But Sera’s sharp clap brought Jack’s attention back to his more immediate concerns.

"CLAP!"

"Eyes on me, student," she commanded, her voice cutting through his distraction like a whip crack. "Your first lesson begins now. Grab a practice spear from the rack."

Jack moved to comply, noting how the weapons displayed showed varying levels of quality and craftsmanship. He reached for what appeared to be a well-balanced spear with a steel point, but Sera’s voice stopped him cold.

"Not that one, amateur. Third from the left. The one with the weighted practice head."

The spear she’d indicated was clearly designed for training. Its point was blunted, wrapped in leather to prevent serious injury, but Jack could feel the weapon’s quality as he lifted it. Perfectly balanced, with a weight distribution that felt natural in his hands.

"Now then," Sera said, selecting her own practice weapon with casual expertise, "let’s start with the basics. What do you think the primary advantage of a spear is over other weapons?"

Jack considered the question, drawing on his limited combat experience and the tactical knowledge he’d absorbed during his dungeon expeditions. "Reach? The ability to strike enemies before they can close distance?"

"Not wrong, but incomplete," Sera replied, beginning to circle him with predatory grace. "Reach is certainly an advantage, but the spear’s true strength lies in its versatility. It can thrust, sweep, parry, and control distance. In the hands of a master, it becomes a tool of absolute battlefield dominance."

She demonstrated with fluid movements, her practice spear flowing through a series of positions so quickly Jack could barely follow them. Thrusts that could pierce armor, sweeps that could break legs, parries that could deflect incoming attacks, and defensive positions that created an impenetrable barrier of wood and steel.

"Your problem," Sera continued, her spear suddenly stopping inches from Jack’s throat in a thrust so fast he hadn’t even seen it coming, "is that you’ve been using your spear like a club. Big, wild swings that leave you vulnerable to counter-attack. Effective against stupid monsters, useless against intelligent opponents."

Jack felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment at the casual dismissal of his technique. "I’ve managed to survive several dungeon expeditions."

"Against creatures operating on instinct," Sera replied dismissively. "Put you against a trained fighter, and you’d be dead before you knew what hit you. Which brings us to your first real lesson."

She stepped back and assumed a basic ready position, her spear held at a slight angle across her body. The stance looked deceptively casual, but Jack could sense the coiled tension in her frame, the way she balanced on the balls of her feet for maximum mobility.

"The spear is not a sword. It’s not meant for wide, sweeping attacks that look impressive but accomplish nothing. The spear is a precision instrument. Every movement should be controlled, every attack should have a specific target, and every defensive position should flow naturally into the next offensive opportunity."

Sera’s spear lashed out in a quick thrust aimed at Jack’s shoulder. He tried to dodge, but the attack was too fast, too precise. The blunted point struck him squarely, sending him staggering backward.

"THUD!"

"Rule number one," Sera said with obvious satisfaction, "always aim for your opponent’s head or heart. Center mass shots can be survived. Headshots can’t."

She demonstrated with a series of lightning-fast thrusts, each one targeted at points that would be instantly lethal in real combat. Jack tried to follow her movements, but she was simply too fast, too experienced.

"Rule number two," she continued, her spear now flowing through defensive stances, "never use wide arcs unless you’re absolutely certain of your positioning. Wide swings leave you open to counter-attack and waste energy."

To illustrate her point, she goaded Jack into attempting one of his typical sweeping attacks. The moment he committed to the wide arc, her spear was there, the point striking his ribs with enough force to drive the breath from his lungs.

"OOF!"

"THUD!"

Jack stumbled, gasping for air as pain exploded through his side. Even with the practice point, the impact was enough to leave him seeing stars.

"See?" Sera’s voice held obvious amusement. "Wide and slow. Against any competent opponent, that would have been your death. Now, shall we begin your real education?"

Meanwhile, Finn and Alaric had concluded their negotiation and moved to observe the training session from a respectful distance. Jack could see the satisfaction in his father’s expression, suggesting that whatever arrangement they’d reached was acceptable to both parties.

"Your terms are generous," Finn was saying, his voice carrying clearly across the morning air. "I accept your offer."

"Excellent," Alaric replied with genuine pleasure. "The political landscape has changed dramatically since his awakening, and he’ll need guides who understand the true nature of divine politics."

Finn nodded grimly. "The boy has power, but power without understanding is just a target painted on your back. The other chosen ones will be watching him carefully, looking for weaknesses to exploit."

"Which is why proper training is essential," Alaric agreed. "Both martial and political. Speaking of which, Lady Genevieve’s request?"

"Consider it handled," Finn replied with cold certainty. "George made his choice when he fled. He’ll face the consequences."

Their conversation was interrupted by a particularly loud impact as Sera’s training spear connected solidly with Jack’s midsection, doubling him over with a grunt of pain.

"WHACK!"

"Focus, disciple!" Sera’s voice cracked like a whip. "Daydreaming during combat training is an excellent way to get yourself killed."

Jack straightened slowly, his breathing labored as he tried to process what had just happened. He hadn’t even seen the attack coming, hadn’t had time to react or defend himself. The speed and precision of Sera’s strike was humbling.

"Again," Sera commanded, resuming her ready position. "This time, try to actually use what I just taught you. Controlled thrusts, precise targeting, proper footwork."

Jack raised his practice spear, attempting to mirror Sera’s stance. But even as he tried to copy her positioning, he could feel how wrong everything was. His grip, his balance, his angle of attack – all of it felt awkward and unnatural compared to the fluid grace of his instructor.

"Pathetic," Sera observed clinically. "You’re holding it like a walking stick, not a weapon. Here, let me show you."

She moved behind him, her hands covering his on the spear shaft. Jack felt his pulse quicken at the unexpected contact, the warmth of her body against his back as she adjusted his grip.

"Dominant hand here," she instructed, positioning his right hand near the spear’s balance point. "Support hand here, about shoulder-width apart. The weapon should feel like an extension of your arm, not a foreign object you’re trying to control."

Her breath was warm against his ear as she continued the instruction, and Jack found himself distracted by her proximity despite the obvious danger she represented.

"Feet shoulder-width apart, weight on the balls of your feet for mobility. You should be able to move in any direction without losing balance or telegraphing your intentions."

She stepped away, leaving Jack to maintain the corrected position on his own. The stance felt more natural already, though still unfamiliar enough to require conscious effort to maintain.

"Better," Sera admitted grudgingly. "Now, before we begin actual combat techniques, you need to build the foundation. Physical conditioning specifically designed for spear work."

Jack’s heart sank at the tone in her voice. He’d thought his daily training regimen was already enough, but something about Sera’s expression suggested that his previous efforts had been laughably inadequate.

"Two thousand five hundred repetitions of each exercise," Sera announced with obvious relish. "Thrusts, overhead strikes, defensive parries, footwork drills, and weapon spins. You don’t take a break until all exercises are complete."

"Twenty-five hundred?" Jack’s voice cracked slightly with disbelief. "That’s... that’s going to take hours."

"Then you’d better get started," Sera replied sweetly. "Unless you’d prefer to quit now and stick to magic like every other spoiled noble who’s afraid of real work."

The challenge in her voice was unmistakable, and Jack felt anger flare in his chest. He’d faced down a dragon and delved into ancient dungeons. He wouldn’t be defeated by a training regimen, no matter how brutal.

"Fine," Jack said through gritted teeth. "What’s the first exercise?"

Sera’s grin widened with predatory satisfaction. "Oh, I do love a student with spirit. Very well, dragon slayer. We’ll start with basic thrusts. Two thousand five hundred repetitions, full extension, proper form. Begin."

Jack assumed the position she’d taught him, raising the practice spear to chest with the point aimed at an imaginary opponent. His first thrust was awkward, lacking the fluid precision of Sera’s demonstrations.

[New Class Detected: Spearman]

[Rank: Rare]

[Would you like to learn this class?]

[YES] or [NO]

’Yes!’ Jack thought eagerly, even as he continued the mechanical thrusting motion that Sera demanded.

[Spearman Class learned!]

[Current Classes: Lightning Mage (Rank 10), Soul Warden (Rank 1), Spearman (Rank 1)]

[EXP gain activated for physical training]

[Each proper technique execution: +5 EXP]

"Pathetic," Sera commented with clinical detachment. "Your form is terrible, your extension is inadequate, and your recovery is so slow that any competent opponent would kill you three times over. Again."

The criticism stung, but Jack forced himself to attempt another thrust. This one felt slightly better, though still far from the standard Sera was obviously expecting.