Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons - Chapter 1046 - Taming the Wall - 2

Ren’s group would be treated differently because they were indeed different…

The difference was power, which was a currency the wall used with the precision of something that had real consequences attached to it. People with sufficient power could be repositioned when defensive needs allowed, their positions covered by reassignments that the relevant authorities had pre-calculated for exactly those cases, the planning done in advance because the power level involved was worth doing the planning for.

That meant the separation weeks existed at the start, as the protocol required. And that after those weeks, reunification was possible, because someone had planned with enough advance notice to make it possible.

They hadn’t complained about it.

Zhao had been the one to frame it, in the direct language he used when he wanted something to be clear without it looking like a lesson.

“You won’t know how to lead someone from below well,” he had said, “if you’ve never been someone from below… Even if only for a while.”

The short version of something that academies described across entire chapters, compressed into a sentence without losing anything that mattered. Zhao’s particular skill, the ability to say exactly what needed to be said and stop there, which was rarer than it appeared.

The wall didn’t ask whether you were ready for it.

It was simply there when you arrived, and it had been there before you, and it would be there after you, and what you did with the time between the arriving and the leaving was the only thing that was ever actually yours.

They arrived at the first rotation point with the gear they were allowed to carry and the experience they had built had been exactly what needed to be.

The wall was waiting.

♢♢♢♢

The sector they assigned Ren to for his first weeks was the southwest quadrant.

Which happened to be the one covering the area of his old first house, in the territory that now carried his name.

It wasn’t the most active sector, nor the quietest. The kind where incursions arrived with enough regularity that the soldiers could never fully lower their guard, and with enough manageable intensity that exhaustion didn’t accumulate faster than it could be recovered. The rhythm of a place designed to be sustainable indefinitely, not comfortable, but not the kind of grinding that broke people. The baseline condition of a long war that had learned to keep going.

In terms of military experience design, it was exactly the right sector for someone who needed to learn how the wall functioned before being asked to change anything about it.

The predictable problem was the name.

To say Ren Patinder at the wall was like trying to move unnoticed through an event where half the people present had at least one story involving that name and the other half would figure it out once they realized they were in the territory that had inherited the surname. The recognition maybe wouldn’t be loud… But it would be expected.

The people who recognized him by sight when he arrived at the southwest barracks were an informed minority. Some with respect and yet strangeness of people encountering in person someone who had until now been a category more than an individual. But those already knew not to talk about it…

Some of them only had the curiosity of people wanting to verify whether the real version corresponded to the version they had assembled in their heads from accumulated secondhand information.

Ren had expected that.

What he hadn’t expected, with the numbers it turned out to have, was the exception.

The veterans, and even the not-quite-veterans, who had devoted so long at the wall that their reference point for things that mattered outside of it predated many of the events that had made Ren relevant. People whose sense of what deserved attention had been calibrated across years until it included only what had direct consequences for the walls around them. The world outside the wall was background noise. The wall was the only foreground that had ever consistently mattered.

The name arrived even those people eventually.

But the face didn’t.

And the face was what separated the moment when someone stopped being information and became a person.

That category of person was exactly who Selphira and Victor had been quietly placing in this sector in the months of preparation before arrival.

Sergeant Vehn had devoted more years in the southwest wall than some of the buildings in the sector, not in this section, which hadn’t existed a few years ago, but in the section near the rift, which wasn’t far from here and was older than Selphira. He had the posture of someone who had spent enough time in a straight position that the body had adopted it as neutral, not military bearing as performance but military bearing as rest, the default state. And the compressed vocabulary of someone who had learned that extra words at the wall had an attention cost during combat he preferred to invest elsewhere.

He looked at Ren when he arrived at the sector with the evaluation he gave all new arrivals: a new useless body occupying a space, with unknown capabilities that would declare themselves over time. Everyone got the same look. The glimpse didn’t change until the capabilities did.

“Pathfinder,” said Vehn, checking the name on the list.

“Yes.”

“Have you been at the wall before?”

“As support, yes. Not as a permanent assignment, and never more than a few days.”

Vehn processed that with the efficiency of someone filing information.

“The wall as support and the wall as assignment are different things,” he said.

“Understood,” said Ren.

Vehn held the additional second he took when deciding whether there was something more to say.

There wasn’t.

“Third shift, position seventeen,” he said. “Instructions are on the board in the corridor.”

And moved to the next name on the list.

Ren went to the board in the corridor.

The new stage of his life had begun.