My Goblin System : Levelling up with my SSS Class Devouring skill-Chapter 294

Urgak’s eyes lit up. "Now that might work. Give them the discipline of formation but reward them with the glory of the charge."

"Exactly. Work on it. I want to see the technique refined by the end of the week."

Moving on, Satou found Grimnir overseeing weapons training. He was putting younger fighters through their paces with brutal efficiency.

"Your stance is wrong!" Grimnir barked at a young goblin struggling with a spear. "Too wide. You’re stable but immobile. Like this—" He demonstrated, dropping into a balanced stance that allowed quick movement in any direction. "Power comes from your core, not your arms. Try again."

The young goblin adjusted, tried the thrust again. Much better.

"Improvement," Grimnir acknowledged. "Keep practicing. Ten thousand repetitions until it’s muscle memory."

Satou waited until Grimnir rotated to the next trainee before approaching. "How are they looking?"

"Raw but willing," Grimnir said. His scarred face was set in its usual grim expression. "The ones who survived the human raid on our original cave know what’s at stake. They remember watching their friends die. That gives them focus the newer recruits lack."

"And the newer ones?"

"Eager. Confident. Dangerously so." Grimnir’s tone was disapproving. "They haven’t faced real battle yet. Think training is the same as war. They’ll learn fast when the fighting starts—those who survive the lesson."

"Can you get them ready in four weeks?"

Grimnir considered. "Ready to fight? Yes. Ready to win against experienced human soldiers? That depends on how smart they are. I can teach technique. Can’t teach survival instinct—that only comes from not dying."

"Harsh but accurate," Satou acknowledged.

"War is harsh. Better they learn that from me now than from a human sword in their gut."

Across the training ground, mages were conducting spell practice under the supervision of three hobgoblin magic users. Satou watched as they attempted coordinated fire spells—six mages creating overlapping flames that merged into a single massive conflagration.

The first attempt fizzled as timing mismatched. The second created too much fire in one area, not enough in others. The third was closer but still uneven.

"Again!" the lead mage instructor shouted. "Visualization and timing! You must act as one mind!"

The fourth attempt succeeded. Six streams of fire merged perfectly, creating a roaring inferno that scorched the designated target area.

"Good!" the instructor said. "Now hold it for ten seconds without breaking concentration!"

The flames wavered but held. After ten seconds, they were released simultaneously.

"Better. But in real combat, you’ll have soldiers charging at you, arrows flying overhead, screaming everywhere. Can you maintain focus under those conditions?"

The mages looked less certain.

"We practice under simulated stress next," the instructor continued. "Defenders will attack your positions while you cast. You’ll learn to maintain spells while dodging, or you’ll learn what getting hit feels like. Either way, you learn."

Satou appreciated the harsh practicality. Mages were valuable but vulnerable—they needed to practice casting under pressure.

He spent the next hour moving between training groups, offering advice, correcting techniques, occasionally demonstrating proper form. His combat experience from Vegeta, the dungeon, and countless battles made him an excellent teacher—he could identify problems and provide solutions quickly.

By midday, every group had shown measurable improvement. It wasn’t enough yet—wouldn’t be enough even after four weeks—but it was progress.

As lunch was called and warriors dispersed to eat, Lyra approached with a stack of papers.

"Logistics report," she said, launching directly into business. "Current food stores will last six weeks at normal consumption, eight weeks on rationing. Water is fine—the well produces more than we need. Medical supplies are limited—Jessica says we need more healing herbs, bandages, and pain medication. I’ve sent procurement teams to gather what we can locally."

"Good. What about weapons and armor?"

"Adequate for our current forces but insufficient if we’re getting six hundred reinforcements. I’ve commissioned additional equipment from the blacksmith, but quality will suffer due to rush production. Better to have somewhat-decent weapons for everyone than perfect weapons for half the force."

"Agreed. Fortifications?"

"In progress. We’re reinforcing the walls with earth and stone barriers. Digging trenches at key approach points—twenty feet wide, eight feet deep, stakes at the bottom. Creating choke points that force attackers into kill zones. Building elevated platforms for archers and mages."

Lyra flipped through her papers. "Also setting up secondary defensive lines in case the outer walls are breached. Every building becomes a potential strongpoint. If we’re forced into street-to-street fighting, we want advantageous positions already prepared."

"How long until defenses are complete?"

"Three weeks for basic fortifications. Four weeks for full optimization. We’re pushing hard but safely—exhausted workers make mistakes that get people killed."

"Keep me updated daily. Any problems, you bring them to me immediately."

"Always." Lyra paused, then added more quietly, "Satou, are you holding up alright? You’ve been pushing hard since TheReaper’s warning."

"I’m fine."

"Liar." But she said it affectionately. "You’re stressed, worried, and carrying the weight of everyone’s survival. That’s not ’fine.’"

Satou sighed. "What do you want me to say? That I’m terrified we’re going to lose? That I see our people dying in my nightmares? That every decision I make could mean the difference between survival and extinction?"

"Yes," Lyra said simply. "I want you to acknowledge that this is hard. That you’re not some invincible demon lord who doesn’t feel pressure. You’re allowed to be afraid, Satou. Just don’t let the fear control you."

He looked at her—really looked. Saw the concern in her eyes, the love beneath the pragmatic exterior.

"I am afraid," he admitted quietly. "But I can’t let them see it. They need to believe I have everything under control."

"They need to trust you," Lyra corrected. "That’s different from thinking you’re infallible. And Jessica and I? We need you to be honest with us, even when you’re lying to everyone else."

Satou pulled her into a brief, tight embrace. "Thank you. For keeping me grounded."

"Someone has to," Lyra murmured into his chest. Then she pulled back, expression shifting back to business mode. "Now, about the supply requisitions—"