SSS Ranked Awakening: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 722: Keep Cutting

Lu Pei’s knife passed beneath the flower just as the first sword cleared its sheath.

Leon stepped into the runnel. The guard coming toward him thrust past his shoulder, aiming for Seraphine and the collectors behind her. His blade entered a fold in the air and emerged pointing at the stones beneath his own feet.

Before the man could withdraw it, Leon caught his wrist and drove him into the second guard. Both struck the bare ground hard enough to crack it. Leon took the sword from the first man’s hand and turned.

Seraphine had already reached the remaining two. Her sheathed sword caught one beneath the elbow; a brief flash carried her past his companion. The second man’s knees gave way before his raised blade completed its swing.

Above the crescent, Ira met the flankers with her lance held crosswise. She knocked one backward into the slope and caught the other’s weapon against the haft. He tried to pull free. Ira twisted, took the weapon, and struck him across the ribs with its own handle.

Nerin flinched at the sound. The tray in his hands tipped.

”Level,” Edda said sharply.

He steadied it. Lu Pei laid the first sun cup inside, its clear bead trembling between the petals.

Kesh drew his sword.

Leon crossed the remaining distance before the man could finish gathering energy along it. He caught the flat of the blade between two fingers. Kesh’s shoulder jerked as he tried to wrench it loose, then a hard yellow light spread across his breastplate.

Leon put his other hand against it.

The protection broke. He pushed Kesh down onto one knee, pressed a little farther, and felt the man stop resisting.

Behind Kesh, several guards had started forward. Vyra lifted her hand. A thin line of flame appeared across the bare approach, close enough to their boots that they halted together.

Leon looked down at the man beneath his palm.

”Drop it.”

Kesh’s fingers loosened. His sword fell between them.

The hollow was suddenly quiet enough for Leon to hear a collector asking Edda whether the next flower was ready.

”Yes,” she answered. ”Same cut.”

Kesh stared at his own weapon. Leon watched the change in his face as he looked from the cracked breastplate to the six men on the ground. Anger remained, but it was no longer choosing his actions.

He released a cautious thread of perception toward Leon, as if another examination might explain what had happened. Leon let him find the same apparent cultivation he had dismissed a moment earlier. Kesh swallowed. His hand moved away from a second pouch beneath his sash and settled flat against his thigh.

”We yield,” Kesh said.

”Tell your people.”

Kesh raised his voice. ”Weapons down. All of you.”

Nobody argued. One guard took a moment to lower a half-drawn bow, watching the flame at his feet. Vyra waited until he had unstrung it before letting the line die.

Leon released Kesh and stepped back.

His own gatherers were still working. The upper pair had paused during Ira’s interception; now she waved them back toward their cases. Seraphine checked the fallen guards, moved their weapons out of reach, and returned to the path.

Not a single attack had reached the flowers.

Leon felt rather pleased about that. He had imagined spending the next hour listening to Edda explain exactly how much spiritual value a boot could destroy.

”Young Master.” Vyra approached with one of the recorders. ”Their belongings?”

”Treasure, valuable equipment, and everything they’ve gathered. Leave food, water, ordinary clothing, and enough basic tools to travel.” Leon looked at Kesh. ”Storage items opened by their owners. Nothing hidden.”

The man’s mouth tightened. His gaze went briefly toward the crates beneath the flat rock.

”That’s several days’ work.”

”Then you should have kept working.”

Leon waited. Kesh looked away first and began removing the pouch at his belt.

Half of ours wasn’t enough. Now look at you.

He kept the thought to himself. There were twenty-four people to disarm, delicate stock to move, and a harvest progressing whether any of them felt properly humiliated or not.

Vyra directed the surrender on the bare ground beside the rock. Each owner opened their storage item and laid out its contents under supervision. Wen Shu watched the upper path while two Palace guards gathered weapons. The recorders divided their attention between the seized stock and the fresh trays arriving from the crescent.

Kesh’s six collectors stood apart from the fighters, cutting cloths still tied around their wrists. One kept glancing at a shallow wooden case among the surrendered goods.

”What’s in that?” Leon asked.

”Yesterday’s roots,” the collector said. ”They need the lid loosened. We close it for carrying, but they’ve been sitting in the sun.”

Leon motioned him forward, with a guard beside him.

The man opened the vents along the case’s edge. A damp, earthy smell rose from within. He adjusted a folded cloth, then withdrew his hands and waited.

Leon had Edda inspect it when she could leave the first cutting pair. She crouched beside the box and lifted one corner of the lining.

”Keep these shaded,” she said. ”The packing’s sound.”

”Can we carry them with ours?”

”Separately. I’ll show your carriers.” Edda glanced at the defeated collectors. ”They knew what they were doing.”

”Their leader didn’t.”

She gave Leon a brief look, then went to find spare screens.

The surrender produced several useful blades, two compact defensive instruments, storage pouches, mineral pieces wrapped in oilcloth, and the carefully packed roots. The fresh sun cups were easier to judge. Kesh’s collectors had begun before Leon arrived, and their first tray was already full.

Vyra kept that tray with the confiscated stock. When a recorder reached to add it to the party’s own harvest, she stopped him and pointed to the separate page.

”Taken from Kesh. These were already cut.”

He corrected the entry.

Leon left her to the division and walked uphill. Ira stood over the two flankers while they helped each other rise. One held his side; the other had a swelling along his jaw. Both could walk.

”Anything broken?” Leon asked.

”Possibly his pride,” Ira said, indicating the larger man. ”He tried to take the lance back.”

The guard kept his eyes on the ground. Leon checked the gathering pair a few paces beyond him. Their carrier had shifted a case away from the scuffle and was now carefully brushing dirt from its closed lid.

”All right?” Leon asked.

”Yes, Senior Brother.” The carrier showed him the unmarked lining. ”Nothing reached the inside.”

”Good. Stay with your collector.”

Down in the crescent, Nerin had recovered enough to bring another tray to Edda. His first attempt at setting it down rattled the cups. He stopped, took a breath, and lowered it properly.

Leon caught him staring a moment later.

”What?”

”I thought there would be more fighting.” Nerin glanced toward Kesh. ”There were so many of them.”

”There are still flowers opening.” Leon pointed toward the waiting collector. ”He needs your tray.”

Nerin hurried off. Leon watched him go with a small smile. The boy would probably have questions once his hands stopped shaking. Edda would make certain he finished his work before asking them.

By the time Vyra called Leon back, the surrendered expedition had gathered on the western path. Kesh’s breastplate lay among the seized equipment. Without it, he looked smaller, though the anger had returned to his face now that he was no longer beneath Leon’s hand.

Leon indicated the path out.

”Keep going until you’re clear of the hollow.”

Kesh looked at the laden cases, then at Seraphine beside them. Whatever he considered saying remained unsaid.

His people collected their basic packs. Two supported the guard Leon had driven into the ground. The last of the six collectors lingered long enough to point out a loose fastening on a root case before following the others.

Leon watched until the rust sashes disappeared beyond the fork. He would have preferred to begin gathering without the interruption, but the return on it was difficult to dislike.

Loriel called from beneath the trees.

”Young Master, come look.”

The shaded ground had changed. Pale growth was spreading along slender stems between the exposed roots, turning a patch of dull grass silver from within. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Edda was already pulling a different knife from her roll.

”Leave one pair with the cups,” she told Vyra. ”The frost-thread’s starting.”