Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons novel Chapter 632

Chapter 632: Chapter 632 - Taming the Fifth Year - First Exams - 4

The movement was fluid, measured, each centimeter calculated with perfect precision.

His right foot positioned itself exactly thirty centimeters ahead of the left, the angle between them forty-five perfect degrees. His weight distributed in a sixty-forty proportion.

His right hand rose, not with haste but with perfect speed, with purpose. Each finger held at the exact spacing required by modern protocol. The thumb separated just enough to create the proper gesture without appearing rigid.

His left hand extended to the side, palm facing backward, fingers together but not rigid, the angle of the arm relative to his body exactly parallel.

His head inclined... Twenty-five exact degrees.

"Ren Patinder," his voice was clear, modulated perfectly to fill the auditorium without seeming like he was shouting, "son of Reed Patinder, heir by designation in recognition of achievements to the former Goldcrest territory, aspirant guardian of the ancestral rift and the new southern wall, I present myself before this honorable court with respect and duty."

Pause. Exactly two seconds. Long enough to allow the words to settle, short enough to not seem dramatic.

Ren finally straightened with the same fluid control.

He held the position. Completely immobile. Without the slightest tremor in his extended arms, without the slightest adjustment in his posture. Like a statue but carved from living flesh, perfect and unchanging.

The silence in the auditorium was absolute.

The evaluator looked at Ren as if seeing a ghost. In forty years of evaluating noble students, including several who had been raised from birth in the highest nobility families, who had nursed on etiquette and breathed protocol, he had never seen an execution so... perfect.

Not just technically correct. Perfect.

Every detail, from the angle of his fingers to the modulated tone of his voice. The precise weight distribution that was actually visible in how he held himself.

It was the kind of performance that should have taken decades to perfect. And here was a boy who’d been a peasant with 0 knowledge about nobility just three years ago, executing it flawlessly.

"I..." The evaluator cleared his throat and forgot the correct words he should say, something that had never happened during evaluations in his entire career. "Permission granted. Proceed... proceed to the next exam."

The words came out slightly stumbling, unprofessional, and he knew it. But he couldn’t help it. He was too busy trying to reconcile what he’d just witnessed with what he’d expect.

Ren walked to the next marked position on the platform, each step measured, each movement deliberate.

And in the upper stands, Aldric Galehart felt as if the ground beneath his feet had disappeared.

"Father," Seiya said slowly, his voice was full of disbelief that bordered on awe, "you told me he was gullible. That he trusted too much. That he wouldn’t verify..."

"Shut up," Aldric murmured, but there was no real force behind his words. He was too occupied processing what he’d just witnessed. Too busy recalculating every assumption he’d made.

That execution of Formal Presentation Protocol didn’t come from the three slim books he’d provided. Those books covered the basic version, theoretically correct but generic and incomplete. Appropriate for young children learning their first protocols.

What Ren had just executed was the high-level version. The one that required not just memorization but deep understanding of context, history, and the most recent subtleties of protocolar changes. The kind that took tutors months to teach properly, with countless corrections and adjustments.

"He verified," Seiya said, realization hitting him that his father, that player father, was played. "He researched way beyond what you gave him."

Aldric clenched his jaw, watching as Ren prepared for the second exam with the same controlled presence. His mind raced, trying to understand where his perfect trap had failed.

Where the supposedly gullible peasant boy had outsmarted him...

’No,’ Aldric thought with astonishment and respect despite the growing frustration that churned in his gut. ’I’m certain his practice with me was clumsy until at least the last two weeks... What happened? Was he pretending that perfectly? Impossible!’

But the evidence was right there, standing on the platform with perfect posture. The kind of evidence that couldn’t be argued with or rationalized away.

And so, for the first time in years, Aldric Galehart tasted the bitter flavor of uncertainty.

The sensation was unfamiliar, uncomfortable. He’d built his entire career on reading people, on understanding their weaknesses, on knowing exactly how to manipulate situations to his advantage.

Almost three months before...

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