Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

The solution was evident, though it would require considerable resources: more eggs, more beasts for promising students. And he needed to begin immediately.

After finishing processing the tentacles, Ren dedicated some time to his daily cultivation. The light of his mushrooms acquired that characteristic bluish tone while he channeled energy.

Min and Taro imitated him shortly afterward, each focused on their own techniques.

Liu, having completed his routine in the morning, continued with his studies without paying much attention.

Lin didn’t seem likely to appear to supervise today’s exercise, which wasn’t surprising considering the circumstances. Ren took advantage of this absence to extract three more cores from his now abundant personal reserve.

When his companions finished their cultivation, Ren silently headed toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Min asked, looking up from his meditation position.

“Exchange warehouse,” Ren responded succinctly. “I’ll be back soon.”

“But they told us to…” Taro began, concern evident in his voice.

Ren merely smiled, his mushrooms pulsing with quiet determination. “I won’t be long.”

Upon arrival, he found the special materials section still active, with Jessy nervously organizing several scrolls behind the counter. She was sorting through the chaotic aftermath of the academy’s disruption.

“Ren!” the young woman exclaimed upon seeing him, her cat ears moving with surprise. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I need some specific materials,” he responded directly. “It’s important.”

Jessy seemed to hesitate, but something in Ren’s expression must have convinced her. The intensity in his eyes perhaps, or the unusual urgency in his typically measured demeanor.

“Well, I suppose I can make an exception. What are you looking for?” She pulled a ledger toward her, ready to check inventory.

“Cheap Wind Lynx parts, five,” Ren began, mentally consulting his list.

Jessy quickly reviewed the inventory. “We have some cheap Iron rank ones.” Her fingers traced down the columns of her ledger.”

Professor Zhao’s auxiliary had a specimen. They’re not very common, but not excessively rare either.

After verifying the price, Ren nodded. Five hundred crystals was reasonable for a component of that quality.

“I also need five Demonic Bashe parts,” he continued.

Jessy’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s… quite unusual. We only have as the lowest… the Bronze-1 rank, and they’re considerably more expensive.”

“How much?” Ren asked, mentally preparing himself.

“Five thousand crystals for the complete set.”

Ren made an internal grimace. It was undoubtedly a higher sum since they weren’t Iron rank, but the expedition had been extraordinarily productive. He could afford it. The Bashe components would provide the perfect balance of stealth and power for what he had planned.

“And finally,” he continued, “I need components of the Celestial White Tiger. Its initial form, the striped light cat.”

This time, Jessy seemed genuinely surprised. “That’s extremely rare, Ren. Even more than the Bashe.”

“Do you have anything?”

“Yes, but…” Jessy consulted the registry again. “Twenty thousand crystals, and that’s with your luck being generous because they’re only Bronze-1 rank. Normally there’s nothing that isn’t Silver since the Starweavers control that market.”

Ren calculated quickly. Between the price of the materials and what he would need for other components of the process, he was spending an amount that would have sounded substantial to him before. But he remembered Luna, her support since that first day. Despite her occasionally overwhelming insistence, she had proven to be an ally and a good person.

“I’ll take it,” he finally decided. “All of it.”

“Is that everything?”

“Yes, please,” Ren affirmed.

With the carefully wrapped packages under his arm, Ren returned to the dormitories. His mind was already designing the additional nests.

♢♢♢♢

The next day…

The Great Hall had been transformed for the occasion. Black banners hung from the walls, replacing the academy’s usual vibrant colors.

The students, organized by year, remained in perfect formations, all dressed in simple black robes over their uniforms. The silence was absolute, broken only by the occasional quickly suppressed sob.

On the main stage, portraits of the fallen had been placed. Twenty-three frames in total: two professors and twenty-one auxiliaries and support staff who were underground at the time of the first attack.

A devastating figure compared to the single casualty of the previous attack.

Director Ignatius slowly advanced toward the center of the stage, leaning on a richly carved staff. His physical absence was painfully evident; where he once stood with majestic presence, he now moved with the careful deliberation of someone whose equilibrium has been fundamentally altered. The empty space where his left leg should have been seemed to draw eyes despite the flowing robes designed to disguise it.

His phoenix was partially manifested, the golden-reddish glow pulsing softly under his skin, accelerating a healing process that would take months even with the best treatments.

“We gather today,” he began, his voice projecting clearly despite his evident fatigue, “to honor those who gave their lives protecting this institution’s fundamental principles: knowledge, honor, and, above all, the future that each of you represent.”

Ren observed from his position among the first-year students. His mushrooms barely pulsed, maintaining a silent respect for the moment. Beside him, Min kept his head bowed, while Taro stared straight ahead, his jaw tense with contained emotions.

A little further away, Han remained absolutely motionless, his face a stone mask that contrasted with the open sadness of those around him. Since his return from the interrogation, he had maintained a subtle but perceptible distance, as if fearing to contaminate them with something invisible he carried. Occasionally, his eyes would dart to Ren, then quickly away, as if unable to maintain contact.

The Director continued with the ceremony, individually naming each of the fallen while a small flame was lit above their corresponding portrait.

It was an ancient Yano tradition: the flame symbolized the spirit’s passage to the great mana cycle, released from earthly bonds.

The additional presences at the ceremony didn’t go unnoticed by Ren.

Guards from noble families, recognizable by their heraldic insignia, lined the walls.

Castle personnel, with their characteristic dark blue uniforms, occupied strategic positions near the exits.

And Julius, standing at one end of the stage. His face betrayed no emotion, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes about his awareness of the continuing threat.

The academy had fortified itself, preparing for another attack that everyone feared might be repeated.

When the ceremony concluded with a minute of absolute silence, the students were released to attend their regular classes, an attempt to reinstate normalcy amid the recent chaos. The crowd dispersed slowly, many lingering near the portraits to pay personal respects.

Ren stood for a moment next to the portrait of a guard, the one who normally stood at the entrance of the cave at mid day and affectionately called him ‘lucky shroom’.

♢♢♢♢

“Looks like we’ll have Zhao for crystallography,” Min commented as they headed toward their first class. His voice was kept low, as if speaking normally would somehow dishonor the somber mood.

“Temporarily,” Taro added. “Until they find a permanent replacement.”

The news didn’t surprise Ren. Zhao was one of the few professors with knowledge broad enough and now also free time, thanks to Julius, to cover multiple subjects, although his specialty was exterior gathering.

Upon entering the crystallography classroom, normally half-empty as it was an optional subject, they found the space completely full. Students who previously showed barely any interest now occupied every available seat, their faces solemn and notebooks open.

It seemed Professor Song’s sacrifice had accomplished what his passion for teaching could not, filling his classroom.

Zhao entered punctually, his expression slightly uncomfortable at finding the overcrowded classroom. His owl markings and feathers seemed more pronounced today, perhaps reflecting his heightened alertness.

“Good morning,” he began, quickly adapting to the situation. “As you know, I will be covering this class until an appropriate successor is designated for Professor Song.”

He paused, letting the name float in the air for a respectful moment.

“For those joining this subject belatedly, I must clarify that the requirements for passing haven’t changed. A minimum quantity of crystals collected from the mine is needed, which most of you have already fulfilled during your regular incursions.”

Several students visibly relaxed at this confirmation.

“However,” Zhao continued, with a slight smile, “this doesn’t exempt you from the theoretical exam, which constitutes fifty percent of your final grade.”