Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

The door opened slowly, revealing the imposing figure of Sirius Starweaver.

The tension in Klein’s shoulders visibly loosened. It wasn’t his brother. Anyone was better than Kassian at this moment, even someone as intimidating as the Starweaver patriarch.

“Lord Starweaver,” Klein greeted, bowing his head with the respect that his noble training had instilled in him. “I wasn’t expecting your visit.”

Sirius observed him with an inscrutable expression. There was something in his gaze that Klein couldn’t fully decipher, an intensity that was uncomfortable but not openly hostile.

“Klein Goldcrest,” Sirius finally responded, his voice as cold as ever. “Come with me.”

It wasn’t a request, but a clear and direct order. Even so, despite his training to obey authority figures, Klein hesitated.

“To… where are we going, if I may ask?” He mustered his courage, fearing the answer but needing to know.

Sirius’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes hardened slightly.

“To get Kassian,” he answered simply.

Klein felt his stomach contract. Were they releasing Kassian after all? Would they bring him to confront his brother? The possibilities, each worse than the previous one, paraded through his mind.

“Is something wrong?” Sirius asked, though his tone suggested he didn’t really care about the answer.

Klein swallowed, forcing himself to regain his composure. He was a Goldcrest, and Goldcrests didn’t show fear, especially not before other noble families.

“No, of course not,” he responded, straightening his posture. “I’m ready.”

Sirius nodded curtly, turning around without checking if Klein was following. The message was clear: immediate obedience was expected.

As they walked down the hallway, Klein maintained a prudent distance behind Sirius. The corridor seemed longer than he remembered, each step taking him closer to a confrontation he’d hoped to avoid.

Klein couldn’t help wondering what all this meant. Were they being gathered with Kassian to be handed over together? Or was there another reason?

“Lord Starweaver,” Klein finally dared to ask, “are we… are we being released?”

Sirius didn’t stop or turn around, but his response came clearly in the somber atmosphere of the passage.

“That depends,” he said, “on many things that are beyond your control, young Goldcrest.”

It wasn’t the answer Klein expected, but it wasn’t completely discouraging either. At least it seemed they hadn’t decided their fate yet. There was still room for hope… or for fear.

At the end of the passage, a door reinforced with glowing runes blocked the way. Sirius placed his hand on one of the central runes, and all of them pulsed in unison before going dark.

“Come with us,” Sirius ordered as he opened the door.

Inside, illuminated by the same bluish light of the passage, Kassian was rising to his feet. His expression revealed nothing as he regarded his brother, though a spark of something, perhaps triumph, perhaps simple acknowledgment, flickered in his eyes.

♢♢♢♢

Kharzan remained seated in his tent, observing the map spread before him. The territories of the city of Yano were meticulously delineated, each sector marked with symbols indicating its strengths and vulnerabilities. His fingers occasionally moved over the paper, tracing potential routes, calculating times and resources.

The guard posted at the entrance respectfully cleared his throat.

“My lord, we have ‘news’ from the observer.”

Kharzan looked up, his eyes gleaming in the dim lighting of the tent.

“Speak.”

“He hasn’t sent his sporadic report, sir. We believe he has been captured or… eliminated.”

Kharzan’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers tensed slightly on the map, imperceptibly wrinkling the paper under his pressure. The corrupted energy within him stirred, sensing his displeasure.

“The idiots from Yino failed another mission,” he murmured, his voice a harsh whisper in the stillness of the tent. “Is it really a good idea to keep myself on the side of such inconsistent fools?”

The guard remained silent, knowing the question wasn’t directed at him.

Kharzan sighed deeply, leaning back in his seat. In reality, he had no choice. His fate was too intertwined with Yino’s, had been since that fateful day when Yano’s King had denied his father what was rightfully his by divine right…

The memory, though blurred by time, remained painful. His father, kneeling before the throne, requesting access. A right that belonged to him by his lineage, by the promises made to his ancestors. And the King, with his condescending smile, denying it without further explanation than a “you’re not ready.”

No, there was no turning back. He had to seize the power of the main vein, whatever it was, before anyone else and by any means necessary. Only then would there be justice. The corrupted energy within him resonated with his determination, feeding on his ‘righteous’ anger.

Justice, he repeated to himself.

A subconscious and less mature voice whispered…

Vengeance.

His reflections were interrupted when the guard approached again, this time with a small message in his hands.

“Another message, my lord.”

Kharzan took the message, his eyes scanning the contents quickly.

A slow smile spread across his face, the expression made more unsettling by the faint purple undertone in his eyes.

“They want to negotiate,” he murmured, more to himself than to the guard.

The two invaders who had been wounded during the last attack on the school had returned, healed, and not alone. They were accompanied by two new triples… Gold 1 who had completed their transformation.

Four new triples in total. The latest “technology” from Yino, perfected thanks to his own shared experiments… and the resources that only they had on the other side.

“Prepare my ceremonial attire,” he ordered the guard. “And inform the newcomers that I want them in my tent immediately.”

The guard nodded, withdrawing quickly to carry out the orders. His basilisk briefly manifested in relief as he departed, grateful to be away from the corruption’s presence.

Alone in the tent, Kharzan allowed a genuine smile to illuminate his face. Perhaps this new negotiation would be more… entertaining than the previous one.

With four new triples at his disposal, the balance of power had changed significantly.

♢♢♢♢

The negotiation tent had been erected precisely at the midpoint between the Goldcrest camp and the academy. A temporary but elegant structure, with neutral standards.

Around it, soldiers from both sides formed perfectly symmetrical concentric circles, maintaining identical distances as a demonstration of “mutual respect.” A diplomatic dance as old as the cities themselves: the farce of equality between powers that considered themselves superior to the other.

During the hours that had passed since the incident with the spy, reinforcements had arrived on both sides. An additional detachment from the city of Yano had reached the academy, balancing the numbers that initially favored the Goldcrests.