Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

“What were your exact orders?” Yang asked without preamble, his imposing frame casting a long shadow over the prisoners.

The man with the spider, still dazed, blinked several times before responding. “Just… they just told us to take the old folks. We didn’t know anything else.” His voice wavered, a thin thread of desperation woven through his words.

Ren, who had silently approached from behind, frowned. The mushrooms in his hair pulsed rhythmically, his eyes capturing the subtle fluctuations in the man’s mana.

“He’s lying,” he declared with certainty.

Lin needed no further confirmation. Her hand moved with supernatural speed, connecting a precise slap that made the man’s head violently jerk sideways. The sound echoed sharply in the confined space of the pit, a crisp crack.

“Try again,” she suggested with a smile that never reached her eyes. “And this time, remember that we have ways of knowing when you’re lying.”

After a few minutes and several lies, the spider tamer man was thoroughly beaten. His face was a canvas of bruises, blood trickling from his split lip and swollen nose. Each falsehood had been met with swift punishment.

The lizard tamer man, observing his companion’s fate, hastened to speak. His words tumbled out in a desperate rush. “We were ordered to watch them! We were supposed to observe the parents and kidnap them if they strayed too far from the border.” Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the coolness of the earthen chamber.

“And if they didn’t stray?” Yang insisted, his massive arms crossed over his chest.

“If there seemed to be no movement in their house or it gave the impression they would move, we were to leave them alone,” the lizard man continued in a nervous stream of words. “At least until the boy appeared.” His eyes darted to Ren, then quickly away, as if looking directly at him was somehow dangerous.

“Continue,” Lin ordered, noticing how Ren tensed beside her.

“The orders were to capture the child along with his parents when he closed his first school year,” the man confessed, his resolve crumbling under the combined pressure of Lin’s menace and Yang’s imposing presence.

“We were to make sure we had the parents as hostages in case he came accompanied.” Each word seemed to diminish him further, shrinking under the weight of his own admission.

Ren stepped forward, his eyes glowing with a disturbing intensity. “Who asked you to do this?”

“I don’t know exactly,” the spider man responded, flinching as Ren approached. “It came through the chain of command. But rumors said it came directly from the head of the Goldcrest family.” His voice dropped to a near whisper at the mention of Kharzan, as if speaking the name might somehow summon him.

“Why did you act alone if you supposed he might come accompanied?” Wei asked, his scholarly tone belying the sharpness of his question. His manticore patterns briefly surfaced, reflecting his analytical focus.

The patrollers exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. The shared look held both blame and resignation.

“We saw an opportunity to earn a greater reward,” the lizard man finally admitted. “The boy was supposed to arrive by nightfall, and because of the leader’s decision to act alone, we received no warnings from the border. The commander thought we could keep the payment just for ourselves if we captured them dying wrapped in threads, carrying them silently without alerting the other patrols.”

The naked greed in the explanation was almost pathetic in its transparency.

“They underestimated his level,” Lin murmured, a slight smile playing on her lips.

“And my entourage,” Ren added, the unexpected word choice making Lin smile despite the gravity of the situation.

“Since they haven’t reported anything yet, the Goldcrests must have realized something went wrong,” Yang reflected. “They’ll be more careful with their next attempt, and more thorough.”

♢♢♢♢

Li and Tao had returned, bringing elder Chen with them after Ren sent them with crystals and food.

Carrying the bag Ren had sent, Chen’s weathered hands trembled slightly under its unexpected weight. “What is this, young man?” he asked, his voice reflecting the caution of someone unaccustomed to sudden generosity.

“A small token of gratitude,” Ren responded. “For risking yourself to shelter us.” The mushrooms in his hair pulsed with warmth, reflecting his genuine appreciation.

Chen lifted the bag, feeling its substantial weight. “This is… too much,” he murmured, attempting to return it. The weathered lines in his face deepened with concern. “Such wealth brings its own dangers.”

“It’s only fair,” Ren insisted. “You’ve saved us, and put your family at risk for our sake.”

His resolution was evident in the set of his jaw, the stubborn tilt of his chin reminiscent of his father.

The old man looked at the crystals, especially the gleaming bronze one, with amazement and concern. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to exchange something like this around here without attracting attention.” His practical concern reflected a lifetime of cautious survival.

“Save it for when things improve,” Reed suggested, placing a hand on Chen’s shoulder. His touch conveyed understanding between men who had weathered similar hardships. “Or for when you need to leave this area.”

Chen nodded slowly, finally accepting the gift. His calloused fingers closed around the bag.

The hours advanced without signs of additional patrols. The exterior silence, far from reassuring the group, only increased their unease.

“It’s strange they haven’t returned,” Yang commented, observing through a small crack in the storehouse wall. “It seems they’ve changed their strategy.”

“They must have reinforced the border,” Wei concluded. “They’re waiting for us to try crossing.”

Without a word, Wei extracted from his pocket a small cylindrical container. Upon opening it, a tiny bird with very dark bluish plumage emerged, impatiently flapping its wings.

“A night messenger,” he explained upon noticing the curious looks from Reed and Fern. “It can carry a message to the academy.” The bird hopped along his finger, seemingly eager for its mission.

With agile fingers, Wei wrote a tiny encrypted note on an almost transparent paper, securing it to the bird’s leg.

“Do you think it will reach its destination?” Ren asked, observing the small bird with fascination.

Wei sighed, releasing the bird that immediately rose, exited the tunnel, and disappeared through a crack in the roof.

“I doubt they’ll let it pass,” he admitted. “The Goldcrests have hawks and eagles watching the border. They capture and evaluate the few communications that cross. But it’s worth trying.”

“Then,” Ren intervened, his voice determined, eyes shining with resolve, “wouldn’t it be better if I left for the forest immediately? If you’re right… The longer we wait, the harder it will be to return.”

“It’s too risky,” Yang responded, shaking his head. “They’re surely watching the plains from multiple angles. You’ll hardly pass without being seen now.”

“I’m fast,” Ren insisted. “I can…”

“No doubt you and Lin are very fast… but they surely have flyers,” Wei interrupted. “Even if you’re faster on land, they can follow you from above and eventually catch up.”

Lin, who had been listening in silence, stepped forward. “Everyone in this group is at least Silver 2 or 3 in terms of combined power,” she pointed out. “Even I, with my combined beasts, reach that level of increases. We should be capable of forcing our way through.”

Wei shook his head, his expression grave. “If we take too long, they’ll surround us. Even if they’re only Silver 1s, six of them would be enough to cause us serious problems. And if more teams arrive while we’re trying to escape…”

“Besides,” Yang added, “we’re no longer thinking just about our safety, but also that of your parents.” His eyes moved to Reed and Fern, acknowledging their presence in a way that made clear their vulnerability had changed the strategic calculus.

A heavy silence fell over the group as they considered their limited options.

“I have a plan,” Wei finally announced, his expression changing. “It’s not orthodox and completely safe as I like, but it might work.”

♢♢♢♢

The imposing Goldcrest mansion rose like a monument to opulence and power. In his private study, Kharzan reviewed reports with growing irritation. A young assistant stood before him, visibly nervous, his posture rigid.

“Repeat that,” Kharzan ordered, his voice dangerously low. The lion beneath his skin pulsed with rage, giving his features a predatory cast in the chamber’s dim lighting.

“Sir,” the assistant began, struggling to maintain his composure as sweat beaded on his forehead, “it appears the child Kassian spoke of has escaped the first capture attempt. There was a problem with communication from the patrol assigned to the assault. There’s a body that seems to be…”