Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

Kharzan observed as his army began preparing for the ‘assault’ on their wall.

The troops organized themselves into loose formations of small groups, giving each other space. These were formations that reflected the strategy of complete elemental coverage, but also something more fundamental about the nature of warfare in their world.

In the world of tamers, wars were never the same. Everything depended on the level of the highest-ranked fighters, beast choices, and the culture of the era. And this was a particular era in many aspects.

The tamers used in war were primarily those of the highest level, at least Silver 1. Not because a Bronze 2 tamer couldn’t hurt a Silver 1, but for more complex cultural reasons that ran deeper in their minds than simple mathematics.

Probably two or three Bronze 2 tamers could bring down a Silver 1, more or less depending on individual skill and elemental types. The gap wasn’t insurmountable if numbers were properly coordinated.

So why didn’t they use more lower-rank troops when Kharzan alone had about 50,000 possible Bronze 2 combatants?

Their elitist culture. They would only use those ‘working resources’ in extremely necessary cases.

It was certainly a situation that could only occur when individual power could be so disparate and one’s self-perception could scale so high, both in the mind and body of the warrior who accepted the beast.

For most, the psychological transformation that came with power was as significant as the physical one.

To the absurd level that those who felt strong preferred to risk their own necks rather than let the “weak” steal the glory of battle. Using weapons instead of one’s own power was then considered even more shameful.

But there were practical reasons too. Most conventional weapons, iron, steel, even some special alloys, simply didn’t last when faced with the hardened bodies and natural armor of high-level tamers.

Although they could forge weapons easily with their elemental fire and earth abilities, the fact that mainly the strongest fought meant that weapons broke quickly when impacting such resistant soldiers. The economics of warfare had adapted to this reality and focused on food and healing materials instead.

Monster materials sometimes gave decent results for weapons, but even those paled in comparison to the practicality of directly using beast abilities to create claws, earth spears, or magical wood weapons. It was more practical, more synergistic, and definitely more impressive to use your own ability as a weapon… even better to launch a classic fireball or wind blade.

At least that was the general consensus.

Using conventional weapons was perceived as a weakness in general, something only a war of Iron or Bronze ranks would require. Therefore, it wasn’t studied or invested in with much time or crystals.

The soldiers prepared as if they had been waiting for this moment for months. Claws sprouted from their fists while others hardened their skin like natural armor or created artificial versions. Mountable beasts emerged in a symphony of roars, howls, and neighing in their majority.

The air thickened with temporary ambient mana as thousands of tamers simultaneously invoked their powers.

Some created fire projectiles that floated above their palms, others manifested crystallized water shields that gleamed like sapphires, and those of higher ranks did things worthy of envy like combining elements into complex weapons that pulsed with lethal energy.

Some tamers near Kharzan summoned earth and wood spears too, the sharpened tips emerging from the ground with quick sounds that cut through the morning air. It was a common tactic for defensive elemental specialists… the spears provided reach and could be added to the defensive wall or thrown at the enemy.

But the sight of those points directed upward made Kharzan feel an involuntary chill running up his spine, imagining something unpleasant at the tip of one of them.

‘No,’ he reassured himself mentally, ‘she can’t fulfill her promise because it would be a tactical error.’

Initiating the war by trying to eliminate him first when he was surrounded by 10,000 loyal soldiers would be pure suicide for the old woman. In fact, it would suit Kharzan enormously if she tried… killing Selphira Ashenway in combat, even if his entire army helped around him, would give him instant legitimacy and eliminate one of his most dangerous opponents.

It had been just a bluff in the moment, an empty threat designed to maintain face and group morale.

“Advance!” Kharzan roared, and ten thousand voices responded with a war cry that made the ground tremble beneath their feet.

♢♢♢♢

The wall rose before them. His forces deployed in the era’s generic formation, earth and wood elementals at the front, creating an “unstoppable wave” that transformed the wall itself into their shield and weapon.

The earth tamers began molding existing structures, absorbing the wall into new formations that advanced like a giant monster toward Yano territory. It wasn’t invasion, it was transformation, and a strategy that allowed them to gain ground while maintaining defensive coverage.

Houses on the outskirts of the central city disappeared behind the enormous earth monster that enveloped and incorporated them into the Goldcrest side without bothering to ask permission. The few civilians who had remained in their homes and hadn’t fled toward the interior would now be forced to support the wall’s advance logistics.

For several minutes, everything marched perfectly. His soldiers advanced quite quickly, creating a wide corridor of walls that extended ever deeper into enemy territory. Reports arrived constantly from the air, minimal resistance, secured objectives, continuous advance.

It was too easy.

The sensation nagged at Kharzan like an itch he couldn’t scratch. In his reading experience, when military operations proceeded without obstacles, it usually meant the real challenge was waiting ahead.

“My Lord,” a messenger approached riding a red eagle, his expression troubled in a way that immediately caught Kharzan’s attention. “Aerial reports from the front.”

“Resistance?”

“That’s what’s strange, my Lord. There’s no resistance. The other side simply… ran away.”

Kharzan frowned, his instincts immediately alert. He expected some opposition, at least containment forces to slow his advance while Yano organized an appropriate response.

“And the troops Selphira had advanced to the wall?”

“That’s even stranger, my Lord.” The messenger’s voice carried the confusion of someone reporting something that didn’t make much sense. “Scouts report that the other side of the wall is almost deserted. Only the minimal patrols Yano had stationed initially, and they’re retreating at safe distance without engaging.”

“How much civilian activity?”

“Some scattered houses with families who haven’t moved, just like the four we’ve already absorbed, but nothing more. It’s as if they had abandoned the entire upper section across almost fifty kilometers from the abyss.”

Kharzan felt something cold settling in his stomach. In his readings on tactics, when a competent enemy abandoned territory without fighting, it usually meant they had something better planned.

He looked around, noticing for the first time how the new walls his troops were building as they advanced had become higher, closer to each other. What had begun as a wide corridor now felt narrower, more confined.

Like a prison.

‘They’re just basic defensive tactics for my army that can’t contain me,’ he reminded himself, trying to maintain confidence. ‘For my power, they’re more like a smoke screen.’

But his instinct told him something different. The territory he was claiming as his own to advance toward the bridge might not be as much his as he thought.

Yet the pressure to advance, the momentum of 10,000 soldiers, the political necessity of showing strength…

And now, in the unnatural silence surrounding his advance, the earth walls flanking his army seemed to be listening to every word, every plan, watching every movement.

Waiting.