Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

Triage had become a nightmare. Deciding who to save, who had a chance of survival versus who was already lost. Making choices that would haunt healers forever but that had to be made because resources were finite and wounded seemed infinite.

Ren watched the situation unfold with growing concern he fought to keep out of his facial expression.

But internally he processed the reality that they were losing.

That without a change in circumstances they couldn’t sustain defense long enough for help to arrive.

The math was inescapable. Defenders decreasing, new mutants’ arrival still constant, defensive lines shrinking , casualties mounting and resources depleting.

Every metric pointed toward inevitable collapse. Just a question of when… Hours? Minutes? Would help even arrive?

The thought crept in despite his efforts to suppress it. The possibility that no one was coming. That the kingdom was focusing resources on defending many sides of the outside city walls instead.

Ron was dying and Ren couldn’t save him. Couldn’t do anything except watch and hope someone else would handle it because he had to keep fighting to prevent even more people from dying.

It was a failure. Complete and total. And it was happening in real time while he stood helpless to prevent it.

The seed in Ren’s core began vibrating stronger.

The dark energy leaking from its fissure intensified. Spreading from his core outward. Affecting the Hydra’s bond. Touching the Wolverine despite its exhaustion. Power was building. He could sense it. Not his power. Not the Hydra’s or Wolverine’s. But something else. Something that had been sleeping under control and was now waking again because the situation facilitated it.

Ren didn’t understand it. Didn’t know if it was helpful or dangerous. Didn’t know if he should encourage it or suppress it.

But he knew they were losing. Knew people were dying. Knew that without change they would all die here today.

And the seed was offering change. Was offering power. Was offering something that might make difference between victory and defeat.

So he didn’t fight it anymore.

♢♢♢♢

Ron still desperately needed a healer, but most of those with healing abilities were completely overwhelmed. It was triage that prioritized those with the best chance of survival, a brutal calculation no healer wanted to do but which necessity forced when resources were insufficient to meet demand.

And Ron was in the difficult intermediate category.

The wound being serious but not mortal if stabilized immediately. But requiring that almost immediate attention and transport taking time that healers didn’t have available when others were literally dying in front of them.

Ron was delayed… Would live if treated soon, but “soon” was a relative term measured in minutes rather than hours. And minutes were commodities they didn’t have when immediate cases consumed every healer’s attention.

So he unintentionally waited while bleeding, sliding without option slowly towards his death from the delayed attention. From salvageable toward lost cause. He wasn’t close to a healer apart from Min.

And Min had no mana left… Who had knowledge but not power, who could only watch and hope someone else arrived before it was too late.

The situation worsened with each passing second.

Defenders being worn down faster than they could recover while the mutant flow still showed no signs of ceasing.

They still needed something to change…

Ren felt something dark awaken in his chest when he saw Ron being ignored by oversaturated healers trying to prioritize among dozens of wounded.

It was growing fury he’d been containing less and less throughout the entire battle. An emotion he’d suppressed beneath the necessity of maintaining appropriate focus on efficient execution.

But the vision of his close companion bleeding critically while help delayed too long made him discard the control he’d been maintaining with conscious effort.

And he began losing command of his energy.

The first sign was the speed… Movements becoming faster and reactions sharper. But not in a controlled way. In a frantic one.

Then came the brutality.

His strikes destroying nearby mutants with violence exceeding what he’d been demonstrating moments before. Each blow carrying more than necessary force, carrying rage that had been building for hours and was finally finding an outlet.

Exoskeletons didn’t just crack. They exploded into fragments that scattered like shrapnel.

Skulls didn’t just break. They burst, spraying matter that painted nearby surfaces in ugly colors that shouldn’t exist in living things.

Each elimination being executed with intensity communicating this was no longer simply defense but some type of imaginary vengeance. Personal vendetta against creatures that had dared threatening people he cared about. That had dared making him feel helpless.

It was violence that went beyond efficiency into territory that was primal. Lin noticed immediately what was occurring.

Recognition coming from having taught Ren for several years and differentiating his actions when affected by influences, however minor, that compromised his judgment.

The black lines she’d noticed in Ren’s core during that time were more pronounced now. Dark veins expanding visibly beneath the surface.

It was happening again. The corruption Selphira told her about was taking hold.

“Ren!” she called with a voice projecting a bit of panic this time. “You need to calm down! Control your breathing and focus!”

It was advice she’d given rarely to someone like Ren who normally never permitted emotions to exceed the discipline learned from her.

Principles that should’ve been reflexive. That should’ve triggered an automatic response the moment she invoked them.

But Ren didn’t respond to her direction this time in the manner he normally did.

Continuing his assault against mutants with intensity that didn’t diminish when instruction should’ve provoked reflexive adjustment. Like he couldn’t hear her… Or heard but didn’t care. Or cared but couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

The corruption was winning. Ren’s father seemed to notice the situation.

Observing from his position in the defensive formation’s center. Seeing how his son was losing control while simultaneously processing that Ron and other wounded needed attention he could provide if he managed to reach them.

Reed was a healer. He could save Ron. Could make a difference if he could just reach him.

He seemed to want to exit the protected perimeter to go heal those in the breach that had been partially secured but still contained wounded awaiting treatment.

But as soon as he tried exiting the formation’s edge, the mutant flow pushing intensified dramatically against the defense.

Like they’d been waiting. The lack of defenders worsened with attempts supporting the upper breach. Force redistribution creating weaknesses in other sections then requiring additional reinforcements. A cycle degrading overall perimeter integrity with each adjustment.

And with deteriorating coverage in more zones came attack intensification. It was cascading failure. Reed didn’t manage exiting the defensive circle.

♢♢♢♢

No matter how much Lin tried calming him with words and with physical presence near Ren that normally would provide rationality’s anchor, he entered more deeply into desperation as he felt Ron’s mana signature weakening at the distance.

It was Ren’s advanced perception of energy signatures. Permitting approximate condition tracking without needing visual contact.

And feeling Ron fading pushed Ren to increasingly aggressive actions. Like he was certain his brutality and mutant elimination speed could somehow compensate for his inability to reach the friend slowly dying while overloaded healers couldn’t provide desperately needed attention.

The black veins consumed him more visibly with each passing second.

Corruption expanding to the point where they were no longer simply subtle lines beneath skin but obvious manifestations any observer could notice if paying appropriate attention.

They crawled up his neck. Across his jaw. Reaching toward his face like grasping fingers. And there came the moment where Ren simply stopped caring about the secret he’d been guarding so carefully.

Electricity began manifesting around his strikes.

Sparks jumping between fingers when fist connected with corrupt flesh. Discharges propagating through mutant bodies and causing spasms incapacitating them more effectively.

It was the element he’d kept hidden even to the end. The capability only a very small circle of friends knew he possessed.

And he was revealing it now. In front of everyone. But he didn’t care… Couldn’t care, because Ron was dying and that mattered more than some hypothetical advantage.. Who’d become friend through shared struggle.

The electricity wasn’t subtle. Wasn’t a quiet discharge barely noticeable in combat chaos. It was lightning. Arcing and jumping… Bright enough to cast shadows.

Each punch landed with impact that made mutants seize. Nervous systems overloading and muscles contracting uncontrollably.

It was devastating. More effective than any element he’d shown before. Because corruption might resist normal elements. But electricity was an offensive and chaotic light.

But fortunately for Ren, with chaos’s onset, the tamers who’d been assigned specifically monitoring him weren’t close now.

They’d been withdrawn. Monitoring external areas to facilitate mutant flow or report to Orion the academy attack’s situation from macro rather than micro aspects. Since crystal control wasn’t individual but flow-based, that semi-absence provided a small window where this revelation wouldn’t be immediately noticed by those who’d report for the moment.

Lucky timing. Or unlucky depending on perspective. Because it also meant they were making sure no one escaped or sent signals for help outside the academy, eliminating the messenger birds.

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