This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

The atmosphere in the arena was electric.

Spectators leaned over railings. Students clutched their arms to their chests. Even the professors—usually stoic or bored—were watching like their lives (or at least their finances) depended on it. No one looked away.

It was the final match. The match. Kain versus Serena. Rank One versus Rank One.

And right now, no one could tell who was winning.

So naturally, Elias saw an opportunity.

“Ladies and gentlemen, degenerates and professors,” Elias announced, stepping onto a makeshift platform two rows above the arena’s edge. He clapped his hands loudly, drawing far more attention than he had any right to.

“Welcome to your last chance at salvation: Oopsie Odds! The Second Regret Special!” He gestured dramatically to the tablet used to record bets that he dragged out of nowhere. “Two minutes only. Same payout as pre-match bets. No judgment, no refunds.”

Around him, students gasped.

“Wait, we can still bet?!”

“That’s illegal—probably!”

“I already bet on Serena… but what if Kain pulls through?!”

“Exactly!” Elias said, eyes sparkling. “Whether you’re hedging your losses or trying to double down, the window is open. I suggest you act fast.”

Several professors exchanged exasperated glances. One of them muttered, “…I hate that I respect his hustle.”

Still, a few wandered over with coin chips in hand. Most wore hoods or wide sleeves. One introduced himself as “Doctor Not-A-Gambler.”

Elias, grinning to himself, whispered, “Kain, please don’t end the battle before the two minutes are up…”

On the field, Balens hovered like a disturbed spirit. Still gleaming, still spinning, but not nearly as smooth as before.

Bea’s black particles swirled around him like gnats that refused to die.

Serena clenched her jaw. “Mental fortification. Again.” Although she couldn’t see the black particles or clearly identify what they were to dispel them, she had figured out their effects and was not allowing them to erode Balens’ mental defences.

Balens’ plates tilted in response to the wish—light flared—and for a moment, Bea’s erosion reversed.

Then Bea struck again.

It was a tug-of-war. Bea’s invasive field gnawed away at Balens’ mental walls, and Serena rebuilt them with surgical precision. Over and over. Every time Bea wore down part of his mental defence field, Serena reinforced it with a new wish.

Bea expressed her frustration in Kain’s mind. This loop wasn’t sustainable.

‘She’s reinforcing the same spots I target,’ Bea sent. ‘It’s like we’re painting over each other in real time.’

Kain gritted his teeth. He needed to change the rules of engagement. There had to be a way to tip this.

And then—he remembered.

A dusty memory. The relic. The Southern mission. That cursed underground ruin where he, Serena, Malzahir and other members of the Order had nearly died—many had died. Balens had been nearly useless in there.

Why?

“Source energy…”

But unfortunately, he had no means of releasing Source energy in a designated direction like a spiritual skill. He was only able to have it coat his hands while charging the ancient artifacts in that underground relic.

He couldn’t control the flow of Source energy, but maybe someone else could. Or rather, something else.

Kain turned sharply.

His eyes locked on Chewy bobbing up and down innocently nearby as it watched the various battles and tried its best to support where it could.

“You,” Kain muttered. He reached out and grabbed the small creature, who squeaked indignantly.

“Sorry, buddy. You’re the key this time.”

Kain closed his eyes.

Pangea.

His star space rippled. The planet pulsed within his Star Space, radiating energy—raw Source energy

He connected it to Chewy held in his hand.

The effect was immediate.

Chewy ballooned slightly, glowing with an iridescent sheen. The little spore let out a high-pitched burble of delight.

Source energy flooded into it greedily.

Kain narrowed the flow. The fields of Pangea dimmed—only slightly. Fortunately, the planet was far stronger than the last time he’d used its Source energy to charge those ancient artifacts and heal Serena.

But Kain still winced. Some rare plants might not be born for a while. A mineral he’d been nurturing would probably crystallize improperly. But the tradeoff was worth it.

Chewy looked like he was about to explode.

Kain cut the flow.

Chewy wobbled in place, visibly overstuffed. Then it looked at Kain with wide eyes.

“I know,” Kain said. “But I need you to send it to Aegis. And Balens.”

Chewy blinked.

To Balens?

Chewy tilted slightly, confused.

“Yes,” Kain said firmly. “I’ll give you extra food later. Just trust me.”

Chewy hesitated.

Then, with a puff of effort, it released a familiar fart-like sound, accompanied by a concentrated pulse.

One thread shot to Aegis.

Another, reluctantly, to Balens.

Aegis straightened.

His limbs stopped shaking. His footing returned. When a rock shot toward him again, it ricocheted off a glowing barrier.

Starweaver slashed.

Aegis blocked—perfectly. Then shoved forward, sending the creature staggering.

The crowd saw it.

“Did he just—”

“Wait! He’s recovered?!”

Cheers began to rise from some, while screams of horror left the mouths of others who’d just places a bet on Serena.

But that wasn’t the only shift.

Balens jerked.

The beam of Source energy struck its body like a lightning bolt.

The scales flared.

And then dimmed.

Serena made another wish.

Nothing happened.

Another.

Instead of granting it, Balens spun uncontrollably for three seconds before stabilizing.

Kain saw it. His eyes lit up.

“Oh yeah,” he whispered. “Now we’re back in control.”

Elias, eyes wide, slammed the terminal shut.

“Bets closed!”

Half a second later, Aegis grabbed the off-guard Starweaver, who’d just been smugly walking all over him, and hurled it through a massive ball of flame being created in the standoff between Vauleth and the Elemental Guardian.

When its body collided with the massive ball of fire (the child of the dual efforts of Vauleth and the Guardian), a massive shockwave rocked the arena.

The crowd erupted. Screams. Roars. The announcer’s voice cracked.

A professor in the stands dropped his drink.

Another student grabbed his head and stared in horror. “Why didn’t I bet on Kain twice?!”

Kain cracked his knuckles.

The comeback had begun.