This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

Chapter 769: Chapter 769: Reed Vs Isolde End

The battlefield had stabilized.

Barely.

The Domain of Delirium trembled, lines of distortion flickering like cracks in glass. The Soulreaver Incubus crouched low, wings faltering as steam poured from its joints. Its body wavered between phases, as if flickering in and out of reality. Its existence straining under the weight of maintaining such an imperfect yet powerful domain.

But it had done enough.

Isolde could see.

Reed was no longer untouchable.

And yet, now that she could finally perceive him, she understood why his strategy had always centered on being forgotten. When exposed, Reed Venn was not nearly as overwhelming as he’d felt when she couldn’t see him. He was fast, sharp, elusive, yes. But not invincible. His strength had always come from fighting battles where the enemy couldn’t fight back.

Not anymore.

Reed moved through the crumbling edge of the domain, his eyes flicking between her and the contracts that had begun to pair up within the domain. His mouth twitched into a rare frown.

She was preparing something.

He didn’t need to guess what. He could feel it.

His instincts screamed it. The battlefield was becoming dangerous in a way he didn’t like.

Behind Isolde, the Phoenix and the Demonwing Harpy both extended their wings—less to take flight than to get closer together for whatever reason.

But soon, Reed’s and the audience’s confusion will be clarified.

A ripple passed between them as Isolde’s blue eyes changed to violet.

Their bodies began to glow with a blood-red sheen as their shared infernal blood began to boil.

Not just similar in attribute.

Bound by lineage.

The Phoenix shrieked, flames twisting into spirals of red, while the Harpy howled, its feathers turning blade-sharp. Their spiritual cores resonated like two tuning forks pressed together—and then began to merge.

The audience gasped as one.

“Is she fusing two of them again?” someone amongst the Dark Moon staff whispered. They’d been prepared for this to happen. After all, she had fused two of her contracts together last year during her match against Ravi.

Kain, already on his feet, nodded slowly. “No. She’s doing more.”

Last year, she had fused only one pair: the Dreadclaw Demon and the Manticore. It had been devastating in strength. But she hadn’t gone further. Not because she didn’t have the ability—but because she hadn’t been able to get another pairing close enough together to fuse while Ravi’s contracts were constricting and limiting the movements of them all.

This time, the field was clear. No webs blanketing the stage and restricting movement. No obstructions.

This time, she could go all out.

Flames and screeches twisted into one another.

And then the two hybrids emerged one after another.

The first hybrid was a terrifying colossus, its body a twisted amalgamation of the Manticore’s lion-like form and the Dreadclaw Demon’s hulking demon-gorilla physique. Dense, spiked carapace replaced fur, the texture mottled between deep crimson and black. Its musculature was extreme—veins bulged beneath the skin, and every movement rippled with barely restrained force.

Massive claws, inherited from the Dreadclaw demon, jutted from its forelimbs—each one nearly the length of an adult human. Their jagged edges shimmered with residual infernal energy, capable of tearing through stone and spiritual barriers alike. Its back was hunched, spines protruding like the ridges of a mountain range.

Where the Manticore’s tail had once been, a monstrous scorpion tail now extended, longer and more lethal than ever. The tip glowed with red-hot venom, and faint hissing steam rose from where it touched the air. Every breath the creature took exhaled thick plumes of sulfur and black smoke, the stench curling through the arena like a death-scented fog.

Its roar shook the ground. An animalistic bellow layered with something deeper, darker—like dozens of voices screaming beneath the surface.

When it stepped forward, the arena trembled beneath its weight.

Fifteen feet tall and composed of pure destructive intent, it was less a contract and more a walking disaster.

At almost the same time, the second fusion appeared.

It was sleeker than the first—a fusion of the Demonwing Harpy and Phoenix. Avian in build, yet unmistakably an infernal-blooded creature, its elongated neck coiled like a serpent, while twin tails—one aflame and the other lined with barbed feathers—twisted behind it like whips. Four wings beat the air with a discordant rhythm, each pair styled differently: the top wings broader, feathered, and glowing with heat; the lower pair narrow and razor-edged like the Harpy’s. Waves of shimmering heat warped the air around it. Its eyes burned with smoldering gold light, and its talons curled as if imagining and relishing in cutting through its enemies—and a butcher’s precision. Its cries were neither birdcall nor screech but something strange and warping, like a bunch of high-pitched voices superimposed over eachother in a way that made the mind ache.

The crowd barely had time to process it before the first hybrid—the Demon-Manticore hybrid—moved.

It launched forward with a roar that rattled the barriers of the arena.

Reed’s contracts shifted.

The Gravity Wyrmling created a crushing sink zone beneath the hybrid’s feet—but the massive beast didn’t even slow. Its long claws ripped through stone making up the arena as it ran, leaving a clear trail of claw marks, barreling straight toward the Nullhalo Beetle.

A shield of spiralling halos bloomed in front of the beetle, but the hybrid plowed through them, slamming its tail down with a crack that echoed across the stands.

The Nullhalo Beetle was thrown across the arena and crumpled on to the ground, motionless.

At the same time, the aerial hybrid shrieked and flew into a high arc, twisting in midair before divebombing toward the Gravity Wyrmling.

It barely rolled out of the way in time.

Barely.

But even near misses came with consequences. A tail lashed out, leaving a deep gash across its flank.

Reed’s expression darkened.

His hand twitched, sending another command, but the Sinkmaw Tortoise was already reacting—its defensive field bloomed outward, coating around two thirds of the field in a gravitational zone controlled by itself, hoping that it would make the movements of the hybrids even more difficult.

It didn’t help.

The Demon-Manticore hybrid slammed into it like a meteor, claws raking, tail cracking, jaws snarling.

The battlefield became a display of destruction. Red and black energy spilled across the stone, breaking the carefully maintained arena into craters.

Reed had lost two contracts. The Wyrmling was wounded.

And he was struggling to even think of a counter measure with Isolde breathing down his neck and attacking him. The advantage of the match had flipped entirely.

Yet even in the face of overwhelming force, he didn’t retreat.

He narrowed his eyes in determination, determined to take down Isolde. As long as he beat her, he was confident that things could still be turned around—the classic ’capture the king’ strategy.

He moved straight at Isolde.

But she saw it coming, clearly he wasn’t skilled at avoiding detection once his gift was no longer working for him.

Unfortunately, the incubus was nearly finished, its domain cracking like glass. But her attention was sharp. She too was confident in taking Reed down.

Her body turned sideways just enough to let his palm pass by her neck. Her elbow met his jaw, her knee his ribs. He rolled with the blow, and they separated, both panting.

She didn’t press.

Not yet.

Instead, she whispered a final command.

And the Demon-Manticore hybrid threw the Sinkmaw Tortoise into the Gravity Wyrmling.

The aerial hybrid followed, talons extended.

In a flash of light and sound, both contracts were knocked out.

Silence fell.

Reed dropped to one knee.

He was the last one standing.

And he couldn’t fight anymore when surrounded by Isolde’s largely intact contracts.

The referee stepped forward.

“Victory goes to Isolde Blackheart.”

Cheers exploded from the First Celestial supporters. Cameras flashed. The roar of the crowd overtook the enthusiastic commentary.

The Incubus finally relaxed and withdrew its half-formed domain, ragged and half-collapsed, but smirking faintly.

She offered it a nod and also straightened up slightly with pride.

Despite being more tired, she felt confident about the next match. Up next should be the remaining second year, right?

And she was confident that she could beat him, despite her currently poor condition.

Although Cassian told her to be wary of the second-year duo, she had no idea what he was thinking…Sure, the girl put up more of a fight than expected, but what she showed still wasn’t enough for her to consider either of them a threat…

Meanwhile, the Dark Moon team was already waiting near the exit of the stage. Jade was the first to greet Reed, followed by Theo and Kain. Serena, was still sitting down, recovering from her own match. Although, after Kain gave her and her contracts some of Queen’s royal jelly, she was close to her original condition.

“You did well,” Theo said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “She had to burn all her trump cards to stop you.”

Reed didn’t respond right away. His lips pressed thin. “Didn’t even take out one of her contracts,” he muttered.

“You tired out all of them and made them use most of their killer moves,” Jade said. “We’ll know what to expect now.”

Kain nodded.

Reed exhaled, then gave a small nod. He didn’t smile. But he wasn’t ashamed either. Just tired. And maybe a little disappointed.

“Newman!”

The sharp bark came from the staff bench. Professor Mires stood with arms crossed.

“You’re up.”