This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

Chapter 798: Chapter 798: The ‘Reward’

Back fifteen minutes ago…

Kain sat across from Professor Mires, who was practically glowing with excitement. The man had been in charge of overseeing Dark Moon’s participation in the National Tournament, and now that it was over, he seemed more eager than even Kain to hand out the rewards. After all, he’d already enjoyed the benefits of the College’s rewards himself, and if Kain — whom he expected to be the main fighting force next year — became even stronger, then as the overseeing professor he could look forward to being showered with extravagant rewards as well.

“You’ve done more than anyone expected this year, Kain,” Mires began, his voice brimming with praise. “You didn’t just help secure first place for the second years — you were also a key player in the Phase Two first place finish despite your young age. Every member pulled their weight, but you and Serena carried much of the early and mid-stage pressure and played decisive roles against tougher opponents.”

Kain’s face was polite, even modest, as he bowed his head slightly. But inwardly, he was smirking. ‘Go on, tell me more. Couldn’t have done it without me, right?’

Mires leaned forward. “To thank you, the College has prepared the highest standard of gift for you. Last year, you were given access to one of our private vaults. You won three exchange opportunities then.”

Kain’s mind flashed back to the vault last year where he first obtained the spiritual skill Threads of Destiny, which has proven to be so crucial and life-saving at times. The vault was lined with rare treasures, his fingers brushing artifacts so rare they might not exist anywhere else in the Empire. ‘Finally I will get to see you again, my beautiful vault of treasures…’

“But,” Mires continued, voice rising with drama, “that pales in comparison to what you earned this year.”

Kain’s heartbeat picked up. ‘Yes! Finally! A real reward for bringing this College to first place. Keep talking.’

“This year,” Mires said, smiling wide, “you are being granted access to a place reserved for only the most exceptional contributors in Dark Moon’s history.”

YES! Kain was practically doing cartwheels in his head, imagining mythical relics, world-shaking tomes with lost spiritual skills, ancient overpowered weapons from the founders’ time.

———————–

Fifteen minutes later…

“What the heck is this?!” Kain’s voice echoed through the chamber.

Gone was his imagined treasure hall. Instead, he stood in what looked like a dusty attic. The shelves sagged with broken weapons, cracked crystals, faded scrolls, and what could only be described as junk. The lighting was dim, the air musty. It didn’t feel like a vault of honour — more like a storage dump for failures.

His jaw dropped. ‘This is my great reward?! Did I get scammed?!’

Professor Mires, however, was utterly unbothered by Kain’s outrage. “This, Kain, is the Broken Gallery.”

Kain blinked and then muttered. “Broken is right.”

Mires chuckled at his sarcasm, then explained. “Everything in this chamber is here for a reason. These are relics, remnants, and fragments considered too dangerous, unstable, or powerful to be kept in tact the main vaults. At first glance, they appear useless — even garbage. But in truth, some of Dark Moon’s greatest treasures in history were salvaged from restoring these so-called failures.”

Kain raised an eyebrow. “So my reward for helping this College achieve victory is…dumpster diving?”

“Think of it as a test,” Mires said smoothly. “The Broken Gallery is only opened to students and staff who’ve proven themselves exceptional. Some of the most powerful objects one can obtain at the College are right here, too powerful to be left in a complete state, it’s up to you if you can recognize it. Do you see value where others see failure? Do you have the discernment to find opportunity in brokenness?”

Kain stared at him flatly. ‘So this is a scam with extra steps.’

Still, curiosity won out over irritation. He stepped further into the chamber.

He passed shelf after shelf of so-called relics:

>A dragon horn, cracked down the middle, humming faintly like it remembered its glory days.

>A mirror, half-shattered, its fragments flickering with distorted illusions that made his stomach churn.

>A pile of charred parchment with inscriptions half-burned away, leaving cryptic nonsense.

Kain pinched the bridge of his nose. Wonderful. A museum of trash.

But then he felt it — faint, subtle, but undeniable. A tug.

His eyes shifted to the side, landing on a dried-up root shoved carelessly among splintered wood. It was brown, brittle-looking, so unremarkable that most people wouldn’t even give it a second glance. But when he stepped closer, something stirred inside him. A faint resonance thrummed from the root, like a heartbeat echoing in sync with his own.

His breath caught. It wasn’t the hum of a failed relic. No, it felt eerily similar to something else — the quiet pulse of the World Tree he had planted and was now an integral part of Pangea.

Kain’s disdain melted into suspicion. No way. This isn’t just a dead root.

Mires, watching him closely, smiled faintly. “Every student who ever entered the Broken Gallery either left empty-handed or found something that shaped their destiny. Choose carefully, Kain. Useless scraps will remain useless, but one spark of potential can alter your future.”

Kain glanced around at the junk again, then back to the root. The pull toward it only grew stronger the longer he stared. With a reluctant sigh, he picked it up, holding it in his palm. The brittle wood felt warm, alive in a way it shouldn’t.

He didn’t fully understand it, but his instincts screamed this root wasn’t ordinary. And if there was one thing he trusted, it was his instincts.

——————–

As they exited the chamber, Kain turned to Mires, ready to protest about the insulting nature of the so-called reward. Last year, he got 3 precious items. This year, with higher contribution, he only gets to pick one item from a pile of junk? Does that make sense?!

But before he could speak, Mires cut in. “Oh, and of course, you will still have your standard access to the College’s private vaults. Just like last year, you may exchange for three treasures of your choice. This”—he gestured to the root in Kain’s hand—”was simply an additional privilege. Something earned only by those who truly stood above the rest.”

Kain stopped mid-step, then exhaled in relief. “You couldn’t have said that earlier?!”

Mires chuckled. “Would you have taken the Gallery seriously if I had?”

Kain scowled, but the tension drained from his shoulders. At least he wasn’t walking away with only a suspicious root and a bruised ego.

Still, as he tucked the root carefully into his storage ring, he couldn’t shake the sense that he had stumbled onto something more important than even the treasures waiting in the private vaults. The resonance was faint, but insistent, like a heartbeat calling him toward something deeper.

He muttered under his breath as they walked. “This better not just be a piece of firewood…”