This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

Chapter 829: Chapter 829: An Unfortunate Misunderstanding

While Kain returned to the rhythm of school life, his other affairs continued to move in the background. Collin, ever the efficient business manager, expanded his bank account through clever investments and relentless negotiations with those related to Kain’s many businesses.

And Darius, the steady anchor of his team, set to work on a different kind of task—recruitment.

It sounded simple enough when Kain had handed down the order: expand the organization, bring in new blood, build a foundation that could last. But the instructions came with shackles. Darius couldn’t reveal the truth—that Kain could awaken people as beast-tamers regardless of their lack of affinity. That secret had to stay buried, at least until the recruits proved trustworthy, or rumours would spread like wildfire. Instead, Darius had to find a way to make strangers pledge loyalty and complete missions on vague promises alone.

‘Tricky, tricky…’ Darius thought as he strode across the well manicured grounds outside the manor. Vague talk of ‘power’ wasn’t enough; only fools fell for that. And if someone was so easily baited, perhaps they weren’t worth trusting anyway. No, he needed to find the desperate—the ones with nothing left to lose, who would grasp at any chance even if it came wrapped in shadows, but also didn’t seem dumb enough to fall for just any vague promises…

As he mulled over strategies, movement at the edge of the courtyard caught his eye. A young man knelt near a row of cages, carefully collecting bags of pungent waste brought by the elemental fairies. Darius recognized him immediately: Ferrin. The man recruited by Kain to care for the River Wolf pups, the one responsible for helping produce the strange “FMT” pills Darius had only heard rumours about, but wasn’t quite sure what went into making them. They had never spoken directly, but Darius knew Ferrin’s story. He was the first stranger Kain had recruited, awakened through the same ritual that bound the rest of them.

Darius paused, watching the way Ferrin worked with quiet diligence, unbothered by the stink, focused on his task. ‘How did Kain convince him?’ Darius wondered. Back then, Ferrin hadn’t known the ritual was safe. He hadn’t known what awaited him. He hadn’t even known it would lead to becoming a beast-tamer. And yet he had agreed. What words had been enough? What spark of desperation had Kain seen?

Ferrin’s hands moved with a steady rhythm, scooping waste with a kind of reverence, as if the mere task of picking up poop held meaning beyond its surface. Darius narrowed his eyes, studying the man’s focus. Had Kain offered him purpose? A chance to escape some unseen cage? Perhaps Ferrin had been adrift, his life a series of dead ends, until Kain dangled a path forward. Ferrin’s loyalty suggested Kain had mastered the art of recruitment, but Darius felt the weight of his own inexperience.

He stepped toward Ferrin, intent on asking.

——————–

Elsewhere in Dark Moon City, another life was quietly unravelling.

The dojo on the outskirts of the city smelled of sweat and old wood. Banners hung on the walls, faded from years of sun.

At one time, the man, who just had his 31st birthday, who stood inside the dojo had found comfort here. He had been an athlete, a martial artist trained since childhood in a combat style older than the Celestial Empire itself. A style born in the days when awakening odds were a meager 0.1 percent, and there was no awakening ceremony to increase the success rate, and so humans used fists and discipline to fight where contracts could not.

His father owned the dojo, and for years he had been its pride. He had competed across the Eastern Province, his barehanded strength winning matches in locally televised tournaments. Like many, he had dreamed of becoming a beast-tamer, drawn to the immense strength their contracts granted, but when he used up all three awakening opportunities years ago without success, he hadn’t been too upset. His raw power still made him a big fish in a small pond, stronger than nearly all ordinary people. His future had seemed bright, even without the gift of a beast taming affinity.

But the world had left his art behind. Who needed fists when contracts could crush them? Still, he persisted, throwing himself into every competition, every routine. Strength was strength, and he had plenty of it.

Until the diagnosis.

Muscle atrophy disorder. Words that hollowed him from the inside out.

It had started small—a missed grip, a stumble during practice. But within mere months, the change was undeniable. His once powerful frame had withered, muscle melting away until even children looked sturdier. And then came the humiliation.

He had been walking home from the market when it happened. A little girl, no older than ten, darted past him on her way to school. She brushed his side, barely a touch, and he crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut. Groceries scattered. Dirt clung to his knees. The girl didn’t even look back.

He stayed there on the ground, staring at his trembling hands. Once, those hands had broken concrete blocks and flipped over spiritual creatures twice his size. Now they couldn’t even steady him against a child’s bump. The most promising martial artist in the Eastern Province—toppled by a ten-year-old girl.

His heart splintered.

Footsteps approached. Slow, measured, deliberate. A shadow fell across him.

“You’ve fallen far,” said a deep voice. The man’s face was hidden, the sun at his back casting him in silhouette. His tone was low, almost intimate, carrying an edge of suggestion. “But what if I could bring you the pleasure of life again? I have something that can fulfill you, the deep and throbbing emptiness inside of you, stirring your soul and body in ways that’ll leave you breathless and wanting more.”

The broken man blinked up at him, the words half-lost in the rush of blood to his ears. His expression twisted, defensive. “Uh—sorry, but I don’t swing that way,” he blurted, scrambling backward with his palms. His voice cracked. “You’ve… you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Darius blinked in confusion. Just what about his words had led to this misunderstanding?