This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

For the first few seconds after Aegis’ shield shattered, Kain didn’t react.

He didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.

His mind was already spiralling through possibilities, calculations, and outcomes—most of them bad.

Aegis wasn’t supposed to be affected by Dmitri’s blood attribute. That had been the entire premise for why he summoned him and Bea (and Chewy). But not Vauleth or the Vespids. He had no blood. No veins. He was a stone construct whose true core was microscopic and embedded so deep within the shell that most scanners couldn’t even detect it. He was supposed to be immune.

So why…

Kain had thought about it too simply. He should have known that an elemental affinity that can support an old noble house and be considered powerful even when placed amongst noble houses with dragon, phoenix, and mental affinities, it can’t be so easily combated.

Likely, ‘blood’ when it came to spiritual creatures had a more expanded definition in this world than his original world. Perhaps blood just refers to any substance within a living thing with which it can’t survive? Or perhaps it refers to anything that circulates and flows through the body?

In which case, perhaps Aegis does have something that can be impacted by blood attribute skills, even if not to the extent that Vauleth or Queen would be. Undeniably, the circuits running through Aegis resembled a network of veins, and the energy they carried could be considered his ‘blood’. And his ‘heart’ (the fake core in his chest) was now damaged by the venom strengthened by Dmitri’s gift.

Speaking of…

Kain’s numerous theories came to a halt as he saw the growing thin stream of black mist, curling up from the cracked plate over Aegis’ torso.

Kain looked up and around the stadium hoping nobody noticed. And nobody did, except for Dmitri. Dmitri was still standing calmly at the far end of the field. His expression was unreadable—but Kain knew he was watching. Measuring. Trying to figure out what he was seeing.

He couldn’t. No one could. And that was the problem.

Kain swallowed, eyes flicking to the leaking Abyssal mist. If anyone else caught sight of that and even suspected what it truly was…

The implications were horrifying. Not just for Aegis. But for Kain.

The Academy would question why his contract was storing Abyssal energy and how it was able to do so.

In these times, when Abyssal attacks were on the rise and paranoia festered like rot, it wouldn’t matter that Aegis had done nothing wrong.

Not to mention, a creature with Abyssal energy not becoming corrupted should be impossible.

Any Abyss-touched contract, even if seemingly stable, was the kind of thing that got locked away or dissected for “security evaluations.” And for good reason. Most spiritual creatures with even a small speck of the black energy staining their skin would eventually turn without the assistance of an extremely powerful, perhaps even Demigod level, spiritual creature with the appropriate skills.

Abyssal energy was like a cancerous cell, where if even one managed to survive in the body, it would eventually spread and take over.

And what if it contaminated Dmitri’s creatures?

Kain paled. He’d never tested what happened if Abyssal energy leaked onto a non-affiliated contract or a non-enemy. What if it caused some kind of mutation? Or worse, made it look like he’d used the vile forbidden energy to sabotage another student?

He needed to contain it. Immediately.

“Bea,” he thought. “I need help—fast.”

But Bea had already moved while Kain was panicking. Her intelligence was increasing rapidly with each battle, and so she’d already processed what was happening, the consequences, and the countermeasures before Kain was even half-way there.

She couldn’t fully take control of the Bloodvine Basilisk yet, but the cracks were widening. It was stumbling. Reactive. Vulnerable to suggestion. So instead of trying to dominate it entirely, she nudged.

Just enough.

The serpent spasmed, jerking its head toward the sky. Its next vine-launch attack misfired—not at Aegis, but at the Crimson Vein Bat overhead.

The bat screeched, flapping backward with a disoriented flutter. The impact wasn’t severe, but it was enough to trigger a familiar stress response.

A red mist exploded from its body in a burst of stress-induced defence.

Thick. Murky. Choking.

The battlefield vanished beneath a haze of clotted fog.

From the stands, students and staff surged forward, straining to see through the sudden visual obstruction.

Kain exhaled—finally.

Perfect.

“Chewy, stop absorbing,” he ordered silently, even as the little spore twitched in disappointment beneath his sleeve. “Don’t eat the mist. I need it. I need it to cover Aegis.”

Chewy retreated into stillness, sulking.

Meanwhile, Kain reached out to Aegis through their bond. “Can you stabilize it? The leak?”

A pause. Then a mental reply—slow, halting.

“I… can seal it. But not while fighting. I need time.”

Kain nodded. “Then try to take down or injure the bat before the mist clears up. Then I’ll recall you and you can try to heal in the star space.”

The bat was fast. Its reflexes are enhanced by Dmitri’s blood augmentation, making it nearly impossible for Aegis to catch it.

But it was also vulnerable.

Bea struck again.

A Mind Chorus hit the bat like a hammer. Phantom voices screamed through its mind—discordant and overwhelming. Its flight path twisted, wings folding awkwardly.

The bat flinched as she reached for its mind, already softened from confusion at being hit by an ally. With a second Mind Chorus layered on top of the first one a few seconds later, its coordination collapsed fully. Wingbeats turned uneven. Echo-sense jammed. It banked left and spiralled out of control… and straight in Aegis’ direction.

Kain smiled grimly, but didn’t bask in the joy of taking the bat down for long, the mist was already starting to thin.

“Now,” he whispered. “Return.”

Aegis vanished in a flare of light, retreating to Kain’s star space.

By the time the mist fully cleared, the battlefield looked vastly different.

On Dmitri’s side, only the Basilisk remained. It was twitching. Struggling. Moving strangely.

On Kain’s?

No visible contracts at all.

To the audience, it looked like both tamers had one creature left—Bea, invisible but suspected, and the Basilisk, still on its feet.

“Two down.” Kain muttered, “Basilisk next.”

The serpent was in no condition to resist anymore. It was disoriented, splitting its focus between resisting Bea and navigating through the red mist it hadn’t expected to be trapped inside. Bea’s splits dug deeper with every passing second. Not enough for control—until now.

Because in the space between resistance and collapse, something shifted.

A pulse.

A click.

A metaphysical ‘throne’, long-empty, was occupied once more.

The Empty Throne Effect activated.

Bea’s true consciousness surged forward, no longer dripping corrupted thought particles into the Basilisk’s mind, but stepping fully inside.

The serpent’s aura collapsed. Then rose again—restructured, wrong. Familiar.

Bea had taken control.

Kain exhaled.

He tilted his head, just slightly, looking through the mostly clear field with only a slight mist remaining (causing the field to have a reddish filter) in Dmitri’s direction.

“You’ve got none left,” he called.

Silence.

Then Dmitri raised a hand.

And recalled the controlled snake.

There was no outrage. No denial. No plea for a rematch.

Just quiet understanding.

He bowed his head slightly. Not low enough to imply submission—but deep enough to mark respect.

The instructor stepped forward, voice cutting through the fading mist.

“Match complete. Winner: Kain Newman.”

The stands didn’t explode into cheers.

Not like before.

Instead, there was a long stretch of silence.

One underclassman winning could be considered a fluke, something to tease the loser about. But another one, and one of the strongest in the 5-star category, was a challenge to their authority as seniors.

There was no applause. Only tension. Not that Kain minded.

Kain turned away from the field. His sleeves were damp with sweat, his breath short.

But his lips curled upward.

Just slightly.

It hadn’t been clean.

It hadn’t been easy.

But he’d won.

And more importantly—no one noticed the Abyssal energy.

Yet.

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