This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

Elias adjusted the sleeve of his long black hoodie, eyes darting around the plaza like a hungry vulture surveying prey.

The black garment hung loose, oversized and heavy with mysterious stains. The clothing pulled over his head to shade his face, along with his sickly pale skin, and dark circles around his shifty eyes made anyone looking at him only think of one thing…suspicious.

“Ladies, gentlemen, poor first-years who haven’t yet learned to fear the what it means to have a deficit in school credits,” he called, voice nasally and somehow both flat and persuasive, “the Re-Ranking Tournament is upon us. And what better way to celebrate this grand event than with a harmless, entirely school-sanctioned—cough—betting station.”

The little stand he’d set up near the edge of the Main Plaza was…not exactly authorized. Nor subtle. It was a folding table covered with a suspiciously sparkly purple cloth, a wooden sign that read “Eli-bets” in wobbly lettering, and a chalkboard labeled “Odds: Updated Hourly. Maybe. No promises on the accuracy of said odds is guaranteed.”

Kain wasn’t here yet, but his name already sat scrawled at the top of the low-risk/high-reward list.

Elias grinned like a man who’d tasted victory and immediately demanded seconds.

“Two-to-one odds on Kairos staying in the top five. Five-to-one odds Serena wears white. Double the reward if both Serena and Ranya wear white…”

Like a skilled salesperson Elias called out all the various betting categories. The covered a broad range of categories and many had little to do with the matches themselves. There were bets on how many student will trip going up on stage, if a certain well known candidate will wear a certain colour, if certain couples will last to face one another, the number of couples that will break up after the re-ranking, and more…

“…And most excitingly of all, place your bet on who you think will be the final victor between the current top 2: Kain and Serena.”

A student walked past, pausing. “Kain? Losing? Didn’t two of his contracts advance to blue-grade? Isn’t Serena still a 5-star beast-tamer?”

Elias leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiring whisper. “Ah, but see, I happen to be close friends with the guy. Which means I know something the rest of you don’t…”

The student’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Look at him lately. Doesn’t sleep. Stressed out. He’s hinted that he’s going through a horrible breakup. Heart completely shattered! One bad matchup and boom, he crumbles. He may not even make it to the finals. Trust me, I wouldn’t lie to you unless I was getting paid for it.”

‘Which I am…’

That seemed to be enough. Coins were exchanged.

Elias pocketed them like a man accepting a sacred trust.

Then someone else approached—but this time, wearing the official robes of a faculty member.

Elias quickly dropped into a seated position and slapped a copy of the school handbook open on the table. ‘Ah yes, nothing suspicious here, just reading up on ethical standards in scholarly competition!’

He was only short of whistling a tune loudly to complete his show of feigned innocence.

It was Assistant Professor Thale, one of the lower-ranked instructors from the pharmacological studies department, not the beast-taming department. But that wasn’t a surprise, students and faculty from other departments regularly came to watch the re-ranking ceremony. And although not exceptionally strong combatants, many of them were beast-tamers themselves, as well. Thales stopped in front of him. A wiry man with a perpetually hunched posture and stern expression.

Elias tensed in preparation of a verbal tongue lashing…

Thales leaned forward. “1000 credits on Serena reaching first. 600 credits if she beats Soren specifically. And 500 on one other category…”

Elias relaxed and let out a sigh of relief.

He raised an eyebrow. “A bold choice, Prof. What’s your last bet?”

Thale looked around quickly, then whispered, “I don’t really care. You can choose… Maybe if the third-year couple, Ana and Han break up over the reranking? Just don’t write my name.”

Elias handed him a blank token. “Of course not. You’ll be known only as ‘Mysterious Chemical Enthusiast A.'”

Thale grunted in approval and scuttled off.

Elias leaned back, grinning.

Just another day as a thriving businessman.

Time passed and it got closer to the beginning of the competition.

A low constant buzz filled the plaza as more and more people—competitors, staff, and members of the audience— arrived and began to speak with one another.

More professors also appeared—this time, including a pair of assistant lecturers, their faces conspicuously covered by oversized hats, masks, or sunglasses. They casually drifted toward the betting booth while pretending to examine a nearby vending machine.

Elias didn’t blink. He just reached beneath his table and pulled out the Staff Ledger.

“Code name?”

“…I-Heart-Plants…,” one muttered from the Agricultural Department.

“…Acid-Trip…” said another in the Alchemy and Elixir Department

“Gimme-Money…” said the last one from the Physical Combat Department in a tiny voice while nervously readjusting his half-mask to make sure that not too much of his face was revealed.

Elias nodded solemnly. “Welcome, brothers in budgetary suffering.”

Surprisingly, despite being in completely different positions. Both the students and the lower-ranking Assistant Professors were in similar positions. Both needed school credits to exchange for rare materials for their spiritual creatures…and both felt like they never had enough.

Each professor completed the transfer of credits to the account Elias had designated and scribbled on the betting sheets what bets they wished to place. One of them dropped a note: ‘If Dean Halbrecht of the Agricultural Department asks, I was in the greenhouse.’

Elias didn’t even read it before tucking it into his sleeve.

A few moments later, Bridge arrived, dragging along two more reluctant-looking students.

“Hey Elias,” Bridge said brightly, “these two said they were thinking of betting against Kain and I told them that was a fantastic idea.”

Elias practically beamed. “That’s a wonderful idea, Bridge! How kind of you!”

He welcomed the newcomers with theatrical flair.

“Here at Eli-bets, we pride ourselves on discretion, fast payouts, and mathematically dubious odds calculations.”

As the plaza continued to fill with students and faculty, the buzz of excitement for the re-ranking grew louder.

A student ran past holding an official bracket schedule. Elias snagged it as they passed and unfurled it across the table.

Match-ups hadn’t been finalized yet, but the rumor mill was in full swing.

“Oh, this is interesting…,” Elias murmured.

As the sun reached its peak, the energy in the air turned electric.

And as Elias leaned back in his chair, hands full of various paper slips, each one representing a bet and great wealth.

With a smug little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, he murmured:

“Let the gambling—ahem, scholarly speculation—begin.”

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