This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

Cressida’s formation was breaking apart.

The Mnemonic Lure pulsed again, trying to stabilize the conjuration field it anchored across the battlefield. But one of its main tendrils—previously severed by Prismarin’s counterattack—interrupted the feedback loop. The pulse arced back into its own core, causing the entire creature to shudder mid-air.

It twitched once.

Then again.

A ripple of distorted mental energy washed out and immediately collapsed, creating a psychic backlash within its own field. The conjuration destabilized visibly.

To anyone watching, the Mnemonic Lure looked like it was spasming.

The Dreamgazer Cat tried to intervene. Its three tail-eyes flared brightly, casting a dreamlike haze across the field. The mist spiraled toward Serena, curling around her like threads of silk.

But she didn’t move.

She didn’t call on Balens either.

The mist reached her.

And dissolved.

Cressida’s brows twitched.

Serena exhaled, eyes narrowing slightly. She could feel the shift—how the synchrony between Cressida’s contracts had degraded. The Mnemonic Lure’s field had powered not just illusions, but the sigil network laid by the Brandshade Fox. That network enabled teleportation, control bindings, and empowerment for all of Cressida’s contracts.

Now?

It was unraveling.

Sigils fizzled mid-draw. The Reflection Wraith’s attempts to mimic her thoughts slowed—stuttering with incomplete patterns. The Fox’s claws scraped the ground uselessly, unable to generate more anchor points with the weakened field.

Even the Dreamgazer Cat, whose effect had felt overwhelming minutes ago, lowered its head slightly, tail-eyes flicking less frequently. Its fog thinned, no longer able to suppress Serena’s mind without the Lure’s ambient reinforcement.

Serena raised her hand.

“End it.”

Everything moved at once.

The Elemental Guardian surged forward, fire trailing its limbs as it launched a pressurized burst of flame across the center of the field. The wave caught the Reflection Wraith directly—its mirrored form fracturing under the heat. It vanished mid-step, phased out by the impact.

Above, Starweaver dived. Its wings lit with constellation light as it crashed through the remnants of the sigil web and slammed directly into the Brandshade Fox. Energy flared. The Fox skidded across the field and didn’t rise.

Simultaneously, Prismarin’s illusions collapsed in on the Mnemonic Lure in a tight funnel of beamfire. The construct convulsed once—and then burst like glass into dozens of flickering shards.

Balens tilted once—twice—rotating its plates in tandem. A shimmering pulse spread out from the scale and locked probability in place.

There would be no last-minute turnarounds.

The outcome had already been written.

Cressida’s contracts fell still.

Silence reigned.

The instructor raised one hand. “Match complete. Winner: Serena Storm.”

At first, only polite applause followed. Measured, cautious. But then the silence cracked—and genuine cheering burst forth.

Serena didn’t flinch.

She dismissed her contracts one by one, the mist around her fading.

When she stepped off the field, her expression hadn’t changed.

But Kain could tell—just by the angle of her shoulders—that she was satisfied.

She made her way toward him.

He stood before she could reach him.

They didn’t speak at first.

She raised an eyebrow.

He offered an exaggerated round of applause, clapping slowly and dramatically. “Decent job. I wasn’t expecting you to allow her to take so much of the initiative at the beginning, though.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “I wanted to see the setup. Let her think she had the upper-hand.”

Kain’s lips curved. “Worked.”

Across the field, the audience buzzed. Conversations hummed with urgency now. Professors leaned in toward each other, sharing quiet commentary. Even students who had previously dismissed the match were now openly discussing Serena’s performance.

The show of force hadn’t just been a victory—it had been a message.

Third-years watching now realized they couldn’t treat Serena like a junior. Fourth-years… might have to start watching their backs.

On the viewing bench, Rhiannon finally leaned forward, her arms uncrossing for the first time since the match began.

“She’s good,” she muttered under her breath.

Jin gave a long whistle. “Didn’t expect Cressida to go down without landing a single major effect.”

Alexei looked irritated. “She didn’t go all out. Probably didn’t think a second-year was worth taking seriously until it was too late.”

Theo, still watching the now-empty field, murmured, “If Serena hadn’t enforced command verification through spiritual pulses, that Wraith could’ve broken her formation at the start.”

Cressida stood at the edge of the arena, arms folded loosely at her side. Her contracts shimmered faintly behind her as they were recalled, leaving only residual spark trails of their dismissed presence.

She didn’t frown. Didn’t smile.

Just watched Serena walk away.

Her parasol was gone, but her posture was perfect.

Then, with a quiet breath, she turned and stepped off the field.

The instructor’s voice rose again. “Next challenger?”

Silence.

But this time, it wasn’t indecision.

It was tension.

Everyone had seen Serena raise the bar—and now they were waiting to see who would try to reach it.

Kain exhaled once and stepped forward.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t look back.

He could feel eyes on him from every direction now—more intense than before. The crowd had looked at Serena like a curiosity when she first stepped forward. But now? They were watching him like a threat.

He raised his hand.

“I would like to issue a challenge.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The instructor nodded. “Opponent?”

Kain had already decided.

He’d thought through every name, every risk, every psychological advantage.

Unlike Serena, who had targeted Cressida—a lower-ranked third-year—he wanted someone closer to the top. Someone with blue-grade contracts. Someone who was dangerous.

Rhiannon had the blue-grade Vermillion Bird, yes. But her emotional state was… unstable.

Oliver? Hard to read. Versatile. But not the best matchup for Kain’s contracts.

That left Dmitri.

Blood-attribute. Quiet. Dangerous. Three blue-grade contracts.

And hovering on the edge of a 6-star breakthrough any day now.

Kain’s reasoning was simple: take him down now, leave a mental scar due to the loss, stall his advancement just long enough to secure his own spot.

“Dmitri,” Kain said aloud.

The name echoed across the arena.

Dmitri, seated calmly among the fourth-years, blinked in surprise at being chosen.

Then he stood, silently.

For the first time, his red eyes turned directly to Kain.

The fourth-years around him shifted uneasily.

Operation Overthrow had truly begun.

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