Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

“We demand immediate vengeance!” bellowed Patriarch Strahlfang, his tiger markings pulsing with purple enhanced fury. “My eldest son has been murdered by that damned old usurper’s lackeys!”

The patriarch’s transformation was incomplete but visible, emotional stress triggering partial manifestation. His fingernails had sharpened into claws that scraped against the stone table, leaving deep gouges in the marble surface.

“And I deeply regret that,” Kharzan responded with forced patience, though his own beasts stirred restlessly beneath his skin. “But you insisted on sending him, and perhaps it was an accident. Understand that we must consider the timing. That same old Ashenway woman you’re complaining about is already mobilizing forces at the border… this is exactly what she wants!”

“And what does that matter? All of Yino are our allies!”

“Temporary and indirect allies still,” Kharzan corrected, his voice carrying the strain of someone explaining the same concept repeatedly. “With their own interests. If they interpret our actions as the beginning of hostilities without consulting them…”

“But they want us to attack too! In the first place, that old woman shouldn’t be governing from the shadows…” Strahlfang’s voice rose with each word, corruption-enhanced emotions making his arguments seem more compelling than they actually were. “She takes advantage of the King’s absence… We need to stop her! Even if we lose some stability at first, the people of the new Yano will understand when they receive this power!”

Kharzan paused, considering the implications of what he was hearing.

The rhetoric, originally crafted by himself and fed to his allies, sounded convincing when delivered with the emotional amplification that abyssal corruption provided. But beneath the passionate words lay the same fundamental problem that had plagued their cause from the beginning.

‘Yet this idiot doesn’t understand anything… we need at least 45% support and for Yino to initiate hostilities to have a firm platform in the post-war period.’

A war now, initiated from their side, with only 25% assured popular support, would be their future’s suicide…

Political suicide, military suicide, economic suicide.

But completely ignoring the death of Strahlfang’s son could fracture his coalition, another desperate situation with no clear resolution.

The political mathematics were unforgiving. Without popular support, victory would be pyrrhic at best, devastating at worst. But without the support of big allies like the Strahlfang clan, there would be no war to fight in the first place.

“We need a more subtle approach,” he finally murmured, his voice heavy with the weight of impossible choices. “Something that satisfies your family’s honor but without provoking complete escalation…”

He turned to his assistants, decision crystallizing despite its risks. “Call for Yino’s messengers.”

The order carried implications that everyone in the room understood. They were about to step into territory where miscalculation could cost them everything.

♢♢♢♢

On Selphira’s side…

“How many troops have they mobilized?” Julius asked when he met with Selphira, Sirius and Victor in private.

The war room was deliberately austere, designed to focus minds on strategy rather than comfort. Maps covered every wall, marked with colored pins that tracked troop movements, supply lines, and political allegiances across the divided territory.

“Enough to be noticed, not enough to be considered an immediate threat,” Selphira responded, her fingers tracing patterns on the largest map. “But the question is: are they responding to our movements, or are they preparing something independent?”

Victor frowned. “If they’re planning something big, we should consider attacking first and recovering…”

“No.” Selphira’s voice cut through the suggestion. “That is exactly the mistake Kharzan expects us to make. He wants us to initiate hostilities because he knows we don’t yet have sufficient support to win. The perfect situation for Yino to benefit from our mutual destruction.”

“Then what’s the plan?”

“We increase pressure near the rift but don’t cross the line. Each month that passes, more families benefit from Ren’s cultivation methods. Each month the war is delayed, our popular support grows.”

Julius nodded slowly, understanding beginning to dawn in his expression. “Show a thicker defense on the side that Yino can easily observe…”

“Exactly… Also take more of their troops far from the boy… But that doesn’t mean we’ll attack, though we also won’t allow them to intimidate us or innocent families at the border without consequences.”

The strategy was elegant in its restraint: appear strong enough to deter aggression, but not so aggressive as to justify preemptive strikes. Walk the razor’s edge between weakness and provocation.

♢♢♢♢

Back at Chen’s house…

Wei paced nervously through the storehouse, consulting his timepiece every few minutes. The waiting was agony, not knowing if their message had gotten through, not knowing if help was coming.

Yang watched him from his position near the entrance, his stone expression revealing little of his thoughts.

“Troops are moving on both sides,” Yang reported, his earth-enhanced senses picking up distant vibrations. “I can feel the tremors faintly through the ground. Many people and a lot of equipment.”

“Is that good or bad?” Reed asked, adjusting the new backpack on his shoulders and the new clothes that Ren had brought him.

“Complicated,” Wei responded. “It means our message very likely got through and Selphira is responding. But it also means the Goldcrests are going to be more agitated.”

Fern, who had been silently consoling Chen’s children when they couldn’t find Ren to play with, approached the group.

“What does that mean for us? What do we do to help Ren then?”

Wei exchanged a meaningful look with Yang before stepping out of the pit to look toward the window where distant movement of troops could be seen in beast lights and far-off lanterns.

“It means we’ll have a very narrow window,” Wei explained, his mind calculating possibilities and probabilities. “We act as far away as possible from the first conflict while both sides are positioning themselves and sending provocations.”

Old Chen coughed, drawing their attention. “I’ve spoken with the neighbors. Many want to move, but they’re scared. The troops, the rumors of war…”

“Tell them it’s precisely because of that that we need to move now,” Wei turned toward the door, decision crystallizing in his mind. “Besides, neither side is ready for war, or it would have already erupted… So while both sides are being careful not to provoke escalation, that’s when they have the least attention for small groups of refugees.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then Yang and I create our own distraction. As academy professors, we have certain… recognition. The Goldcrests shouldn’t be able to simply make us disappear without political consequences.”

“Although,” Yang added dryly, his voice carrying the dark humor of someone who had faced death before, “those consequences might come after we’re dead.”

“Always so optimistic,” Wei sighed, but there was affection in his exasperation. “But you’re right. It’s a risk.”

Old Chen cleared his throat again. “I’ve also been doing what you said. Counting the neighbors who want to cross…”

“And?”

“There are more than I expected.” Chen smiled bitterly, the expression of someone who had lived too long under oppression to be surprised by its effects. “Turns out when you live under someone’s boot, the first real opportunity to escape becomes very attractive.”

The underground network of discontent had been growing for months, fed by economic hardship and political repression. Chen’s modest home had become an unofficial coordination point for the neighbors.

Wei nodded, his mind already recalculating logistics. “How many?”

“Twenty families, practically all of them, the few from our empty but big surrounding area.” Chen paused, letting the number sink in. “Including twenty-eight children.”

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