Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

“I suppose that’s why this zone is safe for students,” Ren added. “The iron ring has nothing to attract more powerful beasts.”

The impacts continued overhead, growing more erratic with each passing moment. The Shadow Stalkers, creatures that normally dominated the night in this zone with absolute authority, were acting as if something had fundamentally altered the natural order of the first ring.

Their behavior spoke of primal fear, an emotion these predators rarely experienced.

The assistant seemed eager to protest that they were taking a student seriously, but another pattern of impacts interrupted him, this one more urgent than the last. The rhythmic pounding against the tent’s protective fabric carried an unmistakable message of panic.

The impacts persisted above the tent, the Shadow Stalkers’ erratic behavior becoming increasingly evident. Each new pattern of strikes revealed more about their unnatural state of agitation.

“This is… too artificial,” Ren frowned. “As if something had altered the natural cave structure. Or perhaps…”

“Perhaps?” Zhao pressed, his owl’s eyes focusing intently on Ren.

“Perhaps it isn’t natural at all,” Ren looked at the professor meaningfully. “What if someone is deliberately controlling the stalkers?”

The assistant snorted with derision, but Zhao’s expression had turned serious.

“Someone?” the assistant insisted. “A cave could have collapsed… What kind of nonsense…?”

“Silence,” Zhao ordered, his expression grave while studying Ren with newfound intensity.

“Continue.”

“Geological changes aren’t unusual for them, this isn’t a volcanic zone,” Ren explained, knowledge flowing naturally through his mushrooms. “The beasts would behave differently. And a large collapse would have caused vibrations we would have felt.”

The impacts on the tent increased in frequency and force. Ren could picture the Shadow Stalkers, creatures that normally dominated the night without rival, fleeing in blind panic from something that terrified even them.

Zhao grasped something, his expression growing more serious with each passing second. “Someone is deliberately driving the Stalkers toward this area.”

“But why?” Ren frowned, mind racing through possibilities. “Unless…”

He stopped, an idea forming.

The Shadow Stalkers were the reason why no one could move freely at night in this zone of the iron ring. If someone wanted to ensure that no one could escape…

“Professor,” the assistant finally seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation. “Should we evacuate the camp?”

“No,” Zhao shook his head decisively. “Such a move would only alert whoever is behind this. For now…”

Something changed in Zhao’s expression, a shift from concerned teacher to battle-ready warrior. His owl manifested completely, wings extending to their full impressive span, each feather gleaming with contained power.

“Ren,” his voice was low but firm. “Stay here. Hide yourself.”

“Professor, I can help. If someone is…”

“No,” Zhao cut him off with gentle but unyielding firmness. “This is different from collecting materials or studying beasts. There’s a reason why I’m the professor of this class.”

He turned to the assistant. “Alert the other guards. Have them keep their beasts manifested.”

The assistant nodded, his own beast, a wind lynx, manifesting fully as he departed.

“But professor,” Ren insisted, his mushrooms pulsing with urgency, “if I know how the Stalkers behave I could counter…”

“First I need you to stay safe,” Zhao looked at him directly, his gaze burning with intensity. “Your knowledge might be vital to our city later. But now…”

A new pattern of impacts resonated above the tent. The Shadow Stalkers were no longer just fleeing, they were being herded with purpose.

“Now I need you to trust me,” Zhao moved toward the exit. “There are things more dangerous than wild beasts, Ren.”

His gaze briefly shifted toward where the students slept, some of them heirs to powerful families with beasts of extraordinary potential.

“Stay here,” he repeated before leaving. “And whatever happens, don’t expose yourself.”

Ren watched Zhao depart, the mushrooms in his hair pulsing with growing concern. Something or someone had orchestrated this situation with careful precision. And while the impacts continued above the tent, Ren couldn’t help but wonder what other plans were unfolding in the darkness.

♢♢♢♢

The darkness inside the tent grew thicker while Zhao and the auxiliaries formed a protective circle around the sleeping students. Some students started to wake up from all the movement.

Their manifested beasts created patterns of faint light, Zhao’s owl shining more brilliantly than the others, its power barely contained.

The auxiliaries didn’t fully understand what the commotion was about until…

A movement at the tent’s eastern entrance drew all eyes.

A figure wrapped in black fabric stood motionless, its silhouette barely visible against the night. The fabric absorbed all light, all traces of mana, only the finest Shadow Stalker materials could achieve such an effect.

“Professor…” one of the auxiliaries whispered, fear creeping into his voice.

Before he could complete his warning, another figure appeared at the western entrance. Then a third in the north. A fourth in the south. Each identical to the last, their forms completely hidden by the black fabric that seemed to devour light itself.

A student let out a choked cry when the figures began to move.

Their bodies seemed to flow beneath the fabric, as if their forms weren’t entirely human. With synchronized movements, they drew what appeared to be curved blades that gleamed dully in the dim light.

Zhao stepped forward, his owl spreading its wings in warning, but stopped when the figures pressed their blades against the tent’s fabric.

Small cuts appeared where the edges touched the material, the protective enchantments struggling against the weapons.

“Don’t try it, Zhao,” a voice resonated from outside. Authoritative, cold, with a metallic echo suggesting some kind of mask.

“You know what will happen if the tent breaks.”

The Shadow Stalkers’ impacts on the roof intensified, as if emphasizing the threat, their frenzied movements promising swift death to any one exposed to the night.

“There are more than 50 students here,” Zhao responded, his voice tense but controlled. “Most are barely ten years old.”

“Then it would be a shame if something happened to them,” the voice seemed to smile. “Surrender. No one has to die tonight.”

The blades pressed deeper, the cuts extending like dark veins across the protective fabric. In the darkness, the figures seemed to grow more menacing, their silhouettes distorting with increasing mana tension.

“Last warning,” the voice acquired a more threatening tone.

“Lower your wings, Zhao. Or we’ll see how long these children can survive when the tent falls and the Stalkers enter their feeding frenzy.”

The sound above their heads was deafening now, dozens, perhaps hundreds of Shadow Stalkers hammering against the protection, hungry, maddened, waiting.