Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

The caravan carts advanced heavily along the dirt road, their wheels creaking over occasional stones as they left the gathering territory behind.

The sky stretched in an intense blue above their heads, with just a few scattered clouds offering moments of welcome shade in the midday heat.

The gathering had been abruptly interrupted, to the disappointment of many students. As a concession, the professors had reduced the approval requirement to six thousand crystals in total value, an adjustment considered fair given the lost time.

But for Ren’s group, this change was irrelevant. They had exceeded even the original requirements several times over.

In one of the carts, sitting tightly packed between piles of gathered materials, Klein Goldcrest maintained a tense conversation with his followers. His expression oscillated between frustration and cold determination as he mentally calculated his next moves.

“A minimum of one hundred and fifty thousand points for the lowest member of that enormous group,” Astor murmured, remembering the official announcements. He shook his head in disbelief. “The mushroom boy’s group has shattered any first-year record. Possibly of any year.”

Klein clenched his fists on his knees. The semester honor, that recognition he had planned to obtain as a first step toward platinum student status, seemed to be slipping through his fingers like fine sand. The legacy he had promised to uphold for his family name was being overshadowed by a brain rotted commoner with fungi growing from his head.

“It’s only the first unit,” he replied, his voice controlled but charged with tension. “There are still four more. I just need to surpass him in three.”

Feng, seated across from him, nodded with a somber expression. “Especially in battle. When your lion reaches Bronze 1, you’ll tear him to pieces.”

“Exactly,” Klein smiled, though the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. A cold calculation resided there instead. “This is just a setback. A stroke of luck that won’t be repeated.”

Another cart, in contrast, overflowed with energy and animated conversations.

The atmosphere was light despite the recent dangers they had faced, a celebration of survival and success.

Too many students had crowded into it, clearly exceeding its recommended capacity, but no one seemed willing to separate from the main group.

Their shared experiences had forged bonds that none wanted to break, even temporarily.

Ren sat between Taro and Min, with Han facing them, his leg extended on an improvised bench of backpacks. Luna, Liora, and Larissa occupied the nearby space, while the maids and the rest of the students accommodated themselves wherever they could, creating an organized chaos of bodies and materials.

Min, whose water serpent healer still had enough energy to continue working, had attended to the minor injuries that persisted in several of his companions. His fingers, surrounded by a faint bluish glow, traced small bruises, accelerating their healing.

“Hold still!” he ordered Han while examining his fractured leg, now almost completely recovered thanks to previous treatments.

Ren nodded, “Listen to Min… There are still small cracks in your bone that need to seal.”

“I can’t believe you missed almost all the action,” Min continued, unable to contain a mocking smile. “Knocked out while Ren fought an abyssal abomination. What bad luck!”

Han merely laughed, though something in his gaze revealed an underlying tension that only Ren seemed to notice.

“Bad luck, indeed,” Han responded with forced lightness. “But I’m grateful that Ren saved me. Though I’m sure you would have been trembling in a corner, probably wetting your pants.”

“The only one who doesn’t control his bladder here is you!” Min exclaimed indignantly, remembering the frequent pauses for “relief” that Han always requested during their expeditions.

A wave of laughter swept through the cart, momentarily alleviating the tension accumulated from recent events.

Liora, who had remained unusually quiet, looked up at the clear sky. Her normally serene face held a shadow of regret.

“I can’t help but regret it,” she said softly. “We couldn’t be of help. We didn’t manage to get out of the underground by ourselves.”

Her comment brought a brief contemplative silence to the group. The memory of being trapped, of walls crumbling and shadow stalkers advancing, hung heavy in the air.

“If it hadn’t been for Julius…” Maria began, leaving the sentence incomplete, but the message was clear to everyone.

“Actually,” Ren intervened, his mushrooms pulsing calmly as he spoke, “Lin knew that Julius was keeping watch at the camp. If you had continued digging downward as originally planned, you probably would have found Julius before the shadow stalker tunnels. Your quest was getting to him from the beginning, so don’t worry about that…”

“I suppose you’re right,” Liora nodded, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

“He would have sensed the excavation sooner or later,” Ren explained.

He directed a grateful look at the group. “Though I appreciate that you took the risk of going up to try to help us more quickly. It was brave, even if dangerous.”

His eyes briefly scanned the faces of his companions, pausing a moment on Luna. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to any of you.”

Luna, surprised by the sincerity of Ren’s words in his eye’s mana, blushed slightly and turned her attention to the outside landscape, feigning sudden interest in the passing trees. Mayo, closely observing the interaction, exchanged a knowing look with Matilda.

“I agree with Ren,” added Larissa, apparently oblivious to the moment. “Though I’ll definitely have a conversation with my dear brother about not mentioning to me that he would be present during our expedition.”

Her light tone contrasted with the calculating gleam in her eyes, suggesting that this “conversation” would carry much more weight than her words indicated.

The chat naturally drifted toward the abrupt cancellation of the gathering. Rumors had begun to circulate as soon as the return order was given, fueled by fragments of conversations overheard among the professors and the evident urgency with which Julius had departed ahead of them.

“An attack,” Hikari murmured. “That’s what I heard one of the auxiliaries say.” Her voice dropped further, glancing around to ensure no outsiders were listening.

“But where?” Taro asked, leaning forward. “And by whom?”

No one had concrete answers, only increasingly elaborate speculations ranging from border incursions to palace conspiracies. Theories passed from student to student, growing more outlandish with each retelling.

“What concerns me,” Liora intervened in a low voice, making sure that only those closest could hear her, “is how timely the attack was.”

Larissa nodded, immediately understanding. “Just when half of the academy’s security forces were deployed here, with us.”

“And with Julius,” Liora added.

A worried silence settled among the nobles. The implications were disturbing: someone might have warned of the relative weakness.

“Maybe it’s just a coincidence,” Taro suggested, though without much conviction.

“Perhaps,” Larissa conceded, but her expression made it clear that she didn’t believe in coincidences, at least not this one. Years of royal education had taught her to search for patterns and motives in seemingly random events.

The cart traversed an especially pronounced bump, shaking all the occupants and momentarily breaking the atmosphere of seriousness. Min lost his balance and fell onto Mira, who in turn pushed Trent, creating a domino effect of bodies and surprised exclamations.

“Watch your hands!” Mayo shouted, lightly hitting Jun’s head, who had tried to stabilize himself by grabbing the first thing he found.

“It was an accident!” the boy protested, rubbing the point of impact.

The laughter returned, temporarily dissipating the tension. Ren observed the scene with a grateful smile, valuing these moments of normalcy after the underground nightmare they had faced.

Han, noticing his expression, gave him an inquisitive look. His eyes searched Ren’s face with careful scrutiny.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, taking advantage of the momentary chaos for a more private conversation.

Ren nodded, his mushrooms pulsing softly. “Just thinking about how fortunate we are. Despite everything.”

Han studied his face for a moment, as if looking for some indication that Ren remembered more than he had admitted in front of the professors. But the mushroom boy’s expression remained open, without a hint of suspicion or recrimination.

“Yes,” Han finally responded. “Very fortunate indeed.”