Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

“Live for him?”

A silence laden with meaning filled the space between them. Reed furrowed his brow, slowly processing the words.

“Becoming stronger, taking care of your health, extending your life,” Yang elaborated, his deep voice resonating with conviction. “Doesn’t that sound better than simply fleeing responsibility by dying for those who love you? What good would you do your family by sacrificing yourself, when you could be by their side, supporting them?”

The words settled heavily in Reed’s heart. He gazed at his wife, then at his son, whose face showed a vulnerability that reminded him of the child he still was despite everything.

“Your words are wise,” Reed finally admitted, a small smile forming on his lips. “Being old, I thought I was wise, but one always learns new things.” The humility in his voice was genuine, a master cook who recognized when someone else had crafted a better recipe.

“The choice is yours,” Ren intervened. “The eggs won’t hatch if you don’t accept them voluntarily. But think about what it would mean. No more discrimination because of your low-level mature beasts. Real freedom to choose where to live, where to work.”

Fern looked at the black egg she had set aside, its surface seeming to draw in the surrounding light. “Could people like us really have another contract? People like us…?”

“Especially people like you,” Ren affirmed with conviction.

His parents looked at each other and smiled.

Fern took the egg again, feeling its weight, its potential. She looked at her husband, a silent question in her eyes. He nodded slightly, a decision forming between them without the need for words, as had happened so many times during their decades together.

“We accept,” Reed finally declared, his voice steady with newfound resolve.

In that very instant, the eggs began to glow. The blue constellation patterns brightened first, then spread across the entire surface until the black shells became luminescent spheres.

“It’s exactly like your first contract,” Ren instructed, his voice taking on a teacher’s confidence.

Following his directions, they circulated their mana into the eggs. The light increased until it became blinding, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. When it finally faded, the eggs had vanished.

In their place, obsidian turtles materialized before Reed and Fern. Their shells gleamed with the reflection of mana. Small white eyes observed the world with intelligence.

Reed gasped, feeling a wave of energy course through his body. The pain from the lashes on his back diminished even more than with the first aid, replaced by a sensation of general well-being he hadn’t experienced in decades. Beside him, Fern straightened, her eyes bright with new vitality. The vines of her mature plant seemed to respond to the turtle’s presence, becoming more vibrant.

“It’s… incredible,” Reed murmured, flexing his hands with amazement. “I feel as if I were thirty years younger.” The stiffness that had become such a familiar companion seemed to melt away.

“The initial effect is intense,” Ren explained, watching with undisguised satisfaction. “It will stabilize over time, but the benefits will remain.”

Fern approached Ren, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Why did you deceive us?” The question held no accusation, only a mother’s seek for understanding of her child’s motives.

“Because I feared you would reject my help again if I gave you a choice,” he responded honestly. “You’ve always been like that. Too willing to sacrifice yourselves for me.”

The admission carried years of watching his parents put his needs before their own, even at their own expense.

Ren embraced them both.

“Welcome to the double tamers club,” he murmured.

♢♢♢♢

Ren’s surprises were far from over.

He first showed his small official plaques. “My certification as a Bronze 2 student. I was also first in my class. These two are for winning the semester tournament. Two consecutive times.”

Next came a collection of 6 small medals in a box, each representing a victory in different categories of academic competition. Ren explained each one, pride shone in his eyes as he thought about how much his parents had sacrificed so he could achieve these accomplishments.

“And this,” he finally said, pulling out a leather-bound book with his name engraved on the cover, “is my first officially published cultivation method. The Living Tunnel.”

He presented it with the pride of an author holding his first creation.

Fern took the book with trembling hands. “You wrote this?” Her voice held wonder and disbelief in equal measure.

“Completely,” Ren nodded. “It’s one of almost 50 I’ve written for Bronze 1, and I’ve written more than fifteen for Bronze 2 that the Academy has verified.” His casual tone belied the extraordinary achievement this represented for someone his age.

Wei nodded to himself, a weird smile on his face.

Reed reverently flipped through the pages, his eyes widening at the complex diagrams and detailed instructions. “We always knew you were special, but this…” Words failed him as he absorbed the magnitude of his son’s accomplishment.

“Each tested and verified method brings me at least one hundred thousand crystals,” Ren continued. “With the doubling imposed by Grandmother Selphira, that’s at least two hundred thousand per method.”

He spoke of sums that would have seemed impossible to him just a year ago with the casual confidence of someone who had grown accustomed to their reality.

Fern and Reed exchanged looks of astonishment. “How much have you earned?” Reed finally asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“More than twenty million so far,” Ren responded casually, as if it weren’t a fortune larger than his parents had seen in their entire lives. “And I’ll have more when they verify the Silver rank methods.”

The future potential stretched beyond even these impressive numbers.

“We thought you were exaggerating in your letters,” Fern confessed, her hand unconsciously moving to touch the living vines that had become more vibrant with her second contract. “That you were trying to make us feel better.”

“I haven’t lied to you in any letter,” Ren replied, his expression darkening. “Although it seems you did to me.”

Reed lowered his gaze, ashamed. “We didn’t want to worry you. We thought you already had enough with your studies and cultivation.”

“I needed to know,” Ren insisted. “I could have helped you.”

“We know that now,” intervened Fern, placing a hand on her son’s arm. The touch conveyed more than words. “We won’t hide anything from you again.”

The conversation continued, Ren sharing stories of his victories, his Gray Wing friends who had all now reached Bronze 2, and his plans to evolve to Gold by the 4th year. Each tale painted a picture of a world so different from the one his parents had known, one of possibilities rather than limitations.

Reed and Fern listened attentively, marveling at their son’s transformation. The boy who had departed with an apparently useless mushroom had become a self-confident young man, with achievements that the vast majority would envy.

♢♢♢♢

The night was advancing amid laughter when Yang, positioned near the main entrance, visibly tensed.

“Patrol,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The conversation ceased immediately. Lin moved like a shadow, extinguishing most of the lamps with fast movements.

Through the thin walls, they could hear the sound of heavy boots approaching. Authoritative voices interrogated someone, probably Chen or Liang. The night’s stillness amplified every word.

“Fire in district fifteen,” a harsh voice was saying. “Three patrollers missing. Have you seen anything suspicious?” The official tone carried an undercurrent of threat.

“Just the smoke in the distance,” Chen’s calm voice responded. “We thought some drunk had knocked over a lamp.”

“Any strangers around here today?”

“None. We’re few in this area, we all know each other.”

There was a moment of tense silence, as if the patroller was evaluating the truthfulness of the words.

“Good,” he finally said. “If you see anything, report immediately.”

“Of course, officer. Have a good night.” Chen’s voice remained steady, neither too eager nor too reluctant.

The footsteps gradually receded. Only when Lin confirmed that the patrol was beyond auditory range did everyone exhale the breath they had been holding.

“Old Chen is good,” Yang commented, admiration evident in his voice. “Not even a tremor in his words.”

“People like him have survived generations on the margins,” Wei responded, his tone carrying respect for a different kind of knowledge than the academic wisdom he typically valued.

Ren looked at his parents, noticing the concern they couldn’t manage to conceal.

The commotion caused by the patrol gradually dissipated, leaving an expectant silence in the storehouse. The shadows seemed to retreat as Lin relit some of the lamps, casting a warm glow across the gathered faces.

Ren observed his parents, seeing new strength in them but also the lingering fear of those who had lived too long under the shadow of arbitrary power.

“There’s something else you should know,” he began, sitting down in front of them. His expression held both excitement and nervousness, like someone about to reveal their final gift. “With part of the money I’ve earned, I bought a house.”