Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

Chapter 625: Chapter 625 – Taming the Fifth Year – Tutor

Lin stood at the center of it all, her crane features making her seem larger than her actual height. Yang loomed beside her, his stone behemoth markings gleaming dully in the morning sun.

“Line up!” Lin’s voice cut through the morning looseness. “Today we’re working on your foundation without fusion dependency.”

Groans…

♢♢♢♢

“Again!” Lin’s voice sliced through the morning air like a whip, sharper than before. “Your stance is sloppy. Your breathing is off. Your focus is scattered. Again!”

Ren pushed himself up from the ground for what felt like the thousandth time. His arms trembled violently. His legs burned with the kind of deep, bone-aching fire that spoke of muscles pushed far beyond their comfort zone. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision.

“Your beasts make you lazy!” Yang’s voice boomed across the field. “You rely on their strength, their speed, their endurance. But what happens when you are out of mana and can’t maintain fusion? You die, that’s what happens!”

When the training finally ended, Ren could barely walk in a straight line. His legs trembled with each step, threatening to give out completely. His back protested every movement, muscles screaming in languages he didn’t know existed.

“Good session,” Yang commented as Ren limped past, his voice carrying that particular satisfaction that came from watching students suffer properly. “Next time, just don’t try to overpower Lin’s legs with yours.”

Ren had tried to sweep her during a sparring drill. She’d countered so fast he hadn’t even seen it coming, using his own momentum.

“I had diamond covering,” Ren muttered, but he had no energy to actually argue the point. His diamond hydra’s defensive capabilities had meant nothing against Lin’s technique.

Min was in worse condition, practically dragging himself toward the showers. His water snake was trying to help, supporting part of his weight with its coiled body, but it was actually less supporting and more dragging on the ground.

“Why did we choose this?” Min wheezed, his words coming between gasps for air. “Why didn’t we stay happy, ignorant peasants?”

“Because we like challenges,” Taro responded. He’d had the luck of “only facing Yang” in this particular session, which meant he was merely exhausted rather than completely destroyed. “And because we’re masochists, apparently.”

“Speak for yourself,” Min groaned. “I’m just stupid. There’s a difference… wait… that sounded better in my…”

♢♢♢♢

Ren headed toward the showers, each step a negotiation between his will and his body’s rebellion. His jade mantis pulsed with concern through their bond, offering what little energy it could to help him recover.

The sensation was like cool water on burned skin, soothing but not quite enough.

“Thanks,” he murmured to it, feeling the subtle boost flow through his system. The mantis was new to his arsenal, still learning its place among his other beasts, but already showing the kind of loyalty that made the bond between tamer and beast something special.

He summoned the small fifty-centimeter mantis fully. Its jade body gleaming in the morning light, compound eyes regarding him with what might have been worry.

“But stay calm, I don’t need help,” he told it softly, reaching up to gently touch its head. “Lin says it’s better to train using minimum beast power and mana so the muscles reach failure faster. Something about improving and hardening the foundation.”

The mantis tilted its head, the gesture almost comically human.

“You’re new so I guess it’s strange for you, but in less than forty days you’ll be Bronze just the same day when the Wolverine reaches Silver 3 and you’ll understand more things then.”

“Talking to a small weak insectoid beast like a friend,” a voice said nearby, dripping with amusement that had sharp edges. “How… quaint.”

Ren turned to see a fifth-year student he hadn’t noticed before in his more than 4 years here watching him with barely concealed mockery. But the boy’s posture screamed nobility.

“Most tamers do,” Ren replied, too tired for whatever game this was.

“Most tamers aren’t trying to pretend they belong among nobles,” the boy said casually, but there was an edge to it. A test, seeing how Ren would react. “I heard about your ceremony. Quite the spectacle.”

“It was just a ceremony…”

“It was theater.” The boy’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “But I suppose you’ll learn the difference soon enough. Good luck with Aldric Galehart, by the way. You’ll need it.”

He walked away before Ren could respond, leaving only questions in his wake. The mantis on Ren’s shoulder made a small clicking sound, its version of disapproval.

“Yeah,” Ren muttered. “I don’t like him either.”

Ren showered quickly in the training facilities, trying to wash away both sweat and the unease that noble’s words had planted. The water was cold, almost painfully so. Bracing. It helped clear his head if nothing else, shocking his system back to something approaching alertness.

Klein had been there again, standing at a basin two down from where Ren entered. The former Goldcrest heir had complained loudly about Ren using the bath at the same time as him all the time, his voice carrying that particular whine that came from wounded pride, before fleeing quickly to his own noble classes.

Apparently some noble from the ex-Goldcrest territory was going to gift him their lineage, though it was the lowest possible nobility. But a lifeline for someone who’d lost everything else.

Ren dried off and changed into fresh clothes, the formal tunic that marked him as a noble student feeling strange against his skin. It was expensive, well-made, and fit perfectly thanks to Selphira’s insistence on proper tailoring. But it still felt like playing dress-up, like wearing someone else’s identity.

After finishing, Ren walked toward his first noble protocol class. The classroom was in a section of the building he’d never explored, far from the normal lecture halls. The hallways here were wider, the windows larger, the very architecture designed to communicate importance without needing words.

Portraits lined the walls, nobles from generations past whose painted eyes seemed to follow him as he passed. Judging. Evaluating. Finding him wanting.

The ceiling was higher here too, with decorative moldings that probably cost more than his parents’ first house. The floor was polished stone rather than worn wood, reflecting light in ways that made everything seem more grand, more intimidating.

The door was open when he arrived, revealing a space that seemed more like a private library than a classroom. Dark wood bookshelves covered the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes whose titles were embossed in gold. A long table of golden-nosed wood occupied the center, surrounded by comfortable chairs that looked too elegant for school use.

Everything in the room spoke of wealth, of tradition, of power accumulated over generations. It was designed to make newcomers feel small, to remind them of how much history and influence they were trying to join.

And sitting in one of those chairs, casually leafing through a document that seemed to have too many official seals, was Aldric Galehart.

The man was… the word “imposing” wasn’t quite right. “Impressive” didn’t capture the essence either. He was the type of presence that filled a space effortlessly, without needing to shout or gesture. He simply existed, and that was enough.

He appeared to be in his late forties, with dark brown hair starting to show gray streaks at the temples. But considering his mana signature, the extra vitality surely masked a man of at least eighty or a hundred years.

His face was angular but not severe, with expression lines that suggested he smiled more than he frowned. Laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. A slight softness around his mouth. He wore a formal tunic that was clearly expensive but not ostentatious.

When he looked up and his eyes met Ren’s, for just a moment, something flickered across his face. Too fast to identify. Too complex to understand.

Recognition? Calculation? Something else entirely?

But soon something in the man’s expression softened, like snow melting in the spring sun.

His eyes, when they fully focused on Ren, were a light green that seemed to see more than they should.

“Ah,” he said, his voice surprisingly warm, carrying none of the cold formality Ren had braced himself for. “Ren Patinder. Finally.”

He stood with fluid movements, unhurried but efficient. No wasted motion. No unnecessary flourishes. Just the easy grace of someone who’d spent a lifetime moving through noble society. He extended a hand across the table.

“Aldric Galehart. A pleasure to meet you in person. I’ve heard much about you.”

Ren shook the hand, hyperaware of every detail. His grip, his posture, the angle of his back. All the small things that Larissa had tried to drill into him over weeks of painful lessons. The way his fingers should wrap, not too tight and not too loose. The duration of the shake, exactly two seconds. The slight bow of acknowledgment that went with it.

Aldric’s hand was firm but not crushing. The kind of grip that communicated confidence without needing to prove anything. His skin was slightly calloused, surprising for nobility. Perhaps he wasn’t just administrative nobility but also trained in combat.

“It’s an honor, Lord Galehart,” Ren responded, the practiced words coming out a bit too formal, stilted in a way that made him wince internally. “I appreciate your time and…”

“Please,” Aldric interrupted with a smile that reached his green eyes, crinkling them at the corners. “None of that here. Call me Aldric. Or tutor if you prefer something more formal, but honestly that title makes me feel old and I’m not ready for that yet.”

He released Ren’s hand and gestured toward one of the chairs. “Sit, sit. Would you like tea? I have an excellent blend from the northern meadows. Or an energy drink, something stronger if the day has already given you reasons.”

His tone was casual, conversational, nothing like the formal distance Ren had expected from a tutor evaluating him.

“Tea is fine,” Ren responded, feeling strangely disoriented by the casualness of it all. He’d prepared himself for hostility, for contemptuous looks, for the kind of nobility that had been staring at him with disdain during the ceremony.

This was… completely different.

Aldric poured two cups of tea with casual movements, placing one in front of Ren before sitting with his own cup. He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other in a posture that was relaxed without being disrespectful.

The liquid was a pale amber, fragrant with herbs he couldn’t identify. Steam rose in delicate curls, carrying scents of mint and something floral.

“So,” Aldric began, taking a sip of his tea, his tone conversational and almost conspiratorial, “I suppose you’re expecting me to be a complete bastard to you.”

Ren almost spit out his tea, the liquid burning the back of his throat as he fought not to choke. “I… that’s not…”