Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

Chapter 1081 - Taming the Wall - True Ruins - Impossible

Ren stepped squarely in front of the frozen Tamer. He stared into the translucent, wind-aspected crystal forming the manʼs chest cavity.

He had to do this completely blind. No second test runs and no luxury of having been successful on a fully formed statue a first time.

A successful time.

But the hesitation vanished. Ren drove his hand forward, plunging the core directly into the statueʼs chest.

The ruins reacted instantly. It possessed the rigid, undeniable logic of an ancient mechanism finally receiving the correct gear. A deep, resonant hum vibrated through the floorboards. The dormant runes carved into the walls of the tenth chamber flared to life, shifting from a dull gray to a blinding, active glow.

The ambient mana in the air violently reorganized itself, releasing some of the anchoring onto the newly established focal point in the center of the statue.

Above them, the six hostile signatures registered the massive mana spike. Their crawling descent instantly accelerated into a frantic, scrambling dive.

Beside the wall, Lin stood up.

There was no dramatic flourish, no battle cry. It was the smooth, economic movement of a veteran who had silently evaluated a rapidly deteriorating situation and calculated exactly what needed to be done. She gave the rest of the exhausted guards a brief, clinical glance, assessing their remaining combat readiness in a fraction of a second.

Then, she walked forward. She planted herself squarely at the base of the narrow stairwell, her posture completely relaxed but tightly coiled.

”Iʼm going to buy some time,” she said softly.

Ren didnʼt look up. He drew deeply on his shattered reserves and triggered his fusion, pushing his connection with his beasts to their absolute maximum threshold. A dense aura of power erupted around him. Without wasting a millisecond, he directed the flood of purifying energy straight into Siriusʼs chest, forcing the flow aggressively upward toward the head.

The triage was brutal, but the logic was undeniable. If he ran out of time, or if his mana completely failed him before the process was finished, unfinished limbs could be dealt with later. Arms and legs lost could have future solutions. They were gruesome, far-from-ideal solutions, amputation and later localized severing to push healing, but they were survivable.

Internal organs, however, did not have workarounds. An incomplete central mana network, an open or unfinished brain, those were fatal.

If he had to choose what to discard, the core and the mind had to be flawless... The extremities would just have to suffer.

The faint grinding, skittering noise of the first six horrors squeezing into the staircase echoed into the chamber already thanks to his extremely sensitive hearing. It was a frantic, desperate sound that scraped directly against Renʼs expanded perception, demanding his attention even as he poured his entire soul into saving the statue of his father in law.

He shut the noise out… He went to work.

Renʼs success or failure wasnʼt a matter of technique.

The technique was flawless. The magical mapping came to him faster than the last time. It was the undeniable proof of muscle memory; the kind of deeply ingrained practice that settles into a tamerʼs bones and refuses to fade, no matter how much time passes between attempts.

The intricate, frozen pathways of Siriusʼs crystallized body opened up under Renʼs perception. The Tiger and Serpent systems felt intimately familiar, even in this new, petrified format. When Ren initiated the sequence, the magic responded with the smooth, frictionless glide of a skill executed to absolute perfection.

The problem, as it almost always was, lay somewhere else entirely.

It was the raw, unadulterated data load.

He had to do everything at the exact same time. The sheer volume of microscopic, vital information required to transmute these stone instructions back into living tissue was staggering, violently pushing against the absolute limits of human cerebral capacity.

The torso and the head could not be built in stages. It was a biological impossibility.

If he created a beating heart of living tissue inside a chest cavity that was still solid crystal, lacking the sprawling, elastic network of a circulatory system to carry the blood, Siriusʼ heart would simply hemorrhage. Bleeding to death inside your own petrified shell was hardly an improvement over remaining a statue.

Everything, the brain, the lungs, the heart, the intricate webbing of arteries and nerves, had to transform simultaneously as a single, cohesive unit. Maintaining the complex structure required for that, while the sheer scale of the spell redlined his brainʼs processing power, was the insurmountable gap between what he could do and what he needed to do right now.

It was a monumental task.

It was the kind of mythic feat only someone with Renʼs freakishly immense capacity could even dream of attempting.

But aspirations of greatness demand a toll.

Sometimes, that toll canʼt be paid, not because the potential isnʼt there, but simply due to the cruel reality of circumstance, exhaustion, and a mind that hasnʼt fully matured enough to hold a universe of data at once.

He felt the exact moment he hit the wall.

It wasnʼt a gradual, fading fade into exhaustion. It was a sudden, violent crash. It was the precise, unforgiving point where his internal system recognized that the demand exceeded the supply, and it simply shut down to prevent a catastrophic aneurysm.

He was agonizingly close. But even very close wasnʼt enough.

In a fraction of a second, Ren realized he couldnʼt hold it.

The delicate, impossibly complex spell collapsed inward, triggering an automatic failsafe, shutting down completely because continuing with a flawed pattern would be infinitely worse than stopping.

The fusion shattered.

Ren hit the stone floor hard, gasping for air.

The frustration was venomous. Getting so close only made the microscopic distance remaining feel infinitely more unjust than if he had failed at the very beginning. He pressed the heels of his hands brutally against his forehead, his vision swimming.

Above them, the hostile signatures skittering down the stairwell grew louder. The scraping, clicking sounds were a physical reminder of the time slipping through his fingers as he lay uselessly on the cold stone.

But Lin didnʼt flinch at the sound of his collapse.

She still believed.