Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

Chapter 1114 - Taming the Wall - Perfect Plan

Maria and Matilda had finally, mercifully received official authorization to drink the Double-Contract potions. And they hadnʼt secured that permission without first enduring many hours of grinding, bitter envy every single time Mayo smugly paraded hers around.

The two other maids had claimed two of the three remaining vials.

On paper, the authorization bore Victorʼs official seal, making it look like a highly regulated, formal mandate from the absolute highest tier of government.

In practical reality, the paperwork was nothing more than bureaucratic theater to avoid general nepotism and cronyism talks.

Ren was the commander who had led the vanguard into hell to secure those potions. Therefore, the absolute authority over who drank them belonged to him, and him alone. Victorʼs official stamps merely legitimized a decision Ren had already finalized in his head.

Maria and Matilda were endlessly, profoundly grateful to him. Aside from the power, they were mostly just thrilled to finally experience the network for themselves, rather than having to listen to Mayo brag for hours on end about the ”psychedelic majesty” of lending her processing power to Renʼs mind.

By networking the maids, the vanguard guards, Wei, and a massive influx of promising youths from various academies that Wei had frantically assembled for this exact occasion, Ren was building a supercomputer. He would have a surplus of human nodes, granting him a massive, cushioned safety margin for the data load that he absolutely hadnʼt possessed the first time.

Finch and a few other early adopters were tied up with territorial duties, but the numbers in the castle were more than enough.

The spore-fungus was no longer a Renʼs only fringe anomaly; it was a heavily documented, heavily funded institution.

Its miraculous ability to forcefully carve out a second beast slot at the Gold rank had long ceased to be yet another Renʼs private secret. It was now a dedicated, sprawling field of magical research bearing its own official classification. Driven by Weiʼs manic enthusiasm, the professor, now eccentric researcher, had successfully strong-armed several of the Great Houses into heavily financing trials and spore integration across a much wider cross-section of the population.

Ren had used his upgraded, golden spores to systematically alter massive batches of cheap, common gray eggs. By injecting his secondary cradle spores crop, he had elevated those low-tier eggs to a guaranteed, one hundred percent probability of producing an activated spore-fungus upon contracting.

And attached to every single one of those cheap gray eggs was the ultimate, world-altering promise: securing a second combat beast without ever having to burn a priceless, impossibly rare Double-Contract potion.

For many of the new subjects, that promise was still theoretical.

They hadnʼt reached the required rank to see it fulfilled yet.

But countless Tamers were signing up and following the grueling methodology anyway. The sheer, overwhelming potential of the reward vastly outweighed the risks.

The only genuine, terrifying obstacle for the masses was the cultivation process itself.

It didnʼt reach the maddening threshold of the ten-times-amplified agony that Ren was forced to endure, a curse born from housing the original, primary fungus alongside many more beast slots.

But the golden spores still demanded a brutal toll. They made the standard cultivation process twice as mana hungry, so twice as painful.

And ”twice as painful” was a brutal enough metric to leave many tamers weeping on the cultivation room floor as their mana circuits burned.

Even so, there was never a shortage of volunteers. The waiting lists were miles long, filled with candidates literally fighting for the open slots.

A free, government-subsidized beast that guaranteed a second contract upon reaching the Gold tier with a 100% omniboost helping your second beast was a lottery ticket. It was the ultimate prize, and thousands of people were more than willing to suffer a little more physical agony than their bodies preferred in order to claim it.

Renʼs plan for today was elegantly simple in its structure, yet monumental in its scale.

He would establish the anchor first. He would connect his mind to Wei, the maids, and the girls guards. Ten nodes of absolute, unshakeable trust. These were people whose systems would yield to his intrusion without much… most without a single spark of friction, willingly opening their sensory networks to him.

Those ten would form the stable, bedrock foundation.

Once that foundation was secured, he would weaponize his control to forcefully extend the network outward, linking into the fifty additional nodes. These were the academy youths, strangers whose mental connections would be vastly less efficient, flooded with the chaotic, overwhelming static of unfamiliar minds.

But individual efficiency became entirely irrelevant when dealing with this kind of volume. Fifty inefficient, noisy nodes mathematically dwarfed ten perfect ones. And yet the ten trusted anchors would act as the structural rebar, seamlessly organizing and filtering the chaotic output of the fifty into a cohesive, synchronized processing array.

This, in reality, was the correct, perfected way to wield the spore network.

Siriusʼs resurrection had been the messy, desperate product of a catastrophic emergency. It was a spell executed on the absolute razorʼs edge of Renʼs mana and biological collapse, fueled by a meager seven Iron-rank mushrooms and a hastily summoned clone crystal.

Today was vastly different. This massive, meticulously orchestrated web was exactly what Ren intended to establish as his baseline operating standard from now on.

He was thinking of building a network so vast and robust that the word ”impossible” would simply mean ”difficult”, rather than a suicidal overload that threatened to shatter his core.

And as he mapped the sheer, sprawling capacity of this new network in his mind, a quiet, breathtaking thought crossed his consciousness.

He quickly shelved it for later, but it lingered:

ʼPerhaps, with a network that large, I could actually save our King without needing to reach the Diamond rank first.ʼ

But that was a battle for another day.

First thing first.

♢♢♢♢

Today, at the very least, they didnʼt have to worry about Selthiaʼs sadistic traps.

The Starweaver ruin was located within human territory, far to the northwest of the cities. They were surrounded by absolute security. Towering above them was the Great Wall and the massive, reinforced dome shielding their feet.

Below ground, overlapping shifts of elite Tamers constantly monitored the subterranean seismic activity. There wasnʼt a single microscopic fissure where Selthia could slip one of her blackened artifacts or mutant horrors through without triggering a massive, immediate counter-offensive.

They were home. And their home was heavily guarded.

Furthermore, there were no ancient beasts or lethal trials left to overcome in the dark. Sirius had conquered those challenges years ago, paving this path with his own blood. Today, the objective was purely mechanical: they simply had to slot the elemental Guardian cores into the final door, and the vault would open.