My Taming System Makes Me Overpowered

The sharp hum of Micro-Kinetic Harmony faded into silence as Vince and Lyrielle walked steady paces toward the heavy, undulating heat signatures.

The desolate shale paths slowly narrowed, feeding into a gorge flanked by high volcanic cliffs that seemed to bleed static heat into the ash-choked air.

Suddenly, five figures stepped out from the jagged shadows of the rocks, seamlessly cutting off the path ahead.

They were tall, towering a full head over Vince, standing in their humanoid forms.

Yet, their heritage was impossible to mistake. Patches of thick, dull crimson scales coated their thick forearms and jawlines, catching the faint orange glow of the distant peaks. Medium-sized, swept-back horns protruded from their forehead, weaving through coarse, dark hair, and their slitted amber eyes gleamed with cold, predatory intelligence. They wore heavy, layered kilts of dark drake-hide, and crude iron plate guards strapped to their massive shoulders.

The leader of the group, a massive brute with a jagged scar running across his scaled snout, stepped forward. He leaned heavily on a massive obsidian-tipped spear, trying to look as imposing as possible.

”You’re far from home, travelers,”

The leader grunted, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.

”State your business in the pass. Humans and elves don’t walk these rocks unless they’re looking to get cooked.”

Vince’s expression remained entirely neutral, his green-ringed Spectral Oculus casually mapping the volatile fire mana pooling within the brute’s chest.

”It’s none of your business.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. The brute’s jaw tightened, his amber slits narrowing as the air around him spiked in temperature. He stepped closer, intending to intimidate the magicless human, but Vince didn’t shift his stance an inch.

He just stared back, dead-eyed and entirely unfazed.

Sensing the rapidly escalating tension, Lyrielle stepped up beside Vince.

She softened her posture, letting her emerald eyes widen slightly as she offered a warm, dazzling smile—the kind that had once held the entire elven court captive.

”Please, excuse my partner,”

Lyrielle said, her voice dropping into a smooth, melodious purr.

She tilted her head, brushing a stray silver lock behind her pointed ear.

”The heat has made him a bit grumpy. We’ve traveled a very long way, and we’re simply looking for someone. We don’t mean to cause any trouble.”

The effect was instantaneous.

The massive leader blinked, his intimidating posture entirely melting away.

A dark, scaly flush crept up his neck, his amber eyes darting nervously from her smile to her lips, completely overwhelmed by the pure feminine charm radiating off the elven princess.

The four brutes behind him suddenly looked at the sky, cough-clearing their throats, completely losing their edge.

”Uh,”

The leader stammered, rubbing the back of his neck with a massive, clawed hand.

”Well... if you put it like that, my lady... you’re headed entirely in the wrong direction. There’s nothing but dead stone and sulfur venting for miles out that way.”

Vince let out a quiet sigh.

”Thanks for the directions. We’ll be off then.”

”Wait!”

The leader blurted out, stepping forward again, his eyes glued back to Lyrielle.

”The sun is going to set, and the mountain air gets toxic at night. If... if you’d like, you could come back with us to our settlement. We’ve got plenty of fresh ember-ale and hot meat. It’s much safer than the trails.”

Lyrielle’s face lit up with genuine delight. She turned to Vince, her fingers catching his sleeve.

”Vince, we should go with them! It’s the perfect chance to learn more about the region, and I’m starving.”

Vince stared at the five flushed, heavily armored dragon warriors, then back to Lyrielle. With a slow, defeated shake of his head, he mentally commanded his sword to vanish back into his inventory.

Hormonal bastards,

Vince cursed silently in his mind, rolling his eyes as he fell into step beside them.

---

The group escorted them through a hidden cavern tunnel that opened up into a massive, geothermal basin nestled between three volcanic peaks.

”Welcome to Ignis-Vara,”

The leader announced, pride returning to his gravelly voice.

The town was a sprawling, vibrant oasis of heat and stone.

Buildings were carved directly into the dark volcanic rock, reinforced with massive brass support pillars that gleamed under the lanterns. Rivers of glowing, low-temperature magma ran through deep, stone-lined channels, acting as natural streetlights and heating systems for the entire valley.

The townspeople were bustling through the streets. The male dragonkin were mostly broad-shouldered, carrying crates of ore or tending to open-air blacksmith forges.

The female dragonkin were striking—slender yet athletic, with elegant, iridescent scales trailing down their collarbones and hips, their slitted eyes varying from deep gold to molten bronze. They wore lightweight, flowing silks dyed in deep crimsons and charcoals, designed to withstand the ambient heat.

Lyrielle didn’t waste a single moment. Completely over-excited by the vibrant culture, she grabbed Vince by the hand and dragged him forcefully into the central marketplace, running from stall to stall.

”Vince, look at this one!”

She cheered, pointing at a stone griddle where a vendor was flipping thick, dark pastries.

”That’s Pyre-Bread,”

The vendor, an elderly dragonkin woman, chuckled, handing them a piece.

It was a dense, smoky bread infused with sweet fire-honey that practically melted on the tongue, leaving a pleasant, warming spice in the throat.

Next, they tried Ember-Skewers—tender chunks of localized behemoth meat marinated in sulfur-spices and seared over raw lava stones, giving it a rich, charred flavor that Vince actually found incredibly satisfying.

After eating their fill, Lyrielle dragged him into a clothing shop lined with local textiles. She threw a pair of deep green, heat-resistant hunter silks at his chest before vanishing behind a curtain. When she stepped out, she was wearing a traditional sleeveless vest of dark woven ash-silk, accented with polished red scales along the trim that perfectly complemented her figure. Vince changed into a practical, charcoal-dyed tunic made from fire-resistant threads, the lightweight material allowing his physical attributes to flex seamlessly.

---

By evening, the five guards from earlier finally caught up and led them into a bustling, raucous tavern carved deep into the basin wall.

The air smelled of roasted meats and heavy fermentation.

The guards generously paid for a massive spread of food and flagons of heavy ember-ale, securing a private booth for them where they could spend the night.

As they ate, Vince leaned back, his quiet, observant eyes scanning the tavern.

He twirled a wooden flagon between his fingers, a silent curiosity creeping into his mind. *

No one is bothered,

He noted.

A human and an elf walking deep into dragonkin territory, and not a single soul has drawn a blade or looked at us with hostility.

It was a stark, refreshing contrast to the prejudice-fueled realms of Oakhaven and the Canopy.

The leader of the group who brought them here, whose name was Torvald, slid into the seat directly across from Vince, holding up his flagon with a wide grin.

”Yoo, the name’s Torvald...heres a toast to your visit!”

Vince smirked faintly, clinking his flagon against Torvald’s before taking a deep gulp of the heavy, burning ale.

Setting the cup down, Vince leaned forward, his expression shifting back into a focused, calculated look.

”Torvald,”

Vince began quietly, his voice cutting through the tavern noise.

”I have a question for you. Do you know someone named Vetra?”

Torvald froze, his flagon stopping halfway to his mouth.

The rowdy members of his group at the table suddenly went dead silent.

Torvald’s eyes widened, the scales along his jaw tightening as he stared at Vince.

”Vetra...? You mean... Vetra the Crimson Calamity?”

”Yes,”

Vince replied, his Spectral Oculus catching the sudden, violent spike of anxiety in Torvald’s mana flow.

”Is she alive?”

Beside Vince, Lyrielle let out a soft, giggling sigh, her cheeks flushed bright red as she rested her head heavily against his shoulder, thoroughly drunk from the high-potency ember-ale.

Torvald let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, his massive hands trembling slightly as he set his flagon down on the wooden table.

”Alive...? She’s alive alright. The whole peak knows she’s alive.”

”Do you know where she is, then?”

Vince asked, completely unfazed by the guard’s sudden terror.

Torvald leaned across the table, his face dropping all pleasantry as he looked at Vince like he had lost his mind.

”Why the hell are you asking that, human? I hope you aren’t planning on doing something as completely stupid as seeking her out.”

Vince met his panicked gaze with a neutral, unmoving profile.

”That’s exactly what I want,”

Vince said smoothly.

”And based on the look on your face... is there something I should know about her?”

Torvald slowly let out a heavy, ragged breath, his gaze dropping down to the worn wood of the table as he shook his head.

”In our race, it’s common that we get called monsters by the outside world,”

Torvald murmured, his voice dropping into a dark, solemn whisper.

”Having said that... you could say she’s a monster amongst monsters.”

Vince sat entirely still, the heavy tavern chatter fading into the background as Torvald’s words echoed in his ears.

A monster among monsters... is she really that tough?

Vince thought to himself, his fingers tightening slightly around his flagon before he looked back up at the trembling dragon warrior.

”What exactly do you mean by that?”