My Taming System Makes Me Overpowered

Vetra sliced through the dark water, her powerful tail propelling them through a narrow, razor-thin fissure in the abyssal canyon wall. She pulled Lyrielle into a cramped, shadow-drenched crevice just as the bioluminescent search arrays of twenty Vanguard guards swept overhead, their high-speed hydro-currents churning the water above.

They held their breath until the blue light faded into the distance.

”We have to go back for him!” Lyrielle hissed inside a tightly localized wind-grid, her hands trembling with a mix of fury and panic. ”The bubble has no issue with the pressure under water but intentional force from a strong entity is entirely different. if they break his barrier, the water pressure alone will—”

”Shut it, long ears,” Vetra growled low, her amber slit pupils tracking the retreating guard patrols. ”I follow his orders. If Vince says run and find archives, we run and find archives. You think a few iron links and a fish-girl with a trident are going to keep him down?”

Lyrielle bit her lip, her dark eyes flashing with frustration, but she knew Vetra was right. Vince never made a move without a brutal, calculated reason.

”Fine,” Lyrielle whispered reluctantly, adjusting the glowing aero-shield around her. ”If we’re gathering intel, we need a hall of records or an enclave. There has to be a royal archive or high academy somewhere around. Let’s move before those patrols double back.”

With a swift, silent kick of her tail, Vetra slipped out of the crevice, guiding Lyrielle upward into the shadows of Nethros’s sprawling, multi-tiered architecture.

---

Deep beneath the city, within the solitary containment vaults carved from pitch-black basalt, Vince sat on the cold, wet stone floor.

Because he possessed zero inherent magic, the Vanguard couldn’t use standard mana-dampening cells. Instead, Vince remained sealed inside a tight, self-contained sphere of Lyrielle’s emerald wind-mana—a lingering gift from her spell before she was yanked away. Heavy, four-inch-thick abyssal iron cuffs bound his wrists together, forcing his arms into his lap.

Small, bioluminescent deep-sea fish drifted lazily outside the green barrier, their faint glow reflecting in Vince’s calm, purple eyes. He didn’t look like a prisoner facing execution at 11,000 meters below sea level; he looked like a man taking a brief break on a park bench.

The heavy, runic iron door at the end of the corridor ground open.

Nerissa, stepped into the damp cell chamber. She had dismissed her elite guard, commanding absolute privacy. Her voluptuous, scale-draped frame glided across the slick stone, the iridescent blue and violet plates clinging tightly to her curves. The golden trident was absent, but her heavy, hydrokinetic domain aura still made the surrounding water hum.

She stopped just outside the cell bars, her dark golden siren eyes peering down at him with intense, calculating scrutiny.

”My scout arrays reported two dragonkin warlords and an elf entering the Glass Sea,” Nerissa said smoothly, her voice a rich, melodic purr that vibrated through the barrier. ”They described a monster capable of shattering obsidian gates with its bare hands. Yet, here you sit... a human.”

She leaned in slightly, her delicate, webbed cheek-fins flaring. ”What are you? A dragonkin hiding behind illusion magic, or truly just a fragile land-rat?”

Scout arrays, Vince thought to himself, a subtle gear turning in his mind. Do they have some kind of long-range mana detection perimeter on the surface?

Vince leaned back against the damp basalt wall, resting his cuffed hands casually over his knee. A slow, effortless grin spread across his face as his eyes took in her stunning, sapphire-skinned form.

”Honestly?” Vince replied, his voice a low, grit-laced rumble. ”I’m just an ordinary human. But I have to say, General... the scout reports completely failed to mention that the ruler of Nethros was this breathtaking. Pictures wouldn’t do those curves justice.”

Nerissa’s lips set into a sharp, ice-cold line. She didn’t blink, giving him a flat, unbothered cold shoulder that completely dismissed the flattery.

”Save your surface-dweller charm for someone who cares,” Nerissa murmured, her golden eyes scanning his broad shoulders and unbothered posture. ”Who sent you? Is it the High Council of the Western Continent? No land-dweller has reached the floor of Nethros without a sovereign power backing them.”

”Nobody sent me,” Vince said smoothly, rolling his shoulders under the weight of the heavy iron cuffs. ”I’m just an adventurer. Curiosity is a dangerous habit of mine.”

”Curiosity,” Nerissa repeated, her tone dripping with disdain. She swam back, her long, blue-scaled tail sweeping across the wet floor with a slow, dangerous rhythm. ”You break through my outer perimeter, slaughter my shock captains, and dare to enter the vault of The Sleeper out of curiosity?”

She turned toward the heavy iron door, her expression darkening into a ruthless mask of military authority.

”You have one chance to survive this, human,” Nerissa warned, glancing over her shoulder with a sharp, lethal glare. ”If you do not start giving me real answers about who you work for, you will die down here at the bottom of the sea. And your little friends will join you.”

The heavy door slammed shut behind her, leaving Vince alone in the dim green glow of the wind-bubble.

Vince let out a quiet huff of amusement, leaning his head back against the stone. She’s tough.

---

Far above the subterranean dungeons, inside the Grand Castle Courtroom of Nethros, the atmosphere was nearing a boiling point.

The courtroom was a masterpiece of ancient marine architecture—a vast, high-ceilinged rotunda carved from vitrified white coral and black marble. Massive arched windows looked out over the glowing abyssal city, while high pedestals of blue crystal held burning braziers of white hydro-flame.

A dozen high-ranking abyssal nobles in billowy, pearl-embroidered silk robes paced frantically around the central council table.

”The intruder’s timing is a nightmare!” an elder lord barked, slamming his webbed fist onto the polished stone table. ”We have the outer vanguards mobilized to search for his companions, while our inner defenses are already stretched to the limit!”

”Forget the surface dweller for a moment!” a noblewoman interjected, her siren gills flaring with deep anxiety as she gestured toward a map of the outer trenches. ”Our primary concern should be the western rift! The Vanguard posts at the third ridge haven’t reported in for six hours!”

”It’s him,” another lord whispered, his face turning pale under the white hydro-flame light. ”It’s the rogue merman.”

The room fell into a tense, terrified hush at the mention of the title.

”He calls himself The Calm of the Sea,” the elder lord said, his voice trembling slightly. ”He’s been slaughtering our outer outposts one by one, rallying the rogue abyssal factions against the Crown. If he makes his move while Nethros is distracted by this surface anomaly...”

The lords exchanged terrified glances as the quiet threat echoed through the grand chamber, oblivious to the fact that the anomaly they feared was sitting in their dungeon below, waiting for his clock to strike zero.