This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

The lights dimmed.

A hush fell across the lavish, chandelier-lit auction hall as a man in a black coat stepped onto the central platform. He raised a single hand, and without any spiritual energy or theatrics, the room quieted further—as if the air itself knew not to disobey.

Judging by his golden blonde hair and the respectful manner with which everyone in the crowd was listening to the announcer, Kain (rightfully) assumed that this man was likely a member of a branch of the royal family.

“Welcome,” the announcer said, “to the 242nd Royal Auction of the Celestial Empire.”

Polite applause followed. No cheers. No dramatics. This was not a coliseum—it was a battlefield for wallets and wits.

Kain leaned back in his plush, velvet-upholstered chair, a crystal glass of frost-petaled wine in one hand, and what could only be described as the Empire’s most gourmet fried dumpling in the other. He chewed slowly, savoring the perfect ratio of crispy and tender. At least the food justified the stiff formality of the evening.

The first few auction items were predictably flashy but not very practical—antique weapons, some forged even before the Celestial Ascension Era, but the actual combat strength of many of these object had degraded over time or their production technology is not as good as modern weapons. Having one in the home would surely add to the prestige of a young noble house without much history, so each still had some bids, but were utterly impractical and useless for someone like him who didn’t care about ‘family prestige’ or the Storms who already had enough ancient artifacts to fill this room to the brim.

Kain admired them as a collector might admire foreign art—interested, but not enough to buy.

More importantly, he didn’t dare risk spending too much too early.

Because his target hadn’t shown up yet.

And he’d already mentally allocated nearly all of his available funds—just under forty billion Celestial Dollars—to try and win it.

So he sat. Ate. Sipped. Occasionally raised a brow at the frenzied bidding wars that erupted between rival nobles trying to outbid each other over some obscure ceremonial spear that could apparently glow in the dark and whisper sweet nothings.

Still, he wasn’t completely passive.

A new item was brought out on a floating cushion.

Kain’s head turned sharply as the description was read out.

“Next,” the announcer said, “a single orb of condensed Luminous Glacite—a rare spiritual material harvested from the Glacial Rift near the North Region Faultline. It contains both light and ice attributes in perfect harmony and is a known reactive catalyst in multiple rare evolution pathways. However, a high affinity is required to use the material otherwise an unfavorable evolution is likely. However, the likelihood of a favourable evolution is greater when used to empower spiritual creatures with illusion-type properties.”

Kain’s eyes flicked sideways.

Serena sat beside him, face unreadable, her fingers gently tracing the stem of her wine glass.

He leaned closer—close enough that his lips would end up grazing her ear if either of them moved an inch. Not due to any impure intentions, of course, just to prevent his words from carrying to others seated nearby.

“That sounds perfect for Prismarin,” he murmured near her ear, voice low. “The way its illusions reflect and split light… Luminous Glacite could stabilize the evolution and push it into a better quality. You haven’t hired a planner or decided on an evolutionary path for it yet, right?”

Serena blinked.

“No,” she said, equally quiet. “I was still debating the best route.”

“Then let me,” he said.

He didn’t ask for permission. He just gave her a look. One that said: I made a promise to give you something at the auction, remember?

And she smiled.

It was small. Private. The kind of smile no one else in the room noticed.

Except, perhaps, her father—who was currently watching Kain’s proximity to his daughter like a murderous hawk.

But then he heard the content of what Kain was whispering, and his murderous expression… dulled. Marginally.

Kain raised his bidding slip.

The Glacite orb’s starting price was just over 40 million CD. Due to its rarity and high potential, the starting price should have been higher, but most of those sitting in the audience probably didn’t have a contract they felt would have a high enough affinity.

One noble bid. Then another. Then silence.

When Kain called 90 million, the rest backed off.

Not because they didn’t want it.

But because they saw who wanted it.

Most wouldn’t want to needlessly offend an Evolutionary Planner, especially not one as accomplished as Kain, if they didn’t desperately need the object. Not to mention, judging by the close physical proximity between him and the Storm daughter, many theorized that there may be a more intimate connection between the two.

The hammer dropped.

“Winning bid: Guest Seat F-17. Ninety million CD.”

The orb vanished into a sealed crystalline box and was whisked away.

Kain leaned back, sipping his wine again. “It’s yours,” he said, quiet.

Serena tapped her heel against his lightly under the table. “You’re not bad at this.”

Kain grinned.

Over a dozen more auction items appeared, each more expensive than the last, when suddenly the air in the hall shifted. Almost as if many in the audience knew what was coming up next even before it was formally announced.

“Next,” the announcer said, tone sharper now, “we bring forward something previously exclusive to the Royal family.”

A moment passed.

Then a velvet box floated to the stage.

Slowly, reverently, it opened.

Within was a sphere no larger than a child’s fist—swirling with all the colours of the rainbow. It pulsed with spiritual light that seemed to hum through the air, resonating with every beast-tamer with dragon-type contract in the room.

Kain felt it immediately.

Vauleth, resting in his star space, raised his head immediately and a strong feeling of hunger echoed through their bond.

And judging by the flickers of tension around the room, other dragon tamers felt it too.

The announcer continued. “This is a [Dragon God Core]—an artifact produced only once every decade, refined from the marrow of large number of pure dragons and condense with spiritual flames for years, it is a blood-refining relic that has long been exclusive toimperial dragon riders.”

A hush.

“As I’m sure you all know, this artifact purifies a dragon’s lineage. Permanently strengthening their bloodline toward the origin—raising their capacity for growth and strength. It is the first time this item has ever been offered for public sale. The bids shall start at five billion”

The silence didn’t last.

“five billion.”

“six.”

“seven.”

“Seven and a half.”

Kain raised a hand. “Ten.”

The announcer didn’t even blink. “Ten billion. Do we have higher?” But you could tell it was just asked for the sake of ceremony. He, and everyone present, knew that there was no way this item was worth only that much.

Serena turned to him, surprised.

“You’re starting with ten?”

“I’m not playing around,” Kain said, jaw tight.

The bids kept coming. Unlike the last time Kain bid, where nobody wanted it badly enough to compete with him, now many couldn’t care about him or the Storms.

Twelve. Fifteen. Seventeen. Twenty. Twenty-five.

Kain raised again. “Thirty billion.”

The room shuddered.

Even Serena looked a little alarmed now.

But the bidding war still wasn’t close to being done.

“Thirty-five,” came a call from the opposite side of the hall.

Kain didn’t hesitate. “Thirty-nine billion.” Kain tried his best to steel his expression and exude confidence as if this small amount was nothing. Kain had walked in with a little under 40 billion CD and couldn’t afford to go higher. Therefore, this was his last bid, if someone else bids again he would lose it for good.

Silence.

Thankfully, this time it held.

Even the haughty noble in the third row with too many rings and an overfed phoenix sitting behind him lowered his hand.

“Any further bids?” the announcer asked.

No one moved.

“Final call.”

Kain’s entire body was tense and had his suit not been made of special materials to regulate his body temperature, he’d probably be soaked in sweat.

“Sold,” the announcer said. “To Guest F-17. Thirty-nine billion credits.”

Kain exhaled.

Collapsed slightly into his chair.

He barely noticed Serena’s hand settling lightly on his arm. Quietly celebratory.

But unfortunately for his sanity, her father noticed.

The temperature dropped again.

Kain raised his wine glass to hide the nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth due to the sixth sense of an animal spotted by a predator.

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