This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

[One vote cast. Participant eliminated. Please say goodbye to Participant Fang Lei]

At those words, the other man’s pedestal gave a final, shuddering groan.

Fang Lei—that was his name, Kain realized distantly—did not scream. He did not beg. He simply closed his eyes as his throne plummeted into the abyss.

The creatures surged like a black tide, swallowing him whole.

For a moment, there was only the wet, tearing sound of flesh being torn apart.

For a long, drawn-out moment, the others sat in silence—frozen—listening to the nightmare inducing sounds beneath them.

Then the barrier around their chairs flickered back into place. The world was silent again.

Kain finally let out the breath he’d been holding. His shoulders sagged, limbs trembling in their restraints.

He wasn’t dead. Not yet.

But he had danced on the knife’s edge. He had almost died. Helplessly.

Even when facing creatures the equivalent of indigo-grade and higher, Kain hadn’t felt so helpless—because he wasn’t completely helpless. As long as they weren’t completely focused on him or were restrained by their environments, he’d always had the opportunity to run.

And if he couldn’t run, he could always fight to the death honorably. But this trial wouldn’t have even given him that dignity in his final moments. It was truly the most horrifying way to die for Kain.

And his coming so close to meeting such an unfortunate end was largely due to just one person.

He didn’t know why she was targeting him. Whether it was personal, strategic, or something else entirely. But he did know one thing: she wanted him gone.

And if this trial didn’t end soon, she might very well get her wish.

Thankfully, right at that thought, a familiar voice rang out, colder than before:

[Participant Fang Lei has been eliminated. Trial complete.]

Kain’s shoulders sagged in belief. If there was another round and he answered incorrectly, as long as that girl targeting him had voting privileges, he would definitely be gone.

But Kain’s moment to bask in his feelings of relief was short-lived, interrupted by a voice.

The Holy Son’s voice cut through the stillness, smooth and serene:

“Interesting, isn’t it?”

All eyes turned to him. He was still smiling.

“What kind of relic is this? Unlike others, it doesn’t seem to care about strength. Nor does it care about intelligence. It seems much more interesting in one thing—who we are as people. How we deal with fear. Our thought processes when facing problems. Where our loyalties lie…”

His gaze slid to the white-eyed girl. “And who we choose to sacrifice when given a choice.”

Kain followed his line of sight. The girl’s expression was unreadable, but her fingers were clenched tightly around her armrests.

Cassian’s voice was sharp upon seeing him seemingly make a pointed remark at his ally. “What are you implying?”

The Holy Son chuckled. “Nothing at all. Only that our choices define us. And Fang Lei… well. He was always going to be the first to fall.”

Kain’s stomach twisted. The way he said it—like he had known. Like he had planned it.

Before anyone could respond, the ground beneath them trembled. The thrones retracted, the barriers dissolved, and the pit of creatures vanished as if it had never been.

They were back in the relic’s main chamber.

And standing before them was a new door—this one carved with the image of a two-headed dragon.

The Holy Son stepped forward.

“Shall we?”

Kain nodded and followed behind him. Although he still didn’t like nor trust the Holy Son, his speech about what the trial might really be selecting for intrigued him.

Not to mention, after the last round, Kain trusted the golden-haired boy more than he trusted one of his own ‘teammates.’

———–

Kain crossed the threshold of the dragon-marked door with his shoulders still tense. He half-expected to be teleported again—to vanish into motes of light and reappear in some new circle of hell, the next twisted trial already underway.

But nothing of the sort happened.

Instead, his boots struck smooth stone, and the corridor ahead glowed softly with ambient light. Just… a hallway.

‘Strange,’ Kain thought. ‘Why make us walk?’

He could feel it—everyone else was wondering the same thing. Even Cassian, who’d been grumbling under his breath for the last few minutes, had gone quiet, his attention drawn forward.

When they stepped into the next room, Kain understood why, in the center of the room, sat six ornate boxes—each one resting atop its own pedestal.

Six boxes. Six participants left.

Each box was identical in design and indistinguishable in shape or size.

Cassian perked up visibly, stepping toward one box with renewed purpose. His earlier frustration at not performing well in the last trial and near-death experience seemed to melt away as curiosity and ambition took over.

Kain’s eyes drifted to another box. He didn’t move just yet.

Beside him, Serena’s gaze narrowed slightly. She hadn’t gone forward either.

“A reward?” she murmured under her breath. “Now of all times?”

Kain gave a small nod. “Maybe. After two rounds, it wouldn’t be strange for a relic to offer some kind of incentive. Keep us motivated. Instead of just teleporting us straight to another trial.”

‘Maybe the relic was allowing them a chance to breathe. To reflect.’ He thought optimistically.

The Holy Son stood calmly before the boxes, eyes closed, hands folded in silent prayer—or perhaps doing some kind of ceremony to figure out the ideal box to choose. There was no hint of relief in his expression, no eagerness. Only peace.

The white-eyed girl stared down at another box, selection seemingly already made, her expression unreadable as ever. Her lips pressed into a faint line. She hadn’t moved either.

The Eastern girl stood a few feet away from the others, not even looking at the ‘gift boxes,’ trembling. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her breath shaking in her chest. She hadn’t cried—but it was clear she was close.

Kain wondered if she even saw the boxes.

She didn’t even seem to notice the others anymore. Her eyes were glassy and distant, her thoughts far away. Mentally broken.

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