Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

Hedda’s heart skipped a beat, but she maintained her neutral expression.

“Farewell? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Vex smiled, but there was something different about that smile. Softer, less calculated. It was the kind of expression that broke through years of careful merchant training, revealing the human being underneath the professional facade.

“Simply an old fool who sees patterns where none exist.”

He put the crystals back in their box and slid it toward her across the wooden counter.

“Take them. Same amount as the last transaction and the box at no cost… Buy good armor with the remaining money. Our cute princess lets you have it if you haggle well, right?”

“Master Vex, these are better quality and…” Hedda began, genuinely surprised by the unexpected generosity. In Yino’s culture, such gifts always came with hidden costs or expectations.

“I said, buy armor and forget about it,” he repeated firmly. “Consider this… an investment in future transactions.”

Hedda looked at the box, then at Vex, seeing for the first time beyond the mask of the cunning merchant. There was something resembling genuine concern in his eyes, carefully hidden but present nonetheless.

The weight of that concern was almost overwhelming. In her world where every interaction was a performance, where every relationship served a calculated purpose, this moment of authentic care felt almost forbidden.

“This will probably be the last time you see me for a while,” she finally admitted, her voice softer than it had been all day. “I’m being… reassigned.”

Vex nodded as if he had been expecting that confirmation.

“I see. And I suppose this ‘reassignment’ doesn’t involve more errands for spoiled princesses.”

“Not exactly… It’s a more… frontline position.”

Vex disappeared again toward the back room. This time, when he returned, he carried something wrapped in black silk. His movements were deliberate, almost ceremonial, as if he were handling something of great importance.

“Then you’ll want this too,” he said, carefully unwrapping a small pendant. It was simple but elegant, a black stone set in silver that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, the kind of work that spoke of master artisans and considerable expense.

“Mana concealment talisman. Very useful for… situations where one prefers not to be noticed when their rank doesn’t exceed silver.”

“Master Vex, I can’t accept…”

“You can and you will,” he interrupted, with a firmness that brooked no argument. His merchant’s facade had dropped completely, replaced by something that looked almost paternal. “Call it… a bonus for a loyal customer.”

He took Hedda’s hand and closed her fingers around the pendant.

“Besides,” he added, his voice regaining some of its usual mocking tone, “if you survive whatever awaits you, come back here. I always enjoy working for someone with… difficult and interesting orders.”

Hedda felt something strange in her throat. When was the last time someone had shown genuine concern for her? Not concern for her usefulness, or her mission, or her value as an asset, but simple human worry for her wellbeing.

The sensation was so unfamiliar it was almost disorienting.

“Thank you,” she said simply, and for once, there was no performance in her voice.

Vex smiled, and this time the smile reached his eyes.

“Now go, before I get too sentimental and ruin my reputation as a ruthless merchant.”

As Hedda headed toward the door, Vex called her one last time.

“Hedda?”

“Yes?”

“Do me the favor of staying as far back as possible on that bridge. Keep your head down, but your eyes open. And remember… on the battlefield, sometimes retreat is the smartest victory.”

Hedda nodded, understanding the message. The old merchant had read the situation with frightening accuracy.

As the door closed behind her, she heard Vex murmur something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.

Outside, the small flying beast that monitored her descended to perch on her shoulder, a reminder that her brief moment of genuine humanity had ended. It was time to return to being the asset, the tool, the piece on someone else’s board.

But as she walked back to the castle, Hedda touched the pendant hidden under her blouse and allowed herself to imagine, just for a moment, a world where not all gestures of kindness were calculated transactions.

♢♢♢♢

Three hours later, Hedda found herself in the castle’s yard, surrounded by the sound of armor being adjusted and claws being sharpened. The deployment order had arrived with the characteristic speed of military operations in Yino: immediate and without possibility of questioning.

The transformation from peaceful capital to military staging ground had been remarkably swift. Soldiers moved with efficiency, their movements speaking of long training and ingrained discipline.

“Formation by platoons!” shouted Captain Morse, a veteran whose scars spoke of decades of loyal service.

“Equipment inspection in five minutes!”

Hedda checked her own new armor, chosen with mobility in mind rather than protection. Her hunter spider stirred restlessly under her skin, responding to the tension in the air. Unlike Han’s weaver spider, hers was specialized in direct attacks and powerful jumps.

Around her, hundreds of soldiers prepared for the march. It wasn’t a massive army, but each one was a silver-rank soldier with at least two contractual beasts, one of them abyssal. All those who had reached Silver rank like her carried abyssal beasts, gifts from the kingdom to its most ‘loyal’ servants.

The corruption was visible in various forms: some soldiers bore scaled patches on their arms, others had eyes that glowed with unnatural colors, and many displayed the telltale purple veins that marked deep abyssal integration.

“Attention!” The expedition commander’s voice cut through the noise. Lord Maximilian Vanthorne, leader of a family directly subordinate to Lord Ravenspire, stood on an improvised platform.

He was an imposing man, bearing the characteristic energy signature of a multiple abyssal tamer: patterns of white scales on his arms, black feathers in his hair from his spectral crow, and the purple lines that indicated abyssal corruption.

“Soldiers of Yino!” he began, his voice amplified by his beasts’ mana. “Today we march to reclaim what belongs to us by right! The abyss bridge will be completely ours!”

The soldiers cheered enthusiastically, but Hedda frowned…

Something didn’t add up.

Maximilian Vanthorne was powerful, without doubt. A noble family leader directly subordinate to one of the best families with two conventional beasts and three abyssal ones, making him a formidable quintuple tamer.

His Lesser Basilisk was Gold 1 Rank, his spectral crow Silver 2, and there were rumors that his abyssal beasts were impressive.

But…

‘Why isn’t Lord Ravenspire himself directing this?’ Hedda wondered while listening to the speech. ‘Or Lord Venmont, or Lord Bloodwyn?’

She had been close enough to Princess Selthia to know the true power levels of Yino’s nobility. Lord Ravenspire had been a double from the beginning, with a Gold 1 beast and a Gold 2 beast, quite strong even before corruption. Now he was a six-beast tamer in total, with power that rivaled the King himself.

The same applied to Lord Venmont and Lord Bloodwyn. All were original doubles with Gold beasts aided by four abyssal beasts of the highest level each.

‘If this bridge mission is as important as they say,’ Hedda reflected while the speech continued, ‘then why isn’t one of the real Lords directing it? Doesn’t the King want to ensure a triumph here as quickly as possible for the sake of winning the war?’

The numbers didn’t add up. Yino had considerably more power than what it was deploying here. It was like sending a sharp knife to do a sword’s work.

The disparity was troubling. If the bridge truly represented a critical strategic objective, the deployment of such relatively modest forces suggested either supreme confidence or deliberate sacrifice.

“The glory of Yino will shine over the battlefield!” Maximilian concluded, raising his ceremonial sword. “We march!”

As the soldiers advanced, Hedda continued thinking. Her training as an intelligence asset and guard had taught her to read between the lines, to look for patterns others overlooked.

‘This isn’t the main mission,’ she finally concluded. ‘It’s a distraction.’

Hedda looked toward the sky and wondered where the real battle would actually be taking place.

And if they had already decided the value of the distraction and the dynamics of the soldiers’ lives in this distraction, and her own.

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