This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

Soreia collapsed, her breath torn into ragged pieces as fire swam through her veins.

The unknown liquid surged inside her like a living thing, thrashing against her organs in revolt. The inheritance had turned on her. It wanted her out.

Her nails scraped the stone as she fought to stay conscious.

“No… no… this is mine…my destiny” she hissed through gritted teeth.

Not far away, Serena watched her thrash in pain coldly. Her spiritual aura shimmered around her like a thin veil, untouched by the corrosive air. Her hands were already raised for another strike, fingers curling with focused energy.

But then something shifted.

The statue’s hand—still slick with residual energy from the first droplet—split open again. A second identical drop formed. It hovered there, suspended between them.

Serena paused.

The voice of the Sentinel echoed, this time louder, deeper. “Another eligible candidate has appeared. Prove that you are fit.”

The droplet floated toward her.

For a moment, Serena didn’t move. Then, with the same resolve she’d shown on countless battlefields and life-or-death missions, she stepped forward and opened her mouth.

The second droplet touched her tongue.

It was not warm.

And it most definitely was not comfortable.

Whatever modification had been performed on Soreia to make her related to this relic did not apply to Serena. She was at an even bigger disadvantage in the competition for this inheritance than she initially thought.

The energy that Soreia felt comfortable with, or just minor discomfort at the most before Serena intervened, felt like Lava flowing through Serena’s veins, eager to consume her.

She staggered.

Soreia, still trembling on all fours, looked up at this scene with schadenfreude.

Serena wasn’t compatible. At least not when compared to herself.

Good.

Gritting her teeth, Soreia forced herself upright. Her skin cracked where black veins had begun to spiderweb across her neck and jaw. She couldn’t let it win. Couldn’t let Serena take it.

The inheritance hadn’t fully rejected her yet. Not completely.

She closed her eyes and drew on the only thing she could: her gift.

Past events flashed through her mind as she tried to find one that was suitable…

Finally, her mind stopped on the image of a dark necklace that had been shown to her by a member of ‘The Organization.’

With a thought, an identical replica of that necklace appeared in her hand, and a current of soothing energy travelled up her arm to the rest of her body, helping to calm the rampaging energy.

Just in time.

A spear of concentrated spiritual power lanced toward her.

She rolled sideways, barely dodging Serena’s follow-up attack.

“You’re resilient,” Serena said, already preparing another blow. “I’ll give you that.”

Soreia said nothing. Her throat burned too much to answer. But with another thought a replica of the high-quality sword she usually used appeared in her hand.

‘How is she able to retrieve items? I haven’t been able to access my space ring? Is it her gift? Her gift can conjure up items?’

But Serena couldn’t dwell on the thought for long. They clashed.

No contracts. Just the pure clash spiritual power and their gifts in an almost animalistic fight that they had to partake in while also repressing the unpleasant energy ingested into their bodies.

Serena hurled arrows of compressed spiritual, each one sharp enough to cut through bone. But Soreia, breathing in short, gasping bursts, shifted slightly to the left or right at just the right instant, always one second ahead of the strike.

The dual task of fighting while restraining the energy rampaging through her was hard.

Similarly the black-gold energy in Serena’s veins was unstable, violent. But her well of spiritual energy was nearly bottomless, and she kept pouring more and more of it into holding the inheritance back. Where Soreia was using conjured items and skill to try and tame the energy, Serena smothered the rebellion with sheer force.

Soreia was slowing.

But Serena was not.

Limitless spiritual power was not the same as limitless energy, so normally Serena would begin to tire out by now as well. However, the pure rage and hatred that she had was better fuel than any energy boosting elixir could ever hope to be.

And then the statue moved.

Its eyes flared with burning orange light.

The obsidian-armored warrior statue twisted at the waist with a grinding crack of stone and muscle-like tension. The outstretched arm, now empty of droplets, retracted and curled into a fist. A moment later, it slammed that fist into the ground.

The cavern exploded with force.

A concussive shockwave ripped out in every direction, shaking the stone beneath their feet and sending both girls sprawling.

Soreia’s back smashed into the wall, her breath knocked out in a violent gasp. Serena hit the ground in a half-roll, skidding across the slick stone floor before catching herself on one knee.

And then—the pain came.

Both of them screamed in unison.

The black-gold liquid inside their veins surged like it had heard a war horn, responding to the statue’s movement as if awakened by the very presence of battle. The energy spiked, turning volatile and vicious.

Their skin sizzled. Their bones ached. Every inch of their bodies was flooded with unbearable heat and pressure, as if the inheritance itself was punishing them for not already proving themselves.

“The Thar’Ameth do not protect the weak,” the voice boomed from the statue, no longer calm and regal, but savage. “We do not coddle our young. You want our legacy? Then bleed for it.”

The statue lifted its spear and swung it in a wide, brutal arc. A fan of compressed, corrosive mist erupted from the weapon’s path, slashing through the air like a blade made of acid and hungry for the first sight of blood in probably millennia.

It struck both girls at once.

Serena grunted and flipped backward, her barrier faltering, burns streaking across her arms. She forced a massive amount of spiritual power to harden along her skin just in time to block a second wave…and a third…and barely a fourth. But the attacks kept coming without rest. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep it up.

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