I Become the Baby Tiger in a Beast Taming World

Chapter 154: Chapter 150: Grin and Bear It

Tortue’s carapace and scutes are blocking me. GRRR. Where is Demos?

Sharp. The smell is sharp. Demos’ fur. Phew. That big furry bear is still alive!

[Not for long.]

System’s voice has all the affect of an X-ray machine. Far more disturbing than a taunt.

Lobo interferes before I can dig a hole for everyone. [Nice try. You know he can outlast you.]

Lightning chimes in. [Just let it play out. Whatever happens.]

No flicker, no moving the needle, but I can sense that System wants to combust.

The announcer shouts, "That’s a bear head. Then we get the bear! Demos is alive!"

A full-throated roar and Demos scoots out from under Tortue, keeping his head down until he clears the low threshold. Then, he roars, shaking the arena. I have Katy Perry’s "Roar" stuck in my head now.

The announcer yells,"Tortue’s stampede is overplayed, apparently. Demos has shown resilience, and his attribute scores are enviable. Even at Tortue’s level, a beast can still get complacent. You must never, never underestimate your opponent."

Tortue wails as Demos attacks the other front foot, and then... CRASH.

Legs and head shoot back into the shell, which smashes into the platform. Tortue has given up, with a tail wag as a white flag of surrender. She has decided to hide from the world. And no surprise--she reeks of exhaustion.

The announcer calls, "Five...four...three...two...one...OUT! Tortue, the Terror of the Desert Lands, is out! Eliminated."

Quick as thought, the orb transport service airlifts tamer and tortoise out of the arena. Now, Peridot and Demos face off against Castor and her fearsome teeth.

Castor gnashes her choppers. [Tortue was tired. I am not. I still have enough energy to build a dam as high as this arena.]

Peridot hisses. [You are bluffing. You both are exhausted.]

Castor sneers. [Rest is for the weak. Busy, busy, busy.]

My gut twists, because I am Castor. Busy, busy, busy beaver. Always working. And what did it get me? Trapped in a video game world fighting for my freedom and my personhood, and the freedom of my loved ones. I am also Tortue. Pushing past my limits.

Demos softens. [But your teeth will wear out. You will wear out. Do you really--AAAGH!]

Sympathy wins no matches. Demos is flung backward, rebounding off an invisible wall. Zipping back, Peridot hovers, recalculating everything.

An ash and wood colored barrier materializes, rising several feet high, dividing Castor from her opponents. She snaps her jaws. [I can keep this up all day. You two will be splattered all over this energy dam.]

Peridot hisses. [We’ll break it. There’s a gap in it somewhere, especially since you can barely keep your eyes open. Aren’t you tired? Don’t you just want to build your dams in the open air and not fight?]

I turn to Lobo, who wags his tail, ears perked forward. [New tactic?]

[They’re not wrong.] Lobo has a note of hope in his voice. [Tortue is wiser. That’s why tortoises live so long. They know how to embrace the slow life. A stereotype, but true. Castor is close to collapse. Tortue made a brave decision, especially after Demos cut off her breathing.]

On the platform, Castor is the real barrier. Her attitude is rigid and wooden. Almost petrified wood. I wish I could help her learn from my human experience, but I can’t. She wouldn’t understand. Maybe her player would.

Lightning clucks in the mind-link. [She needs friends. Or a mate.]

I grimace. [For some people, the job, the game, whatever, it is their life. Nothing wrong with that, until you lose your grip on reality. As long as that tunnel vision works for you, there’s no problem. This is a problem.]

Demos pelts the barrier with shooting stars while Peridot flies high, looking for the upper limit. Probing for a crack in the barrier.

I communicate to Demos privately. [Lay it on thick with how tired she seems.]

Demos grunts. [I’m not even her, and I am tired. This beast taming life is brutal at times, even in the best households.]

Vedette says to Castor’s tamer, an intense woman, "Your turtle was exhausted. Your beaver is as well. Why keep pushing?"

Madame Ancelot huffs. "Such a child."

Vedette bristles, like any self-respecting teenager. "Excuse me?"

"She’s concerned," Niall says without sugarcoating it. "Your beasts are ready to drop. The beaver is only pushing herself out of pride."

Madame Ancelot sniffs. "Niall Widdershins, you have been away from our world."

"Not THAT long." Niall’s hair grows wilder in response to his mood. "I remember the dark side."

Mordant, Madame Ancelot doesn’t pull punches. "Such as opponents being crushed?"

"That’s the game," Niall replies. "And it takes its toll. These are younger beasts. Yours are older."

As usual, Niall knows where the bodies are buried and which beasts should be put out to pasture. He’s not trying to be underhanded. His concern is pure, selfless. And Madame Ancelot can dismiss Vedette more easily than she can Niall, who barely comes up to her thigh.

Madame Ancelot shouts, "FOUL! They are trying to interfere."

The announcer is sharp. "NO. It is called sportsmanship. The judges say this is not interference."

A murmur of approval among the audience, and among the houses, even those that have it in for House Ancelot and would dearly wish to see them dethroned this tournament year.

Her face turning the shade of Castor’s wall as well as fiery red, Madame Ancelot points to Castor. "Hold your wall. Hold it so that they deplete their energy trying to break it down. Then we all see who is exhausted!"

Lobo provides context. [That’s the tricky part about the wall. You have to find a way to penetrate it before you burn all your energy. Peridot! Demos! How are your energy levels?]

Peridot slips her tail through a chink in the wall. [Holding.]

Demos bombards the wall with Shooting Stars. [Same. Master Niall checks them constantly. So does my Young Miss.]

I breathe more easily. I am proud of the compassion that Demos, Peridot, Vedette, and Niall are showing--it’s a game-changer. A subtle rebellion against the machine. Against System and its system. Basic decency and kindness will always win the day.

Pungent, the burning of the wall smells like a wood-burning stove. Castor shrieks. [You can’t do that! You are ruining everything!]

Her tunnel vision is so narrow that she fails to observe Peridot sliding right through the chink in the wall, breaching Castor’s defenses. Myopic, Castor doesn’t even sense Peridot approaching until the scaly living snare wraps around her and squeezes. Peridot hisses, putting maximum pressure on Castor.

Fading fast, the beaver is intractable still. Peridot puts some slack in her coils. [Yield.]

[I can’t.] Castor sounds less rigid and impassable. [My house’s honor is at stake.]

[So is your life if you continue.] Demos gentles his gruffness. [No one would think less of you for yielding. You already have come this far.]

Quaking, Castor lies down. [So tired.]

"Get up," Madame Ancelot orders.

The entire arena is on its feet. "YIELD!"

The announcer seizes the chant. "Yes. Yield. Castor is yielding. 5...4...3...2...1... DOWN! House Riddlehoeven has won!"

The thunderous applause is not for us. Not for our house.

It’s for Castor and Tortue.

It’s for two beasts who have pushed past their limits for their tamers, and who now deserve rest, not criticism and endless demands to perform. Who have already run their own race.

"NO!"

Madame Ancelot’s wail reverberates throughout the arena. However, the arena is not moved. Instead, the audience doubles down on its empathy for Castor. Peridot gives the beaver one last squeeze, a gentle hug rather than a combat hold. Demos bumps Castor with his nose.

The announcer is firm. "Madame Ancelot, see to your beast. And for all of you who remain in the competition, care for your beasts. Whether they win or lose, they have earned honor. Take care of them. They are, after all, part of you, and you of them."

A loud wallah of support ripples through the remaining contestants. "Part of us...They deserver everything we can give...They are like family to their tamers...Even more so than children for some of us..."

Bowing her head, Madame Ancelot lays her hand on Castor’s great head, murmuring something my ears can’t catch. The sound is soothing. That’s something at least.

Meanwhile, the orb glides down, a gift from above. When the beam from the orb draws Castor, that great brown dozing beast, up into the air, Madame Ancelot clings to Castor’s flat tail. Smaller and smaller, she shrinks until she vanishes from our sight.

Meanwhile, the platform lowers and gently comes to rest. Our Vedette and Niall disembark gracefully with Peridot and Demos following. Both Vedette and Niall wave.

The announcer clears his throat. "Let’s not delay, as it can be fatiguing. The next match is...Gussie of House Riddlehoeven and Einswine of House Lammermoor against Bertramnus of House Guilherme and Lunetta of House Mooncloak."

We can’t stop now!