This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

Chapter 898: Chapter 898: Frozen Frontier

Serena pulled her fur-lined hood tighter against the wind, her voice half-lost in the howling, fierce gust. “Are you sure the information you read was accurate?”

Kain nodded, his breath condesning into mist in the frigid air. “It should be. The archives in the Wuxing Elemental Sect were clear—though the name wasn’t given. But based on the description—a central continent foreigner with black hair, black eyes, an unknown affinity linked to invisible creatures, and power at the nine-star level—there’s only one person it could be given the time period.”

Serena’s eyes narrowed. “Amos Sans… one of the five founders of the Celestial Empire.”

Kain hummed in agreement. “And the most mysterious of them. The others have known records—where they eventually settled, what they left behind. But Amos… just vanished centuries ago after the Empire was firmly established.”

And, Kain didn’t say this next part aloud, he’d long had a strong hunch that Amos might have had the same affinity as him—for microorganisms. And that many of his actions after the Empire was established, such as making the habitat relics throughout the Empire that contained all microorganisms (one of which he found Aegis as well as a fragment of an imprisoned high-grade Abyssal), were because he’d felt the arrival of the Abyss more intuitively than the others.

Serena blinked. “So you think he came all the way here—to this frozen wasteland. But for what? Something related to prophesying the Abyss’ arrival?”

Kain’s eyes glinted. “I do. He crossed an ocean and stayed for a period near this northern frontier. There has to be something vital here—something important enough to draw him. And coincidentally, one of the three main Abyssal invasion points on this continent happens to be right here. It’s the only one of the three that hasn’t completely collapsed. That alone says a lot about the potential of this location.” At those words, they continued marching forward.

Approaching the massive fortress, was like walking through two rivers flowing in opposite directions. Most travelers they passed were heading south, fleeing the encroaching cold and the Abyss. But others—grim-faced warriors, and young tamers with determined eyes—were moving toward the frontier.

Kain and Serena were swept into a current of humanity. Families burdened with bundles trudged south, faces pinched from cold and fear, while soldiers and tamers heading north wore the steady calm of those who had already accepted their fates. A mother wrapped her child in a faded blanket and murmured prayers; a merchant dragged a sled of supplies uphill and nodded respectfully to them; a group of teenage recruits joked too loudly to mask their trembling. The clash of these two tides of life—fleeing and advancing—made the road feel alive with tension, courage, and despair all at once.

Every time they saw Kain and Serena heading north, those moving south had their expressions soften with admiration.

“Brave young ones,” one merchant whispered as they passed. “May the Winter Spirits bless them.”

By the time they reached the massive walls of the northern frontier, the snow had thickened into near-blizzards. The fort was bustling despite the cold—spiritual beasts hauling supplies, soldiers repairing wards, tamers tending to the wounded.

What struck Kain most was the diversity. Mid- and high-level beast tamers stood shoulder to shoulder, but the largest group wasn’t warriors at all—it was the ordinary unawakened.

He frowned slightly. Serena noticed. “Strange, isn’t it? You’d expect only fighters here.”

“Most who fled south were weak tamers, but stronger than ordinary people,” Kain murmured, scanning the crowd. “Unfortunately, those at one to three stars can’t play a major role on this battlefield, but they also have enough strength to survive the treacherous journey south—so they left. Those at six stars or higher stay out of determination and confidence in their strength. But also because they can’t abandon the ordinary people remaining. And these…” His gaze lingered on the bundled figures with barely any spiritual power repairing fortifications, hauling arrows, tending fires. “These are the ones who can’t leave. The storms, avalanches, and beasts out there will kill them faster than the Abyss will. So they stay.”

The frontier’s population had taken on a strange shape—a U, with the strongest and weakest remaining, and the middle gone.

When they reported in, Kain stated calmly, “We’re here to join the guards.”

No one questioned it. They were given their assignments and a guide—an ordinary man with frost-bitten fingers and weary eyes.

“Apologies for being the only one available to give you a proper welcome tour,” the man rasped as they walked, “Normally another beast master would be responsible for receiving you, but most of the masters are at the front. The fighting hasn’t stopped in three days.”

Before showing them to their quarters, the guide led them up the great wall.

From the top, the view stole their breath.

A scar split the horizon—a vast wound in the world several kilometers wide, glowing with shifting hues of black, red, gold, and violet. It pulsed faintly, breathing like a living thing. And from that abyssal chasm poured the endless tide of corruption.

The land below was no longer white with snow but black—but looking closer, Kain realized that the ground was black not because it was covered in ash or tainted, but because the sheer number of low-grade Abyssals crawling over it had made it look like a solid sheet of black. Worm-like, insectoid shapes writhed and piled over one another, a living carpet of corruption.

Kain exhaled slowly. He hadn’t seen this many low-grade abyssals since the time he’d entered that memory relic in his home town—where he had witnessed, with his own eyes, how mid-grade abyssals were born. Thousands of wormlike creatures had been tossed into a vast pit, devouring and tearing at one another until only one remained—stronger, twisted, reborn as something far worse. The writhing sea below now reminded him of that grotesque spectacle, the endless cycle of consumption and evolution given physical form.

Only now they weren’t trying to devour one another to grow, but rather the delicious life forms in front of them.

“So this is where it begins.”

The guide nodded grimly. “They come nonstop. Which is likely why the other two frontiers at Abyssal entrances were breached, allowing the Abyssals to travel south into the continent coming down from the Northeast and Northwestern sides. Only we, the central frontier, have stood to today. Fortunately, the low grade abyssals are weak—even us normal folk can kill them if we’re careful not to get contaminated.”

Indeed, along the wall’s lower battlements, hundreds of ordinary people were stationed with long pikes and reinforced blades, hacking down the fist sized abyssal insects that managed to climb high enough. Their faces were hidden behind layers of fabric and enchanted masks—one careless breath of corrupted air could spell their end.

Boom

The shockwave slammed into the fortress wall a heartbeat later. Snow burst from the parapets in white clouds, dusting soldiers and beasts alike. Those manning the ballistae ducked instinctively, some clutching at the frozen stone for balance while others shouted to check the wards. The massive spiritual beasts hauling munitions flinched and growled, their handlers struggling to calm them as cracks of frost webbed across the battlements.

Kain’s head snapped toward the source of the noise.

Far to the west, brilliant flares of violet and blue clashed against a roiling mass of black shadow. The sky itself seemed to split with each impact. He could feel the energy shockwaves even from here—so powerful that they made him lose his footing and take a few steps back uncontrollably.

An extremely high-level battle by the feel of it.

Through narrowed eyes, he saw the combatants. The human was likely an 8-star beast tamer commanding a single violet-grade contract—a massive avian wreathed in frigid azure fire. Around them, seven indigo-grade contracts formed a defensive line, fighting off any approaching mid and high-grade abyssals who wished to interfere in the battle.

It wasn’t odd that he had only one violet-grade partner; the resources needed to nurture even a single creature to such a level were staggering. Most high-ranking tamers chose to pour everything into their most talented contract rather than spread their efforts thin.

The Abyssal they fought was titanic—a humanoid shape with carapace-like armor and molten fissures running through its flesh. Each step it took melted snow into steam. The two titans clashed again, and Kain felt the force ripple across the fortress walls.

The human had the upper hand—barely. His contract’s domain pressed down, a shimmering bubble of azure light that slowed the Abyssal’s advance. So far, the enemy showed no signs of being able to unfold a domain of its own—a small mercy.

“No anomaly like the Azure Serpent incident,” Serena said under her breath. “That’s good.”

Kain nodded slowly, though his gaze remained fixed on the battlefield.

After all, the series of coincidences that had allowed the Azure Serpent Abyssal, formed from the fusion of the High Priest and Temple Guardian, to unfold a domain weren’t so easy to replicate. The unique status of the fused pair amongst their congregation played a crucial role.

But that still didn’t set Kain’s mind at ease.

No domain was a good sign, yes—but for how long?

The Abyss was learning. It always did.