This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

The black dragon’s body shuddered as Aurem’s presence bore down on it, not tearing it apart, but compressing it inward, forcing its very cohesion to strain under a pressure it had never been subjected to before.

The abyssal dragon was not a creature of flesh and bone alone. Like Kain, it was a source-energy body, an existence whose form was sustained by something more fundamental and of a higher order than ordinary matter. Such beings were naturally difficult to kill. Unless faced with an opponent vastly stronger than themselves—or one who could wield source energy with equal freedom—they simply were immortal.

And yet, here it was, being suppressed.

It attempted to fight back.It failed.

Aurem moved.

Boom.

His body snapped forward with terrifying smoothness, and his tail swept across the black dragon’s midsection.

The strike did not send the dragon flying.It folded it.

The translucent form bent inward around the impact point as abyssal energy burst outward in heavy plumes. Cracks widened across its scales, and its roar broke mid-note, more shock than fury.

It flailed, scrambling for distance.

Aurem followed.

Crash.

A second tail strike smashed into the injured wing. The membrane tore further, its outline flickering violently as the dragon’s form thinned, struggling—and failing—to mobilize source energy to repair itself. Whatever principle governed its regeneration simply refused to function near Aurem.

The black dragon spasmed, flight destabilizing as it dropped several meters before forcing itself back up with a desperate surge of energy.

Below them, the battlefield reacted.

The originally aggressive abyssals hesitated. Across the field, the remaining demigods felt it clearly: their domains sharpened when the black dragon stabilized, and dulled when Aurem struck. It was not subtle. It was rhythmic.

Strike.Falter.Strike.Falter.

Human defenders noticed. They were crushed less severely for brief windows—enough to regain footing, to drag the wounded back, to unleash techniques that would never have had a chance to reach the abyssal demigod in the east under full pressure.

But the black dragon had no time to care about its kin.

Aurem was not trying to exhaust it like the human 9-star tamer had.He was trying to erase it.

The black dragon realized this.

Panic entered its movements.

Its attacks changed, no longer aimed to kill Aurem, but to create distance. Explosions of condensed abyssal pressure detonated between them. Space tore beneath Aurem’s body, traps meant to force diversion, distance, anything.

But this annoying golden dragon wasn’t following the script!

‘Did I sleep with your wife?! Why are you so fixated on beating me, even at the expense of weathering my attacks!This isn’t how this is supposed to go—!’

One blast of detonated space washed over Aurem’s scales.He did not blink, whatever minor injuries the blast caused to him, immediately sealed with barely any discomfort showing on his face.

Not to mention that the majority of the seemingly powerful energy was dispersed about a meter out from its body.

Only about 10% of the attack’s power actually managed to reach him.

Such a feat was disheartening to anyone facing him, but Aurem seemed offended that even 10% managed to touch a scale on his body.

Aurem’s eyes narrowed—the closest thing to anger he had displayed.

“Ant,” he said quietly. “How dare you resist!”

‘What nonsense! Am I supposed to stand around and be beaten?!’ The abyssal dragon thought with tears in his eyes at the unreasonable request. But clearly the arrogant golden dragon opposite could not be reasoned with.

Aurem’s claws slashed.

Not with any special technique or skill being utilized.

The black dragon’s chest split open in a long, ragged gash. Abyssal energy poured out in thick streams as its domain reinforcement spasmed, failing again and again to stabilize within Aurem’s proximity.

The black dragon recoiled, breathing hard, its form flickering violently.

‘Enough.Screw pride. What even is pride worth? Could it be eaten?! Life is more important!I’m weakened, that’s all! That’s the only reason this oversized golden pest can suppress me!Once I’m reunited with Mother—once I recover—I’ll tear him apart limb from limb!’

The words he used to comfort rang hollow even to itself.

The human 9-star’s throat went dry. He had fought this creature for hours inside the collapsing relic, watching it endure everything he threw at it.

Now he watched it retreat under the sheer weight of another dragon’s presence.

Aurem finally spoke.

“You wear a dragon’s skin,” he said. “And yet you have submitted to such a disgusting existence. You must die.”

The black dragon’s roar came out warped.

It unleashed one final wave of abyssal force—not at Aurem, but at the space between them—an exploding curtain of corruption meant to blind, to buy time.

Whoosh

Then it turned and fled as fast as its frantically beating wings could carry it.

North. Toward the scar on the horizon.

The world breach hung like an open wound in the sky, darkness pooling where the world’s edges frayed. The black dragon tore toward it with desperate speed, its translucent body flickering violently as it forced distance, as though fearing pursuit before it could reach sanctuary.

As it withdrew, the battlefield shifted once more.

The abyssal domains pressing at nearly eighty percent faltered. First weakening. Then collapsing entirely.

Human defenders noticed immediately.

Breathing room returned.

The human 9-star stared toward the north, watching the black dragon distance itself from the battlefield around the fortress.

The 9-star tamer tore his gaze away from the retreating shadow—still chased at a leisurely pace by a golden figure—and turned back to the battlefield. To the north, the Wrath and gravity abyssals were still locked in combat with his dragon contract, their domains now barely sustained.

Opportunity!

He moved at once.

His aura surged as he shot toward his contracted dragon’s side, positioning himself alongside it in the air. Spiritual power flared, ready to be woven into support, suppression, or a killing strike the moment an opening appeared.

Although the black dragon had fled…

One abyssal demigod could still be left behind.

Forever.