This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange
Chapter 661 - 661: Things Are Getting Spicy

"BOOO!"

"Soren! So handsome!"

"YEAHHHH SOREN—wait, no, BOOOOO!"

"All kneel before my prince!"

"You suck!"

"Marry me!"

"BORING!"

"NO, THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL—"

"Is he even trying?!"

"Shut up, that was a great move—"

The stadium was in chaos.

At least, the section facing Stage One, where Soren's match was currently unfolding, was. The rest of the crowd—watching other Phase Two brackets—were having a much more normal time. But not here. Not with Soren Hart in the ring.

"Stop playing with him and finish the fight!"

"He's waving again! Look! HE'S ACTUALLY WAVING AT ME—"

"He deserves to win and lose at the same time. I don't know how to feel..."

Kain watched from the stands with one hand pressed to his temple.

Bridge leaned in from his left. "At what point does excessive emotional damage become illegal under tournament rules?"

Soren, the current Rank 3, was in the middle of what should have been a quick and clean match. His opponent was strong—the rank 7 Lukas—but not in Soren's league.

The match should've ended five minutes ago. Hence why the reactions of the audience were so mized.

Instead…

Soren's four dragons with a storm dragon bloodline had cornered the enemy into the center of the stage. But they wouldn't finish them off.

Not properly.

One of the lightning dragons surged forward again—not with a lethal blast, but with a playfully zigzagging arc of lightning that tickled instead of fried. It darted close, just enough to make Lukas' black snake contract recoil, before letting the attack fizzle out with a soft pop.

And Kain could tell the strength of the attack was consciously lowered so as not to end the fight quickly and draw out the opponents' discomfort.

The powerful-looking black snake that was its target, possessed a lightning attribute of its own. In fact the beast's destructive black lightning had a strange decay quality that even seemed to trouble Serena a bit when they last fought in the previous re-ranking

However, Soren almost seemed to be wanting to make a statement that his lightning-attribute dragon was still superior—intentionally having it target and harass the opponent's strongest contract.

It wasn't just harassment. It was mockery. The lightning dragon would dart in, sizzle its tail across the snake's snout, and then immediately pull back like it was playing tag. The snake hissed in frustration. The crowd groaned. Soren gave a slow blink, as if surprised the fight was still going.

Another dragon, this one with a water-attribute, launched beam of compressed water… only to intentionally graze their target's ankle. Barely. Resulting in the targeted spiritual creature, which resembled a pitch black jaguar with a yellow diamond shaped gem in the center of its forehead, to end up unable to use that leg.

The jaguar now had an obvious limp, and was clearly a sitting duck. Prey. But Soren's contracts wouldn't put it out of its misery.

Then, as the crowd gasped, Soren would leisurely raise his hand to smother a (feigned) yawn. And he made sure to do so while maintaining eye contact with Lukas.

The dragons started pacing around the two remaining contracts like wolves circling a kill—slow, methodical, unhurried. They weren't even attacking anymore. Just closing in tighter and tighter. It was psychological warfare.

Honestly, Soren's arrogant antics are probably why Lukas hasn't yet conceded, he was likely still hoping that Soren's carelessness born of arrogance would give him a chance at a comeback.

"Why do I kind of like his arrogance…" muttered a female audience member behind Kain.

Perhaps the thrill of tormenting his opponent had a rejuvenating quality for Soren. Soren's golden hair seemed to glow in the sunlight. And somehow, despite the fact that his opponent's spiritual beasts were still active and fighting, not a speck of dust had touched his white and gold combat suit.

Seeing Soren's eyes suddenly narrow, Kain groaned in expectation. "He's going to make a dramatic monologue, isn't he?"

"He's absolutely going to make a dramatic monologue," Bridge said, nodding.

He did.

"You've done well. Truly. But perhaps it's time to yield—before your dignity suffers any further losses."

The crowd made an unholy mix of swoons, groans, cheers, and jeers.

Kain turned to Bridge. "If I ever talk like that, slap me."

Bridge nodded solemnly. "It'll be an honor."

Down below, Soren's opponent was panting, red-faced, and visibly trying not to start swearing at Soren. He'd been using his gift to amplify his contracts' lightning to the max. Two of his contracts had already been struck down one by one by Soren's bizarre blend of surgically precise strikes and unnecessary taunting.

Only two remained, wobbling. Unsteady

They looked less like spiritual beasts and more like survivors of a battlefield interrogation.

And still, Soren made no move to end it.

One of the jaguar's legs gave out as it tried to launch a final desperate strike, only for a sudden gust from Soren's wind-attribute dragon to send it rolling backwards like a discarded leaf.

The crowd was growing quieter—not from boredom, but from the simmering realization that this wasn't just showboating.

It was a message.

Soren stepped forward at last, a single step ringing out clearly on the platform.

His green eyes narrowed. His voice, when it came, was not loud—but it cut across the arena with terrifying clarity.

"It seems…

"That even if I am the 'weakest Lysander'...

"You are still helpless in front of me. I can toy with you as I want"

Lukas didn't respond.

He couldn't.

All he could do was clench his fists in frustration at the realization that Soren had somehow found out about all the shit he'd been saying behind his back.

His only remaining black snake, tried to shield him reflexively, even as it wobbled on the verge of collapse.

The referee's hand twitched.

"...Match ov—"

"I yield," Lukas said hoarsely.

The crowd exhaled.

Some clapped. Some remained quiet. Others whispered rapidly, hungrily dissecting Soren's words.

Back in the stands, Kain frowned. "'Weakest Lysander'?"

No wonder Soren decided to fight in such a sadistic way. Even if Soren wasn't Kain's favourite person, he wasn't a sadist nor did he seem to enjoy embarrassing others.

He'd always known Soren to be cold, but not needlessly cruel. Arrogant, yes. But not vindictive.

Which meant…

Soren wasn't putting on a show. He was making a point.

Kain's eyes shifted to Lukas who, now weakened from overexerting his gift, was being helped offstage by the medical staff. There was rage in his eyes. Shame. But also—intense hatred.

Not just toward Soren.

Toward himself.

Kain exhaled slowly and leaned back in his seat.

Something had happened between them.

Something the rest of the world wasn't privy to.

Bridge scratched his head. "This tournament's getting spicy, huh?"

The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!