This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange - Chapter 801: A Long Night

Chapter 801: Chapter 801: A Long Night

Inside the study, only four people sat around the long table: Kain, the orphanage director, Bridge, and Gabriel. Darrius and Malzahir were already on outer patrol, and the younger kids were asleep. The lamplight was warm; the mood wasn’t.

Kain placed a slim, glowing manual on the table. “Veil of the Hidden Star,” he said. “Try to learn it by tonight.”

The director nodded grimly. Gabriel leaned forward, eyes bright. Bridge folded his arms, trying to look relaxed and failing.

Kain flipped the manual open. The instructions were crisp, almost insultingly simple compared to the nightmare text of the Threads of Destiny. He decided to learn the skill first so that he can offer any tips to the others if need be. He breathed once, twice—then closed his eyes and drew his spiritual power inward. It came easily. His control had sharpened a lot this past year; the Top 5’s training, dozens of battles, and the Thread of Destiny’s constant repeated usage had left him more skilled.

A heartbeat later, he shaped a large seed of a core near his sternum. It condensed like pulled thread wound into a bead. He kept drawing in the loose spill of power around his body until it all rested—quiet, tight, still—at the center. Then, with careful focus, he traced the three base sigils across the surface of that bead. A line here, a hook there, a small loop to close. Compared to the sigils he’d needed to learn to conduct the awakening ceremony, they were ridiculously simple. More over, they were far more stable and less likely to collapse or explode than most sigils if the spiritual power wasn’t perfectly controlled or a line was a little wonky. Truly the perfect beginner-friendly spiritual skill.

The study seemed to breathe out.

Bridge blinked. “You just… vanished.”

The director squinted, frowning in concentration. “If I weren’t staring at you, I’d swear you weren’t even in the room.”

Kain released the lock and let his presence pour back out, a soft wash of spiritual power burst out, brushing the edges of the table. “It looks like my proficiency with the skill is quite high. Most likely you both won’t be able to completely restrain all of your spiritual power and your very presence like I could, but you don’t need to either. You only need to lower the levels of your spiritual power to that of an unawakened individual, since even ordinary people have low levels of spiritual power. Now you’ve seen how it works. Your turn.” He slid the manual forward. “I’ll guide you through the steps. Bea will help with the ’feel’ of it.”

A ripple of pale light, almost too faint to see, stirred near the ceiling. Bea released the Pale Thought Field, and within moments a weaker split of her appeared in each of their minds, based on what Kain had just experienced while using the skill on himself, Bea would lend gentle nudges in the right direction when needed.

“Director first,” Kain said.

The director set his jaw and closed his eyes.

“Step one: gather your power to the center. Don’t rush. Think of scooping everything off the floor into a single basket. No crumbs left behind.”

The director’s breath steadied. Kain felt the scattered glow of red‑grade power begin to drag inward, shaky at first, then steadier. Old habits made his energy want to spread; too many years of not using it had left him leaky. Bea’s faint presence pressed at tiny angles, like patient hands helping him keep the edges from escaping.

“Good,” Kain murmured. “Now compress it—slow. Imagine packing it into a jar. No air gaps.”

A minute passed. Then two. Sweat beaded on the director’s brow. The ’jar’ held for a heartbeat—then hissed as a seam split and his power leaked outward again.

He opened one eye, annoyed. “Again.”

“Again,” Kain agreed.

Three tries later, the core held. Small, dense, imperfect—but solid.

“Now the sigils,” Kain said softly. “Trace what you see in the manual across the surface. Don’t scratch too deep. Light touch using your mental energy. Bea can help with this.”

The director’s fingers twitched on the table, as if echoing the motion. The first line took. The second wobbled; Bea nudged; it smoothed. The third clicked into place.

Kain felt the lock seal.

The director’s presence dropped like a stone off a cliff—then levelled off to a strength not to dissimilar than before Kain had helped him become a beast tamer.

The director opened his eyes slowly, and for the first time in a long while, his shoulders eased. “Feels… neat,” he said, sounding surprised. “Like putting tools back where they belong.”

“Good,” Kain said, and meant it. “Hold it for thirty seconds. Then release and lock it again. We’ll repeat sets until your hands stop shaking.”

The smaller grey-haired Gabriel bounced on his toes. “My turn?”

Kain nodded. “Your turn.”

The boy shut his eyes, expression smoothing to calm focus in an instant. The artificial core that had been implanted into Gabriel by the Black Dawn, while torturous, had given Gabriel’s power a density and purity far beyond most beast-tamers in the same level as him, and it showed. His ’basket’ filled in a breath. His ’jar’ sealed on the first try. Only the sigils gave him pause—he over‑etched the first line and the core vibrated in warning causing the juvenile to get frazzled—but Bea’s split forcibly calmed his mind, and on the second attempt the pattern clicked.

Gabriel’s presence vanished so completely Bridge flinched. “He’s even harder to sense than you were,” Bridge muttered while gesturing at Kain, half teasing, half impressed.

Kain smiled despite himself. “Kids learn fast.”

Gabriel cracked one eye open. “Did I do it?”

“Perfect,” Kain said. “Now don’t get cocky. We’ll do release‑and‑lock drills until it’s muscle memory. Also: don’t keep the seal on at home unless I say so. You need to feel your power moving to grow.”

Gabriel nodded solemnly and set to work, the core flicking from sealed to free and back again—clean, controlled, quick. With each repetition, the lock time shortened.

Bridge scratched his cheek. “Do I… need this?”

“You don’t,” Kain said. “Your beast‑tamer status is public—you don’t need to hide it. But if you want to practice to have another trick up your sleeve or as a way to exercise control, it won’t hurt.”

Bridge closed his eyes, tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth in concentration. A tiny glow gathered. It wobbled. Collapsed. Wobbled again.

The director chuckled. “Easy. Gentle pressure; let it compact on its own. You’d think as the one who’d been a beast tamer the longest with Kain, that you’d find this easy…”

“I am gentle,” Bridge grumbled, but he grinned and tried again. On the fourth attempt the pressure around his chest steadied and Bea’s split sent a tiny okay pulse before the core unravelled again before it could help him even begin engraving the sigils.

Kain’s lip twitched, remembering how poorly Bridge performed in their first year Introduction to Spiritual Skills course. “Maybe forget it. Your job is still the same: lift heavy things, glare at strangers, use your big body to terrify anyone with bad ideas.”

“Glad to play to my strengths,” Bridge said with an awkward chuckle.

They trained for another hour. The director’s ’jar’ became a box, then a sphere—smoother each time, fewer leaks. Gabriel’s transitions turned crisp. Bea withdrew her little fragments one by one as they no longer needed the gentle nudges.

When Kain finally called a break, everyone looked calmer—less exposed. The room felt different too, like a lantern had been turned down to a safe glow.

“Protocol,” Kain said, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Director and Gabriel: keep the Veil active anytime you’re near the outer fields or beyond the inner barrier. Inside the house, you can release it to rest and practice. If anyone knocks or we have unexpected visitors, lock it first and ask questions later.”

“Done,” the director said. He hesitated, then added quietly, “Thank you.”

Kain shook his head. “Thank me by keeping the Veil on when it matters.” He paused, then softened his tone. “We’ll make this normal.”

A small, insistent stir grabbed his attention—the kind of tug no one else in the room could feel. In his star space, Queen woke, her presence bright and eager. A second later, Kain felt the clear pulse of desire: she wanted to evolve NOW.

He opened his eyes and couldn’t help a faint smile. “It seems like this will be a long night for me… you guys should go and get some rest.” Based on how eager Queen was, she likely wouldn’t want to wait until tomorrow to evolve. Not that Kain blamed her. She was Kain’s second contract but had been surpassed by latecomers Vauleth and Aegis. Not to mention the energy siphon Chewy was catching up quickly and could advance to green-grade any day now.

The meeting broke. The director and Gabriel slipped out first; footsteps faded down the hall. Bridge lingered in the doorway, mouth opening, closing—clearly wanting to ask if, now that Gabriel and the director had learned the Veil spiritual skill, if they could finally see Airalai. But he caught Kain’s exhausted look, read in his face that he likely still had things to do, and just nodded once before turning away.