This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange-Chapter 622: Teamwork (End)
Kain expected resistance when he plunged the dagger into the heart, but it was surprisingly soft—or perhaps the dagger was just too sharp.
What he did not expect was the scream.
Not from the heart—but from the walls.
The murals convulsed, their half-dragon inhabitants writhing as the blade drank deep. The obsidian darkened further, its surface now streaked with veins of gold that pulsed in time with the sigil beneath their feet.
Thick, viscous blood began to ooze from the heart's wound, far more than should have been possible for an organ its size. Kain dropped the dagger at his feet with a clatter as Soreia thrust the sheath toward him.
"Hold it steady," she commanded, her voice sharper than Kain had ever heard it. But Kain assumed she was probably tense upon realizing how important the memories contained in this trial were.
Kain barely had time to grip the sheath before the flood came.
And of course, some of that blood spilled over.
It was like trying to use a narrow-lidded cup to catch all the water from a waterfall. Kain twisted the sheath to contain the torrent, but it wasn't enough. The rich, crimson fluid overflowed—hot, thick, and shimmering—and splashed across his hands, seeping through his skin like fire.
The effect was instant.
The world dropped out beneath him.
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The vision did not come in images. It came as immersion.
He was there—on another world.
He stood on a mountain of black glass-like stone. The air reeked of acid, blood, and fire, the sky above dark with swirling thick clouds that barely concealed massive, serpentine shadows moving within the clouds.
Below him, a city burned. Not with ordinary flame, but with black fire—thick and cold, devouring everything it touched without producing smoke.
Half-dragon beings, just like those from the murals, scrambled through the carnage. Some fought. Others prayed. Some simply stood, hopeless, watching their world die.
A horn blared in the distance—three notes, mournful and deep—echoing across the destroyed land. Kain's ears rang from the pressure.
Then the city already on the verge of dying and just barely holding back the enemy was sentenced to death definitively by the sudden appearance of more enemies.
It was almost like the horn was hearlding their arrival.
A rift in the sky tore open— like a wound refusing to heal. From it spilled an endless wave of Abyssal beasts.
The dragon-like people fought valiantly. Most of them, like the high acid content of their planet, seemed to emit various potent acids and poisons—even the children, when unable to control themselves, could be see accidentally melting objects as they fled in the chaos.
Thankfully, the architecture and streets of the city appeared to be alchemically treated—acid-proof, their surface gleaming with protective sigils.
A name appeared in Kain's mind spontaneously: Thar'Ameth.
Kain wasn't sure if that was the name of this planet or this city, but either way, he locked the name in the back of his mind—believing it to be of utmost importance.
Kain walked through the city, invisible to the creatures fighting around him.
Eventually, he reached the destination that wasn't in any of the visions he had.
However, the subject of one of his most recent visions was coincidentally present. The last vision he saw was of a child curled up in fear, but now what appeared to be the same child (but Kain admitted that it may not be, given species differences making it hard for him to tell them apart), was beneath a shattered altar.
Around them, six dragonkin elders stood in a circle, chanting. Kain realized then that it wasn't a defensive ritual. It was a sealing.
The heart on the altar was not merely a relic meant to contain their memories. It was the last condensed essence of that dying world. All of their hopes, their vengeance, their legacy—bound into a single living piece of magic.
And as the final elder fell, torn apart by something vast and clawed, the child lifted the heart and plunged the dagger into it.
The same dagger.
His dagger.
The sealing transformed the child too. Their eyes turned solid gold. Their veins glowed faint gold as well. And then—they vanished. The last surviving individual of Thar'Ameth, gone.
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Kain gasped as his consciousness returned to his own body. His hands were drenched in blood from the heart—Thar'Ameth blood—and his chest burned. He coughed, and something warm and metallic filled his mouth.
He looked down at what he'd just spit up and blinked in surprise.
Blood. His blood.
He stared at it, dazed.
Why did his chest hurt so badly?
He reached up instinctively, and his fingers brushed metal.
Kain looked down—and froze.
The hilt of the dagger was protruding from his chest. The blade had been driven deep—entirely inside him—only the grip remained visible, lodged cleanly through his sternum.
A coldness spread outward from the wound. Not just physical, but something deeper—sinking into the marrow of his being. It was like the dagger hadn't just pierced flesh, but reached inward, latching onto something more vital. More fundamental.
Kain tried to summon energy. To call on his contracts. His spiritual power. Anything. Since entering this trial, he'd been unable to summon his contracts, but that didn't stop him from giving it a try.
Nothing answered.
He couldn't even feel them anymore.
His vision narrowed, tunnelling inward until all he could see was the dagger's hilt rising from his chest and Soreia's unmoving form beyond it.
Across from him, Soreia stood still, her white eyes unreadable.
Expressionless.
She had made no move to help.
No move to explain.
Just stared.
Kain's breath came in ragged gasps.
"Why…?" he barely managed, voice hoarse.
The hand holding up the sheath trembled and fell, but Soreia carefully scooped it up before it reached the ground, not wanting any of the blood it contained to fall.
Still no emotion.
No anger.
No pleasure.
Just an eerie calm.
Kain watched as she put the sheath away as his vision grew dark around the edges.
Then everything went still.
And Kain knew no more.
