With five thousand points now secured, I found myself comfortably positioned at the top of the leaderboard. In fact, even if I were to refrain from participating further in the remaining test period, I would likely still retain my rank. However, my journey was far from over.
In the faculty chambers, a flurry of discussions surrounded my performance. A number of instructors lauded my exceptional efficiency, admiring the strategic prowess with which I accumulated points. Others, however, expressed concern. They believed my actions had unintentionally dampened the morale of the other students, who struggled to match my progress even while working in teams. Still, the matter was clear to me: my responsibility was to improve and excel—not to limit myself for the sake of others' comfort.
Interestingly, my performance also had a motivational effect. Several students, instead of despairing, found renewed purpose and ambition. They saw my achievements not as discouragement, but as a challenge worth rising to.
As the gentle light of dawn crept through the curtains, I awoke refreshed and ready. Within half an hour, I made my way to the dining area where, unsurprisingly, the same discussions from the night before persisted. My peers murmured in hushed tones, some with admiration, others with envy. I chose not to engage. My goals were clear: I was here to tame worthy beasts, not win a popularity contest.
The area surrounding our camp was populated mostly by low-level creatures—mere mutated wildlife, their evolution spurred by the ambient portal energy that had begun to seep into this world. These monsters, though aggressive, lacked uniqueness. They were unfit for a true tamer's aspirations.
The beasts I sought—creatures of power, character, and potential—resided far from the safety of the camp. Some lurked near uncharted portals; others could only be found within the portals themselves. Unfortunately, the educational institutions we hailed from offered little to no insight into what lay beyond those gates. Such knowledge was reserved for graduates, high-ranking guild members, or elite tamer associations—access to which came only after passing rigorous qualifications.
After finishing my breakfast, I strode past the security perimeter of the camp. I had studied several documents regarding the portal ecosystem and had learned that no definitive count of active portals existed on this planet. Most were low-threat zones, often overlooked by authorities. Moreover, new portals emerged and vanished unpredictably, making them difficult to monitor and catalog.
But I was not like the average student. I possessed strength, knowledge, and the means to explore what others could not. Unlike on federation-controlled planets—where entry into a portal required formal authorization and multiple layers of verification—this world remained largely unregulated.
Using my customized watch, I accessed a detection interface I had personally modified. The device analyzed energy readings emitted by nearby portals and assigned threat levels: green for low-tier portals, yellow for mid-tier, and red for high-tier. Some anomalies displayed a mixture of energy signatures, suggesting the presence of a diverse range of monsters, from harmless to highly dangerous.
Today, my objective was simple. I would venture into a green-class portal—a low-risk zone by appearance—to assess what lay within. Experience had taught me never to underestimate any gateway, no matter how harmless it seemed from the outside. After all, even paradise can hide predators.
With determination in my stride and my tools in place, I advanced toward the shimmering veil of the portal. This was only the beginning.
As I approached the green-class portal, the air around it shimmered with quiet energy, pulsing softly like a living thing. The veil danced with hues of emerald and silver, whispering secrets from the other side.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward and passed through.
The shift was instant.
On the other side, the world transformed. I emerged into a dense forest bathed in golden morning light, where thick vines crawled up colossal trees and unfamiliar birdlike creatures chirped melodically in the canopy. Despite the peaceful scenery, my instincts remained sharp. Beauty could be deceiving here.
My watch adjusted to the new environment and began scanning for life forms. The screen blinked—a few weak signals, likely lower-level beasts, roamed nearby. Not my target.
I moved deeper into the forest.
The terrain changed quickly. Flat ground gave way to moss-covered slopes, and the air grew humid. Faint sounds of movement echoed around me—branches snapping, leaves rustling, distant growls. I remained cautious. Drawing a small orb from my belt, I activated it with a tap. The orb floated beside me, scanning for energy signatures more precise than my watch.
Suddenly, the orb buzzed. A stronger presence had been detected just 400 meters northeast. Level: 2. Type: unknown. Aggression: Moderate.
"Perfect," I whispered.
I closed the distance with measured steps, careful not to alert the creature. The moment I reached a small clearing, I spotted it.
A sleek, four-legged beast stood near a stream, lapping at the water. Its fur shimmered with a bluish sheen, and two feather-like antennae twitched atop its head. Its eyes glowed faintly—intelligent, aware. It hadn't noticed me yet.
I crouched and watched it for a while. Taming required patience, observation, and mutual respect. This was no mindless wild animal. It was a potential partner.
Deer-type monsters, by their very nature, are not predisposed to aggression. Their temperament is notably passive, and they only resort to combat in the direst of circumstances—typically when escape is no longer an option and survival demands resistance. As such, they are rarely targeted by aspiring tamers seeking battle-hardened companions. However, among scholars and high-level tamers, these creatures are revered for their spiritual sensitivity, exceptional utility in support roles, and their strong affinity with natural energy.
As I emerged into a quiet grove nestled deep within the portal's inner zone, I noticed a lone deer-type monster grazing beside a crystal-clear pond. Its antlers sparkled faintly with residual elemental energy, a sign of its maturity and inner strength. Its hide was silver-gray, sleek and smooth, and its presence exuded a calm, balanced aura that harmonized with the environment. I recognized it immediately—this was no ordinary forest deer, but a Gladehart, a rare variant known for its deep connection to the ambient energy of the land.
Slowly, I reached into my pouch and retrieved a small scent capsule—an artifact specially crafted by the Academy's alchemical department. It was imbued with a blend of soothing herbs and minor elemental traces, designed specifically to calm and attract mid-level creatures. With a gentle twist, I cracked it open. A soft, sweet aroma diffused into the air, carried by the subtle breeze drifting through the clearing.
The Gladehart froze. Its ears flicked upright, and its nostrils flared slightly as it took in the scent. Then, slowly, it turned its head toward me, its large, intelligent eyes meeting mine. For a moment, neither of us moved. I could feel the tension of the forest pressing in around us—heavy, still, waiting.
Carefully, I rose to my feet, keeping my palms open and visible, ensuring no sudden movements would trigger the creature's flight response. My posture conveyed no threat—only quiet respect and cautious intent.
"Come," I murmured, my voice soft but steady. "I'm not your enemy."
The Gladehart responded with a low, throaty sound—not quite a growl, more of a deep hum of uncertainty. Yet it remained in place. It had not fled.
I took a measured breath and extended my right hand. My plan lit up as I activated the taming seal embedded within it. A ring of pale blue light expanded from my palm, casting a subtle glow over the grass. The air around us shimmered faintly as the seal's frequency aligned with the Gladehart's aura.
Seconds passed.
Then, with cautious steps, the Gladehart began to approach—one step, then another. Its hooves made barely a sound on the forest floor. Finally, it lowered its head and pressed its nose into my outstretched palm. The seal responded immediately, expanding around the creature in a graceful arc of light before collapsing inward and vanishing into its body.
Taming Complete. Subject: Gladehart (Mid-Level Support Class).
My watch pinged gently.
+2 Points
I exhaled, releasing the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. A slow smile crept onto my face.
"Welcome to the team," I said softly.
The Gladehart blinked, then gave a short, approving snort, as though acknowledging my words.
But my journey was far from over.