The morning the tournament brackets were posted, the village square buzzed like a disturbed beehive. Sunlight glinted off the large wooden board erected near the central well, covered in fresh parchment lists divided into neat tiers: SSS-to-Gold exhibition matches for the elites, then Silver, Bronze, and finally the lowest bracket — F-to-Iron, where "misfits and beginners" like me were expected to fight for scraps of attention or minor prizes.
I arrived early, heart pounding, with Rune hidden in his pouch, Flicker tucked against my collar, and Sludge carefully contained in a small, damp cloth bundle at my side. The three bonds formed a steady triangle in my mind — warm, balanced, ready. I kept my head low as I pushed through the growing crowd of villagers, youths, and a few visiting merchants who had come for the event.
The board was already surrounded. Torren's name stood out in the Silver bracket, paired against strong opponents. Mira was listed in Bronze, looking confident even on paper. Then, near the bottom of the F-to-Iron section, I found it:
Elarion Voss (F-rank) – Three Contracts
First Match: vs. Lira Voss (Iron-rank, Wind Squirrel) – Day 3, Arena 4 (Low-tier)
My stomach twisted. Lira was a distant cousin, a quiet girl with a decent low-tier beast. Not cruel, but still far above me in everyone's eyes. Three contracts already marked me as unusual for an F-rank. Whispers erupted the moment people noticed my name.
"Vermin Boy with three beasts? A rat, a bird, and now what — a puddle?"
"He's going to embarrass the whole family."
"Probably just pity contracts. They'll get crushed in the first round."
I stepped back from the board, cheeks burning, but I didn't run. Rune sent a steadying pulse of confidence. Flicker added a light, encouraging flutter against my skin. Sludge quivered softly, his adaptive presence grounding the group like a quiet anchor.
A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. Garrick stood behind me, his Earth Boar nowhere in sight but his presence commanding respect from the crowd.
"Easy, kid," he muttered low enough for only me to hear. "They post the brackets to rattle people. Low-tier means you face other weaklings first. Use it. Show just enough to win without revealing the real strength. And remember what I said — quiet strength."
I nodded gratefully. "Thank you. I'll try."
Garrick gave my shoulder a firm squeeze before melting back into the crowd. His words helped, but the pressure remained. The tournament wasn't just about winning matches. It was about status, sponsorships, and proving you deserved more than stable work. For me, it was about proving my way — the nurturing way — wasn't worthless.
I spent the rest of the morning in the forest clearing with my three companions, pushing the training harder than ever. The mist had cleared, leaving the air fresh and the ground soft underfoot.
"Today we simulate a real match," I told them, focusing on the triple bond. "Assume we're facing a faster, more aggressive beast. Rune, lead with ripple for control. Flicker, amplify and scout. Sludge, adapt and support — absorb stray attacks if you can, or add sticking residue to slow them down."
We practiced in sequences. Rune's Irritation Ripple expanded in a controlled dome. Flicker darted through it, her wind bursts carrying the effect wider and layering sonic disorientation. Sludge extended pseudopods to catch the edge of the ripple, altering it slightly — making the confusion "stickier," harder to shake off. When I split my mana three ways, the loop fed back stronger than before: Rune's essence absorption, Flicker's light energy, Sludge's adaptive stability. It left me less drained, more centered.
Small improvements showed quickly. Flicker's flights grew smoother and faster. Sludge's form held shape longer, his surface gaining a faint glossy sheen. Rune's golden rune glowed steadily, and the matching motes on Flicker and Sludge brightened in response.
By midday, we were exhausted but coordinated. I fed them carefully — softened grains for Rune, mashed berries for Flicker, nutrient-rich mud paste for Sludge — and felt the nurturing bonds deepen further.
Rune – Evolving Vermin Rat (Stage 2) – Level 6
Flicker – Weak Sparrow (Stage 1) – Level 4
Sludge – Sickly Slime (Stage 1) – Level 3
The status fragments came clearer now, a quiet reward for consistent care. Sludge's adaptive absorption was beginning to show real utility — he could temporarily store small amounts of mana or effects and release them later.
As we rested, I spoke to them from the heart. "The first match is against Lira. She's not cruel, but her Wind Squirrel is quick and tricky. We won't dominate — we'll out-think. Control the field, wear her down, win without hurting anyone badly. That's our way."
Rune nuzzled my hand. Flicker chirped agreement. Sludge pulsed warmly against my palm.
The afternoon brought more village tension. As I returned for stable duties, Torren and his group lounged near the training fields, loud and confident.
"Voss is actually entering? With three trash beasts?" Torren laughed, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "This will be the funniest first-round upset in years. I might even watch the low-tier matches just to laugh."
Jax sneered beside him. "Bet his slime dissolves before the match starts."
I kept walking, but the words stung. Rune sent a small, controlled ripple that made Jax scratch his arm absentmindedly. Small revenge, but it helped.
Garrick caught me later in the stables and pulled me into a quiet corner. "Ignore the noise. Low-tier bracket has ten matches over three days. Yours is on day three, so you have time to prepare. If you win cleanly, you move up. But don't get cocky — some Iron-rankers have decent beasts and real training."
His advice was practical and grounding. I thanked him again, feeling a rare sense of mentorship that made the burden feel lighter.
That evening at home, the atmosphere was mixed. My parents had heard the whispers and seen the brackets. Mother looked worried but proud. Father tried to stay optimistic.
"Three beasts already, Eli," he said over thin stew. "That's more than most F-ranks ever manage. Just do your best. We'll be there watching."
I nodded, sharing small bits of food with my companions in private. Rune, Flicker, and Sludge settled in their respective spots — nest, perch, damp bowl. The triple bond hummed softly in the dark, a circle of quiet strength.
As I lay down, staring at the thatched roof, the weight of the tournament settled on me. This wasn't just a village event anymore. It was the first real test of everything I believed in: that kindness could create power where force could not. That the overlooked could rise. That my "vermin" affinity wasn't a curse — it was an invitation to something forgotten and powerful.
Tomorrow would bring more training, more preparation, and probably more mockery. But with three loyal partners growing stronger every day through care and trust, I felt ready to face it.
The brackets were set. The whispers were loud.
But the Weak Beast Tamer and his menagerie were no longer just surviving.
We were preparing to surprise the world — one careful, nurtured step at a time.