This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

Miya slowed her pace, heeled boots sinking into the mossy soil as she stepped around some branches and spotted the source of the rustling.

It was a boy. No older than nine, maybe ten. Scrawny. Dirt on his cheeks. One pant leg torn. And standing behind him, just as shaken, was a small goat with golden horns—staring back with eerie yellow eyes. A Fleecehorn Goat.

Although Miya didn’t know too much about spiritual creatures, she knew about this one—it was a common spiritual creature raised across rural parts of the Empire for its unique, shimmering coat known as Spindlefleece. This magical fibre is lightweight and fire-resistant, making it sought after by low-level beast-tamers and artisans. The fleece is often spun into garments or accessories that subtly offer fire resistance, and the goats themselves are known for their hardy nature and calm disposition, making them ideal for beginner contract-bonding and farm labour assistance.

Most farming villages have at least a few, and considering they were in a quite desolate town, Miya concluded that this boy was likely from a nearby farm.

The boy scrambled backward until his back hit the gnarled base of a tree, arms curling around the goat protectively. “P-please don’t kill me,” he whispered, trembling.

Miya didn’t say anything at first.

She didn’t draw her weapon. Didn’t step closer. She just stood there, moonlight filtering through the branches and catching on the dark fabric of her clothes. Her expression remained unreadable.

But inside, her mind raced.

A kid. A literal kid.

Why was a child watching them? More importantly—how much had he seen?

“Why would you think I’d kill you?” she asked, voice low, almost emotionless.

The boy froze. His eyes darted to the burning building in the distance, then back to Miya. He said nothing.

Miya’s gaze sharpened, and her eyes narrowed.

That hesitation. That look toward the fire.

He had seen something.

She crouched, not too close, but low enough to speak on his level. “Did you hear anything? See anything?”

The boy’s lower lip trembled.

Miya didn’t soften.

She couldn’t afford to. Not yet.

She wasn’t a beast-tamer with a mental-attribute contract or gift. Nor could Darius, the only beast-tamer in their group, tamper with memories.

And even if she wanted to let the kid go—if he’d seen or heard too much, she couldn’t comfortably do so, not if it could come back to hurt one of her teammates.

But she also couldn’t bring herself to torture a little kid for answers.

So she waited.

And waited.

And then—

Sniffle.

A tear rolled down the boy’s cheek. Then another.

The goat let out a soft bleat beside him, as if trying to comfort him.

His small shoulders started shaking. “I didn’t mean to! I was just—just following Gogo—he ran off! I didn’t know anyone was there! Please don’t kill me…”

His words tumbled out, breath hitching between them.

Miya exhaled softly through her nose and looked up at the sky for a moment, contemplating what to do.

A crunch of leaves behind her made her glance back.

Jax emerged first, muttering under his breath, “Damn, Miya. Did your ugly face scare the poor kid?”

Miya just glared at him in response, already used to Jax’s less-than-pleasant ‘jokes’ (insults).

Lira and Garret followed. Their eyes landed on the crying boy, and Garret blinked in surprise.

“Oh,” he said flatly. “A kid.”

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Jax muttered, stepping forward. “Let me take a look.”

Miya didn’t stop him.

The boy’s eyes widened as the tall man with a half-shadowed face knelt in front of him. Jax’s casual posture didn’t hide the latent violence in his movements, or the smear of dried blood still visible along his knuckles as he lifted one hand to wave casually in front of the kid’s face.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Jax asked, voice low and almost too calm.

To the kid, it was like the devil asking if he had any last words.

He flinched hard, his whole body curling tighter against the goat.

Then he saw the blood.

His eyes locked onto Jax’s hand, the reddish-brown stain gleaming in the moonlight. His mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again.

“…Ren,” he whispered, barely audible.

“Hm?” Jax leaned in slightly.

“R-Ren!” the boy cried louder, as if saying it quickly would spare him.

Jax tilted his head, then looked up at Miya. “Ren,” he repeated with a shrug. “That sound like a snitch name to you?”

Miya finally rolled her eyes. “You’re not helping.”

“Wasn’t trying to.”

Jax turned back to Ren. “Soo…Ren.”

“Yes? Yes!”

“Are you a smart kid?”

“What?”

“I’ll take that as a no…” If he were truly quick-witted, he wouldn’t be responding with a ‘What?’ But at least Ren’s responses were prompt, which was a good quality. Jax chuckled.

“Well… It’s okay even if you’re not.”

Then, Jax suddenly put his face very close to Ren’s. It was a move designed for intimidation.

“You see, there were some bad guys that once worked in that factory…they even ate little kids.”

Ren’s innocent eyes widened at that statement in horror.

“So, I disciplined them a bit.”

“…I see.”

The ‘bad guys’ were now nothing more than ashes. If that was ‘a bit’ of discipline, what would be considered proper discipline?

But the ‘quick-witted’ Ren didn’t voice any doubts aloud. He nodded mechanically and spoke sincerely, “You did a good job…”

“Yes. So, Ren.”

“Yes!”

“Could you please shut up?” Jax’s face had already twisted into a chilling smile, colder than a frozen Siberian lake.

As Ren stared blankly, while his teammates muttered from behind about never letting him talk to children again, Jax sighed briefly and began to educate him.

“I don’t have the ability to erase memories cleanly.”

“…”

“To erase them, I’d have to use physical means…” Then Jax mimed hammering on the little boy’s head long enough to ‘erase memories physically.’ He could hear what sounded like one of his teammates smacking their foreheads in exasperation behind him.

With blood-stained hands, Jax gently formed a fist and smiled softly. But that smile made Ren’s face turn as pale as it had when he witnessed the scene of arson earlier.