This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

Chapter 901: Chapter 901: The ’Destined Object’ Revealed

Every day blurred into the next.

At the frozen frontier, time didn’t pass, it seemed to be eroded by the abyssal too.

After slaughtering the endless tide of enemies, it was hard to process if 5 minutes, 5 hours, or 5 days passed while in a daze.

The cycle repeated without fail: battle, repairs, patrols, brief sleep, battle again. The Abyss never rested, and so the defenders couldn’t either.

Kain fought in the shifts assigned to him, carving down low- and mid-grade Abyssals while keeping an eye out for anything—anything—that might hint at what Amos Sans had travelled to this far off desolate region for. Between skirmishes, he roamed the fortress, slipping between the bustle of logistics crews and the heavy-footed marches of spiritual beasts.

Yet despite all his effort, the fort yielded no secrets.

And worse—he still had not found a single ordinary person he felt was worthy to be the first awakened.

He didn’t want to awaken just anyone. The first chosen always mattered.

In the refugee city, it had been Takeru—the only remaining Rising Sun Prince—whose influence had allowed Kain to awaken thousands and let the fledgling army gain a strong backer in Takeru’s aunt.

In the Celestial Empire, Darius had become the first member of Kain’s secret organization. He was a capable mercenary and through him came dozens more capable individuals.

But here, things were different.

The fortress population formed a strange U-shaped curve. Countless ordinary people at the bottom. Numerous elites—4-stars and above—at the top. And almost no one in between.

Due to the huge difference in strength between the 2 groups, ordinary people here had no real sway, no influence. They could only desperately cling to powerful tamers in the hope that, if the walls ever broke, those elites might let them follow in escape.

Who would listen to another ordinary person?

Kain sighed inwardly. Even the Threads of Destiny couldn’t help him—every single thread still appeared the exact same shade of neutral grey. Without black or white threads to guide him, choosing a candidate blindly could be disastrous.

For nearly a week, he made no progress.

Until everything changed.

It began with a tremor.

A deep, resonant pulse that shook the walls and sent frost drifting from the parapets.

Kain snapped his head up from his patrol route along the fortress’ wall. The air itself warped, the horizon trembling as if the sky were being torn.

Then he felt it.

A pressure so immense it squeezed the breath from his lungs.

A demigod-level Abyssal had made its move.

Far beyond the battlefield, something massive stirred within the churning rift in the distance that the abyssal were continuously pouring out of.

Darkness thickened like ink. A colossal silhouette rose—horned, many-limbed, its form shifting as if reality itself struggled to contain it.

Its presence was corrosive. Abyssal energy exploded outward, a suffocating tide that made 7-star and even some 8-star tamers collapse to one knee, while ordinary people closest to the walls died instantly—skulls imploding, ribs crumpling like thin metal under a hydraulic press. Even Kain, far sturdier than most who were currently by the walls, felt his organs twist as if a giant hand were squeezing them. The pressure was so overwhelming that he was forced to let a thin layer of Source Energy bleed across his skin just to keep himself in tact.

Kain’s eyes widened.

The Abyssal was opening… not a full domain… but a partial one.

A translucent shroud of Abyssal energy unfurled around the creature in the distance—and this shroud seemed to devour order and the laws of physics itself. Light bent inward as if being swallowed; colors drained to ashen grey. Snow didn’t melt—it aged into brittle dust that crumbled on the wind. Fortification stones fractured along impossible angles, splitting as though decades of decay struck them in an instant. Lesser Abyssals and some weaker spiritual creatures closer to the demigod got caught within the domain. But they didn’t die in any manner Kain had ever seen before—it was more like they unwound, their bodies unravelling into drifting motes of nothingness as if their whole existence had just been reversed.

“Impossible…” someone gasped on the wall. “An abyssal shouldn’t have a domain!”

But Kain, perhaps after already seeing another abyssal with a domain, understood that abyssal not having a domain wasn’t a 100% fact. There were ways around it. And clearly the abyss was actively experimenting with ways to counteract the restrictions this world placed on its children.

This was the fruit of one such experiment.

Days of constant fighting—millions of low-grade Abyssals being slaughtered—had allowed their corrupt energy to saturate the environment. For the first time, the Abyssal side could temporarily manifest a weakened domain.

But unfortunately, for them that is, this ’domain’ was still too weak.

A thunderous roar erupted across the battlefield.

A blur of gold and silver light shot from the fortress.

The human-side’s demigod had arrived.

Kain couldn’t see him clearly, only a vague humanoid outline—a towering figure that rippled with condensed power. Behind him materialized a massive spiritual creature.

A dragon.

Its wings unfurled with the weight of storms, each scale glowing like polished obsidian laced with molten gold. When it exhaled, the air froze, then cracked from the sheer density of power.

The dragon’s domain spread outward—a colossal sphere of shimmering pressure that swallowed the battlefield.

Everything stilled.

The Abyssal demigod’s momentum was instantly crushed.

Kain’s breath hitched. He finally understood why the Abyssal demigods had held back until now.

If none of them had real domains, then compared to a true demigod who possessed one…

They would be crushed.

This tentative attack was nothing more than a probe.

A test.

The two colossal beings collided.

The sky cracked with each impact. Shockwaves detonated through the snowfields, turning hundreds of lesser Abyssals to powder. The fortress quaked. Beasts roared. Tamers clutched the walls to stay upright.

And during it all…

Kain felt something tug at his senses.

He had activated the Threads of Destiny earlier out of habit—hoping for even the slightest deviation.

Then the demigod stepped outside the fortress boundary.

The moment the strongest existence within this fortress left, his skill finally returned to its usual appearance.

A chaotic storm of varying shades—white, grey, black, silver—hundreds layered atop one another like a blinding constellation.

His eyes widened. “So it WAS him suppressing fate…”

He only had seconds.

Kain frantically scanned the threads as they flickered in and out of existence, unstable due to just the edges of the domains in the distance interfering and crushing them back into uniform grey.

Then he saw it.

A single thick, luminous white thread.

Brighter than any he had ever seen.

It pulsed once.

Twice.

Then flickered—about to vanish.

Kain didn’t hesitate.

He vaulted over the parapet, landing lightly on the snow below. Soldiers shouted after him for leaving his station, but their voices were immediately drowned beneath the distant roars of demigods clashing above.

The white thread stretched ahead like a glowing path only he could see.

Kain sprinted after it with everything he had.

For the first time since arriving at the frozen frontier Kain could get a glimpse of fate and he needed to see where it led.

Kain tore across the snow, boots kicking up white plumes behind him. The frigid air burned his lungs, but the white thread in his vision pulsed faster—as if urging him on, warning him how little time he had before it vanished again under the suppressive aura of returning demigods.

The battlefield behind him rumbled like breaking mountains. Shockwaves split the air, thick with the scent of ozone and burning corruption. But Kain didn’t spare it a glance. His focus was locked entirely onto the single glowing line tugging at his senses.

He barreled through a half‑collapsed supply corridor, past ordinary workers scrambling to secure crates that had been thrown by the earlier pressure wave. None of them noticed him—he was moving too quickly, beyond what their eyes could track.

The thread continued leading him through a narrow walkway, down a slope of ice-slick stone, and into one of the fortress’s lower districts: a place mostly populated by ordinary people seeking shelter from the cold and chaos beyond the walls.

The closer he drew, the brighter the thread burned.

Until finally—it stilled.

Kain stopped, chest rising and falling with sharp breaths.

The thread pointed toward a small courtyard wedged between two battered storage halls. Snow drifted lazily into the space, muffling sound and light. Several ordinary residents huddled there, waiting out the tremors.

And finally Kain saw the end of the thread. It wasn’t a treasure. It wasn’t a weapon. Nor was it a special spiritual creature destined to be his sixth contract.

It was a child.

Maybe eight or nine years old, bundled in oversized furs, face smudged with soot and windburn. He was sitting alone on a crate, staring at his hands with a blank, almost dazed expression with snot leaking from his nostrils.

Kain blinked. This was his ’destined object’ in this fortress?!

“…What the f—?”