The next day, Courage found himself in a large classroom he had never entered before. His mind wandered as he tried to take in his unfamiliar surroundings, feeling a slight unease at being surrounded by strangers.
The classroom was spacious, filled with rows of individual benches, each spaced a few inches apart. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows bathed the room in a soft, golden light. Courage sat in one of the middle rows, his hands resting idly on the desk in front of him. Around him were unfamiliar faces—classmates he didn’t know and hadn’t interacted with before. They seemed just as lost in thought as he was, their quiet chatter and occasional fidgeting filling the otherwise silent room.
At the front of the room stood a woman who immediately drew attention. She was of average height, her vibrant energy apparent in the way she carried herself. Her vibrant red hair fell in a cascade of voluminous locks, framing her pretty face in a way that made her seem approachable and kind. Her features were soft, and her gentle smile exuded warmth. She leaned slightly forward, her posture animated and lively, as if every movement was an extension of her enthusiastic nature.
When she began to speak, her voice was melodic and full of energy, captivating the attention of even the most distracted students. It was clear she was excited to begin.
“Greetings, students! I am Miss Rose Everdine,” the woman at the front of the room began with a warm, energetic voice. “I will be your class theoretical teacher starting from today, and let me just say, I am so excited to start working with you all! I hope we’ll all get along.”
Shortly after she finished speaking, the entire class returned the greeting with enthusiastic voices. Even Courage, despite his usual reservations, couldn’t help but join in. There was something about Miss Everdine—something intangible but undeniable—that made her feel approachable and easy to like.
Clearly pleased with the response, Miss Everdine gave an approving nod before gesturing to the man standing beside her. “Now, how about another warm greeting for my fellow educator, who I’m sure some of you have already met before—Mister Riker, your practical teacher.”
The class responded as instructed, their voices ringing out in unison: “Good morning, Mister Riker!”
But there was no reply.
Mister Riker stood leaning against the blackboard, his arms crossed. His sharp gaze scanned the room, piercing and unyielding, as if dissecting each student in turn. Not a single pair of eyes dared to meet his.
Sensing the growing awkwardness, Miss Everdine hurried to defuse the tension. “O-okay, now that introductions are out of the way, why don’t we get right to it? Lesson one—”
Before she could finish, Riker interrupted, his voice deep and commanding. “A few words before we begin.”
The class collectively froze, their gazes shifting nervously back to him.
“As some of you might not know,” Riker began, his tone sharp and unforgiving, “it was mandated by the Core City to increase the recruitment of new Beast Tamers this year. This decision led to higher acceptance rates across all academies. That’s how most of you even managed to get recruited in the first place.”
The room was silent.
“But,” Riker continued, his voice dropping into a growl, “don’t think for a second that just because you got accepted into an academy, you’re set for life. The truth is, we don’t have the resources or the patience to waste on every wannabe Beast Tamer. Starting this year, the academy has implemented a new policy: the first year will be an evaluation period. By the end of the year, if your evaluation scores fall below the minimum requirement, you’ll be dropped from the academy.”
The words hit the students like a physical blow. The once-enthusiastic atmosphere evaporated, replaced by heavy silence and uneasy whispers. Courage could feel the weight of the news settling over the room.
“See? I told you,” came a whisper from Dan, who was hiding in Courage’s hair.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Courage whispered back. “But more importantly, why are you here with me right now? Aren’t you worried someone will find you?”
“Relax. I did some recon. There’s no one in this academy who can detect me as long as I’m careful. So don’t worry about it.”
Courage sighed but nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure.”
Meanwhile, Riker’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “And now that I’ve said that,” he added, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm, “I too am looking forward to working with you all. Or rather, with whoever is left of you.”
The oppressive silence deepened, the weight of his words crushing what little hope the students had clung to.
Miss Everdine, her eye twitching and her forced smile faltering, stepped forward. Turning to Riker, she spoke through gritted teeth, her tone deceptively sweet but laced with barely contained anger. “Hah hah… Mister Riker, a word, if you please?”
Riker raised a questioning brow. “Hm?”
Before he could say more, Miss Everdine grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the classroom. The door slammed shut behind them, and if one listened closely, muffled voices could be heard through the door.
“Now why did you have to ruin the students’ excitement like that, huh?”
“What are you talking about, woman?” Riker’s voice, dismissive and unbothered, responded.
“What I am talking about?” Rose hissed, her voice sharp with frustration. “The students could’ve progressed faster and better whilst in high spirits. But no, someone had to ruin the mood.”
“Aren’t we supposed to tell them that anyway?” Riker shot back, his tone calm but dismissive. “What difference does it make telling them now or later?”
“Putting pressure on them right at the get-go could affect their performance!” she countered, throwing her hands up.
“Oh, please.” Riker crossed his arms, his expression unyielding. “We haven’t even started, and you’re already cradling them. So what if it puts pressure on them? It might actually push them to work harder. Besides, if they can’t handle this much, then they shouldn’t even be Beast Tamers.”
Rose’s eyes narrowed. “Wow,” she replied mockingly. “I didn’t expect my senior in teaching to have such a crude way of thinking.”
Riker’s jaw clenched, her words clearly striking a nerve. “Hey, I’ve been teaching for years before you even showed up, so don’t go thinking that just because you’ve got some fancy diploma, you can tell me how to teach, cupcake.”
“What did you just call me?” Rose’s voice dropped to a dangerous low, her expression darkening.
“Cup— guaah!”
Riker’s retort was cut off as Rose elbowed him sharply in the ribs, causing him to double over slightly, clutching his side.
“Call me that again, and see what happens,” she warned, her tone sugary sweet but menacing.
From inside the classroom, the muffled argument had been reduced to occasional thuds and grunts. The students exchanged puzzled glances, unsure whether to be amused or concerned. Meanwhile, Courage quietly whispered to Dan, “Well… this is going to be an interesting year.”
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Finally, back in the classroom, Rose stood before the students once more, her expression calm and smiling as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, Riker lingered at a side corner, clutching his ribs and looking visibly disgruntled, his face a curious shade of blue. The sight left the students unsure of what to think, but Rose paid no mind to the awkward tension.
She cleared her throat and began speaking again, her tone warm and steady. “As I was saying, today is our first lesson, during which we’ll cover some important facts and foundational knowledge. Let’s start with aptitude—what it means and how we measure it.”
The students perked up slightly, eager to learn.
“Well,” Rose continued, “aptitude is divided into five grades: inferior, low, mid, high, and peak. These grades represent the level of potential someone is born with. The way we measure aptitude is by assessing the amount of spirit energy stored in a person’s Totem after they awaken.”
A hand shot up from the back of the classroom. “Wait,” a student asked, “Totems store spirit energy?”
“Yes, they do,” Rose replied with an encouraging nod. “You must understand that the Totem is the most important thing for a Tamer because it has many crucial roles and uses.”
Another student leaned forward. “What kind of roles? How does it work?”
Rose smiled, pleased by their curiosity. “A Totem,” she began, “is essentially a crystallization of a Beast Tamer’s soul power. It has four key aspects that define its importance:
1. Shape: The shape of a Totem determines the type of creatures that are most compatible with a Tamer. For example, someone with a wolf-shaped Totem would naturally find it easier to tame canine-related beasts.
2. Power: A Totem grants a unique skill to its user. This skill can be passive, like enhanced physical abilities, or active, such as a special combat technique. The application of this power depends heavily on how creatively the Tamer uses it.
3. Taming: The Totem projects the Tamer’s will, allowing them to establish a bond with spirit beasts. This bond can be formed through persuasion, force, or challenges. The stronger the Totem, the easier it is to tame powerful beasts.
4. Storage of Spirit Energy: The Totem acts as a reservoir for spirit energy. Tamers use this energy to nurture their beasts and power their Totem’s abilities. The amount of energy a Totem can store grows as the Tamer develops
“And these are just the basics,” Rose added. “The more you grow as Tamers, the more you’ll come to appreciate how integral your Totem is to everything you do. It’s not just a tool; it’s an extension of who you are.”
The students nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information. Courage, in particular, found himself reflecting on his own Totem, the semi-transparent rhinoceros beetle he had awakened.
“Any other questions so far?” Rose asked, looking around the room with her characteristic bright energy.
And with no more questions being asked, Rose returned to her original subject.
“And as I was saying, the way we measure aptitude is by scaling the amount of spirit energy a Totem contains to grade an aptitude. On a scale of 100, aptitudes are typically graded as follows:
1% to 10%: Inferior
15% to 30%: Low
35% to 50%: Mid
55% to 70%: High
90% to 100%: Peak
“Most people fall within the low to mid range, with high and peak being exceedingly rare. It’s important to remember, though, that while aptitude determines your starting point, it doesn’t define how far you can go. Effort, strategy, and resourcefulness often matter just as much as raw talent.”
The students listened attentively, some glancing at one another as they silently wondered where they might fall on this scale.
Rose smiled warmly, her voice full of reassurance. “So, don’t let these numbers define you. They’re just a measure of potential, not a limit. Now, let’s move on to...”
She transitioned smoothly into the next part of her lesson, keeping the class engaged.
Several days had passed, during which Courage and his classmates were taught most of the foundational knowledge they needed. They spent time learning how to sense their own spirit energy under Riker's guidance, practicing focus and awareness to connect with the energy within their bodies. They also worked on controlling their Totems, understanding their unique properties, and even checking their aptitude.
When it was finally Courage’s turn to measure his aptitude, the result was exactly 5%—a level considered firmly in the inferior range. A realization he couldn't help but bitterly smile at but hey what can he do about it.
Cutting to the beginning of another lesson, Rose stood before the class and announced, “Okay, class, you’ve all been doing very well these past few days, so today, I think it’s time for you to finally tame your first beast.”
This news sent a small uproar through the class as excitement bubbled up among the students.
“Finally,” Courage thought to himself, anticipation stirring within him.
“All right, class, follow me to the training hall and have your Beast Orbs ready,” Riker instructed in his usual sharp tone.
After a quick transition, Courage found himself standing in a large arena-like hall. The orb containing his beast was placed on the ground in front of him, just as Riker had instructed.
“Now that you are all set,” Riker began, pacing in front of the group, “when you’re ready, invoke your Totem and project your will through it into your chosen beasts. Remember, the moment you start interacting with the beast, it’s up to you to persuade it to form a bond. Only when a bond has been successfully established can the beast be released from its container. So don’t worry about them breaking free while they resist you.”
After giving final confirmation, the students began.
Courage knelt before his Beast Orb, the faint glow of the container reflecting in his eyes. He placed his hands on the orb and closed his eyes, summoning his Totem.
The familiar sensation of cold energy coursed through his body as the semi-transparent, glowing white rhinoceros beetle manifested beside him. The totem stood firm, ready to project his will.
Without hesitation, he projected his intent through the Totem and into the orb.
The glow of the orb intensified, and within moments, a surge of resistance met his mind. The creature inside pushed back, a wild, untamed presence that felt like an unyielding wall.
Courage gritted his teeth, focusing harder. Through his Totem, he projected a sense of calm and resolve. I’m not here to harm you, he thought, trying to convey his intentions. I want to work with you—to grow stronger together.
The resistance wavered slightly, then returned, fierce and unrelenting. A sudden, overwhelming vision flashed through his mind—a dense, shadowy forest with thick, twisted roots and tangled vines. The jungle felt alive, suffocating him with its depth and complexity. The beetle was testing him, its presence demanding and wild, as if daring him to stand firm.
Courage flinched at the sudden onslaught of images and sensations. The overwhelming pressure of the jungle scene caused his focus to shatter, and in that moment, the connection between him and the beetle snapped. A sharp, stinging headache surged through his temples, forcing him to wince.
Riker, watching from the sidelines, immediately noticed the shift. He strode over, his eyes sharp with concern.
“Take it easy,” Riker advised, his voice low but firm. “Taming a beast is a battle of spirit and since. Humans are born with much stronger spirits than beasts, you naturally have the advantage. But it’s not a race. You don’t have to tame the beast in one try.”
Courage took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The pain from the headache was still there, but he focused on Riker’s words.
“You’re trying to force it too quickly. The key is patience,” Riker continued. “Tame it over time, multiple attempts if needed. Wear its spirit down by gradually asserting your will.”
He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in.
“Also, don’t lose focus during the process. A battle of spirits requires mental endurance. Losing your concentration can cause a backlash, like what you just experienced. So take it slow, and stay calm.”
Courage nodded, rubbing his temples and trying to shake off the lingering headache. He took another deep breath and refocused. The beetle was still contained within the orb, but its presence was palpable, waiting.
“Alright, I’ll try again,” Courage muttered under his breath. He steadied his posture, took a moment to calm his mind, and once more reached out with his will, projecting calm and respect towards the beetle. This time, he would be patient.
And so, Courage followed Riker’s advice. He tried again and again, each time with varying amounts of progress. Sometimes, the beetle would respond to his calm intentions, allowing a brief connection to form, but other times, it would resist fiercely, pushing back with its untamed spirit. The struggle was a constant ebb and flow—moments of progress followed by intense bursts of opposition.
Whenever the resistance became too much, Courage would retreat, taking a breather to clear his mind and reset his focus. He’d close his eyes, taking slow, measured breaths, letting the tension ease from his shoulders. Then, with renewed determination, he would try again, his will firm but patient.
There were moments when he felt a sharp, painful backlash—his head would throb, and the pressure would weigh down on him, as though the very air around him were thick with the creature’s resistance. But each time the headache hit, Courage didn’t falter. He gritted his teeth, shook off the pain, and reminded himself that taming was not an immediate victory. It was about persistence.
He could feel the beetle's spirit—wild, powerful, but hesitant. It was not a simple creature to bend to his will, and Courage knew he couldn’t force it. Slowly but surely, he learned to match its rhythm, his own spirit becoming more attuned to the creature’s volatile energy.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been at it, but time no longer mattered. All that mattered was the bond he was trying to forge, Each attempt, each setback, brought him one step closer to understanding the beetle, and with that understanding, the strength to tame it.
And through it all, Courage never let the fear of failure take hold. He had come this far, and he wasn’t about to stop now.
Several hours had passed, and almost everyone had succeeded in taming their beast except Courage, who, looking back at him, seemed to be deep in the process. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his teeth gritted, and it was clear he was having a tough battle right now.
Courage stood alone in the heart of the dense jungle, his mind submerged in the chaotic environment the beetle projected. The air was thick with the weight of the forest, each rustling leaf and snapping branch pressing down on him, suffocating him with its overwhelming presence. The shadows from the towering trees loomed like suffocating walls, and the sounds of creatures moving in the underbrush reverberated through his bones, filling his mind with a constant buzz .
The jungle’s pulse, its spirit, was everywhere, pushing at him, testing him, trying to break his resolve. Every inch of the space around him felt like it was alive, trying to consume him, dragging him deeper into its grip. The beast’s projection was no longer subtle—it had turned into a full, unrelenting storm of will power, hurling everything it had at him in one final desperate push.
But this time, something was different. Courage could feel it. Despite the pressure, despite the overwhelming force, his mind remained calm, focused. He wasn't being consumed by the jungle anymore; he was standing firm, grounded, his spirit just as determined as the beast's.
The beast’s projection roared louder, the force of the jungle tightening around him, trying to suffocate his thoughts, cloud his senses. But Courage stood his ground, teeth clenched, every muscle in his body straining to maintain the fragile connection between them. It was a battle—a battle of wills, and he would not back down.
As the forest pressed against him, trying to consume his every thought and push him into submission, a voice pierced through the noise, cutting through the chaos of the jungle.
"Just a bit more. You can do it."
Courage felt the presence of the voice—strong, calm, and determined it was Dan's. It gave him strength when he thought he had none left. The words fueled his resolve, his focus sharpening. He could feel the beast’s spirit pushing back, but it was reaching its limit. It was tiring. It was trying to resist, but Courage was not giving up. He was determined to win, determined to prove to the beast that he was worthy of being its master.
With renewed energy, Courage pressed forward, forcing his will through the connection, sending a surge of spirit energy into the beetle. The jungle around him trembled as his spirit clashed with the beast’s, the pressure from the environment lightening for a brief moment. The beast, sensing its own exhaustion, seemed to pause, its projection faltering.
This was it. The final moment. Courage tightened his grip on the connection, pushing the beast to its breaking point, showing it his own unyielding will.
And in that moment, the jungle fell silent. The battle was over
Snapping back into reality, Courage gasped for air, his chest rising and falling rapidly as sweat drenched his face and soaked through his clothes. His body ached from the exertion, every muscle screaming in protest, but in that moment, he couldn’t focus on the pain. He could only focus on the orb before him.
Slowly, the orb that had contained his beast began to crack open. The energy swirling within it shimmered, and the magical force that had bound it inside began to dissipate. The seal broke with a soft, almost reverent pop, and the beast, no longer confined, emerged into the world.