Chapter 3. Tax for Pres
Ethan crouched in the corner of the room, making up enough dust to choke an elephant. He coughed violently, swatting at the air.
"Fantastic," he rasped. "First day back, and I'm already dying of medieval asthma."
After a few more choking fits, his eyes landed on a sad little satchel slumped in the corner. Calling it worn would be generous, the thing looked like it had survived a war and a flood.
The leather was faded and blotchy, like it couldn't decide what color it wanted to be. The edges were chewed up, the seams stretched tight, and the brass buckle hung at an awkward angle.
"Wonderful," Ethan muttered, picking it up as though it might fall apart in his hands. Inside, he found the grand prize. A Beast Core barely worth two coppers.
The core was about the size of a walnut, with a dim glow. Its surface was scratched and smudged, with faint veins of light crawling inside.
Beast cores are formed from the essence of beasts, usually collected after their death. The core's glow indicates its quality, tamers use them to power tools, attract weaker beasts, or as currency.
In this one's case, if anyone tried to sell this thing, they'd be hit with it for wasting someone's time.
Near the satchel is a training whip. Or at least, it used to be a whip. Now it was just a collection of regrets tied together with frayed leather.
The handle was rough and peeling, exposing patches of bare wood. The whip's length was covered in cracks and creases.
Curious, Ethan gave it a flick. The whip slowly lurched forward, like it couldn't be bothered to put in the effort, and with a snap, the tip flew off and landed a few feet away like of a soggy noodle.
"Perfect," Ethan deadpanned, holding up the pathetic remains.
He surveyed his loot with a sigh. A dusty satchel, a Beast Core that wouldn't power a candle, and a whip so broken it could barely insult a beast, let alone tame one.
"This really takes me back," he muttered. "And by that, I mean this sucks."
Ethan stood and dusted off his pants. He had bigger problems than his disappointment of a starter pack. The Tamer's Ascension Trial was coming up.
This was a field test to catch and bond with a beast. Most students treated it like a coming-of-age ceremony. Ethan treated it like a shopping trip.
Ethan had done it before in his past life, and he knew exactly where he needed to go this time. There was a special place where the Abyssal Serpent's Egg would appear in a few days.
'In my last life, some idiot named Garret Stone found that egg,' Ethan said to himself. 'Then he spent years ruining my life with the serpent that hatched from it.'
"And if Garret tries anything, I'll feed him to his own snake."
He glanced at Scruff, who was perched on the bedpost, quietly observing everything from the beginning.
"You hear that, Scruff? We're going to steal the future. And if anyone complains, we'll peck their eyes out. Sound good?"
Scruff chirped, as if agreeing.
---
That same morning, Ethan walked into Eastcalm Taming Academy. His satchel hung over one shoulder, and Scruff was perched on the other.
The academy was full of noise. Students running around and yelling bets about who has the faster canine, and beasts screeching.
"Home sweet home," Ethan muttered. "I'd forgotten how much this place smells like wet fur and bad choices."
The academy was one of the best on the continent. It taught tamers how to understand their beasts' instincts and emotions. Students learned how to read tiny cues and build bonds with their creatures.
There were also practical lessons where they had to calm or control unruly beasts. But to Ethan, it all felt too polished. Real life wasn't like that. Beasts didn't follow rules, and there was no safety net out in the wild.
Still, the academy had its uses. It gave young tamers a place to learn and a chance to earn a living.
Theres tech, taming, sciences, literatures, government, and all other subjects. Since the academy is as huge as a whole city, it even has simulated environments to tame beasts, and advanced technologies like vaccines and gas turbines.
Ethan was part of the regular class, one of eleven sections, each with its own classroom.
The academy had four year levels, making a total of forty-four regular classes. Additionally, there were eight elite classes, split into "Special Class" and "First Class."
The regulars, on the other hand, had more freedom to slack off or pretend they were learning.
Ethan was completely in the slacker category.
"Why bother with lectures," he thought, "when you can learn more from one wild brawl with a beast than a hundred slideshows?"
Ethan didn't have time to sit through lectures. The Abyssal Serpent's Egg was going to appear in just a few days at Murkwind Ravine, and if he wanted any chance of securing it, he'd need proper gear. That meant money and lots of it.
---
Ethan made his way toward the academy's underground trading hall, a hidden lifeline for students who knew where to look.
It wasn't on any official map, and the administration pretended it didn't exist, but for those in the know, it was the place where deals occur.
The path wasn't exactly obvious. He started by heading toward the east wing of the academy, slipping past the classrooms and toward the old storage building.
Inside, between the clutter of unused desks and broken alchemy equipment, was a loose panel in the back wall. It didn't look like much, but a quick tug revealed a hidden tunnel leading down.
Once through, the air grew heavy with the smell of damp stone and the faint metallic tang of coins exchanging hands. Lanterns hung from the low ceiling, their flickering light illuminating the narrow passage.
At the end, the trading hall opened up into a cavernous chamber, noisy with quiet energy. The academy's underground trading hall was huge, just under the campus like a hidden city.
Makeshift stalls lined the walls, run by students peddling everything from low-grade Beast Cores to shady alchemical brews, with the occasional artifacts gleaming under lamplights.
Ethan pushed through the crowd and entered a quieter corridor where the noise faded.
The stalls here were discreet, catering to those seeking rare or questionable goods.
He stopped in front of a wooden door with a worn sign that read "Alastair." He had found the place.
In his past life, Ethan caught Alastair stealing a Frostshadow Lynx and was bribed to keep quiet. This time, knowing Alastair's intentions, Ethan plans to strike a deal instead for bigger profits.
Inside, Alastair sat at his desk, surrounded by piles of Beast Cores and scrolls. His feet were propped up on the counter as he flipped through a scroll, looking bored.
Without looking up, Alastair said, "If you're here to sell junk or beg for scraps, don't bother."
Ethan dropped his few coins on the counter. "I need supplies."
He looked at Ethan's clothes and smirked. "Let me guess," he said. "You're broke and want a miracle? Maybe enough for a leash and some food?"
Ethan ignored the jab. "I hear you can get rare items. Let's make a deal."
Alastair raised an eyebrow. "What kind of deal?"
"There's a Frostshadow Lynx in town," Ethan said. "Rare, valuable. I can get it for you. You pay me enough to gear up for the trials. Deal?"
Alastair leaned forward, interested despite himself. "The Lynx is guarded and illegal to sell. You sure you can handle it?"
Ethan shrugged. "You want the Lynx or not?"
After a pause, Alastair chuckled. "Fine. There's a merchant in Eastcalm with exotic stock. The Lynx is there, but the guards won't make it easy. Bring me the Lynx's core, and you'll get your payment."
"Deal," Ethan said, grabbing the map Alastair slid across the counter. As he turned to leave, Alastair called out, "Don't mess this up. It's bad for business."
---
The rest of the day, Ethan kept himself busy. He wandered around the training fields, blending in with the crowd, his eyes scanning for easy marks.
His technique was simple but effective: a light bump, an apologetic smile, and a quick flick of the wrist to slip a few coins or trinkets into his hand.
Before the titles and power, Ethan was just a scrappy kid trying to survive on the tough streets of Eastcalm. A quick hand often meant the difference between eating and starving.
It started small: stealing apples, slipping coins from pockets, and snagging trinkets from the wealthy. He learned quickly how to blend in, move unnoticed, and take advantage of distractions.
Over time, his skill became an art. Ethan could swipe a coin purse without the owner realizing until hours later.
He knew which targets to pick and which streets offered the fastest escapes. Even his mistakes taught him to be smarter.
"Sometimes," Ethan thought as he flipped coins in his hand, "being a legendary tamer starts with knowing how to steal lunch."
As he strolled, he spotted a girl wearing the distinctive crest of the Special Class embroidered on her uniform, a rare and valuable target.
She was carrying a satchel over her shoulder, her attention focused on a scroll she was reading as she walked. Ethan smirked.
Timing his approach perfectly, he "accidentally" stumbled into her path.
"Whoa, sorry about that!" he said, feigning clumsiness as he collided with her. His hand darted into the open satchel as he steadied her with the other.
He felt the cold touch of a coin purse, and with a practiced motion, it disappeared into his sleeve.
The girl looked up, startled but composed. "Watch where you're going next time," she said, brushing herself off. Her tone was dismissive, as though Ethan was beneath her notice.
"Of course, my bad!" Ethan replied with an apologetic smile, stepping back with a slight bow. He melted into the crowd before she could give him a second thought.
Once he was out of sight, he ducked into an empty alcove, pulling out the coin purse to check its contents.
As Ethan examined the coin purse, something tugged at the back of his mind.
That face... it was familiar, though younger and less hardened than he remembered. Then it clicked.
"Valeria Drake," he murmured, leaning back against the wall. In his past life, she had been the President of the Beast Council, the highest authority among beast tamers on the continent. She had been known for her intellect and strategies that had made the future of beast taming.
While he had been a member of the council because of his unparalleled strength and combat prowess, Valeria had been the one leading the charge.
The big decisions, the political maneuvering, the vision for the future it had all rested on her shoulders. Ethan had respected her, even if he had found her strict and often frustratingly pragmatic.
"Who would've thought I'd run into her here, of all places," Ethan said, shaking his head. His lips curled into a sly grin. "Well, I guess I should've expected it. She was destined for greatness even back then."
Looking at the coin purse again, he chuckled. "Sorry, Madam President," he said under his breath, tossing the purse lightly in the air and catching it. "Consider this an early tax for all the grief you gave me in our past life."
Pocketing the coins, Ethan decided he wouldn't avoid her. If Valeria was destined to rise to power again, it wouldn't hurt to build a connection early