"We will dissect the exact mechanics of soul binding later in the semester," Lucian Alister continued, his calm voice echoing effortlessly off the stone walls of the lecture hall. "For now, let us address the three distinct tiers of companionship a Beast Tamer can forge with a contracted monster."
Lucian turned to the chalkboard, his chalk fluidly listing the parameters:
First Tier: The Subdue Level
This is the requirement stage to officially call yourself a Beast Tamer. A Subdue-phase contract requires the monster to recognize your presence and submit to your authority. It is temporary, fickle, and can be achieved through various brute-force means such as physical flagellation, fear tactics, or exhaustion.
Second Tier: The Kinship Level
Unlike the first tier, Kinship cannot be forced; it must be systematically fostered over a long duration of time. An individual's innate bloodline aptitude toward a highly specific family can quicken the synchronization process. Achieving a Kinship-level bond is the minimum spiritual requirement to successfully advance to the Sergeant Stage. However, do not fall into the foolish trap of assuming this tier is the end-all, be-all of your cultivation.
Third Tier: Life and Death Soul Partners
This is the pinnacle of the craft. Only a legendary, True Beast Tamer can dream of achieving a complete merger of soul patterns. As for the immense structural benefits this tier provides to a master's lifespan and physical attributes... you will all have to witness that for yourselves later on, assuming any of you actually possess the talent to become a True Tamer.
Lucian explained the advanced aspects of the curriculum with clinical clarity. Though the concepts were advanced for a first class, his delivery made it easy to project within their minds. Within minutes, the young prodigies found themselves mesmerized by his brilliant teaching skills.
"Are there any questions regarding these three distinct tiers?" Lucian asked, leaning his tall frame casually against the edge of the master desk.
Three students in the middle rows immediately raised their hands. Lucian nodded lazily toward a young noble youth wearing the silks of a high-tier barony.
"Teacher," the boy began, his brow furrowed as he tried to catch the instructor out with a technical contradiction. "If a Kinship-level bond relies heavily on shared ancestral frequencies, how can a Tamer who accidentally contracts a mutated variant beast, one whose elemental attributes have warped away from the lineage standard ever hope to loosen their bottleneck to reach the Sergeant Stage?"
Lucian offered a thin smile. "You are confusing outward elemental expressions with soul aura. A mutation merely warps the beast's physical mana channels, not its core consciousness. To stabilize the synchronization, you do not alter your bloodline frequency; instead, you utilize a psychic modulation to envelop the beast's altered core, tricking its instincts into recognizing your shared spiritual origin. Next question."
A young noblewoman with sharp features immediately spoke up. "Teacher, what about the exact energetic backlash experienced during a Subdue-level contract? If the beast's willpower temporarily overrides the master's Spirit Aura during a state of physical exhaustion, can the resulting neural friction permanently deform the Tamer's sea of consciousness?"
"Only if the Tamer possesses the mental fortitude of a peasant," Lucian replied indifferently, his blue eyes locking onto hers. "A Subdue-level bond is entirely external. The friction you speak of is merely a superficial pressure wave striking your outer mental wall. To nullify it entirely, one simply needs to contract their active Spirit Aura inward by 20% at the moment of backlash, letting the beast's energy exhaust itself against an empty spiritual vessel. It is basic kinetic displacement."
Finally, a brilliant student near the front row asked a complex question regarding the third tier. "Respected Professor, if a Life and Death Soul Partner passes away due to natural aging before the Tamer does, does the collapse of the shared soul pattern drag the Tamer's attributes down to zero?"
"An excellent hypothesis," Lucian nodded. "When a soul partner perishes, the spiritual collapse does indeed initiate a catastrophic reverse-flow. However, because a True Tamer's soul operates in synchronization with the world's ambient Spirit Aura, the vacuum left behind by the beast's death will instantly draw in a massive influx of pure natural energy. While your physical attributes will experience a severe, temporary degradation of approximately 30%, your Spirit will remain largely intact, allowing you to systematically reconstruct your foundations over a period of several months."
Dong! Dong!
The heavy bronze bells of the academy tower resonated across the mountain peaks, signaling the conclusion of the academic block.
"There is the bell," Lucian stated, straightening his grey robes. "I shall conclude today's lecture here. For your first assignment, I want every single one of you to conduct a piece of research regarding your innate beast. Try to map out at least three hypothetical methods to increase your internal companionship for when you eventually trigger your contracts later this year. And do not forget to complete your general studies as well."
The classroom immediately began to disperse. Lucian sat quietly on the edge of his table, watching the young nobles pack away their parchment.
He cast a brief glance toward the arrogant boy who had delivered the foolish mythological answer earlier, noting the bitter, angry looks the youth was directing toward the podium.
Lucian simply shook his head in silent amusement, before shifting his unblinking gaze toward the silver-haired girl who was elegantly exiting the hall.
'Now, she is an intriguing girl,' Lucian smiled to himself, tracking her movements.
Suddenly, a sharp, light flashed deep within his pupils as a silent projection manifested right across his retinas.
[Beep! Task Status: Completed! Achievement: Calculation of the counter-method to neutralize the native World Suppression! Mechanism: Structural simulation of the established soul pattern of the 'Beast World' successfully integrated with the host's Giant Kemoyin Serpent bloodline modifications. Current Penalty: 0% (All physical and mental attributes restored to absolute peak capacity).]
'Finally!' Lucian thought, an uncharacteristic, breathtakingly charming smile splitting his handsome features.
He had waited three long, tedious months to finally reap the glorious fruits of his A.I. Chip's computational labor.
Witnessing his suddenly expressed smile, several of the fragile-hearted noble girls remaining in the front rows felt their minds go completely blank, their faces flushing crimson as they leaned against their desks in a daze.
Catching their swooning response, Lucian instantly pulled his features back into a mask of indifference.
Shaking his head, he quickly swept out of the lecture hall, having absolutely zero desire to deal with a pack of hyperventilating teenagers.
Lucian entered the wide, sunlit corridors of the academic wing, pacing steadily toward the bridge that connected the educational facilities to the private teacher's residential area. As he accelerated his strides, a sharp, disgust-filled voice rasped out from behind a massive stone pillar.
"Teacher Lucian Alister... where exactly are you heading in such an unseemly hurry? Don't tell me the children in the Elite section were far too mean to a novice like you?"
An old, spite-filled man stepped out into the center of the walkway, blocking Lucian's path. He wore the loose, un-tailored grey robes of a senior professor, his face wrinkling with a mixture of profound disdain and deep-seated personal jealousy as he locked his eyes onto the young man. It was a pathetic, transparent attempt to ridicule a colleague.
"Teacher Wright Reel," Lucian answered offhandedly, his expression dropping into a state of deadpan. "I am not in a hurry at all. It is simply your advanced old age that makes every standard movement in the world appear fast to your fading senses. And no, the children were an absolute dear in my classroom unlike the students in your advanced section, who routinely refer to you behind your back as a 'Senile Old Bastard'."
Lucian looked down at him, a glint of ridicule dancing within his eyes.
"You!! You arrogant little brat!" Wright Reel roared, his face contorted with pure fury. "You think you are so incredibly good, don't you!? Let me tell you something, Mr. Genius. The children sitting inside that Elite classroom are the finest collection of prodigies across this province, they are the future of the Felineca Empire! Allowing someone as green and unproven as you to manage their development will do nothing but utterly destroy their foundations! Others across the staff room may be completely fearful and scared of your mysterious background, but I, Wright Reel, am afraid of absolutely no one! Do you truly think a mere frontier backing like the Greg family intimidates a veteran like me!? For the greater good of our great empire and its future leaders, I am more than willing to offend anyone!"
Wright spoke in a booming, righteous voice, deliberately amplifying his vocal output to attract the attention of the passing teachers and senior students navigating the courtyard below. He offered a small, smug smile as he noticed a crowd beginning to form near the base of the stairs, confident that he held the moral high ground.
Lucian knew for an absolute fact that the old man standing before him was nothing more than an attention-hawking, bitter idiot.
Granted, Wright Reel was a capable senior professor who had spent decades meticulously working his way up through the competitive ranks of the Royal Academy. This year, he was originally slated to assume command of the incoming Elite Class, an honor and lifelong dream for any career academic.
However, that dream had been snatched away from his grasp the moment Lucian had presented his credentials to the board. Wright was jealous of Lucian securing the post at such an unprecedentedly young age. To make the loss infinitely more bitter, this specific first-year batch contained a special transfer student, an individual of such lineage that even the Principal had to treat them with respect.
Managing that student's education was a opportunity that not even a member of the Royal Family could enjoy, and Wright had lost it to a stranger.
"I just want you to know, esteemed professor," Lucian spoke up, his voice dropping into a calm, and respectful melody that carried across the courtyard to the onlookers, "that your veteran evaluation means the world to my career. I shall continuously strive to perform my duties to the absolute best of my capability, to eventually earn your approval."
While his spoken words sounded like the perfect, humble response of a dutiful junior colleague, the expression plastered across his face was angled so that only Wright could catch it, it was a display of condescending contempt.
"You... you deceitful prick!" Wright raised his voice to a screeching halt, literal steam beginning to visually release from his ears.
His control snapping entirely, the old man's body underwent a minor, chaotic demi-human transformation. His eyes turned a light, volatile red with a distinct yellowish tint, his human teeth sharpened into fangs, and a pair of pointed, bestial ears tore through his hair line.
He unleashed a wave of his aura, causing the nearby students to frantically take several steps back in terror, while the passing senior teachers frowned at the unprofessional display of violence.
For moment, it appeared as though the old professor was going to pounce onto the smiling indifferent youth standing before him.
However, catching the disapproving glares of the surrounding faculty, Wright forcefully reined in his instincts, his bestial traits receding back beneath his skin as he looked around the crowded corridor.
To everyone passing by, the scene was entirely transparent: the young, brilliant Teacher Lucian was a respectful junior colleague, while Professor Wright was exposing himself to the world as a bitter, unhinged, and senile old geezer throwing a tantrum.
Realizing he had lost the exchange completely, Wright let out a heavy, venomous snort, turning sharply on his heel to march away down the corridor. Lucian watched his retreating back, a amused expression gracing his handsome features.
'Even though I could easily eliminate this annoying old idiot and be completely done with the matter,' Lucian thought, a small smile appearing on his lips as he moved along the path, 'I must admit... I derive joy from teasing this old bastard to death.'
Lucian continued his walk, passing through a manicured botanical garden before stepping onto the cobblestone path of an isolated residential quadrant.
Resting at the end of the road was a sprawling, magnificent stone villa surrounded by high security wards, his private quarters assigned directly by the academy administration.
Being designated as one of the finest, most luxurious estates on the entire mountain campus, it functioned as a constant source of immense envy among the senior faculty members.
Standing rigidly before the reinforced iron entrance gates were two personal guards clad in heavy armor, both operating at the formidable Silver Knight stage. The moment Lucian reached the gate, the two warriors immediately dropped into deep bows.
"Master!" they exclaimed in unison.
These two fighters, alongside half a dozen inside attendants and private footmen, were part of a specialized staff Lucian had personally hand-picked and hired to maintain his mansion.
Within the academy's laws, instructors had the freedom to utilize the servants already affiliated with the campus, or alternatively, select and bring in their own private retainers from the outside world.
Regardless of the choice, the salaries of the entire staff were fully compensated by the Royal Academy anyway.
Leylin offered a nod to the sentries, stepping through the gates to enter the vast, beautifully decorated interior of the mansion.
The architectural layout possessed a classic, remarkably fresh, and airy aesthetic, a stark, contrast to the cold, heavily reinforced, and regal stone fortresses he was traditionally accustomed to navigating back in the South Coast.
This estate had been engineered not to impress visiting delegates, but to provide a quiet space to unwind.
Gliding past the foyer, he offered a wave of his hand to dismiss the head butler and the beautiful maids who had dropped into deep curseys to welcome him home.
Bypassing the grand dining hall and the sunlit lounges, the he made a straight beeline toward the steel doors leading directly into his private basement.