Beyond Beast Rank

The Missing Family

My helmet visor fogged up from the cold air as I parked my delivery bike outside a busy beast training shop in the market district.

The street was full of people leading creatures on heavy chains and thick leather leashes. A merchant near the corner shouted prices for bags of dried beast meat and metal training spurs. Students from the wealthy academies stood by the shop windows, laughing while their bonded pets showed off tricks for passing crowds. Overhead, small flying beasts darted between the streetlamps, carrying messages for rich shoppers who never had to step foot on the muddy concrete below.

I stepped off the bike and grabbed my heavy delivery bag. My mind drifted right back to the eviction notice waiting on the wooden table at home. Three hundred credits were due by tomorrow morning, and my current earnings would not even pay for a tenth of that amount. I needed money, and I needed it immediately. Lily was counting on me to bring back her lung medicine tonight, but every passing hour felt like another door slamming shut in my face.

Near the shop entrance, a middle aged customer stood shouting at a young clerk because his pet hound refused to follow simple commands. The animal growled continuously, planting its paws firmly against the tile floor while its stiff fur stood up along its spine.

I walked past them toward the service counter, letting my eyes rest on the hound for a fraction of a second.

My awakened talent activated automatically without any sound, spark, or flash of light. A thin line of faint blue text appeared in the lower corner of my vision.

Species: Iron Tooth Hound. Weight: eighty kilograms. Diet: raw meat. Disposition: agitated.

That was all. The talent gave me basic facts that anyone could read on a poster outside a pet store or look up in a five credit book at the market. It did not tell me why the hound was angry, how to calm its nerves, what hidden elemental weakness it possessed, or how it could evolve into a higher rank. It was a surface tool, completely useless for real beast tamers.

The clerk wiped sweat from his forehead, looking desperate as the hound bared its sharp teeth and let out another low growl.

"Your beast is useless today," the customer yelled, pointing a thick finger right at the clerk's face. "I paid you fifty credits to train this animal for basic obedience, and it cannot even sit still in a public shop!"

"Sir, please lower your voice," the clerk pleaded, backing away from the snapping jaws. "The animal is tired from the morning evaluation session. It just needs a moment to rest."

I placed my delivery package on the glass counter and looked down at the hound again. Its left paw hovered slightly above the tile floor, never taking any real weight, and a small patch of red skin showed through its coarse fur near the lower joint.

"The animal is not angry," I said quietly, keeping my voice low and steady. "Its left paw hurts. Someone fitted the metal training ring far too tight around the joint."

The customer stopped shouting and turned his head to stare at me. His eyes swept over my faded delivery jacket, my scuffed boots, and the old helmet resting under my arm. A cold, arrogant smile spread across his face.

"Listen to the delivery boy," the customer laughed loudly, turning to face the other people standing in the shop. "The boy with the failed awakening talent thinks he knows beast training better than a licensed shop instructor."

Two academy students standing near the counter joined in the laughter, their clean silk uniforms making my patched clothes look even worse. One of them pointed a finger at my chest.

"Hey delivery worker," the student mocked, his voice dripping with condescension. "Did your useless identification talent tell you that, or did you guess it because you spend all day carrying garbage around the city?"

I kept my hands resting flat against the hard counter. My pulse thudded in my ears, hot and sharp, but I did not let my face change expression. Fighting back would only get my delivery account suspended, and losing this job meant Lily would have no food or medicine on the table tonight.

"Check the left paw," I said to the clerk, ignoring the students entirely. "Take off the metal ring and you will see the swelling."

The clerk hesitated, looked down at the hound, and finally knelt beside the growling animal. He unbuckled the iron training ring around the left leg with careful fingers. Thick yellow pus oozed from a raw wound hidden beneath the heavy metal strap. The hound let out a soft whine of relief as the pressure left its skin, its tail giving a weak wag against the floor.

The customer stopped smiling. He glared down at the open wound on his pet's leg and then looked up at me with deep embarrassment turning into silent anger.

"You should look at your own business instead of ruining other people's equipment," the customer muttered, grabbing the leather leash and pulling the limping hound toward the exit.

The clerk handed me my delivery receipt without making direct eye contact. I signed the digital pad, picked up my empty bag, and walked back out into the cold street.

My hands trembled slightly as I gripped the rubber handlebars of my motorcycle. I was smart enough to see practical details that others missed, but my talent could not prove my worth to a city obsessed with raw power. To everyone else, I was just a delivery worker with a failed ability.

I opened my delivery application on the bike screen and checked my current balance. Twelve credits earned today. Three hundred credits needed by tomorrow afternoon. The math was impossible, and the reality pressed down on my chest like a heavy stone.

Just as I prepared to start the engine, a new notification flashed at the top of my screen with a sharp chime.

It was a private delivery request with no company logo or sender name attached. The offered payment was five hundred credits. The pickup location was listed as an abandoned rail tunnel near the edge of the industrial zone, and the instructions contained only a single sentence.

Bring a heavy transport box to the tunnel entrance at midnight, and do not ask any questions about what goes inside.

Five hundred credits was more than enough to pay the rent and buy Lily's medicine for a whole month. But the location was dark, dangerous, and completely outside the normal delivery routes.

I stared at the blinking screen for a long time, knowing that walking into that tunnel might be a terrible mistake, but knowing just as well that I had no other choice left.