The Beast Monarch

CHAPTER 4: Appraisal

The Bureau decontamination tent smelled like bleach and ozone.

They hosed me down, scanned me for corruption, bagged my burned courier jacket as evidence. I sat on a metal bench in sweats that were three sizes too big, Grim shrunk down to his original trash-slime size in a standard-issue beast carrier so the techs wouldn't freak out.

Outside the plastic walls, I could hear Grant shouting.

"This is Cole Conglomerate property! That F-Rank stole a Battle Slime from inventory! Check the logs!"

No one was listening to him anymore.

The tent flap ripped open and Marcus Reid barged in carrying two coffees and looking like he'd sprinted from our apartment in his sleep pants.

Marcus is my best friend since the orphanage. D-Rank Support Tamer, Moon Moth healer. Loyal, funny, optimistic - the only guy who didn't cut me off when I tested F-Rank and flunked out of Tamer Academy. My roommate, my emergency contact, the only person in this city who actually picks up.

"Liam! Jesus - dispatch said Warehouse 4 spiked C-Rank unstable. They said a civilian was sealed inside. I thought -"

"I'm good," I said. My voice was raw. My left hand was still bandaged black from touching raw rift. "Thanks to him."

Marcus looked at the carrier. At the little black jelly wobbling inside.

"Liam... that's a Shadow Slime. You literally said slimes are the participation trophy of beasts."

"He grew on me."

Grim pulsed, offended. Through the bond I felt a flicker of pride. Battle Slime now.

Marcus sat, handed me a coffee. His own beast, Luna, fluttered out - a pale moth that glowed when she healed. She hovered over Grim, curious.

"Grant's getting hauled off. But I heard the depot manager on the radio. Cole is blacklisting you. They're saying you triggered the rift with stolen cores. You won't get a courier gig in any district now."

Of course. That's how it works in New Haven. Corporations don't lose. The appraisal machines tell you you're F-Rank, the guilds tell you you're unfit, and when you survive anyway, they tell everyone you cheated.

I stood up. My legs were still shaky, but the +5 Strength and Agility from Grim's evolution was holding me together.

"I need to get him appraised. For real. Not by Bureau."

Marcus blinked. "Appraised? Liam, you need a hospital. That burn -"

"That burn is the only proof I have that I'm not F-Rank anymore. Come on."

Old Tamer District at 4 AM never sleeps. The Black Beast Market runs on rift time. Tamers coming off night hunts, smugglers, appraisers who don't ask for ID.

Old Man Jax owed Marcus from a medic run. His stall was a cage of scanners and cages.

He took one look at the carrier and spat.

"Kid, that ain't a Shadow Slime. Shadow Slimes don't have biceps."

I let Grim out. Just halfway - not full Battle form, just enough to show the armor plating on his fists.

Jax's handheld scanner - same city-issue model they use in the Academy - beeped.

[SPECIES: Battle Slime - Variant]

[RANK: 2-Star]

[POTENTIAL: 4-Star - Battle Lord Class]

[EST. MARKET VALUE: 52,000 Credits]

Jax stared at the screen. Then at me. Then at the screen again.

"Fifty-two thousand... kid, where'd you jack this? Battle Slimes cap at 2-Star. They don't have 4-Star potential unless -" He lowered his voice. "Unless you got a Monarch-type talent. You got Infinite Evolution?"

I kept my face calm. Charismatic when challenged, not a pushover. That's how you survive the market.

"Can you keep it quiet?"

"Quiet? Kid, if Cole Corp finds out you can turn trash into Battle Lords, they'll either kill you or put you on a leash." He shoved the carrier back at me. "Get out. Don't come back without a guild license."

Outside, Marcus grabbed my sleeve. "52k? Liam, that's two years rent. That's Academy re-enrollment. We could -"

"I don't want back in," I said. "I want to build something that makes them beg to re-enroll me."

That's when she found us.

Dr. Evelyn Stone was leaning against our apartment building like she'd been waiting. No tactical gear now. Just a white shirt, black pants, that same cold, tied-back hair. She looked like she was born in a lab.

"You left decontamination before your official rank update," she said. Blunt, logical. No hello.

"You arrested the guy who tried to kill me. I figured we were even."

"Your official Bureau scan still says F-Rank. Unfit to Tame." She held up a different scanner, military-grade, Bureau-black. "My personal scanner says error. The city appraisal machines are rigged, Shaw. I've known for a year. Cole Conglomerate supplies the chips. They cap potential to keep beast prices high. I published the data. They fired me for it."

She looked at Grim.

"You evolved a 1-Star trash into a 2-Star with 4-Star potential in ten minutes with zero catalysts. My theory is that any beast can reach Mythic with the right method. You are the method."

She pulled out a contract. Not a guild recruitment. A research partnership. Lab access, legal Rift access, protection from Cole's blacklist. In exchange for full data on every evolution.

Marcus whispered, "Liam, that's federal lab access. That's A-Rank Rifts..."

I looked at Evelyn. Not a love interest. A professional ally who needed me as much as I needed her. Ambitious, competent, and about to lose everything if she was wrong.

"What happens to you if I fail?"

"I lose my career permanently," she said without flinching. "And you go back to being a courier who died in a warehouse."

I thought about the notification Codex had shown me when Grim said Run.

[Memory Seal - Level 2]

[Origin of Bond: 15 Years Ago]

I was orphaned in the first Rift outbreak. I was five. I don't remember my parents. I don't remember my first beast.

But Grim had looked at that red rift like he'd seen it before.

I took the pen and signed.

The second I touched her scanner to countersign, it screamed.

[SCANNING HOST TALENT...]

[RESULT: ERROR - RANK: ???]

[RETRIEVING ORIGINAL FILE...]

[ORIGINAL TALENT: SSS-RANK]

[OVERWRITTEN TO F-RANK - AUTHORIZATION: FEDERAL ORDER - 15 YEARS AGO]

Evelyn's cold mask cracked. She stared at the screen, then at me.

"Liam... your first scan wasn't F. It was SSS. Someone overwrote it when you were a kid. On purpose."

Before I could answer, a black Cole Conglomerate car with tinted windows pulled up to the curb slow. The rear window rolled down.

Zara Cole was inside.