The Beast Hall was less of a hall and more of a contained ecosystem of nightmares.
From the outside, it looked like a standard coliseum—stone arches, towering pillars, and the banners of the Argentum Academy fluttering in the wind. But as Milo stepped through the heavy iron gates, the air changed.
The temperature dropped ten degrees. The smell of manure, which had been bad outside, was now mixed with the metallic tang of fresh meat, ozone, and sulfur.
Rows upon rows of reinforced cages lined the walls, stacking up three stories high. They were categorized by danger level, elemental affinity, and, most importantly, price.
"Line up!" Instructor Grout barked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Nobles to the left! Commoners to the right! Do not touch the bars unless you want to lose a finger!"
Milo shuffled to the right, sandwiched between a nervous boy chewing his fingernails and a tall, lanky girl who looked like she was about to throw up.
This was the hierarchy of the Academy in its rawest form.
On the left, the students of Class 1-B stood with straight backs and bored expressions. Their uniforms were clean, their hair styled. They looked like they were shopping for accessories, not life partners.
On the right, Class 1-D looked like they were facing a firing squad.
"Listen up," Grout paced between the two lines, his whip tapping against his thigh. "The rules of the Selection are simple. You bond it, you keep it. If it kills you during the ritual, your family will be billed for the cleanup. If you fail to bond with anything by noon, you are expelled."
He stopped in front of the Noble line and his scowl softened into something resembling a smile. "Lord Hestra, since you achieved the highest score in the theoretical entrance exam, you have the first pick."
Kaelen stepped forward. He didn't even look at the cages near him. He walked straight toward the "A-Block"—the section reserved for high-potential beasts.
Milo watched him go, his eyes narrowing.
'He's going for the Wolf,' Milo thought. 'Classic rookie mistake. All fury, no endurance. He'll struggle when the swamp missions begin.'
Sure enough, Kaelen stopped in front of a cage containing a Flame-Mane Wolf. It was a magnificent creature, the size of a pony, with fur that rippled like liquid fire. It snarled as Kaelen approached, snapping its jaws.
"I choose this one," Kaelen announced, his voice ringing with unearned confidence.
"Excellent choice, my lord," Grout nodded. "A C-Rank beast with B-Rank potential. Fire affinity matches your mana signature perfectly."
Kaelen placed his hand on the magical barrier. The wolf threw itself against the bars, but Kaelen held his ground, pumping mana into the containment rune. A few seconds later, the wolf stopped snarling and sat down, its eyes glazing over. A slave crest—a glowing red collar of magic—formed around its neck.
The nobles clapped politely. The commoners whispered in envy.
"See?" the boy next to Milo muttered. "We don't stand a chance. All the good ones will be gone."
Milo stayed silent. He was scanning the cages, his mind sifting through the encyclopedic lore he had memorized.
'Storm Hawk: Too fragile. Dies to a single arrow.'
'Iron-Bristle Boar: Good defense, but eats too much. I can't afford the feed.'
'Shadow Cat: Needs a Stealth-type Tamer to reach full potential. Useless for me.'
The selection continued. One by one, the nobles claimed the most lethal beasts. They picked the ones that looked cool—the ones with fire breath, sharp claws, or bright feathers. They were picking based on aesthetics and raw destructive power.
They were taking the easy path, relying on expensive elixirs and family wealth to support those beasts.
Finally, Grout turned to the right side of the hall. His face curdled with disgust.
"Alright, dregs. Your turn. You have ten minutes. Pick something and get out of my sight."
The commoners scrambled. It was a stampede. They rushed toward the cages containing the Sickle Rats and Dull-Scale Pythons. These were F-Rank beasts—easy to control, cheap to feed, and utterly useless in a real fight. But they were safe. They were the "passing grade."
Milo didn't run. He walked.
He walked past the frantic scramble for the rats. He walked past the cages of the sickly goblins (yes, you could tame goblins, but it was frowned upon). He walked all the way to the back of the hall, to the "Discard Section."
This area was dark. The torches hadn't been lit here in weeks. The cages were covered in a thick layer of grey dust.
"Hey! Where are you going?" Grout shouted, noticing Milo drifting away from the herd. "The rats are over there, boy!"
Milo ignored him. He stopped in front of the very last cage.
Inside, curled up in a ball that made it look like a pile of dirty laundry, was a lizard.
It was grey. Not a cool, metallic grey, but the color of old pavement. It had thick, stubby legs, a broad tail, and a head that looked like a shovel. It wasn't moving. In fact, it looked dead.
Species: Hollow-Scale Monitor.
Rank: F (???)
Description: A scavenger reptile found in rocky wastelands. Known for its lethargy and low combat drive.
"You've got to be joking," Kaelen's voice drifted over. He had walked over to watch the spectacle, his new wolf trotting proudly at his side. "You're picking the rock? It's been asleep since I enrolled. I heard the janitors tried to sweep it out once because they thought it was a statue."
The other students laughed. Even Grout snorted.
"That beast is a waste of a cage," Grout said, crossing his arms. "It eats its weight in minerals and refuses to fight. It has no elemental affinity. It has no claws worth mentioning. It is a walking paperweight."
Milo looked at the lizard.
In the novel, this lizard was never picked. It remained in this cage until Chapter 40, when the Academy was breached by monsters. It died in the rubble, unnoticed.
But Ren had obsessively read the author's supplementary lore notes.
'Hollow-Scale Monitor. Variant Type. It doesn't generate mana naturally. It absorbs it from the earth. Its stomach acid can dissolve any mineral, refining the properties into its scales. It's not a striker. It's a living fortress that evolves with what it eats.'
Milo knew something else, too. Milo had a "low mana capacity." If he tried to bond with a Wolf or a Hawk, the mana drain would put him in a coma.
This lizard? It didn't need his mana. It just needed food.
And Milo knew exactly where to find "food" that no one else wanted.
"I'll take him," Milo said, his voice quiet but steady.
The laughter stopped, replaced by confused silence.
"Are you deaf, boy?" Grout stepped forward, towering over Milo. "I said it's useless. If you fail the bonding ritual because the beast is too lazy to wake up, you're expelled immediately. I won't give you a second try."
"I understand," Milo said. He looked Grout in the eye. "But I'm not looking for a striker. I'm looking for a partner that won't die the first time it gets hit."
He turned back to the cage. He reached through the bars.
"Don't!" a girl from Class 1-D shrieked. "It'll bite your hand off!"
Milo didn't flinch. He placed his hand on the lizard's cold, dry snout.
"Hey," he whispered. "Wake up, Baz."
The lizard didn't move.
Milo leaned closer. "I know you're hungry. I know the slate they feed you here tastes like cardboard. You want iron? You want copper? I know where the good stuff is."
At the mention of iron, a single eyelid slid open.
The eye wasn't reptilian yellow or green. It was a deep, milky grey. It looked like a polished stone.
The lizard let out a huff of air that blew dust into Milo's face. It slowly, agonizingly uncurled. It was heavy—solid muscle and bone under that loose skin. It looked at Milo, then at Milo's hand, and then opened its mouth.
It didn't bite. It yawned. A long, pink tongue lolled out.
"He likes me," Milo said, suppressing a grin.
"He's tasting you to see if you're edible," Kaelen scoffed. "Go ahead, Instructor. Let him fail."
Grout shook his head, looking disappointed. "Fine. Open the gate. But when that thing refuses to move, don't come crying to me."
Milo unlatched the heavy iron door. It creaked, a sound that echoed in the silent hall.
He stepped inside the cage. The smell was different here. It smelled like dry earth and ozone.
He knelt down. He pulled a small, jagged piece of metal from his pocket—a rusted nail he had found in the loose floorboard of the dorms.
He held it out.
The lizard's head snapped forward with a speed that blurred. Snap.
The nail was gone. A loud crunching sound filled the air, like a rock crusher chewing on gravel.
The lizard swallowed. Then, it looked at Milo with an expression that could only be described as expectant.
"See?" Milo stood up, dusting off his knees. "He's motivated."
He placed his hand on the creature's forehead for the formal ritual.
"I name you Basalt," Milo intoned, feeling the mana in the air swirl. "My shield. My burden. My partner."
A faint grey light pulsed from the lizard's skin. It wasn't the blinding crimson flash of Kaelen's wolf. It was a dull, heavy throb, like a heartbeat deep underground.
The bond snapped into place. Milo felt a weight settle in his chest—not painful, but grounding. He felt the lizard's emotions: Hunger. Laziness. Curiosity.
Basalt burped. A small puff of grey dust escaped his jaws.
"Pathetic," Kaelen sneered, turning away. "Come on. Let's leave the trash to his pet rock."
The nobles walked away, laughing. The commoners looked at Milo with pity, clutching their shivering rats.
Milo didn't care. He patted Basalt's thick, stony head.
"Let them laugh, buddy," Milo whispered, a dark smile playing on his lips. "They're playing at being heroes. We're fighting for survival. And we just got the only beast that refuses to die."
Basalt closed his eyes and leaned into Milo's leg, nearly knocking him over.
Step one complete.