Taming Beasts in a Ruined World-Chapter 113 – There Is a Rival

The first light of dawn crept through the shutters, a soft gold cutting through the cool gray of early morning.

Alina stirred from her dreams, only to feel her breath catch. Something heavy and warm pressed against her chest. She blinked awake, pink lashes fluttering, and found a pair of pale arms wound tightly around her.

Ariel.

The blonde woman’s golden hair spilled across the pillow like sunlight scattered in silk. She was fast asleep, clinging to Alina as if to a lifeline.

"Really..." Alina muttered, her voice thick with sleep and irritation. She pried at Ariel’s arm, frowning. "Every night it’s the same. Can’t you sleep without holding someone?"

The older woman only mumbled something unintelligible and snuggled closer. "Mm... Little Lily, why are you awake already?" she murmured drowsily, still half-dreaming.

Alina’s patience snapped. "Let go."

She pushed Ariel’s arm away and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. If this went on, the woman would start rubbing her face against her again like a cat.

"Sleep a little longer," Ariel sighed, clutching the quilt as she rolled over. "It’s still dark."

"It’s already morning." Alina cast a glance toward the window — the sky was pale blue, light spilling freely across the room. "You’ve made a mess of everything again."

Her gaze softened slightly. Last night, after bathing, she’d asked Elara to help her find Ariel — only to discover the blonde slumped asleep over her desk. Alina had carried her to bed, but somewhere in the night, she’d been caught in the woman’s arms until dawn.

"I didn’t even get to ask her anything... and she used me as a pillow all night," she grumbled.

She tied her pink hair into twin ponytails, smoothing out the wild strands. Ariel slept on, sprawled in a way that made her look almost childlike. With a sigh, Alina pulled the quilt up over her shoulder.

"Later," she whispered to herself. "I’ll come back and ask about the Angel Wings."

She picked up her towel and shoes, stepping quietly out of the institute.

The morning air greeted her, crisp and sweet, carrying no trace of smoke or iron. She took a deep breath, the coolness filling her chest.

"The air’s... clean," she murmured. "No acrid stench today."

"It’s because of this tea tree," a familiar voice echoed in her mind — or maybe it was just memory.

Alina looked up.

There it stood in the high courtyard — the Star Tea Tree. Its trunk rose thick and ancient, silver bark gleaming faintly under the light. Its canopy shimmered with dew, leaves catching the dawn like facets of green crystal. She couldn’t help but whisper in awe, "It’s... magnificent. Like something from a dream."

She’d seen trees before, of course — scraggly ones in the ruins of Amestris, where she’d once lived with the white-haired girl. But none could compare to this. This tree was a miracle, towering and alive in a dying world.

"If the great cities knew about this..." she murmured. "They’d send hunting teams — powerful ones — to seize it."

The thought chilled her. Her eyes darkened with worry. "Maybe Elara and Ariel aren’t safe here after all."

She sighed, a soft, helpless sound that vanished in the morning breeze. The attack last night had been nothing serious — a band of thieves, not a true threat. No sixth-tier warriors among them, and certainly no one of the seventh. Still... something gnawed at her gut.

"Alina?"

She turned. Elara stood at the path’s bend, a wooden crate balanced easily on her knee. Her silver hair caught the light like frost, her voice calm but touched with concern. "Something wrong?"

Alina forced a smile and waved her hand. "No, no. Just thinking." She quickly changed the subject. "What are you doing so early?"

She couldn’t tell Elara what she truly feared — that the miracle growing here would draw death to their gates. Elara would only chide her again for her "worrying too much."

"I’m picking tomatoes," Elara said, bending slightly as she adjusted her hold on the crate. "I can trade them later at the stall."

She opened the lid, revealing plump, red fruit glistening with morning dew. Picking one up, she held it out to Alina. "Here. Try one."

"For me?" Alina blinked, startled. "Didn’t you just say you were trading them?"

She held the tomato gingerly, afraid to bruise its fragile skin.

"Luciel said it’s fine to eat one or two," Elara replied, closing the crate again.

"Really?" Alina’s voice softened. She licked her lips unconsciously, the scent of ripe fruit tugging at her hunger.

"See for yourself," Elara said, nodding toward the fields.

Alina followed her gaze — and saw a red-haired girl crouched among the vines, blissfully devouring a tomato, juice dripping down her chin.

"You can just... eat anything here?" Alina asked, wide-eyed.

"Not anything," Elara said with a small laugh. "We tell Luciel first. Some things aren’t for eating."

Alina trotted after her as they headed toward the high grounds. "And he just... lets you? Every time?"

Elara smirked faintly. "Hardly. He refuses plenty of requests."

She lowered her voice, amused. "Ariel once wanted to taste the petals of Angel Wings for her research. Luciel turned her down immediately."

"That sounds like her..." Alina muttered, pressing her lips together. She felt oddly foolish for asking.

Before Elara could reply, footsteps echoed down the stone steps. A girl with chestnut hair and a timid expression hurried up — Mino. "Elara! Luciel’s waiting for you. He asked you to come right away."

"Alright," Elara said quickly, shifting the crate in her arms.

"I’m off to fetch something," Mino added, brushing past them with a small maid in tow.

Elara nodded and started up the stairs again, her breath fogging in the cool air. "Come on, Alina."

"Wait—who was that girl?" Alina asked as she followed, jogging to keep up.

"That’s Mino. She’s about as shy as you were when we met." A small, playful smile touched Elara’s lips. "Luciel took her in first. I was the second."

"You’re planning to stay here then?" Alina asked quietly, slowing her steps.

"I am." Elara’s eyes brightened with a new, almost fragile joy. "For the first time, I feel... at peace."

"But... your illness?" Alina’s voice softened. Her gaze lingered on the back of the silver-haired girl — once pale and frail, now full of quiet vitality.

"I thought I told you," Elara said, glancing over her shoulder. "The Angel Wings grow here, in the plantation. If you want details, ask Euphel. She knows more about the recent changes."

"Angel Wings... that belongs to him, doesn’t it?" Alina asked, her tone small, uncertain.

"It’s Luciel’s, yes. I’ve already taken the Angel’s Tears." Elara jogged up the last few steps, light-footed and determined.

Alina froze.

She’s already taken them?

Her face drained of color. Angel’s Tears — the miracle medicine said to cure the Virtual Ghost Infection. Yet the crimson veins still traced faintly across Elara’s face.

So it hadn’t worked.

No wonder... Alina thought numbly. No wonder they stay here — her and Ariel both.

If there was no cure, then perhaps peace was all they had left to seek.

She followed slowly, each step heavier than the last. The walls opened to a wide rock platform jutting over the shell of the great Black Tortoise. Dozens of people were already gathered there — traders, workers, Luciel’s people. Crates and barrels were lined in neat rows, some filled with vegetables, others sealed tight for transport.

Moments later, Mino returned with her maid, carrying a small wooden frame filled with tomato seedlings. The faint green life within seemed impossibly tender against the gray stone.

Luciel stood at the edge, calm and unreadable as ever. "All steady?" he asked, voice carrying over the wind.

"Yes, sir," someone replied.

He gestured, and the ground rumbled — the rock platform began to descend, lowering them toward the base of the wall. His gaze drifted past the workers, past Elara and Alina, to the figures dangling from the side of the tortoise’s shell.

Thirty-two thieves hung there, suspended by thick cords of spider silk, swaying gently in the wind. They had been left there all night, faces pale and swollen.

At the sight, Taigen and the witch known as Variety — prisoners themselves — stiffened. Their muffled grunts rose through sealed mouths; only their noses were left uncovered so they could breathe.

"Why didn’t you kill them?" asked a voice — smooth and low, edged with something wicked. Mirean Moon. She stood beside Luciel, lips curling into a dangerous smile. "You’re far too merciful for thieves."

The thieves trembled, fear gleaming in their eyes. One shift, one wrong breath, and they might be cast down into the depths.

Luciel’s black eyes caught the dawn. "Because it’s not time yet," he said softly.

A shadow passed over his face as he turned toward the gates of the tenth city — massive doors of dark stone slowly groaning open. "Their usefulness hasn’t run dry."

Alina watched him from behind, the way the light fell across his sharp profile — the calm ruthlessness in his gaze, the command in every breath.

Her heart gave a strange twist. She turned her head toward the silver-haired girl standing beside him, her mask hiding half her face — serene, loyal, beautiful in the morning sun.

Then her gaze shifted to Mirean Moon, the woman beside him — elegant, poised, dangerous in her allure.

Alina exhaled softly, a faint, bitter smile tugging at her lips.

Oh, my pure friend, she thought as she looked at Elara. It seems you have a rival.