Taming SSR And UR RANK Superwomen-Chapter 76 — Silent Resistance

Two days later.

The building where registrations were being held had nothing special about it from the outside: gray stone, simple columns, and a sign with gold lettering announcing the annual tournament without unnecessary embellishments. Even so, there was a line.

It wasn’t chaotic, but organized, made up of people who knew exactly what they had come for: experienced tamers, novices trying to appear calm, merchants alert to any opportunity, and onlookers who only wanted to witness the spectacle.

It showed in the way they moved forward, in how they didn’t ask questions, in how they already knew the process. Thomas didn’t stop to observe for long and simply went inside.

The interior was spacious and functional. Tables lined up in rows, officials reviewing documents, pens passing from hand to hand, and the constant sound of papers shifting.

On one wall were the tournament rules; on another, the list of last year’s participants, some names marked, others with annotations. Some of the ink looked faded from age, while other lines seemed newer, darker, recently added by hands that had done the same work too many times to care about appearances.

The room smelled faintly of paper, wax, and dust carried in from the street. Thomas walked straight to an open table and stopped in front of the official, who barely looked up.

"Participant or spectator?"

"Participant."

The man nodded, pulled out a form, and slid it over along with a pen. The process was straightforward: first name, last name, experience, abilities.

Thomas answered without hesitation, without giving unnecessary information but without hiding what mattered. He had no tournament experience, but he did have experience with beasts.

That was enough. The official reviewed the document quickly, stamped it with a dry seal, and confirmed his registration.

"Registration complete. You’ll be assigned a beast on the day of the event."

"I recommend reading the rules."

"No need."

The man didn’t insist. Thomas turned, but instead of leaving, he took a side hallway where the atmosphere changed immediately. There was no formality there, only direct exchange.

Resellers stood in small groups, some speaking in low voices, others offering prices without pretense, all of them sizing up whoever approached before they spoke.

Thomas stopped in front of one of them. The man evaluated him in silence, calculating.

"What are you looking for?"

"Two seats. Good ones."

"How good?"

"The best."

The vendor pulled out several tickets, chose two, and placed them on the improvised table.

"Front row. Center section. Full view."

Thomas looked at them without touching them.

"Price."

The number was high, clearly inflated, expecting negotiation. Thomas didn’t negotiate.

"That’s fine."

The vendor blinked.

"They’re expensive."

"I know."

Thomas took out the money calmly and placed it on the table. The man counted it carefully before sliding the tickets over to him.

"Enjoy the tournament."

Thomas took them without replying and left the building with the same calm he had entered with. Outside, the line kept moving slowly. Some people glanced at him out of the corner of their eyes, others didn’t.

He slipped the tickets inside his coat: two seats, one for him and one for his sister. He didn’t think about it any further.

◇◆◇

The walk back to the mansion was silent, not because there was no one around, but because Thomas paid attention to nothing that wasn’t necessary. His mind had already moved from one task to the next. The tournament was secured. Now, everything else.

When he stepped through the mansion’s entrance, the atmosphere was the same as always: controlled silence, absolute order, nothing out of place. Seraphine was in the hallway, standing with her hands behind her back.

"Master."

Thomas nodded without stopping.

"Any changes?"

"No."

That was enough.

"Freja is in the main hall."

Thomas didn’t respond. He walked straight toward the basement stairs. Seraphine followed without making a sound. Each step echoed clearly against the stone, dry and clean. The door was closed. Seraphine opened it.

The air inside hadn’t changed. It was still heavy, cold, enclosed. The light illuminated the center of the room with stark clarity. Inori was still there, tied to the chair, but she was no longer wearing the shirt.

Her body was completely exposed, not as a display, but as the total removal of any comfort. Her wrists and ankles were marked by the pressure, her posture rigid from so long without being able to move freely. Her black hair fell over her face. She didn’t move it aside when they entered.

Seraphine remained to one side. Thomas stepped forward until he stood in front of her.

"Report."

Seraphine looked at her for a moment before answering.

"Extremely resistant."

Her tone was neutral, analytical.

"Different methods were applied: controlled pain, sensory deprivation, disruption of routine, continuous exposure."

A brief pause.

"No relevant changes."

Thomas looked at Inori.

"Does she speak?"

"Only when asked."

"Does she beg?"

"No."

"Does she negotiate?"

"No."

Silence settled over the room. Thomas took a step closer. Inori lifted her head just enough to look at him. Her golden eyes were clear, steady, without fear or desperation.

There was resolve there. Something closed, stable, that did not waver. Her throat felt dry, and every breath carried the cold deeper into her chest, but she refused to let any of that show in her face. Pain was simple. Time was simple.

What mattered was not giving them anything they could use. Not a plea. Not hesitation. Not the smallest sign that they were getting closer.

Thomas held her gaze for a few seconds before speaking.

"The tournament begins in a few days."

Seraphine nodded.

"I know."

"Leave her."

Seraphine turned her face slightly toward him, waiting for the rest.

"Here. Without constant intervention. Let her think, let her process her situation without direct pressure."

Thomas looked at Inori again.

"Not everyone breaks that way."

Seraphine understood.

"A change of approach."

"Yes."

"And in the meantime?"

"Study the tournament. The beasts."

Seraphine tilted her head slightly.

"I already know the basics."

"Reinforce it."

"Understood."

Silence settled again. Inori had not reacted at any point. She remained the same: tied down, silent, firm.

Seraphine spoke once more.

"It’s interesting."

Thomas looked at her.

"What?" 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"Her. Most people would’ve given in by now."

Inori didn’t respond.

"It’s not pride," Seraphine continued. "It’s something more stable. A solid internal decision."

Thomas showed no surprise.

"I know."

Seraphine nodded.

"Then I’ll leave her like this."

"Do it."

"Freja will want to intervene."

"I’ll handle it."

Seraphine took a step back, then another, and stopped before leaving.

"I’ll get up to speed on the tournament."

"Good."

Seraphine left. The door closed with a dry sound that echoed briefly through the basement. Thomas stayed a few more seconds. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move closer. Neither did Inori. The silence held, heavy and unmoving.

The only sound left was her breathing, slow and measured, controlled despite everything. It didn’t tremble, didn’t falter, didn’t betray strain beyond what was unavoidable.

Time passed in that stillness, stretching without markers, without interruption. The tension in her muscles never fully released, but neither did it collapse. Even exhaustion seemed forced to coexist with something deeper, something that refused to give way.

Her fingers twitched once, barely noticeable, then stilled again. Not weakness—adjustment. Her body adapting, conserving, enduring.

Her eyes never left Thomas while he remained there, and even when he turned, that focus didn’t fade immediately. It lingered, fixed, as if anchoring itself to something beyond the room.

Then Thomas turned around, went up the stairs, and closed the door. The basement remained exactly the same: cold, still, without visible changes, and with a will that had not yet broken.

◇◆◇

In the main hall, Freja was still reclining on the sofa, a tentacle moving slowly through the air, unhurried.

"And?"

Thomas didn’t stop.

"She stays."

Freja tilted her head.

"Really?"

"Yes."

A faint smile appeared on her face.

"I thought she would’ve given in by now."

Thomas didn’t respond directly.

"Focus on your tasks."

Freja let out a low laugh.

"Of course, master."

She leaned back again, relaxed. One of her tentacles brushed lazily against the arm of the sofa, then curled back over the cushion as if even that small movement required no urgency. Thomas paused for a moment before leaving the hall.

"In a few days, we’re going to the tournament."

Freja opened one eye.

"As spectators?"

"Yes."

"How boring."

"It won’t be."

Freja smiled.

"Then I’ll wait."

Thomas left without adding anything more. The mansion fell silent again, operating under the same controlled order as always.

◇◆◇

The hours passed.

In the basement, time had no clear reference point. The light didn’t change, and neither did the air. Inori remained in the same position, tied down, rigid, aware. Her breathing was steady, controlled, but her mind did not stop. She remembered, analyzed, reconstructed every word, every gesture, every decision.

There were no distractions.

There were no interruptions.

Only thought.

The cold slowly seeped into her body. The exhaustion didn’t disappear, but neither did her resolve. She would not yield. It didn’t matter how much time passed, or how much pain or discomfort there was. Her posture did not break, her gaze did not change, even when no one was watching her.

Upstairs, the mansion continued to function. Seraphine had already begun reviewing information about the tournament: records, types of beasts, behavior patterns. Not out of curiosity, but out of utility. Freja moved without hurry. Thomas maintained control.

The tournament was approaching.

And in the basement, something still hadn’t broken.

Not yet.