Me And My Pet Mico

"Nah, it's my neighbor's." Zarn lied straight to the boy's face without hesitation.

The boy blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the blatant falsehood.

Come on, Mico, let's stay away from rich spawn. They're always bags of trouble. Zarn's mental voice reached Mico as he casually walked past the boy.

The boy watched them go for a moment, his expression shifting as he quickly recovered. A mischievous grin tugged at his lips, and he called out, "I like your neighbor's beast—" he made air quotes, "—how about a trade for it?"

"Why would I do that?" Zarn's voice floated back, but he didn't slow down.

"For resources, duh."

"Nope. Not interested." Zarn dismissed the offer instantly. "Besides, it's not my place to sell another person's property."

"You won't even hear me out?" The boy sounded almost offended. He had expected reluctance, maybe some negotiation—but not an outright and immediate rejection. "Your neighbor's a slumper, right?"

"Hm…" Zarn finally halted, turning slightly over his shoulder. "I mean, since I live in the slums, my neighbors are definitely going to be slumpers." His words were casual, yet something in his tone made it clear he wasn't one for pointless small talk. He continued walking.

The boy scowled but refused to give up. "Bummer. Oh! How about a challenge instead? A beast fight. Winner gets a Beast Core."

Zarn's steps faltered slightly, but Mico had already stopped. The small lion let out a low rumble, its blue flames flickering with intrigue.

I kinda like that idea. I wanna see what kind of beast makes him so confident.

"You really want to fight?" Zarn asked, turning to face his companion.

Yeah, duh. I'm a lion—I must never back down from a challenge. Mico puffed out his chest, as if declaring his pride.

"…Or maybe," Zarn countered, "you just want to assert your dominance over other beasts."

Pfft... Of course not! Mico scoffed, but the exaggerated reaction only made Zarn more suspicious.

"I see. You really do want to fight. Probably natural instinct. Since I've kept you cooped up ever since I brought you here, you're itching to stretch your claws, aren't you?"

That's not true! Mico protested. I've had plenty of fun since coming to this world. Besides, I didn't fight at home either, so your point is invalid.

"Is it, though?" Zarn smirked. "This world is different. It's filled with beasts. And since you've never met one stronger than you yet, it's only natural to want to dominate them."

Tch, I told you it's not like that… but think whatever you want. Now hurry up and accept the challenge.

Zarn studied Mico for a moment before turning to the boy. "My name is Zarn. What's yours?"

The boy brightened, pleased by the formal engagement. "Arth," he said enthusiastically. "My name's Arth. So, what do you think?"

From Arth's perspective, something had changed. He had issued the challenge, and at first, Zarn seemed uninterested. But then he stopped, looked at his beast, as if reassessing its strength, and now he was properly introducing himself.

Surely, that meant he was considering it seriously.

"Hmm..." Zarn pretended to weigh his options before nodding. "I accept your challenge for a beast fight. But, about the Beast Core..."

"You don't have to worry, it's a flame-attribute, high-level Adept-tier Beast Core," Arth reassured him, thinking Zarn wasn't motivated enough by the mention of a simple prize.

Ha! He thinks that's your concern. He has no idea you just don't understand what he meant. You are probably like why should I be moved by a beast core. Poor Zarn—never been to school before. Mico snickered in Zarn's head.

"I meant," Zarn sighed, ignoring Mico's mocking tone, "that I don't have a Beast Core with me."

"Oh, that's no problem either!" Arth waved off his concern. "Since I'm the one issuing the challenge, and since I just met you and interrupted your plans, we'll do it like this: If your beast wins, you get the core. If mine wins, you don't have to give me anything. Plus, I have a healer with me—he'll take care of any injuries your beast gets."

Zarn raised a brow. The boy was trained in persuasion; his voice, stance, and wording were practically straight out of a merchant's handbook.

"You really want this, huh?"

"Yes!"

"Yea!"

Arth and Mico's voices rang out in unison.

Zarn pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

Runes appeared around Arth's left wrist, forming the shape of a glowing armband. The symbols pulsed with energy before detaching from his skin, extending outward in a mesmerizing display. As he stretched his left hand to the side, the runes converged midair, weaving together to form a shimmering portal.

A gust of warm wind swept through as a magnificent bird emerged from the glowing rift. Its feathers were a deep, dark-shaded yellow, flickering like living flames. With every beat of its wings, golden sparks scattered, illuminating the space around it in a breathtaking display of ember-like motes.

The Frail Calling Phoenix—one of the Mythical Kind. A species that had never existed in the pre-Senar world.

The phoenix soared in elegant arcs, circling Arth a few times before settling onto his shoulder. Then, its sharp, intelligent eyes locked onto Mico.

For a brief moment, neither beast moved. Then, the phoenix tilted its head, its gaze shifting from scrutiny to something more uncertain. Despite Mico's fire-attribute nature, it had never seen nor heard of his kind before. That was odd. In the world of beasts, knowledge of one's own kind—or at least similar species—was instinctual. Yet Mico was an enigma.

The phoenix's eyes narrowed slightly as it continued its silent study, attempting to categorize what stood before it.

Arth, oblivious to his beast's hesitation, focused entirely on Zarn's reaction. He had anticipated awe, perhaps a flicker of fear, or at the very least, the dawning realization that he had just stepped into a fight beyond his capabilities.

Instead, all he got was... indifference.

Zarn's expression remained unreadable, his body language relaxed. But what unsettled Arth more was Mico. The small lion wasn't awestruck or wary. No, his golden eyes held something entirely different—if Arth wasn't mistaken, those were the eyes of a predator sizing up prey.

A shiver ran down Arth's spine. He forced himself to shake it off.

Unbeknownst to him, his two bodyguards had also noticed the subtle shift in their master's beast. Their trained instincts immediately picked up on the phoenix's momentary unease. Frowning, they exchanged glances but chose not to interfere.

After all, there was no question about the outcome of this match.

Lesser. Adept. Elite. Mythic (Overlord). Legendary.

The five generally known classifications of beast ranks.

From Mico, they could sense the Senar power of a low-class Adept-tier beast. That alone was impressive. A beast of that level, raised in the slums? It should have been unmatched in its environment.

Yet, there was no comparison here.

Arth's Frail Calling Phoenix was a middle-class Adept-tier beast—one that belonged to the Mythic lineage. Mico was strong, but against the phoenix?

No competition.

Their eyes flickered toward Zarn.

Lucky. That was the word that came to mind. A slumper, somehow managing to summon and contract a beast of this caliber?

Lucky, indeed.

The Senar power they felt from Zarn, is the lowest a Senar user could probably belong to. A Low-level Class-1 Senar user.