Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons novel Chapter 1242

Chapter 1242: Chapter 1242 - Taming the Old World - Old Perspectives

The colossal double doors swung open.

The heavy, groaning sound echoed sharply across the hall, and all four of them instantly turned, the warm intimacy of the moment shattering.

Standing rigidly in the threshold, was a figure Ren almost failed to recognize initially, simply because he practically never encountered her.

It was Larissa’s mother.

The grieving widow of King Dragarion. The reclusive woman who notoriously refused to leave her isolated quarters deep within the heart of the castle, entirely detaching herself from the outside world.

Someone among her staff had clearly sprinted to inform her of the perceived sacrilege occurring in the grand hall. And she had personally intervened.

She was visibly furious.

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"Exactly what is the meaning of this?" Her voice slashed across the empty room, remarkably cold and lethally sharp. "Are you... playing? In here?!"

Larissa instantly vaulted off the throne, landing squarely on her feet. "Mother, you are outsi..."

"This is your father’s sacred domain." The Queen Mother advanced a few measured paces, her piercing gaze locked entirely on Ren, who was still awkwardly seated upon the chair. "The sovereign throne of King Dragarion. And the four of you have reduced it to a pathetic insult. With him." The pronoun ’him’ was heavily saturated with every single venomous insult she had voiced aloud only in her quarters. "A common plebeian. Devoid of royal blood, completely lacking any noble lineage, without a single generation of recognized history anchoring his name. Sitting exactly where a true king sat."

The atmospheric temperature in the room plummeted.

"He is unworthy of stepping foot upon this dais, even this hall, much less occupying that seat with his filth. It does not matter how many beasts he slaughters or how many defensive walls he successfully constructs. The absolute dignity of a sovereign is not scavenged in street brawls... It is exclusively carried within our blood!"

The three girls instantly deployed in his defense.

"Ren has achieved vastly more for the survival of this capital than any noble lineage ever has, including yours," Luna stated, her tone sharp enough to cut glass, though she gently placed a reassuring hand on Larissa’s tense shoulder.

"He is currently occupying that seat because we explicitly forced him into it," Liora added, smoothly sliding into a defensive stance directly in front of him. "If you possess a genuine grievance, your issue is exclusively with us."

But it was Larissa who executed the most decisive maneuver. She stepped directly into the line of fire, physically placing herself between her mother and Ren, her voice trembling with an intense emotion that was not fear.

"Mother, that is enough... Ren miraculously saved every single one of us. He saved you, even if you remain completely ignorant of the battlefield. If Father were standing here right now, he would be the absolute first person to offer him that seat, because Father possessed the necessary intellect to recognize authentic value when it stood in front of him. You are the one who chose to cower in a dark corner while Ren carried the weight of the world that Father left behind. I would infinitely prefer to forfeit every single drop of royalty in my veins than lose a single pinky finger on Ren’s hand so SHUT UP!"

The widow pressed her lips into a thin, white line, visibly wounded by her own daughter’s absolute ’betrayal’, yet she stubbornly refused to yield the floor.

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And while the three most powerful women in his life fiercely defended him, Ren simply sat there and analyzed the data.

He distinctly recalled the very first few times he had endured derisive comments exactly like these.

Back when it actually mattered to him. Back when he desperately desired to prove himself ’worthy’...

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Ren took a slow, deep breath, and the finalized decision left his chest feeling remarkably, profoundly light.

"Larissa," he spoke softly, gently placing his right hand on her tense shoulder, silently asking her to stand down. "It is fine... This is not necessary."

He stood up from the chair and turned to face the grieving widow. He did not confront her with rage, but with a pristine, unshakable calm that clearly unsettled her far more than any aggressive shouting ever could.

"You are absolutely correct regarding one point," Ren stated smoothly. "I do not possess, nor will I ever possess, a single drop of ’royal blood’. I was born in one of the absolute cheapest, most dilapidated houses outside the Great Wall, I’m the proud son of two incredibly talented cooks. And I possess absolutely zero interest in occupying your husband’s throne." He casually glanced back at the empty seat for a fraction of a second, then locked eyes with her again. "That does not suit me. Not because I lack the inherent merit to claim it... But simply because I do not want it."

The Queen Mother blinked rapidly, momentarily paralyzed, entirely unsure how to process a calm, measured response that completely refused the aggressive conflict she had actively sought.

"And if you will excuse me," Ren continued flawlessly. "I have not visited my parents in several days, and this specific conversation just forced me to see that I have severely neglected to give them the amount of attention they deserve. Family is the most critical asset we possess, correct? I really should go hug them for a while... Of course, you three are more than welcome to accompany me."

He confidently stepped down from the dais and headed directly toward the massive double doors.

But the widow absolutely refused to move.

She remained stubbornly planted directly in the threshold, physically obstructing the exit, the only viable egress from the grand hall currently blocked by a woman who clearly hadn’t finished delivering her prepared monologue.

"No," she commanded sharply. "You are absolutely not leaving yet!"