Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons novel Chapter 938

Chapter 938: Chapter 938 - Taming Rage

Triage had become a nightmare. Deciding who to save, who had a chance of survival versus who was already lost. Making choices that would haunt healers forever but that had to be made because resources were finite and wounded seemed infinite.

Ren watched the situation unfold with growing concern he fought to keep out of his facial expression.

But internally he processed the reality that they were losing.

That without a change in circumstances they couldn’t sustain defense long enough for help to arrive.

The math was inescapable. Defenders decreasing, new mutants’ arrival still constant, defensive lines shrinking , casualties mounting and resources depleting.

Every metric pointed toward inevitable collapse. Just a question of when... Hours? Minutes?

Would help even arrive?

The thought crept in despite his efforts to suppress it. The possibility that no one was coming.

That the kingdom was focusing resources on defending many sides of the outside city walls instead.

Ron was dying and Ren couldn’t save him.

Couldn’t do anything except watch and hope someone else would handle it because he had to keep fighting to prevent even more people from dying.

It was a failure. Complete and total. And it was happening in real time while he stood helpless to prevent it.

The seed in Ren’s core began vibrating stronger.

The dark energy leaking from its fissure intensified. Spreading from his core outward. Affecting the Hydra’s bond. Touching the Wolverine despite its exhaustion.

Power was building. He could sense it. Not his power. Not the Hydra’s or Wolverine’s. But something else. Something that had been sleeping under control and was now waking again because the situation facilitated it.

Ren didn’t understand it. Didn’t know if it was helpful or dangerous. Didn’t know if he should encourage it or suppress it.

But he knew they were losing. Knew people were dying. Knew that without change they would all die here today.

And the seed was offering change. Was offering power. Was offering something that might make difference between victory and defeat.

So he didn’t fight it anymore.

♢♢♢♢

Ron still desperately needed a healer, but most of those with healing abilities were completely overwhelmed. It was triage that prioritized those with the best chance of survival, a brutal calculation no healer wanted to do but which necessity forced when resources were insufficient to meet demand.

And Ron was in the difficult intermediate category.

The wound being serious but not mortal if stabilized immediately. But requiring that almost immediate attention and transport taking time that healers didn’t have available when others were literally dying in front of them.

Ron was delayed... Would live if treated soon, but "soon" was a relative term measured in minutes rather than hours. And minutes were commodities they didn’t have when immediate cases consumed every healer’s attention.

So he unintentionally waited while bleeding, sliding without option slowly towards his death from the delayed attention. From salvageable toward lost cause.

He wasn’t close to a healer apart from Min.

And Min had no mana left... Who had knowledge but not power, who could only watch and hope someone else arrived before it was too late.

The situation worsened with each passing second.

Defenders being worn down faster than they could recover while the mutant flow still showed no signs of ceasing.

They still needed something to change...

Ren felt something dark awaken in his chest when he saw Ron being ignored by oversaturated healers trying to prioritize among dozens of wounded.

It was growing fury he’d been containing less and less throughout the entire battle. An emotion he’d suppressed beneath the necessity of maintaining appropriate focus on efficient execution.

But the vision of his close companion bleeding critically while help delayed too long made him discard the control he’d been maintaining with conscious effort.

And he began losing command of his energy.

The first sign was the speed... Movements becoming faster and reactions sharper.

But not in a controlled way. In a frantic one.

Then came the brutality.

His strikes destroying nearby mutants with violence exceeding what he’d been demonstrating moments before. Each blow carrying more than necessary force, carrying rage that had been building for hours and was finally finding an outlet.

Exoskeletons didn’t just crack. They exploded into fragments that scattered like shrapnel.

Skulls didn’t just break. They burst, spraying matter that painted nearby surfaces in ugly colors that shouldn’t exist in living things.

Each elimination being executed with intensity communicating this was no longer simply defense but some type of imaginary vengeance. Personal vendetta against creatures that had dared threatening people he cared about. That had dared making him feel helpless.

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