My Taming System Makes Me Overpowered

The jagged obsidian pillars of the Great Den loomed over the iron throne, carved directly into the heart of Mount Fang. The air inside the Beastkin royal hall tasted of roasted meat, iron, and the heavy, musky aura of apex predators.

King Golrath sat sprawled across his massive iron throne, a mountain of broad muscle, battle scars, and dark fur. He was a Bear-kin of the ancient Lineage—eight feet of sheer physical violence, currently chewing on a roasted boar leg while his dark eyes glowered at the crimson-and-gold parchment resting on his stone armrest.

The Imperial Seal of Emperor Marcus IV stared back at him like the golden eye of a serpent.

"Pah!" Golrath growled, dropping the bone into the embers of the hearth pit below. His voice sounded like grinding tectonic plates. He picked up the invitation, his thick, clawed fingers threatening to shred the delicate paper. "A ’Peace Summit’ in Oakhaven. The human Emperor wants to hold hands and sing under the trees."

He spat a glob of phlegm into the fire.

"The moment a human offers you bread with his right hand, check your ribs—his left hand is already holding a dagger."

"Must you always be so barbaric, Golrath?"

A soft, melodic voice drifted down from the velvet-draped dais beside the throne.

Queen Livia stepped into the firelight. Unlike her husband’s massive, imposing bear-kin frame, Livia was a Snow-Foxkin—slender, extraordinarily beautiful, with sleek white fur accentuating her delicate ears and six plush, silver-tipped tails swaying lazily behind her. She was draped in imported imperial silk, a sheer crimson dress woven in the human capital, adorned with human gold filigree that rattled softly with every step.

Golrath grunted, looking at his wife’s attire with a mixture of affection and deep-seated disgust. "I am a King of the Fang, Livia, not a soft-skinned courtier. That human rag you’re wearing costs more than a winter’s supply of iron for our border warriors."

"It is called refinement, my love," Livia purred, gliding over to rest a delicate, manicured hand on Golrath’s massive, fur-covered shoulder. She ran her thumb along the heavy scar running across his collarbone. "The humans have built cities of marble and glass. They play music that makes the soul weep and weave fabrics lighter than cobwebs. Must our people forever live in dark caves, gnawing on raw meat like wild beasts?"

"We survive because we are wild!" Golrath rumbled, slamming his heavy fist on the iron armrest, making the hearth embers jump. "Our strength keeps human steel out of our lands! Look at our borders, Livia! Human ’traders’ and ’woodcutters’ are building wooden forts on our riverbanks. They creep into our hunting grounds like lice. I intend to wipe them out in hopes to send them packing showing our feral prowess but you stopped me saying they are not entirely in our territory. And now Marcus invites us to Oakhaven?"

"Life regardless of race is precious Golrath a great king stops wars, he doesn’t create them. The emperor invites us to sit as equals!" Livia countered, her blue eyes flashing with bright, eager ambition. "If we go to Oakhaven, we can force the Emperor to sign binding trade charters! We can secure human grain, human textiles, human medicine for our cubs! Our people are starving in the winter, Golrath! Will your pride fill their bellies?"

Golrath narrowed his dark eyes, staring at his wife. He knew her weakness all too well. Ever since an imperial merchant caravan had visited their borders five years ago, Livia had been utterly spellbound by human culture, human art, and human high society. She dreamed of walking through imperial marble halls, drinking fine wine, and being admired by human lords as a exotic queen.

Her obsession blinded her to the rot beneath the silk.

"Marcus does not view us as equals," Golrath said softly, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low rumble. "To that cold-blooded bastard in the human capital, you and I are just pelt-bearing animals sitting on gold mines. My instincts scream that Oakhaven is a big setup. Besides heaven only knows what would be his request for agreement to trade charters."

"Then bring your guard!" Livia pressed, leaning close, her soft tail brushing against his arm. "Bring five hundred of our fiercest Vanguard warriors! Let the humans see the power of the Beastkin King! But do not throw away this chance for our people to step out of the shadows. If we refuse to go, the humans will claim we are barbarians who reject peace—they will use it as a reason to wage a holy war against us! Just hear the emperor out at least my love."

Golrath closed his eyes, exhaling a heavy, warm gust of air that rustled the furs on his chest.

She wasn’t wrong about the political optics. If the Moon Elves went and the Beastkin stayed behind, the Empire could easily isolate them, brand them as wild monsters, and mobilize the human populace for a total crusade.

Slowly, Golrath opened his eyes, his dark pupils fixed on the golden seal.

"Fine," the King growled, his claw finally tearing through the imperial parchment. "We march to Oakhaven. But hear me, Livia—I will bring the Iron Vanguard. Every warrior will carry two blades and a heavy shield. If a single human draws steel in that town..."

He leaned forward, his massive jaws snapping shut with a brutal, bone-crunching sound.

"...I will paint the walls of Oakhaven red with imperial blood."

Livia smiled, a dazzling, graceful expression, as she leaned down to kiss her husband’s scarred cheek. "You won’t need to, my King. This treaty will be the beginning of a new era for us all."

As Livia walked away, her silver tails swaying happily as she began barking orders to her attendants to prepare her finest human-styled gowns for the journey, King Golrath remained seated on his iron throne.

He looked out into the dark, cavernous hall, his hand unconsciously dropping to the heavy battle-axe resting beside his seat.

The air smelled of rain, iron... and a storm that was about to break the world in two.

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