Monster Tamer is the Worst Class-Chapter 71: The Golden Arka

Eren Vale walked alone.

Behind him, the dead world of the Dome became just a memory. The artificial cave of the Four Thrones dissolved like mist in his mind. The runes, the rituals, the living mirrors—all left behind without any emotional weight.

He didn’t look back.

It made no sense.

The Core had given him everything it could: data, limited access, veiled threats. Eren tolerated them because it was useful. Now, it was no longer so.

The road ahead was rough. Gray dust, cracked stones, hard roots sprouting from the ground. A dry territory. Hostile. Nothing that would scare someone like him.

The system updated discreetly.

[Transitional Region: Edges of Inverted Tessára]

[Environment: Mixed – Living and Autonomous Biome]

[Hostility: Low]

[Reward: Variable]

Inverted Tessára.

The city where humans did not rule. A place that was not part of the official maps. The kind of region the system treated with caution. As if pretending it didn’t exist.

Eren liked that.

A place the system avoids is always a place where mistakes are more likely.

And where there are mistakes...

There are loopholes.

He adjusted the interface with a mental command. He opened the Active Resources tab. Only five coins valid in commercial clusters. Three exchange items with fluctuating value. The last egg of wealth — fragmented. The system listed it as "Unstable."

Eren’s face didn’t change.

Poor.

Almost too poor.

A tamer may have strength, may have connections, may have legendary monsters. But if he has no money, he dies like any other vagabond.

He knew that.

Everything he had done so far had come at a cost. Summons, contracts, disconnections, even the interface — everything required resources. Even support skills. Some routes were blocked due to lack of credit.

He needed a new source.

He needed it now.

"Take on simple missions?"

No. Waste of time.

"Sell artifacts?"

High risk. Low reward.

"Hunt monsters?"

Unpredictable.

"Create a new resource?"

Possible.

His mind processed like a machine.

The solution was not to get money.

It was to generate money.

A product. An item.

Something he could manufacture himself, in bulk, and that the system would not automatically tax.

The rules on monetization were still fragile in the neutral zones. Eren had known this since the incident with the "storm root." When he sold small doses of the plant extracted from the cursed forest, it took the system 12 hours to register the transactions and tax them.

That delay was a window.

Inverted Tessára was a forgotten zone. Non-human creatures had parallel trade. Hybrids sold essences. Some sects preached exchange instead of purchase.

Perhaps there was...

An unregistered market.

If he found that market, he could infiltrate something valuable.

But he needed something new. Unexpected. Something with immediate value. Something that seemed magical, but cost almost nothing to manufacture.

The kind of thing monsters respect.

Or fear.

Eren adjusted his focus.

Breasts. Feathers. Sap. Temperature.

Scenes from his last bond with Arkana popped up as a mental reflex.

He dismissed the memory.

Its usefulness had ended for now. The remaining egg could no longer be sold. The next cycle would still take days. Too long.

Arkana was a precious monster.

But she was unstable.

Eren knew that if he used her too much, she would start dictating terms. Monsters like that are like nervous investors—they feel like they own the company and want to control decisions.

That won’t happen.

He’d rather go bankrupt.

From the top of a hill, the city appeared.

Inverted Tessára.

It had no walls. No gates. No flags.

It was made of intertwined trunks, living roots, platforms of thick leaves, and branches with structure. A constructed organism. An urban ecosystem.

The buildings did not look like houses, but open beehives. Alive. Breathing.

Eren descended slowly.

The air was dry. But not hot.

The wind smelled of wet earth mixed with sour sap. As if the city had just given birth. As if something were germinating under the ground.

As he approached the entrance, a creature moved in the distance.

It was humanoid. But its body was covered with plant plates. Its hands ended in tendrils. Its face was partially symmetrical, with petals where its eyes should have been.

The creature raised one hand in a neutral gesture.

"Name?" it asked in a rough voice.

Eren kept his cloak covering his arms.

"Eren Vale."

The creature hesitated for two seconds.

Then it replied:

"Tamer. Class F. Threat level: 3. Reputation: inconclusive."

The interface flashed.

[Local Reputation: 12% – Potentially Essence Corruptor]

"Essence Corruptor?"

Interesting.

The system was already alerting to his presence.

Probably because of his history with Sylha, Nyssa, Kaela, Morwynn, Arkana.

Too many monsters. Too many affinities. No formal seals. No visible contracts.

A tamer who doesn’t obey the basic rules is a risk.

A tamer who reproduces with creatures...

Is an enemy.

Eren entered without saying another word.

No one stopped him.

The living city watched him. The trees seemed to lean slightly in his direction. The ground adjusted beneath his feet.

The system did not emit hostility alerts. But something was wrong.

The silence was too thick.

The eyes, too attentive.

A woman passed by him. Naked from the waist up. Her skin was light-colored bark. Her breasts were firm, covered only by strands of moss intertwined as if for decoration, not protection.

She looked at him. She smiled.

"Do tamers like fragile creatures... or deep roots?"

Eren did not answer.

But he memorized her face.

She was testing him. Like a plant trying to feel the type of soil it was stepping on.

He ignored her and moved on.

Behind him, he heard another woman comment in a drawling voice:

"This one smells like a creator, not a hunter..."

Eren activated the tactical sub-interface.

He listed all the visible stores.

None were official.

All of them worked with exchanges. Fragments of essence. Liquid alchemy. Biological compounds.

All untaxed.

Perfect.

But it still wasn’t enough.

He needed to find something valuable.

Something that didn’t look valuable at first glance.

And he needed it before anyone realized he was more dangerous than he looked.

The sun was setting.

The leaves of the city changed color as the light faded. A plant ritual. An automated night cycle.

Eren sat on a large root that served as a bench. He crossed his arms.

He opened the Bonded Creatures tab.

Four active names.

"I can’t draw attention now."

But soon...

Soon he would call them all back.

The roots beneath Eren’s feet pulsed.

Not like an earthquake.

More like a plant’s heartbeat. Constant. Subtle. A reminder that Inverted Tessára was not built on the earth—it was the earth.

The ground was alive.

Literally.

Each step made the ground vibrate slightly. The structures around him — towers of vines, bridges of thick moss, arches of raw wood — reacted to every noise. They breathed together. They moved in micro-impulses.

But that wasn’t what bothered him.

Eren noticed it right away on the second block.

The eyes.

Too many eyes.

Vegetable eyes. Beastly eyes. Human eyes with petals instead of irises. Half-sprouted children with branches growing from their shoulders. Women with pink skin and limbs tangled with vines. Men naked to the waist, with greenish trunks and hard bark instead of spines.

All staring.

None approaching.

Just staring at him with disgust.

[System Notification]

[Your Reputation has been updated in this region: 21%]

[Category: Tamer | Subcategory: Essence Corrupter]

[Popular Relationship: Veiled Hostility]

[Note: Your name circulates among the "Awakened"]

He had expected it.

And yet, it came faster than anticipated.

His name echoed here.

"Eren Vale."

The Tamer of unbound bonds.

The tamer who used monsters as if they were extensions of his own body. The man who wrapped magical creatures in invisible—and sensual—ties.

Here, it wasn’t strength.

It was perversion.

He read the city like someone reading a poorly structured code. The squares were circular, made for quiet conversations. The towers were hollow, echoing internal sounds. The streets seemed natural, but they created a single route: the center of the living tree, where the local councils met.

Everything there was ritualistic.

And everything there rejected him.

On the left, a young woman cleaned fruit in a bucket of warm sap. She was naked from the waist up. Pale breasts, covered only by viscous splashes. When she saw Eren, she turned her face away and muttered:

"Rotten."

Across the street, two boys—one with thorny skin, the other with hair made of leaves—whispered something. One of them discreetly pointed to Eren’s boots.

"He walks as if the ground doesn’t feel."

Eren kept walking.

Without haste.

Without anger.

Just observing.

Every 20 meters, a new disguised hostility. A whisper. A glance. A hand gripping the branch tighter. A petal closing in defense.

Here, Tamers were hated.

Not out of fear.

But out of shame.

"They think domination is a moral crime," Eren muttered. "But they continue to live in systems that only exist because someone controlled growth.

No monster is born tamed.

No plant is born molded.

But someone always molds them.

He stopped in front of a building that looked like an open greenhouse. The interior was damp, dark, full of colored vapors. Inside, flower women walked naked, tending to sprouts that twisted in search of warmth.

One of them noticed his presence.

She smiled.

But not with desire.

With defiance.

She slowly turned her back, allowing the light from the entrance to illuminate her body. Her back was covered with veins, leaves, and crevices. Between her buttocks, a line of sparkling moss ran down to the floor.

She spoke without turning around:

"Temers like to control.

But here... it is the soil that decides who enters."

Eren took a step back.

The scene was provocative.

But he did not react.

It was just performative biology.

A plant trying to invade the mind of a predator.

He looked at the palm of his own hand.

Summon a monster there?

It would be a mistake.

He already attracted too much attention. He needed to understand the culture, the invisible code behind those people.

They didn’t hate strength.

They hated the idea of taming what was different.

The irony hit him seconds later.

"If taming monsters is seen as perversion here..."

Then why did the system never allow taming a human?

The question came out of nowhere.

If it was possible to summon, strengthen, and evolve bonds with magical creatures... why had there never been a single event of a tamer establishing a contract with another player? Or with human NPCs?

The system treated humans as fixed vectors.

Never as entities that could be tamed.

Never with affinity.

Never with shared status.

Even when Eren used Sylha—who was a humanoid ghost, a past consciousness—the system read her as "spiritual." As a monster. Never as a person.

It was a limitation.

Not a choice.

"That... is a flaw," he said quietly. "A hole in the logic."

Taming a human should be possible.

In theory.

The bond is an emotional connection, based on affinity and a desire to cooperate. If monsters with consciousness can be bonded... why not human NPCs? Why not people?

The system prevents it.

It blocks it.

It simply does not allow it.

Not out of fear.

But because it does not know how to handle it.

Perhaps the AI that governs the main engine of BloodRealm does not have the capacity to manage bonds between humans from the same cluster.

Perhaps it would upset the political balance of the game.

Perhaps...

Perhaps that is where the key lies.

"If I can do that..."

"If I can tame a human, even for seconds..."

"I break one of the biggest rules of the system."

But he didn’t smile.

He didn’t get excited.

It was just new data. A future possibility.

Nothing urgent.

For now, money.

Reputation.

And silence.

Tessára Invertida was a city that lived among roots. But Eren didn’t care about the trunk or the flowers.

The market in Tessára Invertida didn’t look like a market.

It looked like a forest that had decided to swallow up the concept of commerce.

There were no stalls.

The "stores" were natural hollows, holes in living tree trunks. The shelves were broad, dry leaves, firm as leather. The tents were shadows of intertwined canopy. Nothing was fixed. Everything moved. Each living structure adapted to the flow of people.

Eren walked among the trunks. Slow steps. Steady eyes.

The system did not yet mark him as hostile. But it did not protect him either.

A hybrid ran by, naked to the hips, with three eyes blinking on his back. A woman with flowery breasts, her nipples covered with lichen, offered herbs directly from her mouth—regurgitating seeds as if they were living coins.

[Environment: Plant Economic Center]

[Local Currency: Essence Exchange | Universal Currency: Rare]

[Tax Rates: None]

[Registered Free Trade: 21%]

No fees.

No watch.

No contract.

Perfect.

Eren stopped in front of a crack illuminated by bioluminescent crystal. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The wood exuded warm, fragrant steam. An opening dilated like a flower receiving heat. In the center, a makeshift counter: a stone wrapped in vines. On it, small eggs. Translucent. Golden.

Fifteen of them.

Each the size of a closed fist.

Fragile.

But not normal.

There was something... strange.

They pulsed.

Eren said nothing.

He just stared.

"Ahhh, I saw you coming, I saw you, walking master, wandering lord, traveler of the dead system!" said the vendor, appearing out of nowhere.

He was a man with moss-stained skin, hair like dry roots, and a smile that was too wide. His hands were covered in bark. His teeth were greenish. He had asymmetrical eyes: one human, one too dark.

"I can feel it! I can feel your energy vibrating like an aura of dry ice! Ahh, yes! You have the hunger of those who have seen too much!"

Eren did not respond.

He just stood still.

"And what are you looking for, noble walking silence? What do you desire? Essence of clover?

Blackberry poison? Webs of emotion? No? No?"

He leaned forward.

"Perhaps... eggs?"

Nothing.

Eren’s silence was already an answer.

"Yes, yes! Of course! I knew you were one of those with eyes! Eyes that read! Eyes that read what pulses! Not what shines! Because these... — he pointed to the eggs — ...are not just eggs. They are empty shells of living gold! I’m not lying! I never lie! Not even when I sleep!

Eren took half a step closer.

The system did not identify the items.

No record.

No history.

No restriction.

This was unusual.

"They are from an ancient legend, sir. Ancient! Long before the system. Long before the name ’Tessára’ itself! Some say that their creator... still lives.

Eren moved his fingers discreetly. He activated the runic scanning interface.

Nothing.

No active spells. No energy signature.

The egg was dead.

But still... it pulsed.

"Ahhh, I see you noticed! Yes! Yes! It’s dead, yes! Empty! Heartless! But... still warm, isn’t it? Like a body freshly violated by time! Heh! Heheh! Excuse my language! It’s the market, you know? It inspires grotesque poetry!"

Eren looked at the seller for the first time.

Just for a second.

Then he looked back at the eggs.

"How many do you have?"

The man’s eyes widened.

"Oooh! One that talks! A talking tamer! What joy, what an honor! I feel like I’ve been kissed by a female griffin on fire!"

Eren didn’t answer.

"Fifteen. Fifteen, sir. And don’t ask me for the sixteenth. I... ate it."

Pause.

Long.

Silent.

"Out of curiosity, sir! Just curiosity. It didn’t hurt me. But my dreams... ah, those, yes, they burned.

They burned for three moons."

Eren touched one of the eggs.

Light. Fragile. But the texture...

It wasn’t glass.

It was bone.

"Where are they collected?"

"Ahhh, there’s the detail, isn’t there? Yes! Of course! I would gladly answer, but you see... you see... there is certain knowledge that costs more than coins."

Eren took a small stone from his inventory.

A fragment of a class C magic core.

He threw it on the counter.

The seller didn’t pick it up.

He just looked at it.

Then he laughed.

"No, no, sir. You can’t buy the future with the present. What you give me has value. But what I know... has roots. Deep. Ancient. Sewn in silence. And silence... cannot be exchanged. Silence is broken.

Eren understood.

He wanted to listen. Or tear it out. Something.

"You know about me."

"Ahhh, yes! I knew! Of course I knew! You have the smell of invisible strings! The skin of one who has been touched by slime, licked by a specter, mounted by a beast!"

Eren narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Do you want to negotiate or show off?"

The salesman smiled broadly.

Then he laughed.

"Ahhh! Finally, yes! A direct cut! I like that! I like incisors! Let’s go then! I’ll tell you where the eggs are born. In exchange..."

Eren said nothing.

"...in exchange, I want the right to accompany your next sale."

Silence.

"Just observe! That’s all! I swear on my great-grandmother’s sap! I won’t touch anything! I’ll just watch! I want to study... the world’s reaction."

Eren analyzed the situation.

It didn’t seem dangerous.

But he was the type who talked too much.

Who saw too much.

Even so...

It was the best course of action at the time.

"I accept."

"AHHH! Glory, glory in the vines! Oh, what a day! What a dawn! What a pulse of fortune!"

The salesman bowed. He touched his forehead to the counter.

"The eggs come from a creature." Legendary. It lives south of the city. Closer to the swamp. But not in the swamp. Understand? It lives in a place where the roots don’t touch the water, and the sap doesn’t rise. Isolated.

Eren memorized it.

"No one sees it. No one dares. They say it speaks. That it negotiates. That it chooses who can harvest its eggs. And when... and how."

"Name?" Eren asked.

"No one knows. But the elders call it... Arkana."

The system flashed.

[New Hidden Quest: Trail of the Golden Arka]

[Status: Incomplete]

[Progress: 1%]

Eren backed away.

He already knew enough.

But the vendor was still smiling.

"Ahhh... I like you, tamer. You know how to listen with your eyes."

Eren turned his back, deciding he already had the information he needed.

He said nothing.

As he walked away, he heard the man whispering:

"You’ll see her. You will. You’ll touch her. But will she let you... put your fingers inside?"

Eren didn’t stop.

But he memorized the phrase.

So he left to rest before his journey at an inn.

The inn had no doors.

It had woven vines that opened with the touch of anyone who took a deep breath.

When Eren passed by, the entrance fell apart before him.

Inside, there was warm darkness.

The ceiling was made of intertwined roots. Translucent nectar dripped from strategic points. The floor was covered with thick, damp, slightly padded moss. The air was too sweet. As if the environment had been created to slowly intoxicate, without warning.

A figure waited in the background.

Sitting in a shallow fountain. Amber liquid covered her legs up to her thighs. She kept her torso upright, her breasts exposed without any attempt at modesty. Between them, small leaves sprouted, like living ornaments.

Her eyes were gray-green. Vertical pupils. Her hair was long, with roots hanging between the strands. Her skin was too light to be natural, like sanded wood.

She smiled.

"I knew you would come. Men who mess with monsters... always end up coming down here."

Eren did not respond.

He just watched.

She tilted her head. Her shoulders moved with exaggerated slowness. Her breasts swayed slightly, letting drops run down her nipples, which seemed sensitive to heat.

"Looking for eggs, aren’t you?" she said. "Living gold. The essence of ancient fertility."

Still nothing.

She laughed softly.

"You don’t have to talk. I already know your type. Silent. Cold. But always curious."

Eren took a step forward. The floor sank slightly under his weight. Not because it was fragile, but because it wanted to. As if the inn reacted to his every step.

The woman rose slowly. Nectar dripped between her legs, trickling down her pale thighs. There was no modesty. No intention to seduce. It was... ritual.

"I can show you where the eggs are born," she said. "But first you need to understand what they are."

She began to walk around the fountain. Her naked body moved with lazy elegance, like an animal that knows it will not be hunted. Each step made the leaves on her body vibrate, as if testing the air.

Eren followed with his eyes. Expressionless.

She dipped her right hand into the nectar. When she withdrew it, her palm dripped thickly. She brought her index finger to her belly and began to scratch.

She drew slowly.

A vertical line, starting between her breasts and descending to her navel.

"Here is the valley." Another diagonal line. "Here... the dead forest."

She moved her finger down a little further, close to her pubis. The sap dripped down, marking her abdomen as if it were hot ink.

"And here... the source of the eggs. Hidden. Protected."

Eren took another step closer.

Silence.

"Does the creature that lays the eggs have a name?" he asked.

She smiled.

"It has many names. But you’ve already heard the most important one. Arkana."

Eren memorized the position of the last point marked on the woman’s body.

Her skin was trembling slightly. Not from cold. Not from fear. But from exposure. As if the map, even though symbolic, was costing her vital energy.

She sat down again.

Her legs open, relaxed, her knees out of the water. The nectar between her thighs flowed slowly, mixing with the sap that still marked her belly.

"You’re going to try, aren’t you?"

Eren didn’t answer.

He turned around.

"Are you going to leave me here?" she asked.

"I already got what I needed."

"It’s always like this with you guys. Those who deal with monsters. You take the map... and ignore the flesh."

Eren stopped.

He turned his face slightly over his shoulder.

The woman didn’t answer right away.

She slid her hands over her belly, still marked by sap. Her fingers slowly traced the lines she had drawn, spreading more of the viscous nectar over her smooth skin.

"You think you saw the way," she whispered. "But you only saw with your eyes. The flesh... is where the map takes root."

Eren frowned slightly.

She opened her legs naturally, as if offering a ritual. The nectar dripped once more. Between her shiny thighs, the thinner roots of the source seemed to pulse in response.

"The map only becomes real when the flesh recognizes it. You are not here for symbols. You are here for legacy."

Silence.

Eren’s interface remained motionless.

No new mission. No alert. No link activated.

But he understood.

The information was not encoded in words. It was anchored in her body. In essence. And somehow, the system allowed it — through a loophole, an error, something not yet documented.

He turned to her without saying a word.

He walked to the edge of the fountain.

She slowly lay down on the liquid surface, opening her arms, her hair floating like submerged roots. The leaves between her breasts retracted, as if feeling the heat.

She smiled.

"Everything that grows... must first be planted."

Eren decided to use only his hands.

The sap enveloped them both.

It wasn’t romantic. Nor was it wild.

It was calculated.

Each touch activated small magical impulses. Eren did it tenderly, massaging only the most sensitive parts, as if applying sunscreen to a large sculptural body.

With each new movement, a line on the map vibrated on her body. And as his hand moved down, and her moans increased, the hidden structure of her body memory rearranged itself — like a ritual made of sweat and algorithms.

As she felt pleasure, her body trembled and became increasingly pink. She had uncontrollable spasms and screamed as if asking for help, while begging him not to stop.

In the end, she rested, breathing deeply and heavily, her eyes rolled back, panting with genuine pleasure.

Eren just wiped his hand on his clothes.

The system flashed in the corner of his vision.

[Data Successfully Transferred]

[Trail Recorded with Integrity: 100%]

[New Location Unlocked: Heart of the South Zone of Tessára]

[Marker Integrated into Navigation Core]

[Update: "Map of Living Flesh" successfully absorbed.]

He didn’t look at her.

He didn’t thank her.

He turned around.

He left.

The vines closed behind him with a wet sound.

The air outside was colder.

The sky darkened to shades of gray, as if the city itself sighed at what had just happened.

Eren didn’t stop.

He didn’t reflect.

He just walked.

Now he had a map.

Complete.

And within it, a new trail to break the system once again.