The Lazy Hero Who Became a Legendary Beast Tamer

Chapter 8: The Kingdom's Interest

The sound of galloping hooves echoed through the woods, sharp and insistent. Greg had been pacing around a secluded clearing, mulling over the old man's words. It had been days since their conversation, and while he hadn't fully embraced his new reality, he was slowly coming to terms with the idea that running wasn't a solution. He couldn't keep hiding forever. But the thought of stepping into a larger conflict, of getting involved in the affairs of kingdoms and wars, still seemed too much to bear.

The griffin perched on a nearby branch, its golden eyes glinting in the dappled sunlight, while Grizzle lay at Greg's feet, his massive frame stretched out like a lazy lion. The fox darted in and out of the shadows, always moving, always watching. The creatures were a constant presence, and though Greg wasn't yet sure how to handle them, their loyalty and dependence on him were undeniable.

Suddenly, the peaceful silence was shattered by the sound of voices—a low, rhythmic murmur at first, followed by the unmistakable crack of branches underfoot. Greg's hand instinctively went to the knife he had at his belt, though he knew it was no match for whatever might be out there. His heart quickened as the voices drew closer, and he knew that this wasn't a random encounter. It wasn't just another traveler or wandering merchant.

The scouts from the Kingdom of Arathor appeared just as Greg's grip tightened around the handle of the blade. There were five of them, mounted on sturdy horses, their eyes sharp and calculating. Their armor was practical, simple but well-maintained, and their cloaks bore the emblem of Arathor—a lion's head emblazoned on a golden field.

Greg froze, his body instinctively tensing, the grip on his knife tightening. These weren't ordinary travelers. They were military scouts, and from the way they circled around him, they'd known exactly where he was for some time.

One of the scouts, a tall woman with short-cropped hair and piercing blue eyes, reined in her horse, stopping a few feet from Greg. She studied him for a moment, her gaze calculating, before speaking. "You must be the one they're talking about. The tamer."

Greg's heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively stepped back. "I'm no tamer," he said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the unease flooding his chest. "I don't want anything to do with your kingdom or whatever it is you're planning."

The woman raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "You might not be a tamer by choice, but your abilities are undeniable. You've tamed beasts that most men wouldn't dare approach. We've seen it with our own eyes."

Greg's mind raced. He hadn't realized the extent of his accidental fame. He'd been avoiding people, avoiding attention, and yet here he was, caught in the spotlight.

"I don't know what you've seen," Greg said, swallowing hard. "But whatever it is, you've got the wrong person. I'm not interested in your kingdom or your wars. I'm just trying to live my life in peace."

The woman didn't respond immediately. She turned to her companions, exchanging a quiet glance with the man on her left, before looking back at Greg. "You're exactly who we need. The Kingdom of Arathor is facing a growing threat—monstrous creatures from the Wildlands that are becoming more dangerous every day. We need someone who can control the beasts. Someone like you."

Greg felt his stomach twist. "I told you already, I don't want anything to do with your fight. These creatures aren't my problem."

"You misunderstand," she said, her voice calm but firm. "We're not asking you to fight in our armies, not directly. But the creatures of the Wildlands have grown restless. They're attacking villages, pillaging farms, and destroying entire towns. If we can tame them—or at least keep them under control—it could turn the tide of the war. Your abilities might be the key to saving our kingdom."

Greg's mind raced. The idea of being involved in something so large, something so important, felt like a weight around his neck. He had no interest in becoming a pawn in some kingdom's war, but the reality of the situation was slowly sinking in. If the Wildlands were becoming more dangerous, then it wasn't just the kingdom that was at risk—it was the world as he knew it.

Still, Greg couldn't shake the feeling that all this was far too much for him to handle.

"I'm not your hero," Greg said, shaking his head. "I don't care about your kingdom, and I don't care about your war. I just want to be left alone."

The woman's expression softened for a moment, her gaze flickering toward the griffin perched on the nearby rock. "We've heard about your creatures. You've tamed dragons, wolves, foxes. There's no denying your power. But you won't be able to outrun this forever. The kingdom needs you. You are the key to stopping the beasts from destroying everything we've worked for."

Greg felt a surge of frustration. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, pressing on him from all sides. He wanted to scream, to tell them that they were asking the wrong person. But he couldn't. They were right in one thing: he had power, whether he liked it or not.

"I'm not going to join your fight," Greg said through gritted teeth. "I'm not some weapon. I'm not your solution."

The woman held his gaze for a moment, her face unreadable. "Very well. But know this, Greg: The Wildlands are growing bolder. And soon, you won't be able to hide from this. The beasts will come for you—whether you want them to or not. If you don't stand with us, you might find yourself standing alone."

With that, the scouts turned their horses, and with a final glance over their shoulders, they rode off into the distance, leaving Greg standing in the clearing, his heart pounding.

As their horses faded into the forest, Greg stood frozen, the weight of their visit pressing down on him. He couldn't deny that part of him felt the pull of the kingdom's offer—the idea that he could make a difference, that his powers could actually be used for something more than chaos. But deep down, Greg knew that the last thing he wanted was to get caught up in a war he had no interest in. He had enough to deal with as it was.

Greg stood alone in the clearing, the sounds of the scouts' departure fading into the distant rustle of the forest. The tension in his chest had only grown, an uncomfortable knot of indecision that twisted tighter with every breath. The offer from the Kingdom of Arathor had been straightforward, yet complicated—too complicated for Greg to easily dismiss. He wanted to walk away, to continue his solitary life, to curl up in some remote corner of the world where his only companions were his beasts and the quiet sounds of nature. But the scouts' words, though simple, carried a weight that would not easily be ignored.

"You might not be able to outrun this forever…"

The warning lingered in his mind. Could he really avoid the chaos that was sweeping across the land? It wasn't just the beasts attacking—there were rumors of entire villages falling to the monstrous creatures from the Wildlands. It was clear that the kingdom was desperate, and Greg's abilities, his accidental taming powers, were being seen as the answer. The pressure was growing. The more Greg resisted, the more it seemed to pull him in.

With a sigh, Greg crouched down, reaching for the familiar warmth of Grizzle's fur. The massive beast looked up at him with those soulful, amber eyes, offering silent support. The griffin hopped down from its perch and nestled next to him, its head nuzzling against his shoulder. The fox bounded around their feet, playful as always, as if nothing in the world could ever worry it.

"Why do you guys keep following me?" Greg muttered, though the creatures didn't need an answer. They had been with him since the beginning, loyal and unyielding, despite how much he tried to avoid them.

He didn't have time to think further, as the sudden snap of twigs and a low growl interrupted his thoughts. Instinctively, Greg sprang to his feet, his senses heightened. The creatures immediately fell into defensive stances, their attention focused on the dense brush behind him. The scent of something larger, more dangerous, was unmistakable. Greg's heart raced—there was no escaping this. Not anymore.

From the forest emerged a massive bear, its fur matted and wild, a deep growl rumbling from its chest. It was larger than any bear Greg had ever seen in his world, and its eyes glowed with an eerie, unnatural light. It was one of the beasts of the Wildlands—powerful, and clearly drawn to Greg's presence.

Before Greg could even consider running, the griffin took flight, soaring above the beast, distracting it with swift dives and sharp cries. Grizzle growled low, his muscles tense, while the fox darted to the side, its eyes glowing as it prepared to strike with its mystical abilities.

Greg froze, every part of him screaming to run, to escape this impossible situation. He didn't want to fight, didn't want to be part of any conflict. But he was no longer the lazy office worker from his previous life—he was a tamer, whether he liked it or not.

This is why I can't escape, Greg thought bitterly. Everywhere I go, they follow.

The bear took another step forward, its claws scraping against the dirt, and Greg instinctively extended his hand. It was an automatic reaction, one that had become more familiar over the past weeks as he had unintentionally tamed more beasts. The bear's eyes flickered for a moment, locking onto Greg's. It hesitated.

The world seemed to hold its breath as Greg, still shaking from the encounter with the scouts, made the decision. He didn't want to do this, but it was as though the power had a mind of its own. His hand moved out, almost against his will, and he spoke the words in a language that felt strangely natural, even though he had never learned it.

"Stay."

The word felt like a command, an impossible force carrying weight in the air. The bear's growl softened, its posture shifting from aggressive to confused. Its massive head dipped slightly, as though processing the command, and then, to Greg's shock, it lowered itself to the ground, sitting in front of him like a giant puppy. The tension in the air dissipated, but Greg's stomach churned with a mix of disbelief and dread.

What have I done?

Before he could analyze the situation further, the griffin landed nearby, flapping its wings proudly as if Greg had done something impressive. Grizzle and the fox circled the newly tamed bear, wary but curious.

Greg collapsed to the ground, his knees buckling under the weight of the moment. He had tamed another beast—this time, an enormous one. His fears were confirmed: his ability wasn't just about controlling small creatures—it was about holding sway over anything in the wilds, no matter how dangerous.

"I don't want this," Greg muttered to no one in particular, his head in his hands. "I don't want to be some beast tamer, some hero, or whatever you think I am."

A rustling noise from the woods alerted him, and before Greg could even stand, the scouts from Arathor reappeared, their eyes wide in disbelief at the sight before them. The woman who had spoken to him earlier, the one who seemed to lead the group, dismounted her horse, her eyes never leaving the newly tamed bear.

"I see we weren't mistaken," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. "That's one of the most powerful creatures of the Wildlands, and you've tamed it as if it were nothing."

Greg's mouth went dry as he tried to find the words. "I don't want to be part of this. I'm not your answer."

The woman approached him slowly, her expression hardening. "You may not want to be our answer, but the truth is, you don't have much of a choice. The kingdom is falling into chaos, and without someone who can control these creatures, we're all going to be swallowed up by the Wildlands."

Greg wanted to argue, to reject everything she was saying, but he knew deep down that she was right. Every day, the world seemed to be spinning out of control, and Greg—whether he liked it or not—had become a part of it. His powers were undeniable, and the kingdom wasn't going to let him walk away without a fight.

"I'm not your weapon," Greg said, voice tight. "I'm just trying to survive."

The woman's gaze softened, but she didn't relent. "That's all we're trying to do as well. But we need your help, Greg. Whether you like it or not, your abilities will change the world."