Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

"Good evening, sirs," Renwal said, stopping the wagon a few yards away from the giant reinforced gate and the two watchmen.

Both guards were heavily geared in full plate armor, each with a massive tower shield strapped to their back and a sword sheathed at their belt. The only noticeable difference in their outfits was the helmet: one wore a shining winged helmet, while the other had a basic one with a straight nasal guard. In the middle of both of their chests stood a black lion within a white shield: the Faertis House's emblem.

"Good evening. Are you here to sell goods in Arthuri?" the older guard with the winged helmet asked.

"Yes, sir," Renwal answered before nodding toward Seth. "And he's here for the selections of Trogan Academy."

As the guard's next question turned into background noise, Seth focused on filling Identify with aether.

Suddenly, the younger watchman unsheathed his sword and pointed it toward Seth. "Get down on the ground now!"

Seth froze, his heart pounding like a war drum. The sharp edge of the blade seemed to burn into his skin, and for a split second, he couldn't breathe. He felt a wave of panic surge through him, muscles locking up before he forced himself to move. Slowly, he sank to his knees, raising his hands in surrender. He could see Renwal's eyes widen in shock, but before either of them could say a word, the older guard stepped in, placing a firm hand on his partner's arm and gently pushing it down.

"That's fine," he said calmly. "He's just a fresh Wielder and probably didn't know it's illegal to Identify a guard." He then glanced at Seth. "You can get up, son."

Seth rose to his feet, his legs unsteady, bowing his head as he stammered, "S-sorry, sir. I didn't know."

The older watchman gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. Just be more careful about Identifying people in the future, guards or not. Most find it disrespectful, and you aren't strong enough to afford offending anyone."

"And you never will be, with that class," the younger guard said with a glare as he sheathed his sword.

The air shimmered briefly around the massive gate, then seconds later it started to rise slowly. As they passed the guards and entered the city, Renwal shot a glance at Seth. "No more using Identify when I'm with you."

"Yeah, sorry," Seth answered, looking up at the gate magically hovering above them. "But seriously, I had no idea."

"That's fine. I didn't either."

The paved street ahead was lined with homes and shops—clearly older than those in Sunatown, but far more elegant. Most were built from oak and maple planks, while some featured vibrant stonework. Thick curtains covered the narrow windows facing the street, hiding whatever lay inside.

"Our inn is just around the corner," Renwal said.

Soon, they arrived in front of a modest two-story establishment. Despite its crude appearance, it felt welcoming and cozy, with cheerful chatter drifting through the cracked door and two broken windows.

As Renwal dismounted from his seat, something farther up the street caught Seth's eye: a tall, five-story building that loomed over the neighbouring shops. Despite its size, no one seemed to be coming or going, and the only sign of life was a faint light behind one of the tinted windows. Yet it captivated Seth, pulling him closer with an invisible string—all because of the small words etched on the wooden sign above its door.

Adventurers Guild's outpost.

"Come on, Seth! Let's go inside!" Renwal called behind him while one of the inn's stable hands was bringing the horses and the wagon behind the building. "You need to try their ale. It's the best in Arthuri!"

Seth shook his head and followed the bald blacksmith. As they stepped inside, the aroma of hops and smoked meat immediately flooded Seth's nostrils. Thick wooden beams supported the ceiling, lanterns hanging on the ropes between them and illuminating the first floor, which was packed. Farmers and workers seem to be the majority of the customers, recognizable by their low-quality clothes like those of Seth and Renwal.

"Find us a table while I take care of the rooms," Renwal said before making his way to the front desk.

Seth scanned the area and spotted a small empty table by one of the windows. As he slid onto one of the two highchairs, his attention was quickly drawn to the two men on his right. Half a dozen empty mugs cluttered the table of the duo, who stood out from all the other customers because of their filthy clothes and the fine weapons at their hips—Wandering Merchants.

"I'm so done with the Faertis," the black-haired one grumbled, his face twisting in frustration. "Ever since Thalion turned Gold, I've been bleeding coins. A pre-war tax? More like a bullying tax, if you ask me. "

The second man's eyes darted around nervously. He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Shut up, you'll get us killed."

The first merchant snorted, rolling his eyes. "You know I'm right. The day they became one of the Twenty Great Houses, they jacked up the selling tax. They knew no one would dare say a word."

"They've ruled over Arthuri for two decades," the second man hissed, shooting a quick glance at Seth, who feigned disinterest, staring out the window. "If you're hoping another House will kick them out, you'd be better off leaving for a different city like the adventurers."

The recent tax hike now made complete sense to Seth. The Faertis acting like jerks, as always.

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The Faertis House had a long history of squeezing every last coin from their people, even when they were too starving or too sick to work. If it weren't for the mutual aid among the citizens, Sunatown would have seen countless families getting beaten and houses ransacked by tax collectors. Elders were often forced to choose between buying medicine and paying taxes; children were put to work the moment they could talk. In the Faertis territory, everyone found a way to pay—no matter how. Ruling through fear. That was the nobles' way.

As Seth clenched his fists under the table, Renwal arrived from behind and put a mug brimming with frothy beer in front of him. "There you go, the best ale of Arthuri!"

"Thanks," Seth answered, then took a deep breath to calm down before taking a sip. Bitter, with a citrusy after-taste. To his palate, it wasn't much different from the one of Sunatown's inn, but he wasn't a beer expert. Or an alcoholic. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing," Renwal said. "It's a gift for what you did earlier. Even if the small girl did most of the work."

Seth smiled. "Thanks. I'll need another one after she kicks my ass tomorrow."

"I hope she does," the blacksmith said with a wide grin.

Seth sighed, feigning offense. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Anytime, boy," Renwal answered with a wink.

Seth rolled his eyes and took another sip, watching more people trickle into the inn. He assumed they were all here to drink their emotions. Since no one could openly complain about the Faertis House, this was their only way to get through it. By drowning their anger with ale.

"People will be happy to hear about your awakening," Renwal added. "Sunatown will continue to have two Wielders."

Seth frowned. "Two Wielders?"

A shadow crossed Renwal's face as he swallowed another mouthful of his beverage. "Vandric is leaving next week."

Seth choked on his ale, his mug clattering against the table. Vandric? That's surprising.

Everyone knew the old Priest could earn far more coins in a large city like Arthuri or Trogan yet he had stayed in Sunatown for years, just like Marcus.

So why now? Did my mom's passing lift some kind of moral obligation that kept him here? Seth wondered before wiping foam from his mouth. "I never thought he'd leave."

"Neither did I." Renwal raised his mug and gulped down a quarter of the drink before letting out a loud burp. "Let's just hope no one gets sick or hurt from now on."

"I'm sure everyone will be fine."

They moved to other topics, and Seth continued to enjoy the blacksmith's company for a few hours before retiring to his room. Exhausted from the day, he collapsed onto the modest bed and drifted into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Seth stepped out of the inn, fully geared up, and took a moment to admire the clear sky before setting off. As he crossed the city, the sharp disparities in wealth between the districts unfolded before him. In some neighborhoods, houses were barely standing, their roofs sagging and stained sheets covering their broken windows, nearby residents moving with weary resignation on their faces. In stark contrast, other areas boasted towering mansions adorned with gleaming statues of Gaia and other Gods, giant fountains, and meticulously maintained flower gardens.

Hunger and poverty clashing with wealth and excess.

People back in Sunatown often said the Path was absolute, indifferent to whether one dined with a silver fork or a wooden one. But Seth had always doubted that. How could those born in such different and opposite circumstances achieve the same level of success? One had all the resources in the world, while the other struggled to fill his stomach. The fairness of the Path seemed more like a comforting lie, a way for commoners to believe they were free and could control their fate, while in reality they remained shackled by taxes and laws, destined to remain under the nobles forever.

Lost in thought, Seth barely made it to Arthuri's training field on time. A few hundred commoners dressed in tattered clothes were already sitting in a dozen wooden stands spread around the open field; five butlers stood attentively on the sides of two made of stone, where four nobles sat comfortably on pillows that were likely worth more than Seth's house—before it had been burned down.

In the center, a thick white circle marked the perimeter of what would certainly be the arena for the upcoming fights. As Seth approached the two dozen participants in the middle, his eyes immediately landed on someone familiar: Selena.

The Rogue was still wearing her tight brown leather outfit, with the same black bow on her back, but this time two daggers were strapped to her thighs, each about half the length of Seth's hunting knife.

Before he made it over to her, a young woman walked up to him. Light brown, wavy hair framed her small, radiant face as glinting blue eyes rested graciously in their sockets beneath thin, dark eyebrows. Her soft skin gracefully complemented her nose and lips, giving her an angelic look.

She wore an accordion-style scarlet skirt that reached just below her knees, paired with black calf-high socks and a tight, short-sleeved white shirt, which she had tucked in and covered with a matching scarlet jacket, the golden owl emblem on her chest pocket slightly stretched by the curve of her bust. In one hand, she held a parchment clipped to a wooden board, and in the other was a quill.

A uniform? Seth thought.

"Good morning, I'm Marine Vancaws, a first-year student at Trogan Academy," she said. "What's your—oh, you've got beautiful eyes."

"Uh, thanks," Seth stuttered, a bit surprised.

The young woman gave him a warm smile. "What's your name, your class, and your Rank?"

Can't she just Identify me? he thought before answering, "Seth, Primalist, Rank 6."

"Oh, a Primalist!" she exclaimed before writing everything down on the parchment. "Professor Reat will meet you at the end of the selection. Don't leave before that."

Why would a professor want to see me?

Standing a foot taller than her, Seth was able to see everything she scribbled on the parchment, including the little sad face next to Primalist. But it was something else that caught his eye. The quill. It had formed all the black letters without ever being dipped in ink.

It's an artifact.

"Oh, and when did you awaken?" she asked.

"Uh, about two weeks ago."

"Alright, everything seems to be in order," Marine replied with a beaming smile. "You can join the other participants. The selection will soon begin."

Seth made his way over to Selena, who stood stoically with her red ponytail swaying slightly in the breeze. He flashed her a grin. "So, today's the day you kick my ass, huh?"

The Rogue's expression barely shifted as she glanced at him. "Only if you're unlucky enough to end up going against me."

"Then I'd better start praying," Seth quipped, trying to break the tension.

"Yeah, you should," she replied flatly.

Before Seth could answer, a man appeared in the sky, flying toward them, his arms on both sides of his thin body. As the newcomer descended, Seth took a closer look.

Long, pitch-black hair hung from the man's half-successful bun, partially hiding his exhausted face. The dark circles under his eyes and his constant yawning made him look much older and worn out than someone in his mid-thirties like him. He wore a uniform similar to Marine's, but instead of a skirt, he had on pants, and the scarlet color had been replaced by a much-darker red. Just above the golden-owl emblem, an insignia was hanging from his chest pocket: two silver wings flanking a dark medaillon with five silver stars and a white A in the middle.

A for Adventurers Guild, silver wings for Silver tier, I suppose… but what do the stars mean? Seth wondered.

"Welcome to the selection of Trogan Academy. I'm Professor Reat," the man announced as he landed on the ground. "Listen carefully, because I won't repeat myself. "

Seth glanced at the other competitors. Some looked excited, others nervous, while a few appeared downright bored. Each of them had a stunning weapon, either on their back or hanging from their belt. All enchanted weapons, he thought.

"The rules are simple," Professor Reat continued. "You need two wins out of three fights to pass. Instant spell-scrolls, artifacts, Artificers' devices, or potions are forbidden. However, any armor or weapon is allowed, since they're part of your strength. At the start of each fight, I'll cover both participants with an aether barrier that matches your Toughness—it'll absorb the blows. Like Protecting Belts, for those of you familiar. If the barrier breaks, it means you'd be dead in a real fight, so you lose."

Fighting without fear of getting killed, Seth thought. That's great.

"Any questions?" Professor Reat asked, waiting for a few seconds while a few participants, including Seth, exchanged uncertain glances. "Good, then let's get started. Everyone, step outside of the ring."

As all the participants moved out of the hundred-foot-wide circle, Marine handed her parchment to the professor. The man skimmed through it, and his face twisted into grimaces a few times.

Standing just outside the white line, Seth gulped, his heart pounding in his chest. Before his awakening, he'd been confident in his skills as a hunter and fighter. But now, as he glanced at the other participants, that old confidence was slowly being replaced by a growing sense of doubt. He'd gained a few attributes since awakening, but not nearly as many as he'd hoped. Two weeks wasn't enough to make a difference, especially after losing so much training time in the regular forest.

This selection wasn't just for fresh Wielders like him; it was open to every seventeen- or eighteen-year-old who had both awakened in the past year and within a year after turning seventeen. Some of them could've ignited their Well months and months ago, giving them plenty of time to grow stronger. There was no doubt, they'd have higher attributes than him—on top of the enchanted weapons glinting at their sides and on their backs.

How the hell am I supposed to compete with—

"First fight. Herbin and Seth, " Professor Reat shouted. ''Step forward."