Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

Colossus, lacking Nightmare's caution, immediately tried to surge from the teardrop necklace, though Seth prevented him from doing so and locked the scorpion inside the artifact. However, Seth wasn't fast enough to stop his young partner's defensive spell. The shimmering, hazel barrier of Desert Aegis flared around Seth's body with an aura denser than ever before.

The marshal's eyebrow raised, and then a dry smile cracked his wrinkled face. "That's a strong intent from your new beast," he said. "I can almost hear him. 'One more step and I'll kill you.' "

Seth didn't answer or move; he remained rooted in place by the man's crushing presence. What could he do? Even if he somehow broke through that suffocating paralysis and poured every drop of aether into Beastmaster Rage, the man could kill him a thousand times over before he'd even reached the door.

"You see, young man, my curiosity was piqued when my granddaughter here told me about a Primalist she wanted me to move into her squad," the marshal said with a gesture toward Marine. "One with golden eyes."

The man's gaze then sharpened, the faint amusement inside vanishing instantly. "Those eyes brought back… let's say, painful memories."

Seth's jaw tightened. "I don't approve of what he did either, sir."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't," Marshal Vancaws retorted. "After living as a commoner in Kastal for almost your entire life, you certainly see why the king should have been removed from his throne a decade ago."

"I do," Seth answered.

The marshal pushed himself up from the chair, and the simple movement seemed to draw the room's shadows toward him. He walked to the window and glanced at the city outside, hands clasped together behind his back. "You must be wondering why I'm not killing you on the spot as retribution for your father's actions."

Seth glanced at Marine. Her smile was still there, but it was strained now, and her eyes were fixed on her grandfather's back—if the marshal was speaking this freely in front of her, it meant she knew everything.

"I can only think of one reason, sir," Seth replied, bringing his gaze back to the old man. "You want something from me."

The marshal let out a sharp laugh and turned back to face Seth. "Yes and no. I do want something from you, yes. But also, I'm not a fool. A man like your father certainly had powerful friends. Friends who might still be watching over his son."

He began to pace the room, the medals on his chest chiming softly with every step. "I did some research on you—your life in Sunatown. Most of the people there fled after your… altercation with House Faertis. Smart. They didn't want to become leverage."

He stopped, his gaze drifting as if reliving something. "But when I went there myself, even though the town was almost fully empty, the residual aether was staggering. It felt like a monster had been nesting in that place for years. At first, I assumed it was from your mother."

Seth's eyes widened, his composure cracking for the first time.

"Yes, I know about her," the marshal continued, catching the reaction with a sidelong glance. "But I also know she was bedridden—crippled by illness for a decade before she passed. So it was clear she wasn't the source."

He leaned in. "Which means there was someone else. A person that lived inside or near the old potion shop there. That's where the sensation was the strongest and the most… fierce."

Seth's mind went to Marcus. He remembered how the Alchemist had forced Elena's father to his knees with nothing but his aura. Vancaws was right. The old man was a monster, even if he wasn't a combat Wielder.

"To be honest, I have no desire to provoke someone capable of leaving a scar like that in their wake," Marshal Vancaws added. "So, consider what I am about to offer you to be a business arrangement. One you are free to refuse... but which I sincerely hope you will not."

Seth's hands clenched at his sides then forced them to relax. "And what is that business arrangement, sir?"

"The King and I have set aside… great rewards for those who perform best during this first phase of the war," the marshal answered as his mouth twisted briefly. The man's gaze flicked to his granddaughter. "And even if I'm sure Marine will be able to secure one of those rewards easily, I intend to acquire more."

Seth stared at the old marshal. Playing dumb would be an error; it would mark him as a novice and invite the man to lowball him. That meant he needed to show he knew the stakes.

"Legacies are certainly a compelling motivator, sir."

For a split second, the marshal's eyes widened, then his weathered face cracked into a shark-like smile. "I see Orwen and Celine haven't kept any secrets from their new recruit." He moved over to lean on the edge of the simple desk. "Yes. The Legacies. There are six in play. I want to obtain at least three."

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"You have high expectations for me, sir," Seth answered flatly. "It'll be hard to be a top contributor when fighting side by side with Rank-20s and 30s. Our squad is obviously meant to test the empire's strength and get slaughtered. Not win."

"Yet isn't that exactly where your kind thrives, Primalist?" the marshal retorted, his blue eyes boring into Seth. "Surrounded by danger? Where ordinary men would die? This seems like the perfect opportunity for you. Besides, judging by how highly Marine speaks of your... capabilities... I'm sure you'll find a way to survive. And to win."

Seth's gaze shifted from the old man to Marine, then back. He thought for a moment. It's not like I need a Legacy. I already have one.Sure, I could sell the new one I'd acquire, but that would undoubtedly bring a lot of trouble. I could give it to Jenna, though. Or Devus. But if it didn't fit them? Then I could certainly hand it to the marshal… in exchange for something else.

"What would I get in return, sir?" Seth finally asked.

"I'm prepared to offer several things," Marshal Vancaws answered, obviously expecting the question. "I'm sure Orwen or his sister told you how valuable these are."

Seth remained silent and decided to let the old man lay his cards on the table—it was probably the best way to negotiate in this situation.

"First," the marshal began, pointing at Seth's forearm, "that inscription would be removed as soon as the war ends. After that, I will make sure the emblem of House Faertis is never seen in Kastal again."

Two things I don't need, Seth thought coldly.

"Second," the man continued, "I'll offer my patronage to the people you care about. The Champions of Chaos and those friends of yours at the academy. They will all have access to the resources, training, and opportunities they need to become stronger."

Seth pressed his lips together. That was valuable. It would help Devus, Elena, Jenna, and the others—but not him. Not really.

But what could he ask for?

Spells? No. Kastal had nothing above the Epic grade, courtesy of the King, so none of them would truly be an upgrade for him. Enhancers? Not worth the risk. Slowing his progression and making breakthroughs harder, just so he could have a short-term boost, would be foolish. An Essence, then? A stronger one for Nightmare. But even that felt... small in exchange for a Legacy.

Then, something hit Seth.

His month in the Cave of the Elements had shown him the real Path he needed to follow. A Primalist grew by facing danger, by thriving in places where no one else dared to go. Unexplored Rifts. That was the true way forward.

But finding another was the issue. Marcus was a miracle worker, but could he really find—or buy?—another one within Kastal's border? Reat had said those were nearly impossible to encounter; the crown's scouts searched for them year-round, yet only stumbled across one every six months.

"I want two more things, sir."

"Name them," the marshal answered, his faint smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"First, I want a Darkness Essence. Silver or Gold Tier."

Marshal Vancaws nodded once. "Done."

"And I want exclusive rights to a Rift for a year."

The smile on Marine's grandfather's face faded, replaced by a deep frown. "Exclusive rights? You mean making you the only person allowed to enter?"

"Exactly, sir."

"That's quite a difficult request," Vancaws said, his voice hardening. "Which Rift do you have in mind?"

"None that has been currently mapped," Seth replied. "I want the next unexplored Silver or Gold Rift the crown's scouts discover. Just for me. For a year."

Marshal Vancaws stared at him, the silence stretching on. This time, he did not smile. Instead, he looked at Seth with a cold and stern expression.

"The crown's scouts report directly to the king," he finally answered, tapping his fingers against the table he was leaning on. "Every Rift they find is logged, categorized, and stripped of their valuable resources within the week. Do you really think King Theron, with the current situation, would hand over something like that to me? That'd be foolish to believe so, young man."

The marshal shook his head, before pausing and thinking out loud. "However, if I ask..."

Seth watched the old man's jaw tighten. He saw the hesitation there. The cost wouldn’t be negligible, whether it meant diverting his elite private scouts, or perhaps bribing enough people to keep the information from reaching the king.

For a heartbeat, Seth considered lowering his demand just to make sure he would get something… but he kept his mouth shut. He wanted this. He needed this. A private hunting ground: somewhere he could grow without looking over his shoulder. It would allow him to reach his true potential.

Marshal Vancaws studied him for long seconds, likely weighing the potential of a Legacy against the cost of finding such a Rift. At last, the old man exhaled loudly through his nose.

"Fine. My personal scouts will prioritize finding an undocumented Silver or Gold Rift. If they find one, it is yours for one year. Off the books. No interference. Just you and whomever else you want to bring inside."

Seth let out the breath he'd been holding. "Then we have a deal, sir."

"Do not disappoint me, young man," the marshal warned, his voice regaining its steely edge. "I won't go back on my word… and neither should you."

That said, he turned and strode toward the door. Marine lingered for a fraction of a second, her gaze remaining on Seth.

As she passed him to follow her grandfather, she leaned in, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "I knew you were special, Mister Genius."

Seth met her eyes, mustering a fake smile. "And I knew you were trouble."

Marine let out a soft laugh and slipped out. The moment the heavy wood clicked shut behind her, silence reclaimed the room. The suffocating weight of the marshal's aura vanished and the adrenaline holding Seth upright drained away in an instant, leaving him lightheaded.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. He had just struck a bargain with one of the most dangerous men in the kingdom. Now that man would expect Seth to become one of the most useful soldiers during the Iron phase.

Slowly, Seth turned toward the bed. It was a flat, miserable thing, but at the moment it looked like the most comfortable place in the world.

"One problem at a time," he muttered.

He crossed the room and collapsed onto the mattress, not even bothering to take off his boots. Exhaustion swallowed him whole.

Tomorrow, the war began. This was the last day in a while he wouldn't have to sleep with an eye open.

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