Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

Seth vanished with Shadow Step.

An instant later, he materialized behind an Elementalist, Dusk Scythes still extending from his forearm like an executioner's tool. He drove it in the mage's back. The first blade shattered the protective layer of the woman's belt, the second punched through armor and flesh to exit through her upper chest in a spray of blood.

As the surrounding soldiers spun to retaliate, Colossus slammed into their ranks to get their attention. Simultaneously, Nightmare disappeared into Illusionary Emptiness and unleashed a howl that tore through the air and targeted the Priest, who was trying to heal the dying mage.

"Kill him!" a soldier screamed, panic cracking his voice. "He's isolated!"

"Look again!"

Selena and the other Kastal Rogues burst from the lingering smoke, blades wet with the blood of the ambushers they had just dispatched. They hit the rear of the force hard, targeting the archers and buying Seth the second he needed.

Seth ripped his blades free, then finished the Elementalist before weaving through a chaotic volley of fire lances and lightning bolts. Ahead, the Guardians and Priests wavered. They looked at the bodies, at Seth, and froze. Half their strike team was dead.

That hesitation cost them precious seconds.

The ground began to tremble, though it wasn't artillery this time; it was the rhythmic thunder of boots. Henry and the main Kastal force slammed into the battlefield with a roar at the same time a wave of arrows and spells lanced over Seth to strike the empire's ranks.

Seth's eyes found Selena in the melee, blood smeared on her cheek as she fought one of the archers with two other allied Rogues. Apparently, she'd signaled the squad leader the second the distortion field had fallen.

She saved us.

Seth stepped over the corpse of the Elementalist to dodge another barrage, one lightning bolt grazing his ribs and an arrow nicking his left ear. His Well, alongside Nightmare's and Colossus', was growing dangerously dry.

The smart move was to fall back—let Henry and the fresh troops handle the thirty remaining enemies.

Yet Seth's core thrashed in his chest, a savage rhythm that refused to stop. It scoffed at the idea. As if he could retreat. As if he could let others bleed in his place.

Ignoring all logic, he locked eyes onto the Elementalist standing near the Priest and surged forward.

A lance of roaring flame burst from the man's palm. Seth twisted aside—and at the same moment, shut his eyes.

He reached inward, tapping into the sensation he had found inside the sap of the crystallized tree: the void, the hunger.

He inverted the flow within his Well, turning it into a spinning vortex. It became a windmill that dragged at the surrounding aether with merciless pull.

Air warped around him.

The incoming fire unraveled mid-flight. Flames guttered and died, their structure stripped apart, their affinity torn free. The spell collapsed into raw essence and was devoured by the vacuum in Seth's chest.

Cold power flooded him and rushed through the newly carved grooves in his flesh.

His eyes snapped open.

Another spell screamed toward him—he ducked beneath it and kept running. Beside the Priest, Nightmare lunged in a blur of fangs and shadow.

Seth's Well filled back to eighty percent capacity in seconds, yet the physical toll on his body was staggering.

The aether grooves etched along his channels throbbed violently, strained to their limit by the rapid intake. Pain flared with every heartbeat. When the internal vacuum finally destabilized and collapsed, Seth redirected part of the energy through Link to refuel Nightmare and Colossus so they could keep the slaughter going.

Before the Elementalist could help the Priest against the direwolf's assault, Seth was on him.

The Dusk Scythes tore through the man's Protecting Belt in a spray of fractured light, and the barrier shattered like brittle glass. The Elementalist reacted on instinct, thrusting out a hand to unleash a close-range spell—

Seth slipped sideways, the blast scorching past his shoulder, and he answered with a reaper's sweep.

The blades of condensed shadow carved cleanly through flesh and bone. The man collapsed lifelessly, and the lingering Dark spell that had been wrapped around Seth, guttered, and faded as its duration expired.

No pause to take a single breath, Seth pivoted toward the last Elementalist of the trio.

Both Dusk Scythes and Armored Phantom Fist were on cooldown, so he decided to rely on the raw Strength and Agility boosts from Beastmaster Rage.

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He still used Shadow Step and Huntbound Rush for critical positioning, but he stopped dancing around every attack; instead, he let his Seed's innate resistance blunt part of the damage, trading injuries for aether efficiency.

Bleeding gashes split open across his torso and arms. Burn marks blackened his side. Ice bit deep into exposed skin.

Yet Seth didn't care.

All that mattered was closing the distance with the next enemy. And the one after that. He had to crush them. And come out at the top.

Across the sands, Henry and the others destroyed the remaining artillery before it could shoot again; once done, the Kastal main force finally crashed into the empire's crumbling line.

Colossus became a kinetic bulwark of terror. He anchored Kastal troops, spreading Deathcoil Venom and stunning clusters of soldiers with Scorpion Charge. He remained close to Selena, using his massive frame to shield her from stray spells—a repayment for her having saved his packmate. Nightmare, meanwhile, was a streak of lethal darkness, flickering in and out of Illusory Emptiness, leaving nothing but open throats and panic in his wake.

Kastal forces surged around them under the barked-out orders from Henry. The squad leader slammed the butt of his weapon into the ground, releasing a multi-target Strength-boosting spell that rippled through nearby allies, their muscles swelling with new power. Then Henry roared—a thunderous, intimidation-laced shout that boomed across the battlefield like a shockwave. Imperial soldiers flinched, some staggering as the will drained from their limbs, their coordination faltering just as Kastal's empowered troops crashed into them.

The momentum shifted in no time.

The empire's early advantage crumbled beneath Kastal's superior numbers—and beneath the relentless fury of Seth and his beasts.

Lines that had first resisted the pressure now began to collapse.

Seth drove deeper into the melee, carving a brutal corridor through steel and flesh. Pain screamed from every one of his wounds—burns, gashes, torn muscle—but he buried it beneath instinct and rage. Each swing of his fists brought him another step forward. Each kill widened the fracture in the enemy ranks.

The empire's formation buckled. Then it broke.

The distortion field disappeared as the soldier wielding the artifact prioritized survival over duty. The overbearing pressure vanished from the battlefield in an instant.

And with it, the last shred of imperial resolve.

The rout began.

One soldier crushed an Escape Scroll, vanishing in a desperate flash of white light. Two more followed. The empire might execute them for cowardice, but that possibility paled in comparison to the monster breathing down their necks.

The last three survivors, whose Endless Pouch had been cut off from their belts during the melee, broke formation and sprinted into the open desert.

While Henry and the others gave chase to the two on the left, Seth went for the Rogue on the right with Nightmare.

Beastmaster Rage flickered and died two steps later—the withdrawal hit him like a physical blow, sapping his Toughness and leaving his body screaming as his Agility returned to normal. Yet, he didn't halt. He snatched a Healing Potion from his pouch, uncorked it with his thumb, and downed the bitter liquid between two strides to alleviate some of the pain.

He had to prove that this battle would not be the bloodless victory the empire had been expecting. That each time their men stepped into a Warfare Rift, there was a chance they wouldn't come back.

This grim game had a cost for both nations.

Nightmare streaked ahead, paws barely touching the hard-packed sand.

He closed the distance in seconds. The fleeing soldier risked a glance over his shoulder—just in time to see the direwolf crash into him. The impact hit like a battering ram. The man was ripped off his feet and slammed into the ground, breath exploding from his lungs in a ragged gasp.

Nightmare didn't immediately follow up to finish him; instead, he slowly crept closer. A rumbling growl vibrating from his chest, and black smoke leaked from between his teeth—Gloom Fangs simmering to life. The corrosive spell dripped from his maw and sizzled against the sand like acid.

"I s-surrender!" the Rogue cried, voice cracking. He flung his dagger away and raised his hands, eyes locked on the direwolf.

Seth approached at a measured pace.

Nightmare flicked a glance toward him through Link. 'Do we really spare him or—'

The soldier moved first.

His defensive posture broke apart as his hand darted to his belt and reached for a hidden dagger.

'Nightmare!'

Seth's warning surged through Link a heartbeat before the Rogue lunged, blade aimed straight for the direwolf's chest.

Nightmare reacted on pure instinct and cast Shadow Step to reappear within the soldier's shadow, causing the blade to slice through empty air. Before the man could turn around, the direwolf snapped his jaw around the Rogue's calf.

Flesh melted, bone crunched.

The man's scream tore across the desert as the direwolf wrenched his head sideways and ripped a thick strip of flesh free. Blood sprayed out.

Nightmare released and moved back, chest heaving. The two spells had nearly drained all of his remaining aether.

The Rogue collapsed, clutching his shredded leg, writhing in the sand with panic in his eyes.

Seth picked up the first dagger the man had thrown aside and walked closer. The second blade slipped from the Rogue's fingers as terror finally overrode any hope of deceit.

"Fine! Fine!" the man sobbed, hands raised again, this time shaking uncontrollably. "I surrender!"

Seth loomed over him, jaw tight, knuckles white around the dagger.

"You just tried to deceive me," he answered flatly. "Tried to kill my friend."

"Your—your friend?" the Rogue choked, pain twisting his features.

His gaze shifted, then landed on Nightmare. For a heartbeat, disbelief flickered there. The beginnings of a scoff touched his lips before dying down as he looked back at Seth.

Seth's expression was frigid. His core throbbed violently inside his chest, asking for blood, asking for yet another life.

"You… you can't kill me," the Rogue stammered. "I surrendered!"

"Who says I can't?" Seth asked, crouched next to him like a predator next to its prey.

The Rogue blinked. "Wh-what?"

"You had a chance." Seth's voice was devoid of any warmth as he turned the blade in his hand. "You wasted it."

"There are unwritten rules!" the man shrieked. "You can't just—"

Seth silenced him with a single slash.

His dagger slid through the Rogue's throat and blood sprayed out. The man gagged, his hands flying to his neck in a futile attempt to hold his life in. A few seconds later, he collapsed, and the desert around them went silent.

Seth wiped the dagger on the dead man's tunic and let it fall beside the body before standing up.

"You set the standard," he muttered to the corpse. "You have no one to blame but yourself."

Then he turned away and began to walk back toward Henry and the others, boots grinding against the hard-packed sand.

The Bridan Empire had used an Artificer device to block Escape Scrolls—trapping them here on purpose. And one of their own had killed Alfred even if he had surrendered.

They'd wanted to send a message.

Seth's jaw tightened.

If that was the way the Empire wanted to fight, he would answer in kind. He wasn't going to behave like a compliant soldier bound by convenient rules while his enemies twisted those rules to suit themselves.

They would reap what they had sown.

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