Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

The woman remained frozen for several long seconds, eyes searching Marcus' face for even the smallest hint of deceit. Then she gave a faint shake of her head. She looked suddenly fragile—like someone too afraid to believe they had just been handed back something long lost.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a breath.

"That's impossible… She would have told me."

The words drifted into the room and broke apart.

"This is why he—no," she whispered as her voice cracked. "This is why they gave up on everything. All of it."

Marcus said nothing. He stood like a weathered statue, gaze fixed on a point somewhere past her shoulder. Calvin watched the exchange with every muscle drawn tight; beside him, Orwen and the others also held still.

"And Clarissa?" the woman asked, stepping forward. The predatory aura she had worn like a cloak since their arrival was gone.

"She survived for roughly ten years after Ulric's death," Marcus answered. "Then she passed away from aether erosion."

The woman immediately rushed toward him. "What? Why didn't you bring her to me? Or to any of the others?" Raw anger bled into her voice, and her hands curled into fists at her sides. "We could have stabilized her channels! We could have done something!"

"She didn't want me to." Marcus met her gaze with a weary expression. "She knew it would bring trouble to the boy. You know how stubborn she was."

The woman's shoulders slumped, and the fire in her eyes flickered and died. She pressed her lips together and leaned back against the heavy oak table. The silence that followed stretched thin, so Calvin cast a quick glance at Orwen.

The leader of the Champions of Chaos looked as tense as a drawn bowstring. If this woman had such a deep connection to Seth's parents, would she actually help them? Or would she simply take him away from Kastal entirely?

Finally, the woman looked back at Marcus. "I want to meet him."

"No," the Alchemist replied instantly.

"What? Why? I have every right—"

"It carries too much risk, and I don't see any benefit for him."

The woman let out a short, frustrated huff. "Fine. I'll find him myself." She turned her gaze over to Orwen, and a mischievous glint flashed through her eyes. "Mister future leader, how much for you to bring me to him?"

The Champions of Chaos' leader cleared his throat, hands shifting nervously on his belt. "Ah, ma'am, I'm not sure it would be a good idea to—"

The woman raised a hand, cutting him off without even looking anymore. Her focus locked next on Drack, who blinked in surprise. "Bald guy? How much?" Seeing the hesitation in the Crusader's face, she wasted no time and turned to Krystal, giving her an appraising once-over. "You, then? The beautiful Priest?"

"Ayleen... that's enough," Marcus grumbled, pinching the bridge of his crooked nose. "You have the information you wanted. Now, do we have a deal?"

Calvin's brow furrowed as the name Ayleen lingered in his mind for a moment. It struck a chord deep in there, as if he had heard it in some tavern tale, though the specifics remained frustratingly out of reach. He glanced at Orwen, Krystel, and Drack; the tension in their shoulders and the slight narrowing of their eyes confirmed they had felt the same. None of them could quite place the name, yet the weight of her presence suggested they should have.

"Oh, come on, Marcus," Ayleen protested, throwing her hands up in a dramatic sweep that made the aether around her bracelets hum. "I have every right to go see him. You can't keep me locked out of this."

The Alchemist dragged a hand down his face in deep exasperation. "You'll see him soon enough. Within the next few months, people from Draeria will likely find out that he exists. Once they do, I'll have to bring him here... or perhaps to Rhukshire."

Ayleen turned and began to pace. Her boots clicked against the floor and she stared at her own palm as if trying to decide her next move.

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"Oh, then I will prepare to—" She snapped her head toward Marcus. "Wait. Why would you let them find out about him? You've spent a decade hiding him. Why stop now?"

With a sigh, Marcus leaned against a nearby wooden chair. The old furniture creaked under his weight. "Don't you know what's happening in Kastal right now, Ayleen?"

The woman's eyes widened once more. "You're telling me you let him participate in that absurd backwater war? In the Iron phase?"

Marcus shrugged nonchalantly. "Do you think Ulric's son would simply walk away from a fight? Especially one on his doorstep?"

"He's just as stupid as his father, then," Ayleen answered. Beneath the clear annoyance, Calvin could hear a strange, buried fondness in her voice. She stepped closer to Marcus. "Did you at least offer him a way out? A chance to leave and skip the bloodbath?"

"I did," the Alchemist answered. "But he wanted to stay and protect his friends. He refused to abandon them to the Empire's meat grinder."

The irritation that had defined Ayleen's features for the past few minutes vanished. Her face softened, the harsh lines around her burn scar smoothing out. "Friends, huh?" she muttered. "So, he's actually been living a normal life? "

"For quite some time," Marcus answered before turning toward Calvin and the other members of the Champions of Chaos. "But he decided some people were worth putting himself in danger for. He chose to join the cause of a few hotheads living there, regardless of the cost."

A soft, genuine smile spread on Ayleen's lips—the first one Calvin had seen that didn't feel like a threat. "I already like him." She smoothed the front of her dark blue shirt and met Orwen's gaze. "Well, consider my part done. If you manage to bring that king down yourselves, I'll make sure the NEVAK recognizes your independence."

The leader of the Champions of Chaos stepped forward, a grin breaking across his face. Relief seemed to peel years from him as he reached out and clasped her hand.

"Thank you so much, ma'am. Truly. You don't know what this means to our people."

"Don't worry about it, it's nothing," Ayleen answered. She gently disengaged her hand with a dismissive wave before turning back to Marcus. "So... how old is the boy now? Eighteen?"

"He turned nineteen a few weeks ago," Marcus answered.

Ayleen planted her hands on her hips, chin lifting in mock offense. "Weeks ago? And I missed it?" She paused and narrowed her eyes at him. "At least tell me his name, Marcus. Don't be a stingy old bastard about that too."

The old Alchemist let out a long sigh. "It's Seth."

"Seth." The name left Ayleen's lips as a whisper that almost vanished instantly into the room. A heartbeat later, she spun toward Calvin, Orwen, and the others. "You're all members of his Adventurer Branch, right? So one of you must be close to him."

Orwen cleared his throat, shifting his weight. "Yes, he's our latest recruit, actually. My sister, Celine, is probably the closest to him. She's the administrator at the outpost where he turns in his hunting contracts, so she sees him on a regular basis. But Calvin here is the one who brought him into the branch. He knows the boy quite well."

Ayleen's focus snapped to Calvin. He felt the weight of her gaze, as if it was peeling back his skin to scrutinize the muscles and bones beneath. Despite all his efforts, despite how stoically he carried himself the rest of the time, he couldn't stop himself from gulping.

"Mmmm, not bad," she muttered under her breath. Then, at a normal volume, she continued, "How would you describe him, Ponytail? I don't care about his Class or his stats. He's obviously a Primalist—that's just his father's blood talking. How is he as a person?"

Calvin hesitated. Part of him wanted to paint Seth in the best possible light and ignore everything stupid the boy had been doing lately, but he dismissed the thought almost at once. The woman would likely smell a lie before it fully left his mouth.

"He's reckless," Calvin began, forcing his voice to stay steady. "Gets in over his head for stupid reasons more often than not. But usually those reasons are tied to something honorable. He has no tolerance for injustice. He's the kind of person who'd risk his life to save a handful of strangers just because he thinks it's right. And once he chooses a path, you won't talk him out of it. Truth be told, he'd probably rather die than bow to someone who hasn't earned or doesn't deserve his respect."

Ayleen tilted her head, a gleam flashing through her eyes. "So... a fool with some guts?"

On the right, Marcus let out a sharp scoff. "That's exactly how I would have put it."

Ayleen turned back to the Alchemist. "So you actually let him make his own mistakes? Let him grow on his own?"

"Yes." Marcus nodded, though his jaw looked tight. "I was more or less forced to."

Forced? Calvin's attention caught on the word immediately and rolled it over in his mind. The idea of anyone forcing Marcus to do anything felt absurd. Ayleen's eyes narrowed, clearly snagging on the same detail, but she chose not to press the issue.

"That's good," she said, her usual tone slipping back into her voice. She looked to Marcus. "Well, if this is all settled, I should get going. My trainee is probably about to walk out of the tower." The woman smirked. "You should meet her sometime. I'm sure she'd melt that frozen heart of yours."

"No thanks," Marcus grumbled under his breath. "If she's anything like you, I'll lose the few years I have left."

Ayleen rolled her eyes. "Your loss, old man."

The woman turned to Calvin, and for the briefest moment her scarred face softened. "Next time you see Seth, tell him I say hello. And tell him I'm looking forward to meeting him."

"I will," Calvin answered.

Ayleen turned and strode for the door, her boots clicking once more against the floor. After a few steps, she halted and glanced back to look at Calvin. "But I never gave you my full name, did I?"

From the corner of his eye, Calvin saw Marcus drag a palm down his face—as if he had seen the setup coming from miles away.

Ayleen ignored him completely, her lips curling into a proud, razor-sharp smile.

"I am Ayleen Velarys." Her voice carried the weight of someone who could make any queen or king kneel. "Slayer of three Gods' Champions and Pathfinder of the Celestial Flame."

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