Seth stood up and gently woke Nightmare, then checked once more to be sure the pup would stay out of the Wicked Forest while he was gone. Afterwards, he grabbed his old leather bag, which contained everything he needed for his trip: clothes, his father's encyclopedia, his hunting knife, bow, quiver, and some arrows.

Since he would be away for at least three days, Seth covered his small shelter with branches and leaves, hiding it the best he could. With a sigh, he slung his bag over his shoulder and left for Sunatown.

For the past two weeks, he'd managed to avoid almost everyone except Sericar by going to the market early in the morning. But his awakening wouldn't stay a secret forever—sooner or later, words would spread. And he knew it would be better if he told Mael himself.

After the selections, he thought.

Sticking to his usual routine, Seth practiced his aether control as he walked, casting Identify on various things around him while keeping his Well below twenty percent. The moment Sunatown's wall came into view, he changed course to head toward the west gate—the meeting point with Renwal, Mael's master and the town blacksmith.

The man visited Arthuri once every four weekends to sell his extra tools, which, unfortunately, happened to coincide with the start of the selections this month.

As Seth reached the large wooden gate, he spotted Renwal standing beside an old, covered wagon, two brown horses harnessed at the front. The bald man was short but massive—thick thighs, broad shoulders, and a sizable stomach. Probably from too much beer. It would be a great idea to switch to drinks made with Marcus' pure alcohol instead.

"Hey, Renwal," Seth said, approaching.

The blacksmith turned, and Seth noticed instantly how the buttons of his linen shirt struggled to somehow contain his belly, receiving barely any help from the two loose suspenders attached to his belt. Sadly, the man's long, braided, red beard only covered the top half of the shirt's bulging gaps, leaving his hairy belly button exposed for all to witness. "Hey, boy. Good to see you."

"Good to see you too," Seth answered. "Need help with anything?"

"No, I was just waiting for you. Let's get moving." Renwal climbed up onto the front seat behind the horses, where his large hips took ninety percent of the available space. Obviously Seth would have to walk. "It would be best if we get there before dark."

Seth dropped his bag under the wagon's worn white cover, which was riddled with holes. "Have there been any recent attacks?"

"There have, yes. So better be safe than sorry," Renwal replied, tugging on the leather reins.

Both horses instantly began to advance, dragging along the loaded wagon. Looking at the blacksmith and the goods behind, Seth felt bad for the horses. That's quite a lot of weight.

Walking beside the left front wheel, Seth stayed close enough to Renwal to converse. It would be better to tackle the inevitable questions about the incident with the tax collector now, rather than endure twelve hours of awkward silence. Despite his looks, Renwal was known for being quite a talker—especially when it came to others' lives. His smithy was practically a rival to Sunatown's tavern in terms of gossip and news, covering everything from the local love affairs, to serious matters like conflicts between Kastal's royalties and the nobles.

"Everyone's been guessing what truly happened," Renwal began, his voice carrying evident concern. "Are you okay talking about it? People are worried, myself included."

Seth's footsteps faltered for a moment, and his shoulders felt more heavy as he took a deep breath in. Two weeks hadn't been enough to completely dull the guilt, grief, and burning anger.

"Marcus gave me a gift from my father for my birthday," Seth said, keeping his golden eyes on the road ahead. "But the tax collector didn't believe it was a gift, so he ordered me to pay an additional tax. And I didn't have enough coins."

"So he burned your house down?" Renwal exclaimed, his knuckles whitening around the reins. "Because of a gift? Bloody hell, I thought you'd punched him or something."

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Seth's mouth. "Punch a Wielder? I'm not that dumb."

"You should've fought back!" the blacksmith snapped, throwing one hand in the air. "You should've grabbed his sword and chopped that bastard's legs off! He burned your house, for Gaia's sake!"

"And end up like the Iron Thief? No thanks."

Renwal's eyes widened, and a look of embarrassment spread across his face. "Oh, right. I forgot about that."

Saying the name instantly took Seth back to his childhood, seeing himself in bed while his mother sat next to him, a book in her hands. How many times had she read him that story? He could almost hear her voice now, recounting the tale. During an after-war celebration, when everyone had been distracted, a Rank-60 Rogue had stolen the Platinum sword of Kastal's king. With the new weapon at his belt, the man had begun to pillage towns and cities; the citizens fleeing without offering any resistance, afraid of the blade's might.

One day, a Wielder had decided to stand up against the Rogue and fight, forcing him to use the sword. But halfway through his first swing, the thief had suddenly died.

In the version of Seth's mother, his body had turned into dust before being swept away by the wind. Mael's mother, on the other hand, claimed a gigantic flame had shot up from the ground and burned him down in seconds, leaving only a pile of ashes behind. Every mother had their own version, but despite the differences, the end was always the same: the thief died.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

And it had been entirely his fault.

Wielders could use many enchanted items and spells, but they couldn't go above their Tier. The thief had learned that the hard way. Even for a Rank 60 at the peak of the Iron Tier, using even a Silver weapon would have been fatal—let alone a Platinum one. That was why Seth's father had specified that the Keystone and Link wouldn't kill him.

As they continued down the road, the initial tension eased, and Renwal's natural inclination toward small talk kept the silence at bay.

"Mael's pretty jealous of you," Renwal said with a crooked smile. "He's been asking me all week to bring him along so he could come watch the selections with you."

Seth bit the inside of his lip. Lying to his only friend made him feel awful.

"Sericar told me the first ones of the year are quite boring," he said, trying to make sure the blacksmith stayed away from the selection. "Only the weak Wielders participate in those. He'd be better off coming next month to see the good ones."

Renwal chuckled. "You'd better watch that mouth in Arthuri, boy, or you'll get your ass kicked. There's no such thing as a weak Wielder. They're all powerful."

Seth and Renwal had covered a little over three-quarters of the total distance in the last nine hours, yet the monotonous landscape remained unchanged. Flat, weedy plains stretched endlessly to the horizon, devoid of any hills, trees or streams.

Since they had left, Seth had been discreetly using Identify on herbs and rocks along the dirt road, hoping to improve his aether manipulation without Renwal noticing. And so far, he'd made good progress; the spell now only took him three seconds to cast. Sure, it wouldn't be useful against rich nobles with concealment artifacts, but he knew it would make a difference in the Wicked Forest.

"Hey, boy," Renwal said, still sitting on the wagon's front seat. "How much longer are you going to keep your awakening a secret?"

Seth's heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?"

"How dumb do you think I am?" Renwal asked, smirking. "You've been staring at random stuff every few seconds ever since we left. If you aren't Identifying them, then you need Vandric's help, and fast."

Seth gulped and gave the man an awkward smile. There was no point in hiding it any longer. "Sorry, I just… didn't want anyone to know yet."

Horizontal wrinkles appeared on Renwal's forehead. "And why's that?"

Seth turned his gaze to the road ahead. In the distance, he saw how numerous tall trees rose on both sides, forming a dark wall along the horizon. Finally, they would get some time away from the relentless sun.

"Because I… uh, awakened as a Primalist."

"Oh."

Yeah. Oh. People would always react that way: pity, followed by an awkward silence as they searched for something positive to say. If they knew about Nightmare or Link, things would be different. But the direwolf and the spell were secrets Seth intended to keep for a long time.

The creaking of the wagon's wheels and the steady clops of the horses' hooves filled the silence, occasionally joined by the sound of crates bumping into each other in the back whenever the cart ran over a rock.

Finally, Renwal spoke up. "I kinda get why you've been keeping it to yourself. I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks."

Seth wasn't sure how long the man's mouth would remain shut, but it certainly wouldn't last months. He now held in his hands one of the juiciest pieces of gossip of Sunatown. If Seth had to guess, everyone would know in about a week. He would need to tell Mael before that. Learning it through the blacksmith would certainly make everything worse… with good reason.

"Even if your class sucks, you are still a Wielder!" Renwal exclaimed, trying to sound encouraging. "You can use aether! I'm sure you'll find your Path!"

Seth forced a smile. "Yeah, I hope so."

Back to his usual chatty mood, Renwal began asking questions again. "Mael mentioned a few weeks ago that you were still short on coins for a stone. So, I'm guessing you awakened with your very first one?"

"Yeah, exactly," Seth answered, glancing at the forest now looming ahead. "I told you the tax collector burned down my place because I didn't have enough coins to pay the gift tax. But the truth is that he didn't believe I awakened with a single stone. He thought I lied and used several without paying the awakening tax."

"Damn, boy, never met someone so lucky and unlucky at the same time!"

"Yeah," Seth muttered, rubbing the back of his neck before turning to the blacksmith. "Have you ever tried to use a stone?"

The answer was obvious—everyone in Sunatown with the coins had tried at least once. Seth used to believe that it made complete sense, since it was a one-in-ten chance of changing their fate. But then he had learned the heartbreaking truth: needing an average of ten stones wasn't the same as having a one-in-ten chance. The odds of awakening on the first attempt were much lower than that, and for most people of Sunatown, that was all they could save for.

"I've been trying for the past twenty years," Renwal said with a sigh, his gaze drifting to the clouds above. "Selling extra tools and weapons in Arthuri has allowed me to buy a couple of stones."

"What?" Seth's head snapped toward the man. Besides Vandric and Marcus, who were non-combat Wielders, the blacksmith was clearly the highest earner in town, but a couple of stones was still a lot. He had always assumed the man was wasting it on beer and food. "How many stones have you used so far?"

"This weekend, it will be my fifteenth."

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

Fifteen stones. Without having needed to pay for his mother's treatment, Seth could have been able to earn, at best, fifty common coins a year, and the blacksmith was currently making nearly three times that. One copper coin for the stone, plus fifty common ones for the awakening tax.

Renwal rubbed his bald head, clearly embarrassed by the number. "Have you ever been to Arthuri?"

"Not recently. Last time I was eleven," Seth replied, frowning in confusion at the change of subject. "Why?"

"You'll see when we get there that making money is a whole different game for Wielders," Renwal answered before pausing to duck under a low-hanging branch as they entered the forest. "If I somehow awakened as a real Blacksmith, I could easily make ten to twenty common coins a day with my craft. And that's nothing to what I could make if I somehow managed to get a Weaponsmith or Armorsmith subclass in the following years."

Even though Seth had rarely left Sunatown, he knew that was true—anything infused with aether sold for far more than normal equipment. Often, he had questioned Marcus about the reason why he had set his shop in a town without any deep-pocketed nobles, and the Alchemist had always given the same answer: to stay away from trouble. To him, Wielders were a constant source of headaches—especially the nobles. And based on the tax collector's behaviour, it made total sense.

As Seth and Renwal advanced deeper into the forest, the trees grew more dense, causing the sky to vanish behind a dense canopy of leaves. Giant bushes and the thick undergrowth lined the dirt road, obscuring everything except the sharp turn ahead.

Renwal tried to cheer him up while slowing the horses. "We'll be there in less than two hours, so keep—" Suddenly, the blacksmith pulled hard on the reins. "Stop!"

Frowning, Seth took a few more steps forward to see past the wagon. "Why did you stop? Is there—"

A girl and three—no, four—men were running toward them.

The girl, gripping a bow, kept glancing over her shoulder, her red ponytail whipping wildly each time. Seth's focus quickly moved to the men chasing her. All four were armed—two with pitchforks, one with a dagger, and one with a short sword.

Bandits.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.