Seth woke up early the next day, feeling unexpectedly refreshed despite his late-night reading. After dressing quickly, he slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and made his way through the academy's bustling halls, searching for his morning class: Wielder Class Theory for Primalists. Finding something in the vast maze-like building was never easy, but after several wrong turns and dead ends, he finally stumbled upon a small, fissured door in a desolate corridor. The number '5212' above its frame was barely legible.

Seth paused for a moment, wondering if he had taken a wrong turn, but then pushed the door open and stepped inside. The tiny classroom was in a terrible state, as if it hadn't been renovated in decades; the uneven floorboards creaked under his boots and he noticed paint peeling off the walls. The musty, damp smell that hung in the air and reminded him of Marcus' shop made him wrinkle his nose.

He took a seat behind one of the scattered desks, then took a moment to observe the three other students already there. The first was massive, built like a bear and easily standing over six and a half feet tall. His gray jacket was strained to the limit, barely containing the muscles and fat of his huge arms. But despite his intimidating size, his eyes looked kind, and a gentle smile curved his lips. The second student was a slim woman with short brown hair that didn't quite reach her ears. Legs splayed, she lounged in her chair, jacket hanging loosely from her shoulders. The last one was the complete opposite of the first: a skinny boy, no more than five feet tall and clad in oversized clothes that made him look like a child playing dress-up. Fidgeting with his quill and tapping his feet, he seemed unable to sit still for more than half a second.

Just as Seth was about to open his bag, the door swung open and a grizzled man with a bristling beard and a mane of tangled hair that seemed to have a life of its own walked in. His boots clomped heavily on the wooden floor as he made his way to the front of the room, where he stopped in front of the large blackboard.

"Good morning, students," the man said in a gruff voice. "I'm Professor Albert, and I'll be your instructor for this course." He then paused briefly to drop his weathered bag onto the front desk. "And before you hear it from someone else, I am a High-Iron Primalist."

'He's quite weak,' Nightmare scoffed in his wolf den.

'Yet he could still kill us in seconds,' Seth replied through their bond, defending the man.

"I know what you're all thinking," the professor continued, pacing around at the front of the room. "Why isn't he as strong as the other teachers? That's simple. The academy doesn't value Primalists. They see you as dead weight and won't pay for someone better. So you're stuck with me."

Seth glanced at the other students. None of them seemed surprised; just like him, they must have expected something like that.

The professor then pulled out a small purple crystal from his bag and held it up. "Before we start, the board asked me to show you the Primalists' ranking as a form of motivation. Personally I think that's stupid, but hey, my opinion doesn't mean shit."

Blue words shimmered into existence above the crystal.

First-Years Ranking (Primalist)

1st: Seth - Rank 15

2nd: Theodora - Rank 11

3rd: Dean - Rank 10

4th: Aran - Rank 9

'Rank 15? Weren't you Rank 14?' Nightmare's voice erupted in Seth's mind. 'Do they see my bonus attributes?'

'I don't think so. If they did, my Rank would be—' Seth's answer was cut short by a sudden outburst from the brown-haired girl.

"Which of you is Seth?" she demanded, glaring at them one by one.

"I'm Dean," the massive boy answered with a broad smile.

Seth sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "It's me."

The girl instantly wiped her forehead in mocking relief. "Thank Gaia you aren't the midget."

The small Primalist, named Aran by process of elimination, only responded to the verbal attack with a timid smile. Seth considered intervening for a moment but ultimately decided against it, glancing down at his own hand instead and filling Identify's grooves.

Seth

 

Class: Primalist

Rank: 15 (High-Copper)

Subclass: -

 

Core: Feral Instinct

 

Strength: 26 (+3)

Arcane Power: 22 (+4)

Toughness: 20 (+2)

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Well Capacity: 20 (+2)

Agility: 30 (+4)

Regeneration: 23 (+3)

Spells:

- Link [???〜??? (???)]

- Shocking Strike [Copper〜Uncommon (Standard)]

- Haste [Copper〜Uncommon (Standard)]

- Identify [Copper〜Common (Refined)]

Arcane Power went up to twenty-two… that explains the Rank 15, Seth realized while skimming through his attributes. He had cast Shocking Strike many times during his Combat Theory class and used a lot of aether with his Lighter, but it still felt odd. Weren't Primalists supposed to have to risk their life to gain attributes? Maybe it's because of the aether density here… oh well, I won't complain.

"Theodora, you should show some respect to people smaller than you," Professor Albert said before tucking the crystal back into his bag. "Or someone might teach you that the hard way. One of the strongest Wielders at Trogan's Adventurers Guild's outpost is even smaller than Aran here."

The girl's smirk faded, and the man's gaze then moved to Seth. "And you, Seth, it'd be best to give up on the idea of maintaining your standing in the overall ranking. Almost every year, the top-ranked Primalist tries to keep up with the other classes, then winds up dying from unnecessary risks."

"I'll keep that in mind, professor," Seth replied with a nod, even though he knew Link set him apart from regular Primalists.

'You gained an attribute yet I'm still stuck in here,' Nightmare grumbled. 'This must be your plan to close the gap between us.'

'Can't you just be happy for me?'

'Not a chance.'

"Alright, let's get started," Professor Albert said, leaning on the edge of his desk. "As you all probably know, Primalists' progress differently in Ranks from other combat Wielders. While the others gain attributes from aether training, spellcasting, and fighting, we thrive in the wild. Primalists grow faster than anyone else when exposed to real danger. We're a high-risk, high-reward class. Most of our progress comes from surviving in harsh environments with high aether density and by slaying arcane beasts. Artificial environments like here at the academy are better than nothing, but still doesn't compare to the wild. To truly progress and climb in Ranks, especially to break through the next Tier, you'll need to venture into those dangerous areas with an immense amount of aether, and that's where the risks lie."

The man's expression then hardened as he continued, "More danger isn't always better. Many Primalists have died by running into an Iron beast while still High- or Peak-Copper. Even if you're a Rank-20 Copper and that thing is a Rank-21 Iron, your chances of survival are almost nonexistent. The gap between Tiers is unforgiving with the bonus attributes."

Aran timidly raised his hand. "Then… how are we supposed to progress without getting ourselves killed?"

The grizzled professor laughed and stroked his wiry beard. "Well, you have several options. Fighting in a party is one. Sure, it reduces your attribute gains, but it's a fair trade for staying alive. You can also invest in powerful defensive gear that boost your Toughness, perhaps buy emergency potions, instant spell-scrolls, or Artificers' tools—if your budget allows it. And, of course, there are also spells and… um… contracted beasts."

"Contracted beasts?" Aran repeated, frowning. "What's that?"

"It's every Primalist's dream," the professor answered, a smile half-concealed inside his beard. "Contracted beasts are arcane beasts that have formed a contract with a Wielder and fight by their side for a set period—months, or sometimes even years."

Seth's golden eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat. This changes everything. I won't have to hide Nightmare.

Seth sat alone in the dimly lit library, towering shelves crammed with dusty books and ancient scrolls surrounding him. A lone lamplight cast shadows on his face as he set aside yet another old tome and reached for the next one from the mountain on his table, the musty scent of old parchment and ink assaulting his nostrils.

'You're being too cautious,' Nightmare grumbled for the third time in the last hour. 'Let me out.'

'No, not yet,' Seth said, flipping through the pages. 'Think about it. What if this necklace is worth a fortune? People would start asking questions or, worse, try to steal it. And also we don't know for sure if people will see a difference between a contract and that bond Link made. We can't risk anyone finding out about the bonus attributes. My father insisted in his letter about keeping all this a secret, and I have to assume he had a good reason.'

After his Primalists class, Seth had come straight in the library to see if he could find anything about artifacts with domains for beasts. So far, the information he'd found about contracted beasts was limited to the same generality: any Wielders, regardless of their class, could bond with a beast if they possessed the required contract for its Tier. But they could only hold a single one of those pacts at the time—except Tamers, a Primalist subclass, who could maintain up to three. Nothing, however, mentioned artifacts that could hide those beasts, like his twin-teardrops necklace.

Letting out a loud sigh, Seth dropped his forehead onto the book in front of him. 'Maybe I should check in the Enchanter's section.'

'Do as you wish,' the direwolf muttered.

Seth switched strategy and delved into the Enchanter's books for what felt like an eternity, skimming through the complex texts as fast as he could. Most explained how to enchant items, which was fascinating but quite useless for him. Then, just as he was about to give up, he finally stumbled upon a section about artifacts with a domain that could store living arcane beasts.

Beast-holder, Seth said inwardly, rereading the title above the paragraphs.

Nightmare growled. 'Beast-prison would've been a better name.'

Seth glanced at the old clock ticking ponderously on the wall; he needed to leave soon if he didn't want to be late for his next class, Military and History I.

Rising from his desk, he stretched his legs to get rid of the stiffness of his hour-long sit and gathered the books, stacking them neatly before returning them to their shelves. Once done, he then headed to the front desk, where the old librarian stood watchfully. Now that he had read about beast-holders, he could finally ask people about them without worrying.

The old man's gnarled fingers tapped softly on his desk while his bright purple eyes locked onto Seth. "How can I help you, son?" the librarian asked with a warm smile.

Seth nodded politely and cleared his throat. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but I was wondering if there are any books with concrete information about beast-holders—like how rare they are and how much they might cost."

The old librarian's eyes shot open. "Beast-holders? The artifacts that can contain arcane beasts?"

"Yes, exactly," Seth answered.

The man's brow creased thoughtfully for an instant, then he shook his head. "I'm afraid you won't find this type of information here. Artifact prices vary greatly, depending on demand and many other factors. You're better off asking a trustworthy Enchanter or Merchant."

I should have expected that, Seth thought, thanking the librarian before walking away.

Finding an Enchanter or Merchant shouldn't be hard, but finding one he could trust would be… That was going to be more complicated. If I don't want to wait for Sericar's visit in two to three months, the best would probably be to ask the administrator of Trogan's Adventurers Guild's outpost. With luck, he will be as friendly as Warsis.

'Well, at least we've got a plan, right?' Seth told Nightmare, trying to lift his spirits.

But the direwolf only answered with a growl, clearly not pleased by the idea of staying one more minute in the necklace.

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