The evening was cool and crisp as Seth stumbled out of the Rift, the sun barely visible on the distant horizon. Hand on his dagger's handle, he scanned the surroundings, especially the long shadow behind the massive rocks, yet found no sign of other members of the Black Hounds.

I've got probably a day or two before anyone realizes they're dead, he thought while setting off toward Arthuri, Nightmare still within the teardrop necklace. After taking care of them… I'll also need to find that blond Elementalist.

As Seth walked, he transferred all the loot from the two Black Hounds' Endless Pouch into his own to sell it later on. There were in total eight weapons—two Iron and six Copper—along with half a dozen armor pieces, eight sets of enchanted shackles, seven Escape Scrolls, and various resources. Although everything seemed valuable with their Uncommon- or Rare-grade, four blue vials stood out. Seth grabbed one of them and Identified it.

Ocean Tears

???

Tier: Iron

Grade: Epic

Iron Tier and Epic, just like the Domain Flower, he thought.

The fact that the Black Hounds were willing to sell humans for just a few vials meant each one was worth a fortune.

If Seth wanted to make them pay, he needed to uncover the organization location and gauge their strength. As much as he wanted revenge, charging in blind and getting himself killed would achieve nothing.

Warsis probably knows them, even if they do business at the request office, Seth mused. But it's still worth asking, maybe I can—Elena! Maybe she can ask someone from her House.

Seth retrieved his communication orb, and a series of messages from the noblewoman hovered within the crystal, flickering faintly and cutting through the dim light of dusk.

Elena: Hey, it's been two weeks. Are you alive?

Elena: Don't tell me you don't know how to use a communication orb.

Elena: It works the same way as an Endless Pouch. Just infuse aether inside.

Elena: You better have a good reason for not responding.

Elena: Jenna says she's going to kill you for not giving any news.

Seth's stern face softened and a smile crossed his face as he channeled aether into the orb, tracing each letter one by one, words appearing inside the clear crystal.

Seth: Sorry, I was in a Rift the past weeks and didn't get your messages.

Elena: Weeks in a Rift? You must smell terrible.

Seth: That's part of being a Primalist.

Elena: Please tell me you'll take a bath before coming back.

Seth: Probably.

Elena: Probably? I'm almost certain I can smell you from here.

Letting out a loud sigh, Seth came to a stop in the middle of the road. He had to find a way to ask her about the Black Hounds. Right now, everything else felt so… unimportant.

As Seth's fingers squeezed the orb, a new message appeared inside.

Elena: Are you okay?

Closing his eyes, Seth took a deep breath, wrestling with what to say. It wasn't the right moment to talk about how he felt when those bastards were still alive. He started writing a message, and after a few words he tried to erase it—but the orb still sent the message anyway.

Seth: I just have…

Elena's response was almost immediate.

Elena: Just have what? Seth, what's going on?

Seth stared at the orb, its soft glow casting a mix of light and shadow across his face. Telling her the whole story would just make everything even more complicated. As a noble, Elena would probably suggest leaving the matters to the local authorities. But could Seth really count on the Faertis House to pursue the Black Hounds? Certainly not.

Seth: Something happened in the Rift. And I'm working on solving the issue.

Elena: What kind of issue? Anything I can help with?

Seth: Maybe. Have you ever heard of an adventurers' branch called the Black Hounds?

There was a brief pause before Elena replied.

Elena: The Black Hounds? No, I haven't. Why? What happened?

Seth: Nothing important. Don't worry about it.

Elena: Okay, I'll still see if I can find anything about them. Until then please… be careful.

Seth: I will. Thanks.

Seth slid the orb back into his pouch, his gaze shifting briefly to the darkening sky, then he broke into a steady jog. In no time, the distant lights of Arthuri began piercing through the night's veil. Hopefully Warsis will have some answers, he thought. Because if not, I'll have nowhere to start.

As he neared the city's northern gate, he saw two guards flanking the entrance as always, their plate gleaming faintly under the lanterns above them. Each bore the crest of a black lion on a white shield set against a purple background—the emblem of House Faertis. Seth's eyes narrowed, and almost instantly he recognized the duo: they were the same ones who had nearly arrested him back when he'd come to the city with Renwal.

The crunch of gravel under Seth's boots broke the stillness of the night as he nodded at the guards. "Evening."

"Good—" The younger one's greeting faltered, then his expression darkened and his hand drifted toward his sword's hilt. "You're the Primalist. The one Lucius Faertis and the Seralp House are looking for."

A cold sensation rippled through Seth's Well, and almost immediately he funneled aether into Identify, casting the spell back onto both guards.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

???

 

Class: Guardian

Rank: 30 (Low-Iron)

Subclass: -

 

Strength: ???

Arcane Power: ???

Toughness: ???

Well Capacity: ???

Agility: ???

Regeneration: ???

???

 

Class: Guardian

Rank: 50 (High-Iron)

Subclass: -

 

Strength: ???

Arcane Power: ???

Toughness: ???

Well Capacity: ???

Agility: ???

Regeneration: ???

The older watchman intervened, grabbing the younger's arm. "Hold—"

But before he could finish, Nightmare sprang out of Seth's necklace, landing just before him. The direwolf bared his fangs with a loud snarl, black smoke curling from his maw's sides. Both guard's eyes widened, and they recoiled by a step.

'We can't win. Let's run,' Seth said, drawing out one of his daggers.

"Wait," the older guard said, his hand still clamped on his partner's wrist. "This is a misunderstanding."

"You think your beast scares me?" the younger watchman spat, disdain flashing through his eyes. "I'll kill it in sec—"

"Enough!" the higher-Rank Guardian barked, cutting the man off and glaring at him. "One more word and this will be your last day as a city guard!"

Visibly shaken, the younger man swallowed and shut his mouth. As Nightmare's low growl filled the silence, the older guard turned to Seth and bowed slightly. "Forgive us. You're more than welcome in the city."

Seth hesitated for a moment, but then summoned Nightmare back into his necklace. Giving the watchmen a curt nod, he sheathed his dagger and strode past them without a word. As he stepped through the city gate, he heard the older guard fuming behind him.

"He's a student of Trogan Academy, you idiot! And a damn Iron Primalist with a contracted beast," he roared. "What kind of backer or sponsor do you think he's got? Those two unofficial wanted contracts aren't worth the risk of both of us getting killed in reprisal."

Let's hope everyone else thinks the same, Seth thought, walking onto Arthuri's illuminated cobblestone streets.

Heading toward the Adventurers Guild' outpost, he wracked his brain, trying to recall the younger guard's Rank when he'd Identified the man nearly seven months ago. He was almost certain it had also been thirty back then. That soft cap must really be giving him hell, Seth thought.

During class, he had learned that every Rank ending in zero was tougher to break through than the others. Most Wielders didn't notice it much while Copper, but once they reached Iron or beyond, those Ranks were stuff of nightmares. At first, Seth had assumed that most people were stuck at the true caps of Tiers, but in reality, according to Professor Reat, for over eighty percent of them it was one of those soft caps that stopped their progress. Hopefully, that won't happen to me.

Seth continued to navigate through Arthuri's winding streets, and before long the outpost's familiar façade came into view in the distance. His pace quickened, but as he neared it, a white sign on the door stopped him cold.

'Closed Forever.'

An icy hand grasped Seth's heart. The Faertis, he thought, clenching his fists. They finally made Warsis give up.

Now, with the outpost closed, anyone looking to hire Wielders would have to go through the city's request office—where they could easily be tricked by groups like the Black Hounds.

'It'll open again when we tear that little House down,' Nightmare said from within the necklace.

'In what? Ten years? Twenty? We won't reach the peak of Gold Tier anytime soon,' Seth answered with a sigh, turning away from the door. 'It pisses me off that the interim leader of the Adventurers Guild does nothing about all this coercion.'

'Another good reason to leave the academy and hunt every day.'

With heavy steps, Seth crossed the street, heading to Renwal's favorite inn. As he pushed through the sturdy wooden door, the familiar aroma of beer and roasted meat enveloped him. The place wasn't as packed as it had been during his previous visits, but a decent amount of people still filled the room. Walking beneath the lanterns dangling from the massive wooden beams supporting the upper floor, Seth caught the eye of the innkeeper behind the counter, who greeted him with a nod.

"Good evening. What…" the man began before his voice trailed off as he stared at Seth's freshly healed wound on his torso for several long seconds, "... can I do for you?"

"A room for the night," Seth said, placing a common coin on the counter.

The innkeeper nodded and handed him a rusty key. "Second door on your right, upstairs."

The moment Seth turned toward the stairway, a familiar figure in the ocean of faces caught his eyes: Warsis, hunched alone at a corner table with half a dozen empty mugs in front of him. The man looked even worse than before: his open-fronted leather vest was completely stained, and his black hair and beard were matted as if he hadn't bathed in a month.

Seth made his way through the clusters of tables, and the moment he got closer, the outpost administrator looked up, eyes widening before locking on Seth's large torso wound.

"Seth? Bloody hell, what happened to you?"

"Evening, Warsis," Seth replied, taking the seat across from the man. "Hard fight. Guess I played with fire and got burned."

Warsis gave him a weak smile. "Well, at least you made it out alive."

Ambient noises of the inn seemed to fade as the two looked at each other for several long seconds. Seth could see the pain in the man's eyes. "I'm sorry about the outpost. I saw the sign."

Warsis sighed, gaze falling onto the empty mug in his hands. "I tried, boy. Tried damn hard. But the Faertis… a month ago, they hiked my property tax again and started threatening the few customers I had left. Every month, I bled more money. In the end... I had no other choice."

Seth's lip turned into a line, and a cold anger simmered in his chest. "I know."

"I don't want to leave," Warsis muttered. "Abandon the city… the people. How am I supposed to look Celine or Calvin in the eyes after this?"

Seth frowned. "Calvin? Calvin Reat?"

The bearded administrator nodded and glanced up, tears in his eyes. "You know him?"

"Yeah, he's one of the professors at the academy," Seth answered. "He's helped me out a lot since I got there."

"Oh, really?" Warsis feigned a hint of surprise. "What did he do?"

"Quite a few things," Seth replied. "But recently, he got me into a powerful branch to keep me safe from the Houses."

"Which one?"

"The Champions of Chaos."

Warsis' brow furrowed, deep lines marking his forehead, then he shook his head. "That's impossible, kid. That branch is the best of the best. They only take Peak-Silvers who can break into Gold."

"They made an exception because of Professor Reat—uh, Calvin," Seth explained. "He vouched for me and convinced them to accept me."

Warsis rubbed his scruffy face full of doubt. "Can I Identify you, kid?"

"Um, sure."

Almost instantly, Warsis' eyes went wide and his jaw nearly hit the table. "How…?" he mumbled, blinking repeatedly as if the spell had shown him an error. "Iron in half a year! As a Primalist! And you even got a subclass! Beastmaster? I never saw that one!"

Shit, my subclass, Seth thought, having completely forgotten it wasn't hidden by his necklace—only his core and his bonus attributes were.

'I'm never coming out again,' Nightmare growled. 'People will think you're my master.'

'Oh, relax.'

"You were Rank 14 when you left just over four months ago," Warsis continued, still trying to grasp what he had seen. "How did you grow in Ranks so fast? And even ascended!"

"I, uh, got a bit of help," Seth answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Somehow, I was able to form a contract with an arcane beast. My hunting speed is four or five times greater than it would normally be thanks to him."

"A contracted beast while being Copper? Your ass must have been blessed by Gaia, boy." Warsis sighed, then a smile appeared on his lips. "And the beast gave you a subclass?"

"That's the only explanation that makes sense."

The bearded man's smile then weakened, and he stared at the mug in front of him. "In half a year, you nearly caught up to me."

Seth's stomach twisted slightly at the sight of the outpost's administrator's crestfallen expression. He knew he shouldn't feel guilty for growing stronger, but still… The man was already at the bottom of the barrel, and Seth was pushing him ever deeper.

'Stop blaming yourself,' Nightmare said. 'Getting strong is our goa—'

"But that's great!" Warsis exclaimed, wiping his eyes before forcing a broad grin on his face. "Imagine what Rank you'll be in ten or twenty years!"

"Ten or twenty years?" Seth repeated, faking a puzzled face before cracking a playful smile. "Give me two or three, and I'll beat you-know-who's asses and hand your outpost back to you."

Warsis shook his head with a weary sigh. "That's if you don't get arrested first. Word is the youngest of that House put an unofficial bounty on you-know-who's head."

Seth rubbed the side of his neck. "Hopefully being a member of the Champion of Chaos will make anyone think twice before trying to do something."

"Yeah… hopefully," Warsis muttered.

They chatted for a while before Seth finally found the occasion to ask the question that had been burning in his mind. "Warsis, have you… ever heard of a branch called the Black Hounds by any chance?"

The outpost's administrator scratched his tangled beard, then shook his head. "Doesn't ring a bell. They are certainly not based in Arthuri. If they did I'd know about them. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing important," Seth answered with a casual tone. "Just had a small altercation with a few of them."

"A 'small altercation,' huh?" Warsis repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Reminds me of what Calvin used to say when he beat the crap out of people."

"We're different, I guess," Seth replied, rubbing his neck. "Anyway, how do you know Calvin Reat?"

The bearded man grinned, his eyes gleaming in the flickering lantern light. "I've known Calvin since he was just a kid. I watched him grow into one of the best, if not the best, Battlemancer of Kastal. He was barely eight when he told me he'd free Arthuri from the Faertis."

Seth leaned in, listening as Warsis related stories about Professor Reat's early life: how he'd grown up pretty much without a father, fought against the odds, and became the strongest Wielder in his year at the academy. Time slipped by and the conversation flowed, but eventually fatigue began to set in. Calling it a night, Seth shook hands with the outpost's administrator before heading upstairs, seeking the quiet solitude of his rented room.

After shutting the door, Seth peeled his clothes off and examined the wound on his shoulder. That Lancer was definitely more than they could handle, though he didn't regret trying to save the prisoners.

Staying away from stronger beasts to avoid some injuries wouldn't make sense for a Primalist—or any commoners. Without the wealth or resources to easily progress, taking risks was the only path forward. Playing safe meant falling behind.

And it would never be an option again.

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