Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

Clad in his leather armor, Seth ran down the dirt road with Nightmare by his side. His dark green cloak swayed slightly behind him, partially concealing the large bag packed with beaststones on his back. The morning rays cast a warm glow upon them as the forest around them buzzed with life, birds chirping and leaves rustling with each breeze.

'Was this where you got attacked by the bandits?' Nightmare asked, breaking the silence between them.

'Yeah,' Seth replied with a nod. 'That bandit would’ve killed me if that girl wasn't there.'

The direwolf noticed Seth's expression and immediately nudged him. 'That was back then. Now, you’d totally rip them apart, even without my help.'

'Yeah, I know.' Seth smiled before pushing him back. 'But I bet you’d jump in anyway.'

'Probably.'

Over the past month, bandit ambushes had been on the rise according to several Wandering Merchants that had visited the town. The new taxes and political changes of the House Faertis were suffocating not only for non-Wielders, but also non-combat Wielders—and desperation was a wonderful fuel for crime, regardless of one’s nature. One merchant had even recounted being attacked by an entire family: the father wielding a stolen sword, the mother with a makeshift spear, and the children throwing rocks.

As Seth kept using Identify repeatedly on the trees on each side, he seemed to notice a tiny change. It had become such a routine for him that he hardly needed to think about it anymore, but now the casting felt even smoother and effortless.