Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

'You should wait here and ambush him,' Nightmare suggested from within his teardrop as Seth set his gray training uniform on a bench in the coliseum’s empty locker room.

Seth shook his head. 'I’m not keen on getting expelled. And also, I can’t beat him without your help—especially with all the leeches that always hang around him.'

'Then let me out.'

'And maybe expose Link to everyone? No thanks,' Seth answered, taking off his jacket, shirt, and pants. 'There’s certainly a reason my father told me to keep it hidden. Who knows what kind of trouble that could bring?'

The direwolf grumbled and sat within the teardrop’s domain while Seth examined his training uniform: an all-gray, one-piece suit with two black stripes running from the ankles to the wrists. The fabric was soft, stretchy and breathable—almost too perfect for physical training. The moment he slipped it on, it clung to his body like a second skin and tightly hugged his muscular frame. It was more comfortable than he had expected, but far too form-fitting for his taste.

"I feel naked," he muttered, tossing his academy's uniform into one of the wooden boxes lining the wall.

'And I'm naked every day of my life. What's the big deal?' Nightmare quipped.

'You're a beast,' Seth retorted, looking down at his crotch then craning his neck to see his butt. 'It’s different.'

'Nah, I'm just better looking.'

Seth blinked a few times, then shook his head and left the changing room. 'Yeah, sure.'

Stepping into the open coliseum, Seth surveyed the surroundings. The large stone platform used during the welcoming ceremony was gone, now replaced by five broad white rings drawn onto the clay floor.

Off to his left, two girls in the training uniform stood near the wall, which surprised him a little since the class wouldn’t start for another thirty minutes. As he approached them, he gave them a brief nod, taking care not to stare and come off as a creep.

Soon enough, the rest of the class began trickling into the circular arena, joining them on the side. Seth took that opportunity to quietly observe his classmates and analyze the dynamic among them. Four students immediately stood out: Lucius with his blond ponytail, a tanned young man with shoulder-length black hair, a platinum-blonde girl, and the Surani House's goddess. Unlike the three others, the latter was the only one not surrounded by a small crowd—probably due to the icy glare she shot at whoever dared to come near her or the dark-haired girl by her side.

To Seth’s surprise, no one else seemed to be bothered by the figure-hugging uniforms. Such attire was most likely common, and he just hadn’t come across them due to Sunatown's lack of combat Wielders.

As the last students arrived, loud footsteps echoed through the arena; a group of six instructors appeared from the coliseum’s entrance. Five of them wore the academy's dark teacher uniform, while the last one, a tall man with broad shoulders and a bald head, sported a formal suit: a deep-blue jacket decorated with intricate gold-and-silver braiding along the sleeves and collar, medallions hanging from the chest pocket.

A pristine white shirt with a high collar and ruffled cuffs peeked out from beneath his jacket sleeves. His matching navy pants, adorned with similar braiding, were tucked into tall, polished boots that reached just below his knees. Even though Seth had never seen the military uniform of Kastal before, he knew this had to be it.

"Welcome, students!" the man’s voice boomed through the open arena. "I’m Captain Michaelson, your instructor for your Combat Theory course. I’m a Gold Paladin who fought in the Red War. My job here is to make sure that when you first set foot on the battlefield, you won’t die miserably like most rookies do."

Seth's eyes widened at the mention of the Red War. He had heard stories about the brutal conflict with the Bridan Empire fifteen years prior. Commoners had nearly revolted against the crown for sending them, instead of nobles, to die on the front lines—which wasn't really surprising coming from the Houses.

"A Paladin?" someone behind Seth whispered.

"If you have a question, you raise your hand, Commoner!" the captain bellowed, his face hard as stone. "For the ignorant, Paladin is a subclass of Guardian that specializes in light and healing spells."

Not a fan of commoners then, Seth noted internally.

Captain Michaelson gestured to the three men and two women standing in line behind him. "These are your instructors for the session," he announced before pointing at each of them. "Professor Mate for the Elementalists, Professor Daty for the Rogues, Sergeant Tirus for the Warriors, Sergeant Faertis for the Guardians, and Professor Ryehill for the Priests."

Seth’s lips tightened. No instructors for the Primalists. Great.

"Some lessons will be held collectively, but most of them will be with your respective instructor—like today."

Captain Michaelson unclipped the purple Endless Pouch at his belt and drew out a strange silver belt with a blue buckle, featuring two glass-like chambers on the sides. "This," he continued, "is a Protecting Belt. When activated, the aether inside forms a barrier around you and keeps you from dying during training. The amount of uniums you’ll be allowed will be determined by your instructor based on your Toughness."

As the man began handing out a belt to each student, Seth recalled Professor Reat mentioning something similar during the selections while explaining how his own barrier spell worked. Accepting his belt, Seth ran his fingers over the intricate runes etched in the buckle and the two sturdy chambers that would house the aether before casting Identify.