Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

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 director 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.