Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

Perched atop a slanted roof and hidden behind a chimney, Seth kept a watchful eye on the Sleeping Ox below. The tavern was bustling with the evening crowd, but his focus remained locked on two men standing near the entrance.

He had been observing them all day. One was tall and lanky, with a nervous twitch in his eye, while the other was shorter and stockier, his bald head gleaming under the setting sun rays. Their stiff posture and restless hands made them stand out.

They had arrived around three o'clock—impatient, checking the street corners every few seconds, clearly waiting for a specific appointment. Seth had been watching them for hours, noting how their impatience curdled into panic. By now, it was obvious—they were Frank and Croll.

​​For reasons unknown, the next victim mentioned in the message never showed, and the two men were growing increasingly anxious.

Seth frowned. Did he get cold feet? Maybe the rumors about disappearing adventurers finally reached him?

Or perhaps the blonde Elementalist had returned and warned people, spooking the prey before they could walk into the trap.

Whatever the reason, the target was gone, and the hunters were getting desperate.

As the afternoon waned, the two men had abandoned their post and started approaching random Wielders entering the tavern, aggressively offering their services. It was sloppy. They looked less like professional mercenaries and more like predators starving for a meal.

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the cobblestones.

'This is dragging on,' Nightmare muttered inside the teardrop necklace. 'Just kill them.'

'I can't attack them in the middle of the street,' Seth replied, watching the stocky one grab a passerby's arm only to be shoved away. 'Too many guards. I need them to move.'

Finally, the two men seemed to realize the futility of their situation. With a shared look of frustration, they stepped away from the tavern’s light.

Seth phased into Illusionary Emptiness, slipping from shadow to shadow as he stalked them from the rooftops. As he drew near, the murmur of their conversation reached him.

"I don't get it," the tall, lanky one hissed, a nervous twitch pulling at his eye. "He was supposed to be here. We’re offering a better price than everyone else."

"Forget him," the shorter, stocky one snapped, rubbing his bald head anxiously. "If we go back empty-handed, the Boss will skin us alive. We need to find a stray."

"I damn well know that," the lanky one man retorted, checking his pocket watch with trembling fingers. "But it’ll be even worse if we tell him the fish didn’t bite and we missed the meeting."

Fish. The word hit Seth like a powerful punch. The same code word the Rogue had used in her messages. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

Steeling himself, Seth moved carefully, his senses on high alert, dipping in and out of Illusionary Emptiness to conserve some aether. The duo led him to a run-down part of the city, where the buildings leaned on each other like tired trees and the cobblestones streets were replaced by dirt alleys.

Eventually, the men stopped in front of an old warehouse—a ramshackle structure standing alone like a last sentinel in a dying neighborhood. After glancing around nervously, the two men slipped inside.

Seth took a slow, steadying breath. This was his chance to know more about those people—and possibly prevent other victims.

Once again becoming invisible to the naked eye, he followed them in the warehouse like a whisper in the night.

Inside, the high wooden ceiling stretched high overhead, casting deep shadows across the floor and over the stacks of large wooden crates. Half a dozen men and women stood in the middle of the place, their voices echoing through the cavernous building. Seth climbed swiftly and silently, finding a vantage point above them on the wooden beams to hear everything.

From his elevated position, he could clearly see each member of the group. A tall man with a scar on the left side of his face paced back and forth, exuding a firm authority. His hair, slicked back with grease, hung in dark strands, and his eyes, cold and calculating, swept over the others as they waited in silence.

Probably the leader, Seth thought.

A moment later, two other men entered the building and joined the group, keeping their heads low. The leader’s scarred face immediately contorted with rage. "You’re fucking late again!"

Both men immediately bowed, and the shorter one, whose blond hair was cropped close to his scalp, tried giving an explanation. "Sorry, boss, the fish never came and we tried to catch another, but we—"

"But you couldn't find anyone, again!" The man lashed out and kicked the empty wooden box next to him, shattering the thing. "If you suck so bad at your job, at least be on damn time!"

As the two men nodded in silence, the boss’ heavy brows knitted together, and he turned to the others. "Any news on Quill or Nyra yet?"

A red-haired woman with a tight braid stepped forward. "No, nothing. We checked their houses like you asked. Nothing has been touched."

"Could the Fishlords have double-crossed us and killed them?" asked the short bald man Seth had followed.

The leader shook his head, his gaze sweeping the group. “No… I’m not buying that. Something went down in that Rift. The bastard who saved that blond brat probably killed them.”

“The one with golden eyes?” another muttered. “But how the hell do we find him? That dumb kid didn’t even cast Identify on him.”

The lanky man with a twisted grin next to the bald man leaned closer. “Golden eyes, huh? Couldn’t it be that student of Trogan? The one Lucius Faertis wants dead?”

Seth's heart skipped a beat.

Another scoffed immediately. “No. He also has golden eyes, but that brat’s Rank 17. He couldn’t even survive a single day in the Fishlords Empire Rift.”

“Maybe that blond brat lied,” the red-haired woman cut in. “Maybe he did use Identify… and knows exactly who that fucker was.”

A scarred thug across her spat on the ground, lips curling into a sneer. “You should’ve seen his face when I was finished with him. He spilled everything he knew. And died with absolutely no secrets.”

“So you’re certain he didn’t have a sponsor Quill and Myra didn't know about?” the redhead pressed. “That could explain why we haven’t been able to get our hands on anything lately.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The leader waved off the idea. "Definitely not. That kid was flat broke. He could barely pay our usual fee. We've probably just fished out our… little puddle here. Might be time to head to Trogan, join the others there… get closer to our investor."

Listening, Seth felt his blood boil. The branch was bigger and better organized than he’d expected. They had connections, resources, and a network that spanned through Arthuri and Trogan—and now they knew about him. About his eyes.

The black-haired leader, though clearly frustrated, kept the group in line. "I'll run it by him—see if we head there or not. In the meantime, if I catch any of you slacking I'll make sure to gut you. And be on the lookout for any bastard with golden eyes."

With that, the man dismissed them, and each member slipped away into the shadows of the warehouse. Seth waited patiently for the right moment before climbing down from his perch and leaving the building.

Once outside, he spotted the leader heading toward a secluded alleyway. Seth edged closer, careful not to draw attention—until the man’s head suddenly snapped around, eyes narrowing directly on him.

Seth's heart skipped a beat. He’d been seen. No time to hesitate, he immediately cast Identify, and with a swift pivot, he bolted away into a sprint.

"Someone's here!" the Black Hounds' leader shouted behind, immediately giving chase. "It's an invisible Rogue! Find him through aether sensing!"

Seth activated his Nimble Ring and his blurred form flickering in and out of visibility from the abrupt movements as he wove through the shadows. He barely looked at the man's attributes, which were still in the corner of his vision.