Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

Seth strode through the dimly lit corridor leading to the arena, putting on his combat gauntlets and tightening their inner straps. His hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white, the skin stretched to its limit. Always the damn Faertis. The information Devus had just shared with him still lingered in his mind and fueled him with intractable anger.

Lucius' three cousins—in their second and third years—had also shown a sudden Rank growth. But for them, it wasn’t their Well Capacity that had increased, it was their Strength. That meant there was more than one type of enhancer involved, so the Fishlords likely weren’t the only beasts supplying them. Could the head of the Faertis House, Lucius' father, have taken the time to build and organize such a network while only relying on the blond-ponytailed noble and his cousins?

Definitely not, Seth fumed inwardly, his mind filled with images of the dead prisoners. Their whole House is involved.

'We should skip class and go after those Black Hounds,' Nightmare suggested, standing up inside the beast-holder’s domain. 'We’re long overdue for a hunting trip. It’s already been more than a month!'

Seth hesitated. They didn’t need to kill every member of the Black Hounds to disrupt their activities, but he remained skeptical of their current chances of succeeding even if they only went after the weakest. And he still didn't know in which Rift they currently operated.

'I’ll think about it after the match,' he then replied to the direwolf.

As he adjusted his gauntlets, he looked ahead and noticed a figure leaning in the hallway’s wall a dozen feet away from the arena entrance—there Marine stood, arms crossed, her scarlet noble uniform hugging her curves.

She pushed herself off the wall, lips curved in an obviously fake smile. "I have to say I’m very disappointed, Seth," she said, her blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "You never even considered my offer, did you?"

Seth exhaled sharply, barely restraining his irritation. The thought of throwing a fight just to win her favor—or a date—had never appealed to him, and it sure as hell did even less right now. "This isn’t the time, Marine."

"Oh, don’t say that," the noblewoman answered, stepping closer. "This is your last chance to change your mind. You’re up against an Iron this time. You could lose. And then you'd miss out on my offer, all because you wanted to win."

Seth clenched his fists. It made his blood boil how some nobles thought everything was allowed to them—that they could just toy with people’s lives without a second thought, treating them like pawns in their twisted games. "Move aside."

Marine didn’t budge, tilting her head as if studying him. "You know, it’s really sad how you’ve been avoiding me. Finding you is always so… inconvenient." Her gaze flicked over him, and her smile returned. "I almost asked a few people to look for—"

Seth’s gauntlet slammed into the wall beside her head and the impact cracked the stone, causing dust to drift down. His gaze burned with something feral as it locked with the noble’s.

"Move. Aside," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Marine’s eyes widened for a brief moment, then she let out a soft chuckle and stepped to the side with a graceful shrug. "So much rage," she mused. "What happened to you?"

Seth didn’t even glance at her when he walked past and replied, his voice flat and cold, "Nobles happened to me."

The moment he entered the arena’s bright sunlight, the deafening roar of the crowd greeted him. All the spectators in the higher stands were on their feet, cheering and shouting. With Jenna’s recent elimination, Seth was now the only remaining commoner in the competition—the last one representing the average citizen.

As he headed toward Captain Michaelson in the middle of the arena, Seth caught sight of the nobles seated in the lower rows. Their evident disdain made their thoughts obvious: to their eyes, he didn't belong here.

'Show them Shadow Step,' Nightmare growled. 'Wipe those smug looks off their faces.'

'No, I don't need it,' Seth answered, looking at his opponent near the captain. 'Notagainst her.'

Standing beside Captain Michaelson was a young noblewoman who exuded an air of arrogance that nearly rivaled Lucius’. Her brown hair hung neatly to her shoulders, and her polished leather armor gleamed in the sun, betraying its infrequent use—either that, or she’d forced her servants to polish it before the fight so she could look great.

While approaching the pair, Seth glanced at the finely carved bow slung over the woman’s back, then his gaze searched for any close-range weapons at her waist.

Nothing. Seems like Devus was right.

Seth had had trouble believing the Guardian earlier, when he had mentioned that she only fought with a bow, relying on her speed to stay at a distance from her opponents. Who would put themselves at such risk for no reason? It wasn’t like the weight of a dagger would hinder her.

That overconfidence will be her downfall, Seth thought, grabbing the Protecting Belt Captain Michaelson was holding out. "Thank you, sir."

Shimmering blue words materialized above them.

Seth (Primalist Rank 25) vs Veronica Durengar (Rogue Rank 23)

The noblewoman eyed him. "You’ve only made it this far because you haven't faced any Irons in your bracket."

Ignoring her, Seth nodded to the captain, then turned around and walked to his side of the ring while putting on the belt. After reaching the white cross painted on the ground, he spun on his heel, and his gaze momentarily locked onto Veronica so he could cast Intermediate Identify.