Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

Seth's eyes widened. Volantis. The name made him jolt, pulling him back to his visit to Asethka with Marcus—specifically the meeting with the Oracle Guild's Earl and the casual mention of his mother's homeland.

Was that why Seth's parents had come to Kastal? Had his father chosen this kingdom not because it was weak, but because it was a puppet of his mother's nation? A poor colony forced to send back all its valuable resources?

Or was that some sort of sanctuary, a place Draeria's soldiers wouldn't follow? Maybe it was the only place Volantis would have allowed his mother to go?

The storm of questions surged through Seth's mind, each one raising three more. Worse, he knew none of the answers were within his reach—at least for now.

A brief smile flashed on Kaelen's scarred face as the Dark Assassin's voice brought Seth back. "It seems you know that country."

"Yeah," Seth answered before looking away and staring up at the dark ceiling of the cavern.

Kaelen let out a scoff. "I'm guessing from your face that fighting for them instead of Kastal doesn't fill you with patriotic joy either."

"Not really," Seth admitted. "But it's not like it changes anything."

He glanced at the Dark Assassin, and a tense silence settled between them once again. Neither of them would be fighting for a cause they believed in, or for people they felt deserved their sacrifice. For all their differences, in this, they were the same: vulgar pawns.

Would that be the case for everyone I'll face in the Warfare Rifts? Seth wondered. Are they all just trapped, forced to fight by masters they despise?

He thought of people like Elena, who seemed to serve with genuine honor. Odds were they were a dwindling minority.

Seth closed his eyes, letting the frustration surge through him and feed the fire in his chest. This was why he fought—why he pushed his limits every single day. Without taking risks, nothing would ever change. Thousands would die with the same hopelessness that had been filling him back during his time in Sunatown.

Finally, he forced the thoughts aside and grounded himself in the present: in what they had achieved so far and what still needed to be done. He turned his gaze toward Nightmare.

Seth could still see the direwolf's final bite from that previous fight in his mind—the black smoke, darker and more concentrated than ever before. Instead of corroding every piece of the Elemental's body, it had bored inside and focused only on a single point. It was strange, though. The direwolf had somehow made the spell even more potent, even though it was already at Flawless quality.

A smile touched Seth's lips as he cast Intermediate Identify.