Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

Seth stared at the flames hovering above his shoulder. A part of the spell hadn't burned him—rather, it couldn't burn him. It was being held at bay, unable to penetrate an imperceptible field that actively deconstructed the very particles of heat.

Just like the tree with the lava, he realized. And just like me in the pool.

Closing his eyes, Seth focused on those lingering flames and pulled at them with his mind to break them apart and absorb them.

The energy flowed with ease, following the grooves freshly carved into his flesh by the Petrified Tree's Sap. The fire seemed to unravel, its affinity was stripped away, and its form deconstructed into thin particles before rushing into his body.

Null isn't the absence of aether, he realized. It's a vacuum.

It was the foundation of the energy, one that instinctively wanted to absorb everything around it to rebuild itself. The flames, which had just begun to singe his leather armor, flickered, sputtered, and vanished.

Then, Seth reached outward.

Every trace of ambient aether within six feet of him shivered before being dragged toward him and devoured by the ravenous grooves. A cold rush flooded into his Well, the reservoir swelling sharply until it pulsed with a painful throb. Seth hissed and instantly severed the flow. Too much, too fast.

When he glanced up, he saw both Nightmare and Colossus watching him, their heads tilted in shared curiosity. His Well still ached from the excess aether, so Seth sent a steady stream of energy through Link toward his companions to relieve the pressure. Once the pain eased, he attempted to trigger the pull again—only to run into two immediate problems. First, there was almost no ambient aether left around him to draw on. Second, the fresh grooves that had guided the flow now pulsed with a dull pain.

Then he realized the truth. It's a spell.

His heart racing, Seth looked down at his hand to cast Intermediate Identify.