Ascension of the Primalist [A Tamer Class, LitRPG]

Seth's core pulsed in his chest as both Nightmare and Colossus stirred inside the teardrop necklace. None of the eight figures ahead exuded the overwhelming pressure of a Gold Wielder, but still. Eight Silvers. That was more than enough to overwhelm both Seth and his professor.

Despite the situation, a smile appeared on Reat's lips as the man looked at Lucius's brother. "This is Veronica's doing, right? She really couldn't resist such a perfect occasion to take out the two people she hates the most from the Academy."

Veronica, Seth repeated inwardly, unsure for a moment before it finally hit him. Veronica Lancet. The first-year intendant.

"Smiling right up until the end. You're quite a character, Calvin," Sergeant Faertis answered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "To be fair, I'm pretty sure she hates Director Ryehill even more than you. She has been waiting for him to drop dead and let her take his place for far too long. Maybe that opportunity will come sooner than he thinks. Who knows?"

"Oh, I don't think so," Professor Reat replied nonchalantly. "And I have to say, I'm disappointed. Only eight of you? She should have sent more if she wanted to make it worthwhile. I wouldn't have minded killing a few more lapdogs from your precious houses."

The group around Lucius's brother tensed, and a visible ripple of anger passed through them. One of the women on the far left even took a half-step forward, her knuckles white on her dagger. In her eyes, Seth could see a burning desire to take Reat's head.

"You're awfully confident, Calvin." Sergeant Faertis sneered as he took off the shield hanging across his back. "You beat me a few years ago, but things are different now."

"Different? Because you chugged a whole wagonload of enhancers?” Professor Reat shot back. “You really think that’s going to change anything? I’m not convinced that little boost was worth locking yourself in the Silver Tier forever.”

"Says the man who will be dead five minutes from now," Faertis retorted, his hand finally drawing his sword.

The other men and women began to spread out, their movements coordinated as they advanced. Professor Reat barely glanced at them before turning to Seth. "Run. Get as far away from here as you can. It'll let me fight without having to protect you."

For an instant, Seth’s feet were rooted in the soil. He didn’t want to run. Partly because of some misplaced pride, but mainly because the thought of leaving Reat behind felt like a betrayal.

This man had helped him, shielded him from nobles, and mentored him since day one. How could he just turn his back and sprint for safety while the man faced eight Silvers alone? Seth wanted to fight, to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

But the cold, hard truth settled in Seth's gut: he was a liability. If he stayed, Reat would have to take hits to keep him alive.

The best thing Seth could do was run as far as he could. It would let Reat fight without restraint—and maybe, just maybe, find an opening to flee himself.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Seth spun and burst into a full sprint, heading for the cover of the deeper forest. An instant later, he heard Sergeant Faertis's sharp voice boom behind him, "Go! Get him!"

Seth glanced over his shoulder. One of the noble's lackeys, a man clad in leather armor and wielding two daggers, had broken from the group and was rushing after him. Yet before the pursuer had taken three steps, Professor Reat moved.

In a blur, a simple wooden staff appeared in his hand and slammed into the assassin's gut. The impact was oddly silent, but a moment later a blast of fire erupted from the point of contact. Flames surged across the man's body as he roared in pain and doubled over. Before he could retaliate, Reat's staff moved once again with lightning speed.

Crack. A strike to the sternum that caved in the pursuer's chest armor. Snap. An upward swing that connected squarely with the chin, shattering bone and lifting the man clean off his feet.

The man was still flying backward when Professor Reat whipped his weapon in a wide arc. A serpent of compressed wind flared from the staff, catching the man mid-air. The moment the creature's jaws snapped shut, the spell detonated into a violent vortex of aether; wind howled like in a raging storm, forcing Seth to raise his arms to shield his face. Branches tore from the few scattered nearby trees, the ground trembled… then the man crashed to the dirt, his lifeless body covered with thousands of bleeding slashes.

Sergeant Faertis and his men’s eyes widened in disbelief. Seth, too, found himself momentarily paralyzed, taken aback by the aura radiating from the Professor. Many had spoken highly of the man at the Adventurers outpost—endless praise—but this was beyond anything Seth had imagined.

Reat had killed a Silver in seconds. Seconds.

Before the sergeant and his men could regain their composure, Professor Reat charged into their ranks and a firestorm erupted from his staff, swallowing all of them in a chaotic inferno.

Seth turned and began running once again toward the forest. But after a dozen strides, Feral Instinct surged violently inside him, warning him of an imminent danger. As the other men and women scorched and writhed in the flames, the Paladin who had shattered Renwal's arms burst through the fire in pursuit of Seth.

Seth immediately cast intermediate Identify.