As the two fish he had caught with the stickleback trap slowly cooked above his hand-made fire pit, Seth repeatedly cast Identify on things around him. Herbs, flowers, trees, rocks—it didn’t matter. Whenever the words in the corner of his vision faded out, new ones appeared. The only thing he cared about was keeping his Well at ten percent to maximize his aether regeneration and improve his control.

  His eyes moved to a small scarlet bloom nestled at the base of a tree.

  It had taken him only a few casts to figure out that was the lowest-possible grade. Everything he had Identified so far had the same properties: Common grade and a dash next to Tier. But that didn’t bother him. He wasn’t hoping to find anything rare or special right around here.

  The moment his meal finished cooking, Seth removed his damp gear and hung it on a branch with the intention of cleaning it in the river the following day before slipping into linen pants and putting on a plain shirt. He then sat by the firepit, took the fish, cut off their heads on the flat rock beside him, and began eating. Even if he was desperate to grow strong quickly—strong enough to secure a spot at Trogan Academy and make the Faertis House pay—he couldn't ignore risk management.

  he told himself. He would spend that time training his aether control, and only then would he dive into the Wicked Forest.

  But as soon as the thought formed, doubt crept in. He had barely any knowledge of how to survive in a place like that. Sure, he had faced wolves, bears, and boars as a hunter, but would that experience translate to arcane beasts? Would his tracking skills apply to a forest suffocating in aether? There were probably plants in there that could kill him just by brushing against his skin, and he wouldn't know the difference until it was too late.

  Seth wondered.

  As Seth bit off a large chunk of cooked fish, he suddenly remembered the Alchemist’s parting advice: to read his father's encyclopedia.

  He reached into the large bag for his father's gift box and pulled out the book inside. The pages were yellowed, bound together by a rusty spiral, with a thick front and back leather cover. The title was written in a dark crimson red: 'The Encyclopedia of Beasts.'

  Seth immediately cast Identify

  "Three question marks?" Seth whispered, staring at the floating text.

  He recognized the symbols, not from personal experience, but from the tavern tales spun by Wandering Merchants and townfolks. They spoke of legendary loot found in the wild that even the spell made by Scholars couldn't fully appraise it.

  Seth reasoned.

  Without waiting any longer, Seth abandoned the dying fire to lie inside his shelter with the fish and the encyclopedia. "There's only one way to know for—"

  He stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening, and he quickly flipped through the first few pages.

  Arcane beasts. A lot of them. All drawn in vivid colors, with stunning details that made them look almost alive. Each of them was followed by two to three paragraphs that recorded their name, strengths, weaknesses, where they could be found, and general information.

  Thunderstorm Griffin, Volcano Drake, Apocalypse Fenrir—some of them sounded extremely powerful, like gods among the arcane beasts. A claw of one of those beasts could probably pay for the awakening of all Sunatown's citizens.

  Seth skimmed through the book, stopping only to read and analyze the creatures with that place as a possible location. If he wanted a chance to survive, he needed to know exactly what he could be facing. Staying on the outskirts might lower the odds of too many encounters, but it didn't reduce them to zero.

  After spending hours engrossed in his reading, Seth carefully put the encyclopedia back into the wooden box before putting out the fire. Everything was fascinating, but he needed to be well-rested for tomorrow's training. As he settled onto his makeshift bed and prepared to sleep, one question kept lingering in his mind.

  His memories of the man were quite blurry, but if he had been an adventurer, Seth's mother or Marcus would have mentioned it.

  Seth slowly drifted into a sleep while his mind spun with dozens of theories, each one more absurd than the last.

  The sun dipped below the horizon, casting fading rays through the clouds as Seth lay on the grass. Breathing heavily, he cast a glance at his hand, a tired but genuine smile touching his lips. His Well’s aether had reached the end of Identify's the grooves in only six seconds.

  Thirteen days of relentless training. Thirteen days of sweat and ache. In total, he had gained three attributes—one in Strength and two in Agility. Sure, it wasn't even half of what Wielder with other combat classes supposedly would get on their very first day, but it was progress. Real, tangible progress.

  However, the risk-free road had clearly come to an end.

  He had woken up at five this morning, ready to push his limits, and here he was twelve hours later—soaking wet, nauseous, and looking at the exact same numbers as four days ago. He wasn't ungrateful for the growth, but he knew what the stagnation meant. He had squeezed every gain he could out of safety. If he wanted to keep climbing, he couldn't do it here anymore.

  Warriors, Guardians, Priests, and Elementalists—they could all afford to avoid the risk of hunting arcane beasts. They could progress by simply training in high-aether density zones like Trogan Academy or through sparring with each other. The entire culture of Kastal was built around that safety.

  It made sense, in a way.

  By crushing the population under taxes so heavy that barely anyone could afford to awaken, the crown had strangled its own supply of Wielders and the obvious result was a weak army.

  The kingdom couldn't afford to have those that could become soldiers dying in the jaws of wild beasts just to progress a little faster. So, while hunting arcane beast wasn't explicitly forbidden by law, the noble Houses and the king strongly discouraged it, painting it as a reckless gamble rather than a valid Path.

  For most, that system worked perfectly. But for a Primalist, that safety was a cage. Seth knew now that following the standard doctrine would only leave him weak. And rob him of his chance to get into Trogan Academy and get the knowledge he needed.

  At first, he had hoped to enter the Wicked Forest with at least a combat spell in his arsenal, but things had gone the way he had wanted. He had initially tried to carve new grooves while practicing his knife work, but the complex interplay of slashing and thrusting engaged too many muscle groups to consistently use the same aether channel.

  Recognizing the bottleneck, he had changed strategy and had focused instead on a simpler concept: running speed. Yet the results were much more promising. The grooves he had managed to carve were barely a tenth as deep as those from Identify.

  At this pace, fully crafting the spell in a safe environment would take months—time he didn't have.

  Seth retrieved his old leather bag leaning against a nearby tree and headed back to his camp, checking his traps as usual along the way so he could pick up his meal of the night.

  he decided, knowing he would soon go hunt in the Wicked Forest.

  After lighting a fire, he skewered the two fish and the hare he had caught and put them above the flames. Once they were perfectly cooked, he took them and grabbed his father’s encyclopedia before going into his shelter to eat like he did every night.

  Hours slipped by as Seth skimmed through the book, reading about the beasts of the Wicked Forest for what felt like the hundredth time—yet he refused to call it pointless. It was all about analyzing their behaviors, matching them to something he knew, and trying to visualize how he might survive an encounter. The beasts were formidable, yes, but every monster had weaknesses and limits. He just had to find them.

  This time, however, the moment he flipped the last page, something caught his eye. There was a red shadow in the middle of the end sheet—something was hidden behind it. Seth frowned and used his nail to peel it away, revealing an envelope with a crimson seal flattened against its back. The air seemed blurry and heavy on its surface.

  he realized.

  Flipping it over, Seth found a sentence written on the back.

  'Put a drop of blood on the seal.'

  Seth’s eyes narrowed, and he read the words a few more times.

  He pulled out his knife and carefully nicked his finger with the tip. Squeezing the small cut, he drew out a few drops of blood and let them drip onto the seal.

  As soon as the first drop hit, the aether surrounding the white envelope vanished, and the seal broke in half. Without hesitation, Seth quickly took out the two things inside: a folded-up piece of parchment and a coin-sized black crystal with a white rune that looked a lot like a key.

  With a frown, he cast Identify

  A key for what? Seth wondered for a moment before grabbing the parchment on his lap and reading its content.

  'Son,

  If you're reading this, it means I didn't make it back home, and Marcus has given you my gifts. I thought I could take you and your mother away and keep both of you safe, but I was wrong.

  By placing this keystone in the bottom of the box, you'll find my fourth and final gift. It will help you grow stronger over time, but at the cost of putting a target on your back for the rest of your life. Choose carefully if you want to use it or not. If you do, keep its existence a secret. No one must know. Not even your mother. Or else you will also put her in danger.

  Don't be afraid of using both the Keystone and my final gift, even if you are Copper.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Take care of your mother. And tell her I love her more than there are stars in the sky.

  May Kreytorus guide your Path,

  Your father.'

  Seth’s heart skipped a beat, and he snatched the wooden box out his bag so he could yank the lid open. As soon as he placed the Keystone at the bottom, four shimmering chains of golden aether appeared around the black crystal, each connecting to a corner.

  Before he could even blink, all four of them broke the center where they crossed and vanished—along with the Keystone and the wooden board at the bottom of the box—revealing a hidden compartment. A small azure crystal rested inside, gleaming with a powerful luster under the campfire’s light; a thin layer of aether hovered on its surface, creating a mesmerizing aura.

  Seth stared at it for several long seconds before noticing a sealed letter tucked beneath. Carefully, he reached into the box and retrieved it. The word ‘Instructions’ was written in elegant calligraphy above the seal.

  Seth glanced back at the sparkling crystal and used Identify.

  Completely baffled, he kept rereading the words hovering in the corner of his vision as his gaze jolted between the piece of parchment and the crystal.

  As Seth went through his father’s letter again for cues, his eyes stopped on one particular line.

  'Take care of your mother.'

  The words were a punch to the gut, reminding him of his failure as a son. His mother had done everything for him, and he, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to entirely alleviate her suffering.

  Seth looked at the shimmering crystal in his hand. If she were still alive, he would have used it without any hesitation so he could earn as much as needed.

  But she wasn't here anymore, and the silence of the woods only reminded him of how little he had left to lose. Instead of fearing the consequence, he began to imagine exactly how he could use having more strength.

  The thought crossed Seth's mind, only to be dismissed. That was small thinking. The tax collector was just a symptom—a leech force to feed on a wound. The real disease was the Faertis House, and the suffocating system they upheld.

  He didn't want petty revenge on a single man. He wanted .

  He wanted the power to shatter the shackles that bound him to a life of misery. He wanted the freedom to choose for himself.

  And free Sunatown's people.

  They all deserved a better fate. To own their lives, rather than slaving away just to feed himself and fill the coffers of people who despised them.

  Using that orb might put a target on his back, but looking at the faint glow, Seth knew the alternative was worse: a lifetime of bowing, of scraping by, of being nothing more than a resource for the nobles to exploit and discard.

  If this got him into Trogan Academy he could finally stop surviving and start living.

  "Damn it," Seth muttered, his grip tightening around the stone. "Things can’t stay like this."

  Sucking in a deep breath, he grabbed the instruction letter and broke the seal with his thumbs. As he unfolded the piece of parchment inside, his golden eyes carefully went over the three short paragraphs it contained.

  The first one explained how to form a bond with a partner by using something called a core. The second detailed how that new connection would grant him bonus attributes proportional to his partner’s and create a bridge between their Wells, allowing them to share aether. And finally, the last one gave rather disturbing instructions on how to create a ‘core’.

  'Infuse aether into Kreytorus’ Legacy and survive his Trial for your core to be forged. Fail, and you will enter the eternal sleep awaiting all mortals.'

  Seth frowned, rereading that final paragraph twice.

  It would explain the strange ending of his letter. But then why hadn't Seth’s mother ever mentioned him? She had enjoyed talking so much about gods and goddesses, taking every opportunity to teach him their names and stories. So why would she leave out the one his father supposedly followed?

  And above all, what the hell was a Legacy?

  In other words, that thing could kill him, but in return, it would let him bond with someone and get some of their attributes. Would that mean he’d have more attributes than other Wielders of the same Rank? If that was the case, a spell that provided such a tremendous advantage would definitely not be free.

  Seth put the letter aside and pushed himself up, rolling the orbwhich he assumed was that Kreytorus' Legacyin his handHe mused.

  But what kind of trial would it be? Pain seemed like the obvious answer—what else could this thing possibly do? Exhaling slowly, he let his resolve settle in. This wasn't the time for caution.

  Without another second of hesitation, Seth channeled aether into the gleaming sphere. Unlike his previous attempts with his hunting knife, there was no resistance—the energy ripped from him in a torrent, and the world surged into motion around him.

  His vision smeared into streaks of color, and a profound nausea hit him, twisting his insides as if the ground had flipped upside down. His stomach lurched, threatening to hurl everything he'd eaten right back up. Wind roared past his ears like a waterfall, then just as abruptly as it had begun, everything stopped with a bone-jarring thud.

  Seth gasped and dropped to his hands and knees, retching dryly as his center of gravity tried to realign. The soft dirt of his shelter was gone, replaced by cold stone.

  His eyes widened, and he scrambled to his feet, panic flaring in his chest.

  He was standing in a colossal, windowless room made of rough-hewn grey rock. It was a perfect cube, perhaps forty feet wide and deep, with torches hanging on its walls and a ceiling that vanished into shadows high above. There were no doors. No windows.

  "What the..." Seth whispered, his voice echoing flatly in the dead air.

  In the center of the room, resting on a slightly raised dais of rock, was a weapon. It wasn't a sword or anything fancy enough to be sold in a shop. It was a crude thing—a jagged blade fashioned from the yellowed, serrated teeth of some unknown beast wrapped in rough leather at its base. It looked more like a tool made by a savage man in the woods than a weapon.

  Seth walked forward, his hand trembling slightly as he gripped the hilt. It felt surprisingly heavy, the balance forward-leaning.

  He cast Identify.

  Seth gripped the weapon tighter, his knuckles turning white. He looked around the empty room again. he wondered, spinning in a circle.

  Before he could even take a step toward the wall to search for a hidden exit, the air in the far corner of the room began to distort.

  Blue particles of aether swirled into existence, coalescing rapidly. They thickened, knitting together into a massive sphere in the span of a heartbeat. A low, guttural growl then rippled through the room, and the creature that stepped out from the fading light made Seth's eyes widen.

  It stood on four powerful legs with tar-black fur. But it was the that rooted Seth to the ground—three canine heads that snarled atop thick, corded necks, each of the maw dripping with strands of saliva that sizzled against the stone every time a drop fell.

  Seth frantically cast Identify.

  Seth stepped back, his breath hitching in his throat. Rank 8. He was barely Rank 4. A Mid-Copper beast against a Low-Copper novice with no spells and a knife made of a tooth. This wasn't a trial; it was an execution.

  The Cerberus didn't wait for Seth to process his fear. With roars that sounded like three thunderstorms crashing together, black aether surged around its body and it charged.

  Seth threw himself to the right, his boots scrabbling against the stone. The beast's jaws snapped shut where he had been standing a fraction of a second before, its claws gouging deep furrows into the rock. The wind of its passing knocked the breath out of him.

  He scrambled up, putting his back to the wall. The Cerberus turned, its six eyes burning with a hateful red light. The center head snarled, while the left and right ones seemed to search for an opening.

  It lunged again.

  This time, Seth wasn't fast enough. He tried to dodge by infusing aether into his legs, but the beast feinted with its center head and struck with the right. The massive jaws clamped down on his left forearm.

  "Argh!" Seth screamed as teeth sank through leather and muscle, grinding against bone.

  The next instant, black smoke billowed from the creature maw and began to eat through his flesh. Pain and adrenaline flooded Seth's system. With a growl, he swung the Savage Tooth Blade blindly, the jagged teeth carving a shallow gash across the beast's right nose. The Cerberus yelped in surprise and released him, shaking its heads.

  Seth stumbled away as blood poured down his mangled arm and dripped onto the cold floor. The pain was blinding, a white-hot fire radiating from the wound, but he forced himself to ignore it. He looked at the beast, which was already recovering, licking the blood from its muzzle with a sick relish.

  Seth thought.

  The Cerberus circled him. It was toying with him now, seemingly enjoying the scent of fear. It charged again in a blur of black fur. Seth barely managed to bring the tooth-blade up to deflect a claw swipe, the impact jarring his shoulder so hard he thought for a moment it had dislocated. The force launched him backward, and he slammed against the unyielding stone wall.

  He slid to the ground, gasping for air. His vision swam. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, a dead weight of throbbing agony. Every part of him was screaming to curl up, to hide, to beg for it to end quickly.

  Then he saw her—his mother, as she had been in those final days. Hollow cheeks, thinning white hair, the light in her smile stolen piece by piece by sickness. Wandering merchants loomed around him with damp eyes, offering quiet pity as he struggled to hold her upright. Vandric, Sunatown's Priest, shook his head and refused to lower his price, telling him it was useless to buy more remedies for a dying woman. And beyond it all stood the townsfolk, their faces ruined by hunger, all on the brink of starvation, while the tax collector weighed their coins and nervously looked at the nobles watching him.

  Ahead, the Cerberus prowled closer, taking its time, savoring the moment. It loomed over him, blocking out the wavering torchlight. Its three sets of jaws gaped wide, revealing rows of serrated teeth.

  Its hot, fetid breath washed over Seth's face as he looked up into the creature's red eyes. He saw his own reflection there—a worthless commoner who had never been the master of his own fate.

  Was that it? Was he really going to die like that? Powerless? Without fighting until the end?

  Then, he .

  Deep in his chest, beneath all the fear and grief, a spark flared to life. Not courage. Not hope. Something older. Something primal.

  The word resonated through his whole body. His heart then began hammering his ribs, sending a surge of adrenaline and rage screaming through his veins.

  Why should he die here? Because he was weak? Because he was poor? Because the world had decided it should be so?

  A low growl rose in Seth's throat, matching the beast's own. The pain in his arm didn't vanish, but it changed. Instead of signaling him to stop, it reminded him that he was still alive. That he could still fight.

  The Cerberus lunged for his throat.

  Seth didn't flinch, didn't close his eyes. All fear had given way to a cold composure—the same that had filled him during countless hunts. His body moved before his mind could even finish the command. He dropped to the side, dodging the snapping jaws of the center head, then pushed himself up and slashed the beast’s flank as he dashed past it.

  he thought, watching the weight shift in the creature’s massive shoulders as it growled and took a step back.

  Seth remembered tracking the great boar two winters ago. A monster like that wasn’t something to outrun, and certainly not something to block. The only option was to wait for it to overextend. To let it expose itself.

  Aether flared around the Cerberus, and an instant later it charged again. Seth widened his stance instead of scrambling away. The moment the center set of jaws was inches from his face, he stepped .

  Dropping his center of gravity, he ducked under the beast’s attack and thrust the Savage Tooth Blade with every ounce of strength he possessed, aether leaving his Well and flaring through his limbs.

  The jagged weapon tore through the pale underfur of the Cerberus's flank. Seth roared and dragged the blade farther, ripping through its thick muscle.

  The beast shrieked in pain, then thrashed wildly. Its hind leg whipped out, catching Seth in the chest with a loud and sending him tumbling across the room. He crashed into the floor, groaning in pain.

  He coughed, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the stone floor. But he was smiling. A bloody, manic grin that showed far too many teeth. He'd been bit and mauled by wolves before, so fighting through pain was nothing new.

  "Is that all you got?" he hissed, pushing himself up with his good arm.

  Dark blood puddled beneath the Cerberus. The creature limped as it turned, its three heads heaving in uneven breaths. The confidence in its red eyes had disappeared, replaced by a flicker of doubt.

  And with it, the last remnants of Seth's fear vanished.

  Earlier, he had let the terrifying form of the thing fool him. He had looked at it and seen a monster. But as Seth's gaze dissected the creature's hesitant stance, he realized the truth.

  He wasn't the prey. He was the hunter, and this—despite the three heads—was just an animal. An injured one at that. And he knew exactly what would come next.

  Pain didn't make a predator surrender; it made them desperate. Predictable.

  The Cerberus launched another attack, but the speed was gone.

  Raising his knife, Seth waited and planted his feet. His vision tunneled, focusing entirely on the rhythm of the beast's movement, on the bulge of its muscles.

  The beast leapt. And Seth met the attack.

  Claws clad in aether ripped through his side, but he ignored the pain and jammed his injured arm into the maw of the left head, forcing its jaw apart with bone and torn muscle.

  The teeth sank in—hot agony flaring—yet Seth barely grunt. With the beast held by his own flesh, he raised the Savage Tooth Blade high and channeled aether into the weapon. Then, he drove it down into one of the left head's eyes.

  The Cerberus bellowed and thrashed, smashing Seth against the wall again and again in a desperate attempt to dislodge him. But he refused to let go—his grip fueled by rage and .

  With a guttural snarl, he twisted and wrenched the blade sideways. Bones of the eye socket cracked as the crude weapon shredded the brain behind it.

  The head went limp.

  The other two heads immediately snapped at him, tearing chunks of flesh from his shoulder, but Seth was beyond pain. He yanked his weapon free and stabbed again. And again. And again.

  Emptying his Well to boost the might of his slashes, he carved the beast's neck, sawing through the thick cords of muscle until he finally hit the artery. A geyser of hot blood sprayed over him, blinding his eyes and coating his face—nothing that could make his strikes falter.

  Even through the bloody haze, his arm kept moving, the crude blade raising and falling in a frenzy. Two final thrusts, and the Cerberus finally collapsed.

  Its legs gave out beneath its weight, and the beast tumbled on top of Seth, bringing him down with it. The remaining heads snapped weakly… then fell still.

  Seth lay there, trapped beneath the large corpse, his lungs straining for air. His body was a wreckage—a mangled mess as a left arm, half a dozen broken ribs, a flayed open side that bled freely.

  The fight was over. But his heart was still beating stronger than ever in his chest.

  With a broken grunt, he forced the heavy carcass aside and dragged himself free. The moment he tried to stand, his legs immediately buckled beneath him and he slumped against the cold stone wall, surrounded by a pool of his own blood and the beast's.

  He had won. He was dying… but he had won.

  A searing pain suddenly surged through him, not from his wounds, but from beneath them. It was as if molten iron were being poured directly into his ribcage. He arched off the wall, gasping, eyes squeezing shut as the world vanished in red-hot agony.

  Something was inside him. A crystallization of that moment. The hunger to survive, the rage, the instinct—it all coiled and solidified, locking into place between his heart and his lungs.

  Thousands of invisible boiling-hot knives pierced Seth's body. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. The pain ripped through him, clawing into his flesh without any mercy. Each breath seemed to peel the lining of his lungs and fill them with scorching sand. It was so intense, so all-consuming, that his mind began to shut down, his thoughts fading into a void of nothingness—

  Then, it stopped.

  The burning, the pain—all gone in an instant. A blinding white light then erupted at the center of the room and devoured everything.

  Before Seth could react, the world twisted. His stomach lurched as he felt like being split apart and put back together in a single heartbeat.

  He gasped and jolted upright, a ragged breath tearing through his throat as his hands clawed blindly at… dirt.

  He was back in his shelter. The fire had burned down to embers. The smell of cooked fish still lingered in the air, replacing the metallic stench of blood that had filled his nose seconds earlier. Seth's chest still heaved as sweat dripped from his nose and chin.

  He frantically looked down at his left arm. It was whole. No bite marks. No shredded flesh. He ran a trembling hand over his ribs. They were also intact.

  "A dream?" he whispered. "It was just... a dream?"

  It had felt so real. The pain, the teeth of the beast, the joy of the kill. It couldn't have been a dream.

  Just as he exhaled, a warm liquid dripped onto his hand. He wiped his nose, then his cheek. His fingers came away slick with bright crimson. It was pouring from his nose and eyes, his vision tinged red. As he stared at the blood that had pooled in his palm, a cold realization settled in. The wounds on his arm might have been nothing more than echoes, but the strain on his mind had been real.

  Seth collapsed onto his makeshift bed, struggling to stay awake through the exhaustion when he suddenly felt it: something new and alive deep inside his chest.

  A tiny orb had formed right between his beating heart and his Well. It was filled to the brim with an energy too vivid, too pure, and far too fierce to be aether. The mysterious thing was roaring inside him like a ravening beast with an insatiable hunger. It wanted him to hunt, fight, and grow—urging him to do he could to survive.

  Filing Identify's grooves, Seth glanced at his hand.

  Before he could process what he saw, Seth passed out.

  January 15, 2026 (7h15PM)

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