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Chapter 27: Market Brawl

  Seth rose to his feet, tossing the fish bones in his hands aside, and glanced at Nightmare, who lay beside him. He didn’t need their bond to know the direwolf was still mad at him—fish was clearly not the meal the wolf had dreamt of after starving in the cave for several days.

  Once they had confirmed the Inferno Bear was no longer nearby, finding food had become their top priority. And between roaming the woods for an hour to locate a prey or sending a Shocking Strike into the river and scooping up dead fish, the choice had been simple.

  '' Seth asked, scanning their surroundings

  '' Nightmare grumbled, standing up and turning away from him.

  '' Seth said with a weary sigh. ''

  ''

  Seth rolled his eyes and followed the direwolf as he dashed away. Together, they tore through the forest, their agile forms weaving around the large oaks and dense bushes. The wind whipped past them, scattering leaves and twigs in their wake.

  As the trees blurred past, Seth weighed his pouch and the contents of his pockets. Between all the beaststones he had collected and the Domain Flower, he was sitting on a small fortune. Easily enough coin to help someone awaken soon enough.

  His thoughts then shifted to the awakening laws—specifically the restriction that allowed a Wielder to awaken only one person per year. The crown claimed it was for safety, to prevent societal collapse and other non-sense, but Seth was convinced that was just another lie.

  It was fear. Pure and simple. If Wielders could awaken anyone they wanted without limits, merchants or rebels could amass an army of people tired of the current regime in weeks and revolt against the king or a House in a few years. It was just another way to keep the population weak and manageable.

  Seth thought.

  He knew exactly who he would help first. Since Mael wasn't seventeen yet, the obvious choice was Renwal. He would awaken him, on top of getting the Healing Prism for his left arm. Lucius had taken that away from him; Seth was going to help him get it back.

  Emerging from the forest, Seth moved Nightmare into his necklace and strode toward Sunatown’s distant wooden walls. The moment he neared the eastern gate, a strange sense of unease churned in his gut; his eyes darted around in search of Rick, the kid who took himself for a watchman, but he was nowhere in sight.

  Seth stepped through the gate and was immediately struck by the cacophony of panicked voices. The distant shouts, muffled at first, grew louder and more frantic as he quickened his pace toward their source—the marketplace. A lump rose in his throat.

  Meanwhile, Nightmare stirred within the necklace. ''

  '' Seth answered. ''

  Rounding the last corner, he finally arrived at the town’s central fountain—his fingers clenched into tight fists. Three men were standing in front of Renwal's smithy while Sunatown's citizens were cowering in fear around them, averting their gaze. In the middle of the crowd, Mael lay on the ground, blood dripping from his chin and hands clutching his face. Wooden splints still strapped to his injured left arm, Renwal was swinging punches with his right fist at the largest assailant but each blow was effortlessly deflected.

  A half a head taller than the blacksmith, the man was at least six feet tall with broad shoulders and a thick brown beard. His modest tunic and brown trousers contrasted with the beautifully crafted sword sheathed at his belt, the sky crystal embedded in its hilt gleaming in the sunlight. His two associates behind were also well-built and armed—one with a woodcutting axe and the other with two daggers—but unlike him, their weapons didn’t seem enchanted.

  Seth immediately cast Identify on them.

  The large Merchant, Henrik, glanced around nervously. "There's a Wielder among them. Someone Identifi—"

  "Seth!" Mael yelled from behind his hands, cutting off the man.

  Every head turned in unison to follow Mael’s gaze and found Seth standing there.

  Rick felt his breath hitch in his small throat, and a ripple of fear and disgust washed through the crowd around him, people stepping back as if a monster had walked out of the woods. To most, the young man probably looked terrifying—clothes shredded into tatters, skin stained with dried blood that clearly wasn't entirely his own.

  But Rick didn't step back. He leaned forward.

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  Rick thought, eyes wide.

  Old Hemsley had always told him that Primalists were madmen, people who brought death to everyone around them. Looking at Seth now, it almost seemed true. And yet Rick’s heart was pounding, not with fear, but with a fierce eagerness.

  Despite everything, there was only one thought in his mind:

  This wasn’t Seth the genius hunter anymore. This was a Wielder. A real one. A Primalist that thrived on danger and ate arcane beasts for breakfast. The blood, the torn leather, the ferocity in his golden eyes—it was the coolest thing Rick had ever seen.

  The bandit leader, a man they called Henrik, reached for his sword hilt. His two lackeys edged closer, their earlier arrogance draining away.

  "What the hell is going on here?" Seth asked.

  His voice wasn't loud, but it was cold. Sharp. It cut through the murmurs of the crowd like a blade. Rick felt a shiver run down his spine—not of fear, but of pure excitement.

  One of the men, the one with the axe, stepped forward. "That's none of your—"

  Henrik slapped his shoulder, cutting him off, then cleared his throat with what seemed like nervosity. "Well you see… Seth was it? We were just having a… discussion about trade prices. And things got… a little heated."

  Rick’s hands balled into fists. They were bullying Renwal. They had hurt Mael. He couldn't just stand there behind the blacksmith's apron like a scared kid while Seth stood alone. If he wanted to be a Wielder, he had to be brave.

  He took a deep breath and shouted, "He’s lying, Seth! They’ve been robbing everyone through force since this morning!"

  The man wielding the axe whirled toward Rick, his face twisting into a snarl. "Shut your mouth, little liar, or I’ll—"

  Rick flinched, his bravado crumbling for a split second as the heavy weapon raised—but then the air blurred and a gust of wind whipped his hair backward.

  Rick blinked, and suddenly Seth wasn't standing ten feet away anymore. He was .

  The axe-man could even blink that Seth’s fist buried itself in his upper stomach. The sound was sickening—a heavy, wet crunch of his lower ribs giving way. The man then flew backward as if he’d been kicked by a mule, crashing into the dirt a dozen feet away. He curled up, groaning and vomiting.

  Rick’s jaw dropped.

  There had been no incantation. No weapon. just raw speed and power of a bestial man.

  Seth turned to face Henrik. His gold eyes seemed to glow like two deadly blades under the sunrays. "You got five seconds to give back every single thing you stole."

  The other bandit that Rick didn't know the name gripped his daggers. "Boss, we—"

  "Shut up!" Henrik blurted out, panic cracking his voice.

  The merchant didn't hesitate. He swung the bulky bag off his back and upended it. Jewelry, sculptures, and tools clattered onto the street. Henrik’s bearded face was twisted in anger, but his fear was stronger.

  , Rick thought with a smile.

  "There you go, Sir Seth," Henrik said while the duo slowly backed away toward the third man, who was still retching on all fours. "Everything we… traded for."

  "Stole," Seth corrected, grabbing Mael’s arms and helping him to stand up. "And what about his broken nose? Who’ll pay for that?"

  "I will." Henrik bit his lips and fumbled with his money pouch before handing an amount of coins Rick couldn't see.

  "Are you kidding me?" Seth hissed. "He's a non-Wielder. That won't even cover half of the Copper healing prism."

  Rick watched, mesmerized. The big, scary merchant who had been terrorizing the market all morning was shaking in his boots in front of Seth.

  Henrik grimaced, reached back into his pouch and pulled out a single copper coin, giving it over with a forced smile that fooled absolutely no one. "This should be enough."

  Seth took the coin and stared at the duo as they helped their comrade to get on his feet. Then, sparks of purple lightning surged across his forearms, sizzling and crackling in the air.

  The smell of scorched air filled Rick's nose.

  Rick thought, staring at the arcs of electricity.

  "If I were you, I’d stay away from this town," Seth warned.

  Henrik swallowed hard and tossed the last bag of stolen goods at Seth’s feet. "Understood."

  As the three men scurried away, looking over their shoulders like frightened rats, Rick let out a breath. He looked at Seth's back, his heart hammering an even more frantic rhythm against his ribs. he promised himself.

  Seth exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping back, and turned to Mael and Renwal. "Are you both alright?"

  "I'll live," Mael answered, wincing while gingerly touching his broken nose. "Thanks to you, Seth," he added, a grin spreading on his bloodied face.

  Seth returned his friend's smile then shrugged. "Apparently I inspire respect."

  "No, your fists do," the blond youngster laughed. "We should call you Seth the Cruel Primalist."

  "Oh, come on, he stole from you," Seth retorted, rolling his eyes at the nickname.

  "I know, I'm kidding," Mael replied before pausing, eyeing him from head to toe and grimacing. "But seriously... those four weeks must have been brutal. You look like a savage, and you definitely smell like one. You could’ve at least taken a bath before coming to save us."

  Seth opened his mouth to defend himself but then Mael's words hit him.

  "What day is it?"

  Mael's blond brow furrowed. "The twenty-second. Why?"

  "Shit," Seth muttered, rubbing his forehead "I'm supposed to be in Trogan tomorrow morning."

  Mael’s eyes widened. "Trogan? Don’t tell me you got…"

  "Yep… a month ago."

  A huge grin appeared on the youngster’s face and dug deep into cheeks. "Hell yeah! That's awesome!"

  Seth smiled, then glanced at the crowd who were still watching him and turned to Renwal. "Mind if we go inside?"

  "Uh, sure," the blacksmith replied with a nod. "I could use an ale."

  Seth and Mael followed him into the forge, where the furnace bathed the room with a warm glow and filled every bit of air with a strong smell of embers. Near the entrance, Renwal and Seth took seats at the large wooden table, which was cluttered with empty bottles of mugs, while Mael headed to the old sink in the back.

  Renwal broke the silence first, catching Seth staring at his arms. "Stop looking at me like I’m a broken toy, kid. I’m fine."

  "It's not fine," Seth said as he gestured to the wooden splints tightly binding Renwal's left forearm. "If I hadn’t participated in the selections, you wouldn’t have brought me those arrows... and that bastard wouldn’t have crippled you."

  Renwal let out a sharp, dismissive laugh, waving his right hand freely. "Oh, really, crippled?" He grabbed a heavy iron hammer from the table with his right hand and gave it a twirl. "And yet, Mister Righty is good as new. I’ve been back to work for three weeks now."

  He tapped his splinted left arm against the wood. "Sure, Mister Lefty here is still a bit ugly, needs the wood to stay straight, but that's not the end of the world. Mael’s on the anvil, I handle tempering and grinding. Orders are getting filled, and we’re not starving. So stop moping."

  Seth managed a weak smile, though he caught the tightness around Renwal’s eyes. The man was clearly in pain and just refused to show it. “You’re a stubborn old mule, you know that?”

  "Damn right." Renwal grinned, sweat beading on his brow. "Keeps me young."

  "Didn’t get a pay raise for all the extra work, though," Mael said, feigning outrage as he wiped his bloody nose with a rag.

  “You ungrateful brat,” Renwal said with a chuckle. “Every youngster in town would kill for a chance to learn from me.”

  "In your dreams, old coot."

  Seth laughed before tossing the copper coin to Mael, who was straining up. "To fix your nose quickly if you want."

  His friend caught the coin and examined it briefly before shaking his head. "Thanks, but I'd actually rather buy an awakening stone with it. By the time I reach the required age I’ll have two now!"

  "You sure? You won't attract any girls with a crooked nose," Seth said with a smile, already knowing he would be paying for his best friend’s awakening anyway.

  "I'll do just fine," Mael retorted, rolling his eyes and sitting down.

  Seth smiled and stroked his chin theatrically. "How? That face is currently the only thing you’ve got going for you."

  "Oh, go to hell," Mael replied, nudging Seth’s shoulder away. "Instead of talking nonsense, tell us what happened to you."

  Chuckling, Seth began his tale and gave the duo brief explanations on how he’d ended up trapped in the cave and had to fight undead creatures to get out while making sure to avoid anything related to Link and Nightmare. Mael's curiosity was instantly piqued, and he started peppering Seth with questions about every aspect of being a Wielder: beast-hunting, using aether, casting spells, gaining attributes—everything.

  Seth took the time to answer, recalling his own frustration when Marcus had refused to talk about those things. But as soon as he finished, his friend jumped to different topics, from how he got into the academy, to the number of hot girls he had met in Arthuri. With a sigh, Seth broke down his encounter with Professor Reat and the special selections for Primalists before finally halting Mael’s next barrage of questions.

  "I'd love to keep chatting, but I need to get going or I’ll be late on my very first day," Seth said.

  "No worries," Mael answered, flashing a smirk. "Just promise you’ll find me a cute, rich girl to marry at the academy!"

  "Rich? Since when is one of your criteria?"

  "Since the last tax hike," Mael said, throwing his hands up. "Desperate times, man."

  Seth’s smile faded as he pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew all too well how bad even a small increase would be for everyone in town; he had been in their shoes two months ago, struggling to make ends meet. It wouldn’t take much to tip the fragile balance and push people over the edge. "Are people managing?"

  "For now." Mael’s mouth twisted to the side. "But the mutual-aid fund’s running dry. At this rate, it’ll be empty in a couple of months."

  "I’ll make sure to give some coins to Marcus before that happens," Seth replied.

  Even though using his earnings to grow stronger was Seth’s top priority, he couldn’t simply ignore Sunatown’s needs. That fund, held by the old Alchemist, had once helped him pay for his mother’s pain treatment when she had fallen sick. Now that he could, he knew he had to give back.

  "You don’t have to," Renwal interjected. "What you did out there was more than enough. Just opportunists."

  "That was nothing," Seth answered. "By the way, do you both think those guys were sent by the Faertis House?"

  The blacksmith shook his head. "No. I’ve heard other towns got raided by them too."

  "But those nobles sure aren’t doing shit to protect us," Mael added with a shrug.

  "I won’t be able to help much while I’m at the academy," Seth answered, rubbing his neck.

  Mael clapped his shoulder and winked. "That’s fine, word will spread. Every bandit will think twice before coming near the Punch-Throwing Primalist’s town."

  "Alright," Seth sighed, pushing himself up. "I'll get going, then."

  "Have a safe trip," Renwal said with a nod.

  Mael stood up and shook his hand. "And don’t forget about my girl. "

  "Sure," Seth laughed before heading for the door. As he grabbed the handle, he turned to the bald blacksmith. "Oh, and Renwal, I haven't forgotten my promise: I'll bring you the prism and the coins to pay for a Priest when I come back."

  Renwal's face brightened for a moment, but that quickly gave way to a fierce expression, anger flashing in his eyes. "That’s great and all, but I’d rather you break that smug noble's arms for me when you see him."

  "Count on it."

  With a smirk, Seth left the forge and headed to Marcus' shop, keeping his interactions with the townsfolk on the way as brief as possible. He couldn’t waste a minute if he wanted to reach the academy on time, but he also couldn't leave without selling the Domain Flower to the old Alchemist first.

  Damaging the thing by accident would be catastrophic. With its Epic grade, the flower could probably fetch enough to upgrade his weapons—and maybe even buy a spell or two.

  As he arrived and stepped into the old, dusty shop, Seth found Marcus behind the counter, hunched over a large, worn scroll, his fingers tracing its faded lines. Without lifting his gaze, the old Alchemist spoke up: "Well, well, well, look who decided to return."

  "I'm sorry, Marcus," Seth apologized, sensing the irritation in the Alchemist's tone. "I have a good reason. "

  "A good reason for leaving for four weeks without saying a word?" the old man retorted, tossing aside his reading and rubbing his face. "I highly doubt such…" his voice trailed off as he gazed upward and caught sight of the state of Seth’s clothing, "...thing exists."

  "How about getting trapped in a domain… cave?" Seth tilted his head with his palms up.

  Marcus’ expression immediately shifted from annoyance to excitement. "Did you happen to find a shimmering flower in there?"

  "I sure did!" Seth answered proudly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the sapphire flower, its iridescent, glimmering petals shining in the light. "It's a—"

  "An Iron Domain Flower," Marcus interrupted, grabbing a glass jar and opening it. "Put it inside."

  Seth placed the exotic bloom into the container, then leaned against the counter. "From your reaction, I guess it's worth a lot."

  "Indeed," Marcus replied as his wrinkled eyes scrutinized the flower from every angle. "But you’re not going to sell it to me."

  "Why not?"

  A crooked smile appeared on the old Alchemist’s face as he lifted the jar high above his head to inspect the flower from underneath. "Because it's the main component to craft an Endless Pouch."

  January 15, 2026 (8h00PM)

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