Seth exited the Adventurers Guild's outpost, a broad smile on his face at the pleasant clinking of coins in his pouch. The twenty Stone-Scaled Sloths he and Nightmare had hunted before getting trapped in the cave had earned him six copper coins—a much-needed boost to his modest savings.

His gaze drifted down to the small emblem in his palm, now displaying four stars beneath the 'A' set between the copper wings. Warsis had almost died from shock upon seeing the strongest beast slain in his Vitae. After a good minute, the bearded man had finally given Seth the new emblem before offering him advice on his next beast-hunting contract.

Seth carefully attached the lapel pin to the chest pocket of his new leather jacket, then turned his attention to the piece of parchment clenched in his hand.

Beast: Plain Jaguar

Rank: Peak-Copper

Tier: Iron

Location: Rocky Plains east of Trogan

Amount: 5 to 50

Reward: 60 common coins each

'I could take care of them during your first day of class,' Nightmare said from within the black teardrop.

'That's too risky,' Seth answered, folding the contract and tucking it into his inner pocket. 'What if someone sees you?'

'I kill them. No problem.'

Seth sighed. 'Just like you killed that Inferno Bear? There are Iron or Silver Wielders out there, you know.'

'Fine. I'll sit in here and listen to human classes all day,' Nightmare growled. 'While starving.'

'Oh, stop it. You only have to eat every three or four days. You'll be fine.' Seth looked at the merchants closing their shops along the cobblestone street as the sun dipped behind Arthuri's high walls. 'And maybe you'll also learn about aether manipulation or spell-crafting. Or things about combat strategies and group tactics. It's a military school, after all.'

'I don't need those. I'm already stronger than other beasts of my Rank. Fighting is innate for me.'

'Yeah, same with being humble.'

After a ten-minute walk, Seth arrived in front of the familiar two-story tavern with its weathered wooden walls and thatched roof that showed signs of age and neglect: 'the Merchants' Ales.' Greeted by the same thick smoke and strong aroma of ale as the last time, he spotted Sericar sitting alone at a table in the back, dressed in his usual torn tunic and holding a mug of beer. The man waved at him with a wide smile.

Marcus had contacted the Wandering Merchant to schedule this emergency meeting through a communication orb, an artifact that allowed Wielders to send messages to whoever possessed the orb's twin. The plan was to sign some sort of contract with Sericar to ensure that he would find an Enchanter to craft the Endless Pouch while Seth took the time to earn enough coins to pay for the services.

Seth took a seat and shook the merchant's hand as the man's eyes dropped briefly onto his adventurer insignia. "You'd better slow down or you'll give Warsis a heart attack, lad."

Chuckling, Seth placed his large leather bag on the table. "I had no idea you knew Warsis."

"Everyone in Arthuri knows him," Sericar replied before taking a gulp of his beer. "His outpost used to be quite popular. But ever since Faertis hit us with that new tax for adventurers, most Merchants stay away from him. At first, all his begging for contracts was just a little annoying, but now it's so bad folks prefer to just avoid him."

Seth's smile faded. "That's… kind of sad."

"Yeah, he's trying to prevent the inevitable," Sericar said. A moment later, the man pulled a scroll out of his inner pocket. "Anyway, let's talk business. Marcus told me you found a Domain Flower?"

Seth glanced over his shoulder, then retrieved the large jar covered by a black cloth from his bag. "Yeah, it's in there."

Sericar peeked under the piece of fabric and his jaw dropped. "Bloody hell, Seth! That's an Iron one!"

A proud grin rose on Seth's face. "Marcus didn't mention the Tier in his message?"

"No." Sericar replaced the cloth over the jar and gave him a serious look. "Who helped you?"

"No one," Seth answered, taken aback by the merchant's reaction.

"Don't lie to me, lad. There's no way you killed Iron beasts all by your—" Sericar's eyes widened as if something had struck him, and then he burst into laughter. "You lucky bastard! You stumbled upon a freshly upgraded Rift!"

Seth's frown deepened. "A freshly upgraded… what?"

"A Rift!" Sericar exclaimed. "That's the name of the domain formed around those flowers."

"And those… Rifts," Seth began hesitantly, "they have Tiers, I'm guessing?"

"Exactly! As a Domain Flower's Tier increases over months and years, the aether density inside intensifies. Usually, the strongest beasts inside match its Tier but sometimes, when it first breaks through, there's a short window—of a few weeks—where they haven't caught up yet."

Seth's mouth dried out. "So… if I'd gone in there a couple weeks later, some beasts would've been Iron?"

"Looks like Gaia's on your side!" the Merchant chuckled, grabbing his scroll with both hands. "However things just changed a little."

Before Seth could ask why, Sericar closed his eyes and blue aether began swirling around his fists. The air rippled, and dozens of glowing golden runes materialized, floating around the scroll before plunging inside one by one.

Seth looked around nervously, but to his surprise none of the other customers seemed bothered or impressed by what was happening. Once all the runes had moved into the parchment, Sericar opened his eyes, and the aether vanished.

"Sorry, lad," the Merchant said, handing Seth the scroll. "I had to change the terms because of the Tier."

When Marcus had mentioned a contract, Seth hadn't expected something like that—to be fair, he hadn't even known aether-powered contracts were a thing. "No worries."

As Sericar unrolled the scroll on the table, the man pointed to a few key lines among the text. "Here's my fee: twenty copper coins. This is the price of the Enchanter's services, which will range from twenty to thirty copper coins. And this is what you'll receive: an Iron Endless Pouch of at least fifty cubic feet. The time penalties are here. If you don't have the money by the time I deliver the bag in three to four months, the bag is mine. If, on the other hand, I don't deliver on time, you won't owe me a single coin."

"And if you never show up?"

"It's here," Sericar said, showing a tiny sentence at the bottom of the contract. "If I don't contact you for more than four months or keep the bag for whatever reason, I'll lose ten Trading attributes."

"You can lose attributes?" Seth blurted out in surprise. The idea of losing attributes was quite disturbing, and entirely new to him. Such a penalty was harsh, to say the least.

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"Only special attributes," Sericar explained, taking a beautiful, black-and-white quill out from his Endless Pouch. "If someone were to put basic attributes as a penalty, the contract would just crumble and vanish."

Seth nodded. "I see."

"To bind the contract, we need to infuse aether inside while writing our full names," Sericar continued, aether swirling around his hand as he signed at the bottom. "For you, write Seth Elrod."

"Elrod?" Seth repeated, frowning and tilting his head.

"That's your last name. The same as your father."

Seth's eyes narrowed. "My father had a last name?"

The words hit him like a stone—his mother had never mentioned such a thing. Sericar had said last name, not House name, which meant his father must have purchased it, just like the wealthy Merchants who sought recognition without founding a noble House. But that didn't track. From what little Seth remembered, his father hadn't carried the same aura as the few pretentious Merchants with last names who had passed by Sunatown.

And if that were true, why doesn't it show up when I Identify myself? Seth wondered. Could he have erased it somehow when he left his country?

Sericar's gaze moved away for a moment. "Uh… yeah! I was also surprised when Marcus brought it up for the contract."

'He's lying,' Nightmare said.

'I know,' Seth replied to the direwolf, taking Sericar's quill. Infusing aether into the artifact, he carefully signed 'Seth Elrod' at the bottom of the scroll and handed it back. "Done."

"I'll come to the academy in about three months for the trade," Sericar said, tucked the contract into his pocket, and put the covered jar away in his Endless Pouch. "Now, let's move to your beaststones."

Seth pushed his large leather bag across the table to the Merchant. Even without the dozen stones he had kept for Nightmare, the pile inside was still pretty impressive. "Take a look."

As Sericar inspected the black crystals, he chuckled and shook his head. "An undead Rift? Seems like there's still some bad luck clinging to you."

"Why? Are undead ones less valuable?"

"No, quite the opposite, actually," the merchant answered, pulling out a piece of parchment. "Most adventurers agree that the undead Rifts are among the worst. The beasts inside are often poisonous, making them a real nightmare to face. Most who go in without a Priest don't come out alive. Your chances of survival depend mostly on the Rift's Tier, but the type also matters."

Seth's throat tightened. "I had no idea. I just stumbled inside while running away."

"Well, you're alive, so that's a win for you." Sericar smiled, picking up the black crystals one by one and jotting notes. "Because of the risk, each of them is worth more than others from the same Rank."

Something struck Seth. 'We should probably sell all the ones I kept for—'

'No,' Nightmare interrupted, already guessing his idea. 'We're not selling them. There's no way I'm going a week without beaststones.'

'We could buy some normal stones with the money.'

'Without knowing the beasts' attributes? No thanks.'

Sericar finished examining the stones, then looked down at his parchment. "So, there's eleven Rank 15s, six Rank 16s, three Rank 17s, and two Rank 18s," he stated while scribbling down some numbers. "With the undead bonus, that comes to a total of twenty-eight coppers before tax—eleven and twenty common coins after."

Seth barely hid his excitement. It was more than he had expected. "That works for me. Can you take care of the tax payment again? I'd rather not get close to any Faertis office with that unofficial capturing order on my head."

"Of course." Sericar began transferring the black crystals from the large leather bag to his velvet Endless Pouch. "Once you're at the academy, his House won't be able to touch you."

'Will we get those coins back if we kill the ponytail prick that broke the drunkard's arms?' Nightmare asked through their bond.

'Nope, we'd end up in prison and executed instead,' Seth answered as Sericar reached for his money pouch and counted the coins.

'What if we reach Silver Tier?'

'Pretty sure his father's Gold. Warsis said he's the head of the Faertis House.'

'Then we'll kill him once we're Platinum.'

Seth held back an eyeroll. 'Sure, that'll take what? A couple months?'

'Um, only if you drop out of that academy. '

Sericar handed him the coins, and Seth gave the man a grateful smile before slipping them into his own pouch. "Thank you, Sericar."

"Always a pleasure doing business with you, lad," Sericar answered, taking a swig of his beer, which left foam in his beard. "So, how're you planning to get to Trogan by tomorrow?"

"Running," Seth sighed. "That's the only way I'll make it in time."

"Foolish, but determined," the Merchant said, chuckling. "You know, there's a night caravan leaving from the west gate that could take you there. It's pulled by Iron beasts and the wagon is enchanted, so it's quite fast. You'd arrive before sunrise—and could actually get some sleep on the ride."

Seth's eyebrows shot up. "I had no idea that was a thing. Thanks for the info."

"Happy to help," Sericar replied with a grin before raising his mug in farewell. "Good luck at the academy. I'll see you in three months."

Seth shook the man's hand, thanked him once more, shouldered his bag, then left the inn.

With his hood up, Seth weaved through the city's narrow alleys and dimly lit streets, avoiding the well-trodden paths. He kept his head down for the entire trip, only glancing up to ask directions from the few commoners he encountered. Nobles couldn't be trusted—especially with that damn capturing order. Hopefully, Lucius would cancel it once Seth would step on the academy's ground and today would be the last time he had to hide his face like a criminal.

By the time he reached the west gate, the sun had long set, leaving only a few flickering streetlights to keep the darkness at bay. Upon finding the ticket counter, Seth was surprised to find no bustling crowds—in fact, there wasn't a single person in line.

"Excuse me, I'd like a ticket for tonight's caravan," he said to the woman behind the counter.

"To where?" she retorted, looking annoyed. "There's more than just one caravan, you know."

"Oh, sorry. To Trogan, please," Seth replied, pulling out his money pouch.

"Twenty-five common coins."

Seth held out the coins, and the woman immediately snatched them up then gave him a small parchment slip in exchange. "The caravan leaves in twenty minutes. Don't expect it to wait if you're late."

Seth nodded, then made his way toward the caravan marked with a 'Trogan' sign, admiring the intricate carvings on the wagon's wooden frame. The craftsmanship was remarkable, and he couldn't help but wonder how much time and effort had gone into such a creation.

His attention then shifted to the beasts harnessed at the front; two massive horses with powerful, muscular legs stood there proudly, their eyes gleaming in the dim light of the twin moons. Their coats shimmered with a silver hue, and their manes and tails cascaded down a lustrous shade of blue. Just by looking at them, he could sense their immense strength and power. Almost instinctively, he filled Identify's grooves with aether.

Silver Horse

 

Potential: Iron Tier

Rank: 43 (Mid-Iron)

Affinity: Wind

 

Strength: ???

Arcane Power: ???

Toughness: ???

Well Capacity: ???

Agility: ???

Regeneration: ???

The giant horse suddenly snapped its head toward him.

Shit. Seth gasped and quickly hopped into the caravan to hide from the beast. That was stupid. Why'd I do that?

Inside, he looked around and realized he was the only passenger, so he settled into the farthest seat. As he gazed out the small circular window, his mind then began whirring with thoughts about the academy—guessing what the classes would be like, how he would squeeze hunting sessions into his schedule, and what were the benefits of the famous ranking system that everyone had raved about.

Suddenly, a familiar voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Hey, you're the Primalist from the selections, right?"

Seth turned and saw Devus, the tanned Guardian with short-cropped dark hair.

"Hey," Seth said, straightening up. "How've you been?"

"Pretty good, mate," Devus replied, his smile widening as he dropped into the seat across from Seth. "What about you?"

"Not bad," Seth said with a small nod.

The Guardian unfastened his shield and spear, setting them carefully across his lap. "Heading to Trogan, huh?"

"Yeah," Seth replied. "To the academy."

"Oh cool, me—" Devus began before freezing for a brief moment. "Wait, you got in?"

"Yeah," Seth answered, rubbing the back of his head.

"But… but how?" Devus blurted out.

Seth explained to the Guardian the special selection process for Primalists, recounting how Professor Reat had had to track him down the next day because he had left before the fights ended—though he left out his altercation with Lucius and his men.

"Oh, I see," Devus said with several small nods. "Makes sense. I'm kind of surprised Professor Reat went to such lengths for a Primalist, though. No offense."

"None taken," Seth answered with a smile. "I guess he's more of a stickler for the rules than he looks. Think the messy hair is just a cover."

"He got me good, that's for sure," Devus laughed, before pausing for a few seconds to think. "Maybe he likes Primalists? That'd be great for you."

"Why?" Seth asked, not quite sure they shared the same definition of 'great.' "Everything seemed to be a burden to him."

"Calvin Reat is one of the country's most promising Battlemancers," Devus answered, obvious admiration surging in his face. "He earned his House name after winning the Under-Thirty Kastal Combat Tournament. My sponsor believes he'll reach the Gold Tier in a year or two, which is beyond impressive for someone in his late twenties. Commoners and SWs aren't exactly welcomed at the academy, so having someone like him to back you up would certainly help."

Seth frowned. "SWs?"

"Slave Wielders," Devus clarified. "Nobles use that term for commoners with sponsors. Because we exchange future services for some help to advance in Ranks."

"Future services?" Seth repeated. "Like a couple free contracts when you reach a particular Rank?"

Devus laughed and shook his head. "Each SW's contract is different, but most are similar to mine. It's ten years of free service after graduating from the academy."

"Ten years?!"

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