Seth yanked out his bow, yet before he could nock an arrow, a large, blurry figure grabbed both his wrists and slammed him face-down to the ground. A knee then pinned him down, crushed his sternum against the ground, and forced all the air out of his lungs. He tried to wrench his hands free from his assailant’s grasp, but without success. The man was just too damn strong.

  "Did you really think you could just walk away?" Lucius sneered as he strolled toward Renwal, who was also being held down by another personnel guard. "Tell me, elder bumpkin," the blond noble continued, looking down at the blacksmith. "What exactly is your profession? Must be lucrative if you can afford to turn down five copper coins so graciously offered by one of your betters."

  "He had no choice!" Seth yelled in a desperate attempt to take the blame. "It was my gear! I’m a Wielder, he’s not, he wouldn't dare steal from me!"

  "And he shouldn’t have dared to defy !" Lucius snapped, his composure cracking for a split second. "I don’t care about the truth. You ruined my moment. And he seems dear to you. Even a peasant like you should know the state of House Faertis right now. The pressure on my family. The pressure on ."

  The noble leaned down, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "I needed a flawless victory. Instead, I got hit twice by some savage who crawled out of a gods-forsaken hole."

  "He had nothing to do with it!" Seth struggled, the knee digging deeper into his back as he glanced at Renwal wincing under the other man. "Let him go. I'm the one you want."

  "No. He chose his side." Lucius straightened his robes and his icy gaze locked onto Seth. "But we can't have people thinking I'm just being petty, can we? That would be unbecoming."

  Lucius turned to his lackeys, raising his voice as if performing for a crowd that wasn't there. "It’s a tragedy, really. I was out for a peaceful morning walk to clear my head, only to be ambushed by a sore loser and his accomplice."

  "W-what?" Seth muttered.

  "Don't look so surprised," Lucius said, gesturing to the empty forest. "Primalists are savages, aren't they? Beasts who can't control their instincts. And your friend here? Clearly, he regretted turning down my generous charity. Regret makes men do terrible things... like assaulting a noble."

  The noble glanced at his guards. "Isn't that right?"

  The three men nodded in unison with faces like stone—they would undoubtedly back the lie to their graves.

  "That's absurd!" Seth shouted. "No one will believe that!"

  "Your word against mine? A Faertis?" Lucius retorted with a chuckle. "I think we know how that ends."

  He crouched next to Renwal again, grabbing the blacksmith by the hair and pulling his head up. "Now, answer the question. What. Is. Your. Profession?"

  Renwal swallowed loudly before answering with a shaking voice. "I—I’m a blacksmith."

  "A blacksmith?" Lucius released him, then stood up with a satisfied smile. "Then, as a representative of House Faertis defending myself from your vulgar assault, I pronounce you unworthy to practice your craft within our domain."

  He turned to the only guard who was standing. "Break his arms."

  "No!" Seth screamed, jerking and kicking frantically as he tried to free himself.

  Gleaming silver chains shot out of the street and coiled around Renwal’s arms, holding them straight onto the ground. The blacksmith shut his eyes and his face tightened, as if he had already accepted his fate.

  "Consider the difference in our stations next time," Lucius murmured before turning his back to the scene. He feigned disinterest, examining his fingernails, but the slight flinch in his shoulders betrayed him—he didn't have the guts to actually watch.

  The third man unslung a large golden shield from his back. With a blur of blinding power, he then swung it down onto Renwal’s arms. The shield struck with a thunderous , and a blood-curdling scream ripped from the blacksmith’s throat.

  Seth froze, and a thick fog engulfed his mind, refusing to process the horrific scene before him—Renwal crying out in pain, his face covered with a mix of blood splatters, snot, and tears, as Lucius’ man lifted his shield, revealing the blacksmith’s arms, clothes soaked in blood and pierced by shards of broken bones.

  Seth’s core erupted in his chest as his heart pounded in his ears, drowning all sound. The mysterious energy surging through his veins wasn’t asking for a fight anymore—it wanted more. It needed .

  "Now, your turn," Lucius said, turning toward Seth. "For you, it will be the legs. So, you don’t waste anyone’s time running in circles again."

  Seth roared in rage, veins bulging out on his neck; the man with the shield glanced at Renwal’s arm before heading toward him. A violent storm burst from Seth’s core, leaving a single thought inside his mind: tearing all the noble and the three men into pieces.

  Silver chains burst out from the ground and grasped Seth’s leg while Lucius’ man arrived beside him. The golden aegis raised in the air once again, yet instead of fear, Seth felt a surge of adrenaline. His muscles tensed, his pupils dilated—his body was ready to receive the blow.

  But just as the whistling shield was about to crush his leg, a blue barrier suddenly appeared around Seth, halting the golden aegis with a loud . The crushing weight pressing onto his back vanished, and as Seth looked up, he saw the man who had been holding him down now standing next to the other lackeys. All three bore a combat stance, their swords and shields drawn and glinting in the rising sunlight.

  "That’s enough, Lucius."

  Professor Reat walked toward them on the forest dirt road, a resigned look on his face. His loose white shirt, half-tucked in his black pants, contrasted sharply with the magnificent crimson crystal crowning the long, dark wooden staff strapped to his back.

  Still driven by an bloodlust, Seth sprang to his feet and threw a powerful right hook at the man with the golden shield. But the moment his fist was about to connect, an invisible force wrapped around his body, immobilizing him on the spot with his knuckles mere inches away from the man’s nose.

  "Sorry for my little student," Professor Reat told the shield-wielding man before letting out a sigh. "He tends to get angry when people hurt his friends."

  "Oh, cut the act," Lucius spat. "He’s not one of your students. He failed the selections."

  "The selection process for Primalists is different, my dear Lucius," the professor replied. "They are given the chance of a secondary examination in addition to the battle trial. Both can be routes to acceptance." He then trudged over to Seth and leaned against him, struggling to lift his elbow high enough to rest it onto his shoulder. A wide—and clearly fake—smile stretched across the man’s face. "And this boy nailed that secondary examination."

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  "You’re lying." Annoyance crept into Lucius’ face. "This savage ambushed me because he lost! You saw him just now, how he attacked my men like a wild . That proves exactly what kind of person he is."

  Reat raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh? And you really want me to believe that?"

  "Who cares what you believe?" Lucius retorted, sweeping his hand toward the surrounding trees. "This is Faertis territory. We apply the crown's laws as desire. I am well within my right to deliver punishment. Get out of our way, or I’ll throw you in jail.

  Professor Reat’s expression turned cold, and a murderous intent flickered in his eyes. "Your house has no jurisdiction over the Trogan Academy. If you lay a finger on a student, the crown gives me the right to kill you. So go ahead—break his legs. I’ll chop your head off and send it to your father as a gift to remind him of the exclusion of his House from the Twenty Great House."

  Lucius’ mouth opened but closed almost instantly. He glared at the professor and remained still for several tense seconds before turning to his men. "We’re leaving."

  As the blond noble strode away, he cast a disdainful smirk at Renwal, who was still writhing in pain, then locked eyes with Seth. "If I were you, I’d not set foot within the academy."

  Lucius then continued on his way, his three men trailing behind. The moment they all disappeared around the corner, Professor Reat waved his hand and unfroze Seth. "Seriously, throwing a punch at a Paladin? I should’ve let you die for being that stupid."

  Seth ignored the man and hurried to Renwal’s side.

  The shield must have hit at an angle. Renwal's right arm was severely injured with a clear fracture in the middle, but it looked… salvageable. The left, however, was a nightmare. It had taken the full force of the blow. The forearm was obliterated, with jagged pieces of bone piercing through the sodden fabric of his sleeve in multiple places like broken teeth.

  Cursing under his breath, Seth fumbled for his potion pouch. "He’s going to—"

  "Potions will kill him, use this instead," the professor said, tossing a scroll at Seth.

  Seth clenched his jaw and quickly pushed aether into Identify’s grooves.

  "I’m just Copper!" Seth exclaimed, seeing the Tier.

  "Don’t use all the aether inside, and you’ll be fine," Professor Reat answered flatly. "Four or five seconds should be enough."

  "Why me? Can’t you just do it?" Seth snapped, pulling up his sleeves and kneeling beside Renwal, who was still sobbing.

  "Not my job to save your friend." The professor sighed, leaning against a tree nearby. "So, either grow a pair or watch him die."

  With a grunt, Seth crushed the grayish seal of the scroll and began channeling aether inside. Almost instantly, a strange force drained his Well, and as it reached its bottom, a powerful surge of aether burst from the scroll, searing through the flesh of his arm.

  "Oh, for Gaia’s sake, stop absorbing the aether! Use it on your friend!"

  Hearing the professor, Seth pulled himself together and visualized a bridge between his hand and Renwal’s shattered arms. He then focused on the swirling, vivid energy in his palm before pushing it through that connection.

  As the glowing energy washed over the blacksmith, the difference in the wounds became even greater. The right arm responded immediately—gashes knitting shut into thin red lines, the limb straightening as the internal damage repaired itself.

  But the left... the left fought against the spell.

  With sickening wet clicks, the exposed jagged bones moved back inside the arm, and the skin stretched tight to cover the holes, sealing the torn flesh. The bleeding slowed, then stopped, but unlike the right, the limb refused to straighten. It remained twisted and misshapen, the structure beneath clearly still ruined.

  Seth counted to five in his head then tossed the scroll aside, severing the flow of aether at once. As the parchment landed on the dirt and crumbled into dust, he looked down at the blacksmith’s arms.

  The right appeared almost normal now—scarred, but functional. The left, however, was still a wreck, bent at an unnatural angle as if its bones were missing.

  "The pain relief won’t last long," Professor Reat warned. "If I were you, I wouldn’t wait to get him in that wagon to get him to a Priest."

  Seth shot the man a glare, then carefully hauled Renwal to his feet before heaving him into the back of the wagon. As he lay the smith down between the empty crates, he paid particular attention to the position of his arms. a lot

  "I’ll get you home, Renwal," Seth whispered through the tightness in his throat. "And I’ll find a way to fix your arm."

  Renwal stared blankly at the white cover, his lips trembling too much to even mumble a word.

  Seth jumped off the wagon and faced Professor Reat, then spat, "Why did you lie to save me?"

  "I didn’t lie, I just… bent the truth," the professor answered, still leaned against the tree behind him. "If you’d stayed until the end of the selections like Marine told you, you would’ve known. No, instead you left and made me search every damn inn of Arthri at five in the morning to find where you stayed and which route you would take. Oh, and if I were you, I’d be a little more respectful. Your friend is alive because of me."

  Seth took a deep breath and lowered his head. The man was right. "Sorry, sir."

  "You’ll get yourself killed at the academy if you don't learn to control those emotions of yours," Professor Reat said, grimacing and rubbing his neck. "Anyway! If you’d stayed, you’d know that Primalists get a second chance if they fail the selections, like I said, by completing a different task. Killing twenty arcane beasts in a month and bringing their stones back to the professor who oversaw their selections—in your case, me."

  Seth blinked, caught off guard—not just by the idea of a second chance, but by the task itself.

  Then memories of his first hunt came rushing back—the fight against the Boreal Wolves, and how one of them had nearly torn off his bicep. He would’ve died back then if not for his core… or Marcus’ potion.

  Now, with Nightmare’s Danger Sense, hunting was far safer. But without the pup, every trip into the Wicked Forest to kill an arcane beast would be just as dangerous, and just as daunting as it had been that day.

  "Couldn’t I just cheat and buy twenty beaststones?"

  "You? No." Professor Reat blew aside the few strands of black hair that had fallen in his face. "Someone with money? Sure."

  "How’s that fair?" Seth blurted out almost instinctively.

  The professor shrugged. "Life’s full of injustices. If you can’t stomach that, you should probably stay in your little town." The man paused and brought his hand to his chin thoughtfully. "Although… I’m not so sure that spending your days helping your friend find a new passion would be much better."

  Seth stared at the man, fighting the urge to punch him. Renwal could be crippled for the rest of his days, and this man was making jokes about it.

  Professor Reat raised both hands up in surrender. "Don’t give me that look. I’m not the one who swung that shield."

  Seth clenched teeth and bit down the insult on his tongue. He knew he couldn’t afford to get on the professor’s wrong side—but the man was really testing his limits. "Will the type or Rank of the beasts affect my academy ranking?"

  "No, the only thing that matters is your attribute total when we register."

  "Why does the academy give that second chance to Primalists?"

  "It’s a way to be and see which of you are worth our time, since we’d have to adjust our class courses for your particular... needs."

  "Then, where do I meet you next month for the stones?" Seth asked.Getting into the academy would grant him the one thing he had been desperate for: the knowledge to pave his Path.

  He needed it to grow as strong as possible. Strong enough to strike back at the Faertis. Strong enough to ensure he would never be this helpless again.

  "Oh, you’re quite confident," the professor said with a smile. "Meet me at the training field in four weeks. I’ll be there all day for the fifth round of selections."

  Seth nodded, having already planned to return to Arthuri around then to deliver the Red Foxes’ contract. "Okay."

  "See you in four weeks, then," Professor Reat said before pushing himself off the oak behind him and walking away with a brief wave.

  Seth let out a long breath, then checked the horses’ harnesses before climbing onto the wooden seat. He tugged the reins, and the cart jolted forward. Only then did he notice the crescent marks of blood in his palms from how hard he had clenched his fist.

  He’d always known House Faertis was among the worst of Kastal’s nobility—perhaps even worse than its paranoid king—but this went beyond anything he’d imagined. Bleeding its people dry out of wounded pride, letting them starve just to claw their way back into the Twenty Great Houses, was one thing. Ambushing him and Renwal to cripple them over something as petty as in front of some butler? That went beyond anything he could understand.

  In the end, it was the same everywhere—whether in cities like Arthuri or deep in the forest.

  Laws and justice meant . All that mattered was power.