Early the next morning, Seth returned to Sunatown and bought another stickleback trap along with a few dozen arrows from a traveling merchant at the market in exchange for a few games he had slain a few weeks ago.

  Normally, he would have bought them for a better price from Renwal, the town's blacksmith, but chances were the man would try talking about the tax collector auctioning his house—plus, there was the risk of running into Mael there. And Seth wasn’t in the mood for convincing his friend that sheltering him and putting himself at risk of being fined wasn't worth it.

  As he wrapped up his purchases, his mind drifted back to the events of the previous night. Even though he had survived the creation of the core, the whole damn fight against the Cerberus had somehow given him no attributes at all. And on top of that Link was pretty much useless until he found a partner.

  It didn’t sit right with him. The instructions were clear: forming the bond required consent. So why not just say 'person'? It wasn’t like an object, a weapon, or even a beast could agree to something like this. Consent implied intelligence and awareness—qualities only a human could possess. Maybe the author of the instructions was trying to be poetic, like saying 'enter the eternal sleep' instead of just

  As Seth rubbed his face, he noticed a hooded man with a messy black beard standing between the market's central fountain and one of the few already open homemade stands. His outfit was quite eye-catching—a wrinkled red tunic stained with dirt, boots so worn out that two toes stuck out, and a sheathed sword at his belt adorned with a gleaming blue gem.

  Only one group of people would wear such ragged clothes while wielding such a magnificent weapon: Wandering Merchants—those who had awakened the Merchant class and decided to travel the world to make the best of it.

  The man pulled back his hood, revealing long black hair badly in need of a cut.

  The grin on the Merchant’s face and his enthusiastic wave made it obvious he didn’t know about what had happened to Seth’s house, which was a relief—but there was something else behind that joy. The way his eyes roamed over Seth, the wider-than-usual smile stretching his face.

  "Hey, Seth! When did you—" the man began before stopping abruptly when he saw Seth's threatening glare.

  "Hey, Sericar! How are you doing?" Seth said. Then, leaning toward the man's ear, he continued, "Nobody knows, so please keep it a secret for now."

  It wasn’t that Seth wanted no one in Sunatown to know. But there were a few people who would certainly not react well—those who viewed Primalists as cursed, who believed they brought nothing but misfortune.

  It was absurd, of course, but fear didn’t listen to reason. Seth didn’t have the time or patience to break those false beliefs, nor did he want to deal with the inevitable panic. All that drama would only be a distraction he couldn’t afford. Not until he had the strength to truly change his life—and the lives of the people here.

  The Merchant smiled then put a finger onto his mouth. "My lips are sealed, lad!"

  Seth let out a heavy sigh, reassured. Sericar was a man of his word. Even after nearly ten years of visiting Sunatown for Marcus' potions, the Merchant had always honored his promises. On top of that, he never failed to spare half an hour to answer some of Seth’s questions. For a man whose time was worth many coins, that meant a lot.

  After glancing around, Seth lowered his voice and asked the question running through his mind. "Why didn't I feel it when you Identified me?”

  Sericar chuckled and patted Seth's back. "Lad, I'm a Merchant—that’s the spell I use the most. You didn't think I’d use the basic version, did you?"

  "The basic… version?" Seth asked, frowning.

  "I don't use IdentifyAdvanced Identify," Sericar answered as he took a purplish jewel out of his pocket. "With the basic one, I’d never be able to see through stuff like this."

  Seth filled Identify’s grooves and examined the small gem.

  "Um," he mumbled before pointing at the jewel. "So, if I ever find something like this, I’ll need to ask a Merchant to Identify it?"

  "No," Sericar answered, shaking his head. "It’d be better to ask a Jeweler or another non-combat Wielder who handles the item on a daily basis. They all use a version of the spell that shares what they see, so the customers can also see the item's properties. Merchants don't do that—it’s bad for business. They prefer buying rare stuff at half the price because the seller has no clue what they have in their hands."A grimace appeared on Seth’s face as he recalled the strange flower he’d taken from beside the Tempest Hare. The Wandering Merchant who had traded it to him for awakening stone and an Identify spell-scroll had probably ripped him off more than Seth had thought.

  "And even as a combat Wielder," Sericar continued, "you’ll need to learn more advanced forms of Identify eventually. Or else you’ll never know who—or what—you are fighting."

  "Huh? What do you mean?"

  "Try to Identify me," the Merchant answered.

  Seth glanced around, double-checking that no one was watching them then slowly built the spell in his eye as the bearded man waited patiently.

  Seth blinked several times. "I can't even see your name."

  "That's because of little guy," Sericar said, pulling down his tunic's collar to show a necklace underneath. "Concealment artifacts like this are pretty common in a city like Trogan, especially among the nobles. Most are used to hide attributes. It’s also the same for arcane beasts, enchanted gears, and artifacts. The aether inside them can create some kind of barrier that blocks you from Identifying them. Depending on their Rank, though, that barrier can be pretty weak."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  , Seth thought, rubbing his face. Without the ability to see their attributes, coming up with any sort of plan beforehand would be nearly impossible. "How can I breach a concealment barrier like yours?" he asked, pointing at the necklace. “In case I need to.”

  "You can't. Sorry, lad. Identify is only a Copper spell. There's a limit to what it can do."

  Seth sighed. "Practicing casting it feels like a waste of time now."

  "It isn't," Sericar answered. "It has limits, sure, but it's still extremely useful while Copper. And eventually, you'll be able to upgrade its Tier."

  "Upgrade its Tier?" Seth repeated with a frown. "What do you mean?"

  "It’s one of the few spells with an existing upgrading spell-scroll," Sericar explained. "With one of those, you can build new grooves on top of the old ones and raise it to an Iron spell."

  "Can’t I just modify the grooves by myself by casting the new one thousands of times?" Seth asked.

  "No, you can’t," the Merchant laughed. "Some spells like Identify aren’t rare or powerful but are so damn complex that you’d need to be a Scholar with a decade of theory knowledge under the belt to even think about modifying them."

  Seth's mouth twisted to the side. "And I guess those upgrading spell-scrolls are hard to find?"

  If they were expensive, he could still hope to save up enough coins to buy one eventually. But if they were rare, he might as well forget about them—the Faertis House, or any nobles in general, would never let a commoner purchase one of those.

  "Mmm, that depends on where you search," the Wandering Merchant answered. "In Arthuri, yes, they’re probably hard to come by with the Faertis controlling most of the Iron and Silver spell-scrolls. But in a city like Trogan, you should find plenty of them. If you’re having trouble, just have Marcus send me a message once you hit Iron. I'll help you out."

  "Thanks, Sericar, but I don’t think that’ll happen anytime soon," Seth said, forcing a polite smile. "You saw my class. I need to focus on finding a way to hunt arcane beasts without getting killed first. And that… will probably take a lot of time."

  ??"Right," the man said, pursing his lips behind his long beard. "But don't be demoralized. Plenty manage it. And if you get into Trogan Academy? You’ll have access to resources and instructors that make that process infinitely safer."

  Seth let out a short breath. That was the dream, wasn't it?

  "I know. But I have to get stronger I can get in. If I go to the selections now without gaining several Ranks, I’m basically asking to get my ass kicked."

  "Not if you go to the first one this weekend at Arthuri!"

  "Huh, why?" Seth frowned, taken aback. "It makes more sense to go to the last one. I’ll be stronger by then."

  Sericar shook his head. "Everyone else will be stronger, and let's be honest—most of them can progress faster in safety than you can in the wild. At least, if you don't gamble with your life by attacking beasts way stronger than you. So, the longer you wait, the wider the gap will get. Plus, the moment students register, their Ranks are recorded, and rewards based on those initial stats will be given to them once they get to the academy.

  The Wandering Merchant paused for an instant to rub his neck. "Most participants who wait until the last selection aim for the top prizes—there’s two months between the first and last one, which is enough time to climb several Ranks. Hate to say it, lad, but you can’t compete with them. You’d be better off going to the first one and hoping to beat a few others who’ve just awakened like you."

  Seth kept his expression neutral, yet the words stung even if he knew that the merchant wasn’t wrong. Other Wielders would have gained half a dozen attributes on their first day alone from having their body bather into aether. From there, they would continue to climb in Ranks through training in safe high-density environments without ever needing to risk their lives hunting arcane beasts.

  All Seth's years of training and hunting had given him decent starting attributes, but within a week or two, those efforts would all mean nothing. If he wanted to keep his chances of entering the academy alive, he would have to swallow his pride and go to the first selection.

  Sericar continued before Seth could answer anything, “But I still think you should give it a try. You could learn so much at the academy. How to craft spells, how to improve them. Same with aether manipulation and sensing. You’d learn about the Path and how it affects you as a Wielder. You'd also get the chance to pick up advanced combat techniques and gain fighting experience—not just with a bow, but with swords, axes, spears… learn how to defend against them.”

  Seth hesitated, his hand drifting up to run through his hair. He didn't need arguments to try to get to Trogan Academy; a chance to grow strong enough to decide his own fate was enough of a reason. The problem was the timing. If he went to this first selection and failed, that was it. There were no second chances. But Sericar’s logic made sense. Waiting only allowed the gap between him and the wealthy nobles to widen.

  "You’re right," Seth finally said, rubbing his head. "I’ll go to the first one."

  "That’s fantastic!" Sericar exclaimed. "I’ll let Renwal know—he’s making the trip this weekend and I’m sure he’d love the company! Oh, and don't worry, I won’t say a word about your awakening. I’ll say you… just want to go see the selections! Those are always fun to watch, I'm sure he won't suspect anything!"

  Seth nodded, biting his tongue. "Great."

  "I need to get going," Sericar said, clapping Seth's shoulder. "If we don't see each other before you leave, good luck. I'm sure you'll do great!" The Merchant took a step back, preparing to turn before halting. "Oh, by the way, does Marcus know yet?"

  Seth shook his head, frowning. "Yes, he does. Why?"

  "Did he give you the red ones?"

  "The red ones?" Seth repeated as he arched his eyebrow.

  Sericar grinned. "You should go see him again. And ask for the red ones this time—I’m sure he’ll give you a great price."

  "Thanks, Sericar, but I—wait, what?" Seth blinked in confusion while the Wandering Merchant was already walking away. He then glanced around nervously before shouting, "What do you mean, the red ones?"

  Sericar looked back and gave him a wink. "Go see him. Trust me."

  For a moment, Seth stood still and watched the man’s figure disappear into the distance. It wasn't an inconvenience, really—his plan had always been to go see Marcus today. The Alchemist had asked him to return in two weeks, and Seth intended to stop by before heading back to his campsite to prepare for his first real venture into the Wicked Forest.

  The old Alchemist sold plenty of useful items for hunting, like Baiting Potions, but why would he need them? It didn’t make any sense.

  Seth paused for a moment in front of Marcus’ shop before taking a deep breath and stepping inside.

  The old Alechemist was leaning against the counter, studying a piece of parchment in his hand. "You took your time," he grunted, not even casting him a glance. "I thought you'd take a week, not two."

  "Things happened..." Seth answered, walking over to the counter. "And I got sidetracked."

  "Yeah." Marcus finally looked up, his dark eyes locked on Seth from either side of his hooked nose. "I heard. The tax collector. And the house."

  Seth didn't answer, his jaw tightening.

  "It’s no big deal, lad," Marcus said with a dismissive hand wave. "You shouldn't get attached to material things like wood and stone. Memories are enough to keep people alive."

  "They burned the only painting I had of my parents," Seth retorted, briefly clenching his fists. "It's hard not to be angry about that."

  Marcus watched him for a long silence, then his gaze narrowed. "Are you planning on going after him? The tax collector?"

  "No," Seth answered, shaking his head. "It wouldn't change anything. He’s just a pawn of the Faertis House. Attacking him would get me in more trouble."

  "That's right." The Alchemist nodded. "You should lay low as long as possible. Avoid big cities. Stay off their minds."

  "That’s going to be hard," Seth said, finally sitting at one of the stools in front of the counter. "Since I plan on getting into Trogan Academy."

  Marcus stared at him for a long moment, then let out a sharp snort. "That’s a foolish idea. The Academy isn't the paradise people think it is. It's a snake pit."

  Seth shrugged. "Even if that’s true, I’d prefer a snake pit where I can learn something than staying weak all my life. All Wandering Merchants tell it all the time. If commoners don't go to one of the nation's three elite academies, they will miss out on their potential."

  Marcus rubbed his wrinkled face with his hands, hesitating. The Alchemist looked like he wanted to argue, but he finally sighed to admit his defeat. "Yeah... fine," the old man mumbled. "Just make sure to avoid unnecessary attention. Things could get way worse than they are now."

  Before Seth could ask what he meant, Marcus turned and disappeared into the back of his store. He returned a few seconds later with a leather pouch and let out a loud sigh as he handed it to Seth.

  Seth opened it and found six red vials and one green, each about the size of a finger, strapped neatly inside. He immediately channeled aether into Identify’s grooves.

  "These should help you kill a few arcane beasts without dying from your injuries," Marcus said, crossing his arms. "The green one is a safety potion. Use it to flee if you're about to get killed. Also don’t expect the red ones to save your ass right away if you’re seriously wounded—they take time to work. Oh, and don't give them to anyone who’s not a Wielder. Instead of healing them, the potion will just make them throw up for days."

  "Thank you, Marcus," Seth mumbled, his fingers lightly brushing each of the vials. . These were definitely worth a small fortune. "How… uh, how much do I owe you?"

  "Nothing," Marcus said, sitting back on his stool with a yawn. "Just make sure to bring me any Rare herbs or flowers you come across."

  "Will do," Seth answered, fastening the potion pouch to his belt. "Any great advice for out there?"

  "Yeah," Marcus grumbled. "Try not to die. At least not until you’ve brought back enough flowers to cover up for those potions."

  Seth smiled and turned toward the door. "I’ll do my best."

  January 15, 2026 (7h15PM)

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