Chương 5: Chapter 4: New Reality

Seth dropped his leather bag by the edge of the small, burbling river that ran through the forest and closed his eyes for a moment. Once he had regained his composure after seeing his parents' painting burn, he had run to the town's market to purchase new clothes and tools to live in the forest with the few coins he had left. That tax collector would direct the fifteen-coppers fine at anyone who dared to shelter him, so it was best to stay away for the moment.

After opening his eyes, Seth surveyed the clearing by the water stream to assess what could be useful. With a sigh, he then began to gather materials and build his campsite. Branches and fallen logs became the basis of his shelter, carefully arranged in a way that would deflect rain and wind before being bound together by the strong rope Seth had bought at the market. After grabbing a handful of leaves to make a pillow, he spotted a flat stone worn smooth by the relentless flow of the river.

Carefully, he picked it up and placed it within his newly built shelter—it would be the perfect cutting board. Then, near the shelter's entrance, he dug a shallow pit, lined it with rocks, and filled it with dry leaves and twigs for future use. Just as the sun reached its peak, Seth stood up and took a moment to survey his campsite, repeatedly tossing a small rock in the air.

He had avoided woodcraft most of his life to awaken as a Warrior and not a Primalist, so it was simple and basic, but from now on it would be his home. Just as he caught the stone, memories of the tax collector burning his parents' paintings surged in his mind. What could he have done against the man as a newly awakened Wielder? A Primalist on top of that? His Path was supposed to be self-determined, reflecting his efforts and merit. Did he truly deserve this fate?

Receiving one of the worst classes, just for hunting a bit too much? Having his house stolen from him because he had endured the pain from the flame of the awakening stone for far longer than others? None of this would have happened if the Faertis hadn't bled everyone dry with their absurd taxes. The tax collector's behavior had shifted in front of his house—something had frightened him too. Like all of them.

Everyone lived beneath the noble House's boot, their actions dictated by threats made for the benefit of a few.

"Just so those pricks could get back their oh-so-important position among the Twenty Great Houses," Seth muttered through gritted teeth.

"As if this shit mattered to anyone but them." Letting out a frustrated grunt, Seth spun around, whipped his arm forward and threw the rock in his hand at a small birch across the clearing. The air around it seemed to blur as it flew and slammed into the tree with a loud crack, shattering part of its trunk's bark and scaring birds away. Seth stood there, eyes wide. I did that, he thought, heart racing in his chest. But how? My Strength didn't change with my awakening. The only difference is… aether.

Moving his focus inward, he scanned his Well; to his surprise, it was currently half-empty. He had just used aether without even realizing it. But I didn't even think about it? The previous night, channeling aether into his eye had been far more difficult and had taken way longer. Perhaps it's because of the anger… or simply because I didn't follow any grooves. I need to do some tests.

Seth quickly grabbed his large bag and moved down the clearing to set up the stickleback trap he had bought earlier in the river for fishes and a few snare traps in the nearby undergrowth. On his way back, he picked up a dozen tiny rocks before confirming that his Well was once again full. The moment he reached his campsite, he dropped them to the ground, only keeping one in his hand. Alright, let's see what I can do, he thought, examining the surroundings.

His gaze then stopped on a large, lonely oak standing between two bushes in the distance. Perfect. Seth planted his feet firmly, shoulder-width apart, and bent his knee. Inhaling deeply, he reared his elbow back and up, then snapped his whole arm forward, shifting his weight onto his front foot. The rock hurtled toward the tree and struck it right in the middle with a high-pitched thud. Now with aether. Picking another rock, Seth closed both eyes and focused on his chest.

Gradually, the rustling of the leaves turned into distant whispers, the wind on his skin disappeared, and the sweet, flowery smell in his nose faded. Ignoring Identify's grooves, he drew some aether out of his Well and pushed it into his arm's muscles instead of his eye—a burning sensation rose in his shoulder and spread down to his hand. With each heartbeat, the pain intensified, as if an actual flame was licking and searing through his flesh. Seth winced but pressed on. He had to know his limit.

He had to reach the bottom of his Well. In case one day, he'd need to slay something— or, someone —in a single hit. In no time, his breathing turned into ragged gasps, and sweat started running down his face. He had never plunged his arm into boiling water, but he was certain doing so would hurt less than this. The pain was unbearable. The moment his Well finally ran dry of aether, he screamed his lungs out and flung the rock at the same old tree.

"Fucking hell!" The projectile crossed the clearing in a blink and slammed into the oak with destructive force. The bark shattered, splinters and debris flying in all directions as a deafening bang echoed through the forest.

"Holy sh—" Seth's legs gave out, and he fell to his knees. The forest around him spun wildly, trees and bushes blending into a mixing blur of green and brown. Rolling onto his back, he couldn't help but grin through the dizziness—he'd done something a non-Wielder shouldn't be able to do. I gotta see that tree. Seth tried to push himself up, but his arms buckled and he dropped flat to the ground. Groaning, he stared at the blurred sky and the swaying branches above him.

Probably a side effect of an empty Well, he thought, steadying his breathing. Alright, let's see how long it takes to refill.

"One… Two… Three…" Both the urge to throw up and overwhelming weakness faded as he reached sixty—the exact number of seconds it took to fill ten percent of his Well, and a threshold it would probably be best to stay above in the future. Well, at least during fights.

"Nine hundred twenty," Seth then said as it hit the fifty percent mark. To his dismay, the more aether his Well held, the slower it filled, making the process of counting even more tiresome. He was barely halfway through, yet the rate had fallen to a fifth of what it had been. Unable to stay still any longer, Seth pushed himself up and walked over to the old oak while continuing to count under his breath. His eyes widened as he examined the damage on the trunk.

The impact site was a crater chewed deep into the tree, wood fibers torn and blackened around the edges, as if something had bitten straight into the heartwood. Even if he'd used his knife, he doubted he could achieve the same result. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. A broad smile lit up his face. Sure, the throw wouldn't kill any large animal like a wolf or a bear, but it would certainly cause some serious injuries—maybe even to an arcane beast.

Still grinning, Seth fished a few pieces of jerky from his pocket and devoured them. Even though only a few hours had passed since he'd left the town, his stomach was already begging for food—probably another side effect of using too much aether. After finishing his snack, he leaned on a tree and his gaze drifted ahead as he continued counting aloud. For the past few minutes, his recovery rate had dropped to a mere tenth of what it had been initially, but at last, the mind-numbing wait finally came to an end.

"Four thousand nine hundred twenty." With a long sigh, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. After a moment, he realized he didn't have ink. Resigned, he knelt down and began scrawling his findings with dirt instead. Recovery rate 1 minute - 10% 15 minutes - 50 % 1 hour and 22 minutes - 100% Seth rolled the parchment and tucked it back into his pocket.

It would be interesting to see in the future if his recovery rate only depended on the ratio between his Regeneration and Well Capacity or other factors also had an impact. Now, though, it was time to move on to his next test. Running. Without wasting time, Seth broke into a jog, going back and forth between two nearby trees. As he gradually increased his pace, his hunting boots slid a bit more with each turn, yet he didn't care. Today was all about finding his limit. Who cares if I slip and fall?

The moment he reached his maximum speed, he drew aether from his Well and infused it into the muscle of his legs, focusing mostly on his calves. The effect was almost immediate. Each stride began propelling him a little farther, and as he looked down, the ground was blurring beneath his feet. How much faster am I running? Ten percent? Twenty percent? Before he could figure it out, he snapped his head up—the tree was just a few feet away.

"Shit!" Seth twisted sideways, but his boots dug into the dirt almost of their own free will, launching him off the ground. He sailed through the air before crashing into a bush ahead. Most branches snapped under his weight, but those that didn't stabbed him in the back, hurting him like hell. Wincing, he clambered to his feet. I'll need some practice. Enhanced speed wouldn't be an advantage in a fight if he couldn't turn. Focusing solely on his muscles probably wasn't the best approach.

To dodge and maintain balance, he'd need to improve his reflexes and shorten his reaction time. To do that, he'd have to enhance the tiny threads connecting his brain to his muscles—what the Scholars in the anatomy books referred to as nerves. If he could channel aether into them, it might do the trick. But before working on that, there was one more thing he had to try. Seth unsheathed his hunting knife and scanned his Well. Sixty percent. That should be enough.

Speed would certainly help against arcane beasts, but infusing aether into his weapons would be groundbreaking—it might even allow him to kill some of them. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed his knife's handle and tried pushing aether into the blade, ignoring all the grooves for Identify just like he had done with his muscles. The energy flowed easily from his Well to his hand, however once it got there it stubbornly built up in his palm instead of transferring into the weapon.

Seth gritted his teeth and forced it out of his body—but the moment it passed through his skin, it dissipated into the air. Why isn't it working? Seth frowned, staring at his knife. Do I need a special weapon? Or is it something about the Primalist class? It was common knowledge that Elementalists were the best at manipulating aether outside their bodies and casting destructive spells, but all the other classes were also supposed to be able to also do it… including Primalist.

If they can't, wouldn't that limit me in spells I could learn? Seth set that question aside and kept trying. Yet each attempt failed miserably; the aether went everywhere except inside the knife. A half-dozen tries later, the forest began to spin around him. Damn it. Already down to ten percent. Forced to stop, Seth leaned on the tree and slumped to the ground. He was now facing a choice: keep trying, even if it might be impossible, or practice something else and ask Marcus or Sericar for guidance later.

Chewing his lip, Seth weighed the pros and cons while his Well slowly filled up in his chest. Does it really make sense to waste aether when my regeneration rate is so slow? It'd be wiser to just focus on what I can actually improve for now. A plan took shape in his mind. First, he would need to do his best to keep his Well between ten and thirty percent, so he could maximize its filling rate. Then, he would refine his control over aether inside his body. The best way to do that? Simulate real combat.

Thrusting his knife, sprinting and dodging while enhancing both his muscles and nerves. Afterwards, he could try shooting some arrows—but only if he got good enough. Snapping his bowstring from pulling a little too hard was the last thing he needed. His to-buy list was already long enough. As soon as his Well hit thirty percent, Seth stood up and got to work. He immediately began dashing between bushes and trees, abruptly turning every few seconds to dodge the weapons and spells of imaginary enemies.

Just like he would in a real fight, he used his aether wisely, keeping his Well above the ten-percent while staying as close as possible. When his legs grew tired, he switched his focus to his arms and thrust his knife with force. Each strike aimed at the vital spots—the throat, head, and chest—was empowered with aether. Gradually, Seth began infusing both his legs and arms almost simultaneously, combining lower and upper-body training. The aether flowed up and down as he maintained his focus, evading and stabbing.

Soon, he realized that some paths carried the mystic energy more efficiently to his muscles and nerves, so he made a conscious effort to use them. Sticking to those routes slowed him down and was quite draining, but if he gave it enough time, he hoped the repetitive flow could carve grooves like Identitfy's—and maybe even create a spell. After several hours, Seth's hands finally dropped to his knees as he gasped for air, his calves burning from all the quick turns.

Blood oozed from on his arms and mixed with the dried crust, the wounds caused by the hare reopening from all the swings. His clothes were drenched from sweat and clung to him like a second skin, but his control of aether had greatly improved; he could now channel the energy simultaneously into different parts of his body, adjusting the amount as needed. The only let down was that, despite his efforts to always guide it along the same paths over and over again, there was no sign of any grooves being formed.

He knew it wouldn't be this easy, that crafting a spell was a process that took time and patience, but still. He'd hoped for at least a little something, a hint of progress, to prove he was on the right track. In the distance, the sun's red glow barely covered half of the sky behind the leaves—night would soon fall. I'd better go check if the traps caught something, Seth thought, sheathing his hunting knife. The dried food he had bought at the market was meant for emergencies, not for his first night.

After all, who knew when he would go back to Sunatown? If the tax collector or any noble saw him speaking to someone, they could invent an excuse to fine them and strip them of even more coin. With that in mind, he swept his hair back and headed toward the traps he had set earlier. As he walked along the river, he began to cast Identify. Following the spell's grooves to shape the aether and channel it into his eye took him about a minute, which was way faster than the previous night.

Seth Class: Primalist Rank: 4 (Low-Copper) Subclass: - Strength: 8 Arcane Power: 3 Toughness: 6 Well Capacity: 5 Agility: 7 Regeneration: 8 Spells: - Identify [Copper〜Common (Refined)]"Not a single attribute," Seth murmured, the words coming out as a quiet sigh. He rested his hand against the oak tree beside him, feeling the rough texture of the bark. According to Wandering Merchants, a Wielder should gain half a dozen attributes on the day of their awakening.

That first rush of aether was supposed to be a unique and nourishing experience. But clearly, that rule didn't apply to Primalists. He knew the high-risk, high-reward nature of the class wouldn't hand him power just for swinging a weapon in the safety of the woods. Yet, looking at the stagnant numbers, he couldn't help the pang of disappointment. I guess it was to be expected, Seth thought with a faint smile. For any real progress, I'll need at least some danger.

However, that didn't mean diving in headfirst without preparation. Trying to hunt an arcane beast without any real control over his aether would be suicidal. The Tempest Hare was a great proof that he couldn't underestimate them—not if he wanted to stay alive.