The common room of the inn smelled of burnt bacon and stale ale. The morning sun filtered through the grimy windows, casting long, dusty beams across the scratched wooden tables.

Ray and Kaelen sat on one side of the booth, eating in a contemplative silence. Kaelen picked at her oatmeal, her eyes distant, while Ray drank his morning tea, his mind already calculating the next three moves on the chessboard.

Across from them, however, the mood was different.

Rina stabbed a sausage with her fork. It was greasy, overcooked, and likely 40% extenders, but she smiled at it like it was a gourmet steak.

“You know, Captain,”

Rina said, taking a bite and chewing happily.

“It’s burnt, it’s salty, and it might be yesterday’s leftovers. But do you know the best part?”

Svane, who was methodically working his way through a mountain of eggs, didn’t look up.

“That…it’s warm?”

“That I didn’t cook it,”

Rina chirped.

“For the first time in months, I didn’t have to wake up early, do the food preparation like peeling potatoes, chopping the onions, then do the cooking. It tastes like freedom.”

She leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Speaking of potatoes, did you hear the cook arguing with the supplier out back? Apparently, the ‘fresh’ delivery from the neighboring town is short by five sacks. The supplier blamed wolves stole them during their journey.”

Svane took a long drink of water, his eyes scanning the room over the rim of his cup.

“Wolves don’t steal potatoes, they are carnivores so unless they are transporting meat, the supplier’s excuse does not make sense. It was likely the supplier’s fault. I saw their cart with a broken axle, it probably got into an accident along the way.”

Svane rumbled, setting the cup down.

“You really do pay attention to everything, don’t you?”

Rina responded as she grinned.

“Details keep you alive”

Svane stated simply, going back to his food.

Rina chuckled, enjoying the banter, but the levity was short-lived.

It was broken by a merchant at the next table. He was a portly man with a red face. Talking to the innkeeper while waiting for his horse to be shod.

“Terrible business in Iron-Wake, just terrible. Have you heard the news?”

The merchant said, shaking his head and spraying crumbs.

Kaelen froze, her spoon hovering halfway to her mouth.

“There was an explosion in one of the mines. They say its gas pockets in the lower mines. Triggered a chain reaction. Half the Worker’s District is gone. Just a crater.”

The merchant continued, while he tapped his finger on the table.

“Gas? I thought those mines were stable.”

The innkeeper asked, as he wiped a glass.

“Negligence, the rumors says the Lord of Iron-Wake was cutting corners on ventilation to boost profits. And get this, the man is missing. Presumed dead. Caught in his own blast.”

The merchant scoffed.

Kaelen dropped her spoon. It clattered loudly against the wooden bowl. Her breath hitched, a sharp, ragged sound that drew looks from the nearby tables.

“He… he’s being blamed? They wanted to kill him… and now they’re blaming him.”

Kaelen whispered, her hands gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white.

Her chest heaved. The panic attack was rising like a tide, threatening to drown her.

Ray moved instantly.

He didn’t make a scene. He simply reached out and placed his hand on her forearm. Using the World Weary Healer’s ‘Calming Presence’ skill, an invisible wave of stability flowed from his hand.

It wasn’t magic that altered her mind; it was a grounding force, a biological signal that told her nervous system that the threat was not immediate.

Using the Understudy Protocol’s ‘Resonant Link Communication,’ Ray mentally communicated to Kaelen.

Don’t listen to the words, Kaelen. Listen to the intent.

Ray’s voice echoed clearly in her mind, cutting through the static of her panic.

Kaelen looked at him, her eyes wide and wet.

They are calling it a rescue mission. They say ‘missing and presumed dead.’ Do you know what that means?

Ray continued, his mental voice cool and analytical.

Kaelen shook her head slightly.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

It means they haven’t found a body. If they had killed him, they would have paraded the corpse to close the case. They would have called it a tragic accident and moved on. But they are keeping the file open. That means they can’t confirm the kill.

Ray explained.

Kaelen blinked. The logic pierced through the grief.

Rescue teams…The merchant said rescue teams are combing the ruins.

She responded back, her mental voice trembling.

Probably hit squads, They are hunting for him. And if they are hunting, he is hiding. Hold onto that.

Ray corrected.

Kaelen took a deep, shuddering breath. The panic receded, replaced by a fragile, desperate hope. She picked up her spoon, though her hand still shook.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

She whispered repeatedly.

They were back on the road by mid-morning, but the ‘Old Furrier’s Route’ was fighting them every inch of the way.

The track was a nightmare of washed-out gullies and steep, rocky inclines. The forest here was ancient and untamed, the trees growing so thick they blocked out the sun. By noon, the horse’s mouth was frothing. The driver warned that if they didn’t stop to let the animals rest, they would throw a shoe or break an axle.

Ray called a halt in a small clearing surrounded by towering pines and dense fern undergrowth.

While the driver tended to the horses, Svane and Rina moved to the center of the clearing to spar.

“Again.”

Svane rumbled.

Rina lunged, her daggers flashing. She was fast, a blur of motion aimed at Svane’s exposed neck.

Clang.

Svane didn’t even draw his sword. He simply shifted his weight, catching her wrist on his armored gauntlet and twisting. Rina yelped as her momentum was used against her, sending her sprawling into the dirt.

“You’re fighting like an assassin, speed is useless if you hit a heavy leather armor or a plate. You strike joints. Armpits. Groin. Make the armor a prison.”

Svane lectured.

On the other side of the clearing, sitting on a fallen mossy log, Ray was conducting a different kind of training.

“I am the Port Authority Minister, your cargo stays in the docks.”

Ray droned, playing the corrupt bureaucrat.

Kaelen straightened her back, using the new ‘Leverage Negotiation’ skill she has acquired.

“That is unfortunate, Minister. Especially since the cargo contains the rare vintage wine you ordered…”

She said, her voice smooth

Suddenly, the horses screamed.

The driver scrambled back, tripping over a root.

“My Lord! Wolves!”

Svane spun around, his hand flying to his sword hilt. Rina scrambled up, daggers ready.

Three massive shapes emerged from the fern line. They weren’t wolves. They were Bristle-Back Boars, three hundred pounds of muscle and aggression, with tusks the size of daggers and razor-sharp quills along their spines. They pawed the earth, lowering their heads to charge the panicked horses.

“Defensive formation!”

Svane barked, stepping between the beasts and the carriage.

“I’ll take the sow. Rina, flank the…”

“Stand down,”

Ray commanded.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t draw a weapon. He simply stood up from the log, closing the ledger.

Ray immediately activated the Primal Naturalist’s ‘Primal Empathy’ skill, to assess the situation. The world shifted in Ray’s eyes. The forest wasn’t just trees and dirt anymore; it was a web of scents, territories, and aggression lines.

Naturalist: “Bristle-Backs, beauties, aren’t they? But nasty tempers. Don’t let the Captain draw steel, mate. Steel smells like a challenge. You challenge a Bristle-Back, and he won’t stop until he’s shish-kebabbed the horses.”

The Primal Naturalist’s voice drawled in the back of Ray’s mind, curious, enthusiastic, and completely unbothered by the danger.

“Ray! That thing will gut you!”

Svane hissed, stepping forward.

“Hold, Captain, sheath your weapon. Metal triggers their aggression response.”

Ray ordered, his voice calm but layered with a strange, resonant weight.

Naturalist: “That’s it, Now, walk up. Chin up. Don’t sneak. Sneaking is for prey. You’re not prey. You’re the bloody King of the Jungle. Project it.”

The Primal Naturalist coached.

Ray walked straight toward the charging boars. He didn’t run, and he didn’t hesitate. He moved with a deliberate, heavy cadence.

The Alpha Boar was confused by this soft-skin puny human that wasn’t running. It triggered its natural instinct, sensing something was wrong. It scraped the dirt, lowering its tusked head, ready to gore him.

Naturalist: “He’s bluffing. He’s waiting for you to flinch. Don’t you dare flinch. Now, hit him with the Voice. Deep in the chest. Tell him this is your clearing.”

The Primal Naturalist enthusiastically advised.

Ray stopped ten feet away. He didn’t use fire or lightning. He simply flared his mana, not as a spell, but as a pheromone signal, a heavy, oppressive aura of dominance.

Ray activated Tri-Concurrent Partial Immersion and used the Primal Naturalist’s ‘Beast Speak’ the Grizzled Veteran’s ‘Command Aura’ and the Charismatic Conman’s ‘Performance’ skill.

He took a deep breath, expanding his chest. When he spoke, it wasn’t a human shout. It was a sharp, percussive sound, amplified by mana to vibrate at a frequency that rattled the bones.

“HRAAAK!”

The sound hit the clearing like a physical blow. It wasn’t a challenge to fight; it was a dismissal from a higher predator.

The Alpha Boar froze mid-charge. Its beady eyes locked onto Ray.

Through the Primal Empathy skill Ray felt the Alpha Boar’s thoughts from Aggression to Confusion, and finally to Fear. The boar’s instincts were screaming that the small human was actually something much, much bigger.

Naturalist: “Good on ya. Now, dismiss him. Turn your head slightly. Show him he’s not even worth the effort.”

The Naturalist cheered internally.

Ray tilted his head, exhaling slowly, looking bored.

The boar grunted, took a step back, and shook its head. It looked at Ray, then at the horses, and decided the meal wasn’t worth the risk of fighting a possible superior alpha. With a snort of annoyance, the Alpha turned and trotted back into the ferns. The other two followed instantly.

Ray stood there for a moment, letting the adrenaline fade, checking his own pulse.

A blue translucent screen appeared in front of him.

[SKILLED APPLICATION DETECTED]

[EVENT: TRI-ARCHETYPE BIO-HIJACK]

[PERFORMANCE EVALUATION: INSPIRED]

[ANALYSIS: Host successfully synchronized three disparate Archetypes to execute a high-level psychological bluff against a wild creature. By layering ‘Command Aura’ (Veteran) and ‘Performance’ (Conman) over the base ‘Beast Speak’ (Naturalist), the Host created a ‘Phantom Apex Signature,’ effectively hacking the survival instincts of a hostile creature. This demonstrates a profound understanding that nature is not just a physical struggle, but a negotiation of intent. Largest mastery gained.]

[Beast Speak +20%, Command Aura +15%, Performance (Acting within Acting) +10% (CAPSTONE already reached, adding half of mastery gain to the next archetype skill ‘Midirection’).]

[INSPIRED RESULT: Your understanding of the ‘Language of Dominance’ has evolved. You have proven that a king does not need to bleed to rule. The Primal Naturalist archetype has adapted to your specific method of psychological warfare.]

[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: ‘Apex Predator’s Aura:’ Allows the Host to actively project a bio-magical field that mimics the ‘threat signature’ of a top predator. Induces immediate Fear or Intimidation in creatures with lower willpower to submission. Against humanoids, it projects a subconscious sense of ‘Lethal Danger,’ causing hesitation and unease.]

Ray was happy with the new archetype skill acquisition and dismissed the notification window.

“Efficient, No mana wasted. No collateral damage.”

Ray murmured to himself.

He turned back to the group. The driver was shaking behind the carriage. Svane still had his hand halfway to his sword, looking baffled. Rina was blinking rapidly.

Kaelen, however, was staring at him with wide eyes.

“What… what was that?” she asked.

Ray walked back to the log and picked up the ledger.

“Nature is just another negotiation, Kaelen. The Minister fears his superior. The Boar fears the Alpha. You don’t always need a sword to win. Sometimes, you just need to identify the fear and exploit it.”

Ray said, smoothing his coat. He sat back down, crossing his legs.

“Now, where were we? Ah, yes. The vintage wine.”

Kaelen blinked, looked at the spot where the monsters had just been terrified into retreating, and then looked back at Ray. She straightened her back.

“Right. The wine.”

She said, her voice steady. A newfound respect, and understanding in her eyes.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep