Welcome, hopeful Tamer! By purchasing this primer, you've taken your first step on a path few dare to tread. It is a path defined by potential loss and profound hardship, yet also by unmatched strength and a unique form of wisdom. You've heard the terrifying tales of the monsters—horrific creatures of tooth, claw, and scale that emerged from Pangera’s depths after the cataclysmic event known as the Rending. This upheaval didn't just tear the surface; it flooded the world with raw, unbound Mana, and crucially, tore open the earth to reveal the subterranean labyrinth known as the Dungeon.

  ?For thousands of years, brave soldiers, delvers, and mercenaries have battled these monstrosities daily, risking life and limb to keep the horrors confined beneath our very noses. To the majority of the surface world, these creatures are nothing more than an enemy to be exterminated, and rightly so! Monsters exist only to grow—vicious engines seeking to rend flesh and obtain Biomass and experience no matter the cost. But where the masses see only a brutal enemy, the Tamers Troupe sees something greater: a potential ally. We see a mind that can be understood, guided, and forged into a formidable partnership.

  ?Let me be honest with you right now: the Tamer class is not for everyone. It is easily one of the most expensive and demanding paths you can choose. Your ability to function relies entirely on another entity—a monster—which means you have two mouths to feed and twice the risk.

  ?To even unlock the class, you must reconstitute a monster's Core. It sounds simple, but getting that Core is tough. As you know, Cores are only obtained from the corpses of slain monsters, and every magical tool—from staves and swords to even cooking stoves—needs them. This high demand makes specific Cores incredibly costly, often prohibitively so. Unless you have the capital to simply buy the Core of your dreams, you’ll have to hunt one yourself or hire someone very good to do it for you. This is the greatest risk, because the monsters that actually condense a Core through evolution are far stronger than their Coreless counterparts. You’re hunting for a dangerous creature, which makes obtaining that simple prerequisite Core the very first real test of your commitment.

  ?If you manage to obtain and reconstitute the Core, congratulations! You've successfully brought your monster back to life. But it won't be the magnificent beast you dreamed of; it's reborn as a juvenile. Now begins the second, and arguably most demanding, step: raising it.

  ?Think of it like feeding a child. This juvenile monster must be constantly fed Biomass to grow back up to fighting shape. The more it eats, the faster it grows, and the sooner it can fight alongside you. While an experienced dungeon delving party might find hunting for food their "bread and butter," a new delver is going to face serious difficulty securing enough Biomass. Remember, the monster must continually eat to stay alive, just like you. If you aren't willing to hunt personally, you must be ready to pay the significant coinage required to import fresh Biomass constantly. The early days are about grit, coin, and commitment.

  ?But don't let the difficulties scare you off! Despite the costs and the constant hunting, the Tamer path is worth every sacrifice. Should you successfully raise your monster to adulthood, you won't just have a Pet; you will have a loyal companion—an ally capable of unique evolutionary paths and feats only a monster can perform. It’s a symbiotic bond that allows the Tamer to rise with their partner, hand in claw, achieving a level of strength and utility that solo adventurers, and truly, even some parties, can only dream of.

  - Excerpt from “The Tamer, a Class Primer.” Written by Edril Kaulkn, Master Tamer of the Tamers Troupe.

  As the grown leech's death throes come to an end and I pull my claws from its body, my legs buckle, forcing me to catch myself against the large corpse. Pain flares in my side as I lurch forward, arms outstretched to prevent myself from falling flat on my face. Once I'm steady, I turn to observe myself, only to let out a small groan when I finally get a good look at the damage. It's one thing to see a number indicating how hurt you are, but quite another to see the massive gash along your side, oozing blood.

  A long, messy wound stretches from my shoulder to my flank, the monster's teeth having cut deepest around my shoulder and abdomen. My normally pristine black scales are rent and ragged; some have been ripped straight from my body, while others have broken into shards that stick out at awkward angles. Damn, this thing smarts something fierce. It doesn't help that the pain is doubled due to that charge, either. Gently, I test the wound, applying pressure to my ribs, only to hiss and jerk back. Yep. Definitely broken.

  But still, things could be worse. I could be dead. If it weren't for Scale Defense, I probably would be; if I were an inch to the right, the leech would've caught me in the throat, and it would've been lights out. The thought is strangely distant, like a horror movie I vaguely remember watching. I feel like that fact should scare me more than it does. I know I'm a bit off, but almost dying should be a pretty scarring thing, right? What do you think, Puzzle?

  ?Puzzle, in her infinite wisdom, rolls her eyes at my sudden philosophical quandaries and urges me to focus on more important things, such as not dying again. The adrenaline is already giving way, leaving a dangerous, cold vacancy in its wake, and if I don't move, the crash will be lethal. I dare say, it's a fair concern; I am in an active warzone after all. Still, we're coming back to this, you mangled mind, you.

  Pulling myself up by my metaphorical bootstraps, I push the thoughts away and steel myself against the pain before tearing into the corpse in front of me. I slam my claws into the grown leech's body and immediately try my best to ignore the nausea that rises in my throat. The smell is... bad. Like, really bad. Monsters in general don't smell the best—the leeches especially—but they usually taste good enough to ignore that problem. This is not one of those situations. Metallic, oily, and with an undertone of gone-off fish mixed with stale pennies, I have to force myself to choke it down. Each swallow burns, not just with the pain of my injuries, but with sheer revulsion.

  At least the Biomass is rich.

  [You have consumed a new source of Biomass: Maior Mana Hirudinea. You have gained one Biomass. Basic profile of the Maior Mana Hirudinea unlocked!]

  [You have gained one Biomass.]

  [You have gained one Biomass.]

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  After a few minutes, I pull back from my disgusting meal with a strained gasp. It's so bad! I stop myself from heaving, but only just; the lingering, rancid taste on my tongue makes me feel like I need a new one entirely. I've only consumed around a third of the corpse as of now, and I genuinely don't know how much more I can take. I can already feel the horrid Biomass permeating throughout my body, a hot wave accelerating my healing, closing over my wounds, and stopping the bleeding. I know I need to keep eating, not just for the boost of Biomass, but to complete my recovery, but... damnit, it's just so disgusting! A choked sob threatens to leak from my muzzle, but I force it back, refusing to give the leech's ghost the satisfaction. As a distraction from the sheer bodily misery, I pull open my newly unlocked profile and read up on my not-so-delicious enemy.

  [Profile: Maior Mana Hirudinea/Greater Mana Leech.]

  The evolved form of the Mana Leech, the Greater Mana Leech, is a significant step up from its smaller counterparts. These creatures are far more independent, yet their individualistic strength makes them the primary enforcers of the swarms led by a Monarch. Bulky and brutal, the Greater Mana Leech possesses an even more voracious, near-addictive appetite for Mana. This heightened hunger often pushes them into direct conflict with their kin; they will stop at nothing to acquire the condensed energy, often engaging in cannibalism when members of their small pack are deemed to hold too much of the substance. Be aware of their increased size and the rigid, chitinous plates lining their bodies, as this armor is noticeably tougher to pierce than that of a Mana Leech.

  As I reach the end of the profile, I'm left somewhat confused. Not about the monster itself; it's every bit the creature I thought it was. Canibalism, enforcement, and near-endless desire for Mana, all things I readily expected. Well, maybe not the cannibalism part, but I digress. No, what has me confused is the monster’s name and one word in particular: Evolved.

  The evolved form of the Mana Leech, the Greater Mana Leech, is a significant step up from its smaller counterparts.

  I read the line twice, then three times. Evolved. Something about that word is tickling mine and Puzzle’s brain folds. Not to the extent that “System” did, but it is making me consider some things I hadn't before.

  All this time, I was under the impression that monsters grew the same way as animals back on Earth. A gradual, predictable change in which a creature goes from juvenile to mature adult over a period of months or years. I assumed I’d be stuck at my current size, at my current Tier, until passive biology decided I was old enough to Tier up naturally, so I didn't really worry about it.

  But perhaps... the process is more like a game than I initially suspected. Now that I think about it, it seems a bit silly that I didn't consider this earlier. I mean, there are skills, levels, and even mutations. Why wouldn't rapid evolution be a possibility as well? And if that's the case, what does that mean for me? I eye my Tier suspiciously as I force another mouthful of Biomass down. The taste is still horrid, but it helps ground my now-racing thoughts in rationality. I can focus on this later; for now, I need to eat and heal. Regardless of whether or not I can evolve myself, it won't matter if I die here.

  Despite my best efforts, my increasingly outlandish thoughts prove harder to dislodge than I anticipated. Could I grow more tails? Or eyes? Maybe even wings?! The possibility of rapid evolution is a siren song to my mangled mind. Eventually, though, I manage to force the mental noise aside and focus on the immediate task: stuffing the rancid meat down my gullet.

  Biomass, no matter the source, really is amazing stuff. Even as I swallow the awful taste, I can feel my body responding—my cut scabbing over, and the pressure around my ribs easing, making it easier to breathe. I'm certainly not fully healed, but checking my Status confirms the improvement: I'm only at 26/50 HP, but that's a far cry better than the piddling 15/50 HP I had before.

  Welp, back to it!

  [You have gained one Biomass.]

  [You have gained one Biomass.]

  My single-minded feast is suddenly interrupted by cacophonous screeching. Ripping my head from my meal's internals—they taste, as you'd expect, utterly wretched—my eyes are greeted by another pack of leeches rapidly approaching my position. It's a little hard to make out in the gloom, but it looks like a total of five combatants. Naturally, another Greater Leech leads the group, though this one is in noticeably better shape than my previous opponent. Because of course it is.

  ?I frown, gore dripping from my muzzle. If I had to guess, I only have thirty seconds before they're on me. It only takes a moment for Puzzle and me to come to the conclusion that I can't win against another Greater, not in the state I'm in. That... doesn't give me a lot of options. While I'm reasonably certain I could beat the Mana Leeches—especially with my new HP cushion—I'd have to dodge the big one before I could go in for the kill. And those things are a lot faster than they look, so I'm not sure I could keep ahead with my busted ribs and all.

  Damnit. Do I just run? That seems like a waste. There's a lot of good experience and Biomass here! But if I can't fight, what's the point?

  But then, I get an idea. An awful idea. A truly wonderful, awful idea.

  Turning my head to the side, I eye the only other entity in this tunnel that doesn't want me dead. Mr. Knight stands stop a mountain of corpses, his part of the battle coming to a standstill as he cuts down the last of the swarm on his end of the tunnel. Him and the Monarch eye each other like two gunslingers at a face off, neither wanting to make the first move.

  The Monarch is the epitome of stillness. Coiled like a spring, the monster is moments from hurling itself at its opponent. Mr. Knight, on the other claw, is a monument to silent strength. Shield raised and sword at the ready, he's just waiting for an his opponent to slip up. It's a standoff that I have no intention of getting in the middle of.

  I can send the big guy at them, though.

  The Monarch seemingly has little love for its minions, if its arrival was anything to go by; that opening salvo took out a hefty chunk of the swarm at the beginning. Not to mention, if the little-big guys are cannibalistic, then the big-big one probably is, too. So, Puzzle, what happens if an already pissed-off apex predator—an absolute unit of a leech—sees any sudden movement or hears a loud sound that isn't its designated enemy? Chaos! Carnage! Distraction, that's what. It's the perfect scheme! It's also dangerous and possibly suicidal, but hey, that's kinda been my M.O. as of late.

  It is going to take some setup, though. Let's get started.

  Snapping down the final bite of my meal, needing as much energy as I can get, I shove off the ground and sprint toward the approaching pack, running directly at the Greater Leech leading the charge. The monster hisses in anticipation, assuming I'm a desperate, cornered fool choosing a final, futile attack.

  I don't stop or engage.

  Instead, I dash, activating the skill and skirting wide, narrowly dodging the leech's sloppy lunge. I make sure to stay just ahead of the monster, taunting the beast. I use my tail to make it worse, kicking up a plume of dust right in its face. The monster is obviously very impressed by this and screeches in indignation, snapping at my flank, but I'm just a little too fast, a little too agile. A little too smart. Ensuring the monster's attention is glued to my flank, I run a large semicircle towards the main event.

  ?I hear the heavy, frantic slither of the massive leech right behind me. It doesn't notice the Knight. It doesn't notice the Monarch. It only notices the target that just insulted it and smells of fresh Biomass.

  In a split second, I cut sharply to the left, diving behind a pillar of rock and leaving the leech momentarily confused. It roars as it charges past my cover, it's powerful momentum carrying it directly into the sightlines of the Monarch and the Knight.

  The tunnel goes deathly quiet as the Greater Mana Leech tumbles out into the open, the monster quickly trying to right itself to continue the chase. It doesn't get the chance as the silence is broken.

  The Monarch, which had been frozen in its standoff with Mr. Knight, suddenly erupts with furious, territorial clicks that echo through the space. Its eyes burn red with rage as they fixate on the much smaller monster, and its mouth opens wide with an angry hiss. Before anyone can react, the massive creature pivots and lunges at the smaller leech, a tangle of limbs and fury. Seeing a perfect opening, the knight shouts a battle cry and charges headlong into the fray, eager to defeat his opponents.

  ?Chaos has officially consumed the tunnel.

  ?My part of the plan is complete. As the tunnel erupts into a chaotic three-way battle, I don't take a moment to watch. Instead, I quickly circle around the pillar and crash into the flank of the now leaderless pack of monsters. They attempt to scatter, but it's too late; Their confusion seals their fate.

  ?It's time to cash in.