While Priam hadn’t exactly ordered his blood to turn into flames, he had still managed to reverse it on his own—and in doing so, had upgraded one of his five Tortures.
A smile on his lips, Priam looked down at the scorpion beneath him before abducting it into his inner world. Finally satisfied, he knocked on the hatch that sealed the tank.
The enchanted metal didn’t even groan. The Juggernaut considered waiting for someone to free him, then gave a wicked smile. Like hell I’m gonna stew in here a second longer than I have to.
Using Micro’s overclocking, he flexed his right arm and punched the hatch with all his strength. The metal plate exploded, and Priam launched himself out in a single bound.
He landed barefoot on the thick carpet and flashed a smile at the Snahert Transcendants. While the shaman managed to keep a flawless poker face, Ophis looked utterly stunned.
“You all look surprised,” Priam said, as the shattered hatch clattered shut behind him. “Am I the first?”
Kazuki was the first to recover. “Second,” he replied, gesturing toward the darkened corpse of an Empyrean sprawled beside a wrecked vat.
“And I think we’re all surprised by your fashion choices,” added Blueberry.
Catching Esmée’s blush, Priam glanced down at himself. His crimson boxer briefs—Thaal’s absurd gift—had morphed into a skintight, yellow speedo adorned with printed scorpions and dice. Along the waistband, the name of the new collection was proudly displayed: Smoking Hot.
“This fucker’d better pay me well,” muttered Priam, summoning mist to cloak himself.
The remainder of the Gu trial barely interested Priam. Most of the Snaherts already possessed the rare ideal version of [Poison Resistance], effectively skipping a prerequisite for the epic upgrade. They should have been the first to emerge—but Priam had outpaced them.
With his unique race, engineered for adaptive evolution, along with his Titles and Merits that accelerated resistance growth, he had left them in the dust. The fact that his Gu trial packed more punch than theirs, as it wasn't personalized, had also been instrumental in this record speed.
When the Snaherts finally emerged from their vats, the general reaction was one of indifference. The powerhouses present were far more interested in the autopsy of the Empyrean general.
“He must’ve had an allergic reaction to one of the poisons,” declared the Aelbe accompanying Rohan. “That likely triggered his death.”
“As if I’d miscalculate a dosage,” Sna shot back. “He simply lacked willpower. A Gu trial is for brave Elysians, not pampered aliens.”
“His death is less relevant than his resurrection under the Necromoon’s banner,” Thyvael cut in. The elf was pissed. “We know its influence preys on weak minds—but if the dead are reanimating even without direct infection, then the situation is critical.”
“I’m not convinced this qualifies as resurrection,” said Sna, squinting at the corpse. “Check the talisman on his neck. There’s a crust of blood inside.” She lifted a strange medallion, complete with a fine needle. “The agony of the trial must’ve been too much for the coward, and he corrupted himself to survive. He transitioned from life to half-life, without fully dying.”
“Semantics,” the Aelbe spat. “You’re playing word games.”
And she isn’t the only one.
Priam resisted the urge to glance at Esmée. He had enough puzzle pieces to sketch out the full picture. The princess had handed her uncle a talisman—one that would ‘save’ him from death—only to throw him into a crucible of lethal opportunity. When he crawled out, mutated and tainted, he was summarily executed like the undead husk he had become.
The princess had exploited a loophole in her geas to eliminate one of her tormentors. Clever... And if she went for her uncle instead of her brother, then odds are she already has a plan for getting rid of him too.
The Aelbe continued. “I can’t fathom being such a coward—choosing eternal servitude over a clean death,” he spat, glaring at the charred corpse with deep contempt.
“Could we really expect anything better from these aliens?” Ophis sneered, casting sidelong glances at Priam, Kazuki, and Esmée. “At the very least, this explanation clears us of responsibility.”
“I’m afraid not,” said Thyvael. “When my master, the High Marshal, learns of this, he will not be pleased. The possibility that a living being could smuggle corrupted blood into his internal world wasn’t even on our radar. Too ridiculous, we thought. Not anymore.” His tone was heavy with unspoken consequences.
“You can’t lump us in with those aliens—”
“Aliens?” Thyvael interrupted. “From my perspective, we’re all aliens. Three thousand years ago, the ancestors you venerate so dearly were in the same place as the Champions before us.” Ophis opened his mouth, but Thyvael wasn’t finished. “Go back three hundred thousand years and neither the Wandering Islands nor the Empire existed. Push back far enough, and even we elves only set foot in Elysium during the Seventh Multiversal War.” Despite the Tier difference, his gaze pinned Ophis like a nail. “Know this: to the High Marshal, the only distinction between your three tribes and the Champions is that they might one day stand as his equals.”
He turned, making for the exit, and his departure left a heavy silence. Priam gave the corpse one final glance before striding toward the exit himself.
“One moment, Champion Priam.”
Fuck…
He turned, face carefully composed, to see Ophis approaching. “My apologies,” he said evenly. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for the opportunity… and it didn’t seem like the right moment.”
“It’s nothing,” Ophis smiled. “Truly, it’s a pleasure to assist the next generation. I just wanted your feedback about the trial. It will help us improve how we welcome future guests.”
“It was hell,” Priam replied honestly. Lying to a serpent felt like asking to be bitten. “The pain was so intense I had to smash my head against the tank to black out. Still, no regrets—the reward was worth it.”
“You’re brave. Some of our younglings ask the shaman to block out the trauma. Perhaps you—”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Priam said. “Not that I’m particularly attached to the memory…” A shudder traced his spine at the recollection. “…but what are we, if not the sum of our experiences? I’m proud of my scars, even the mental ones. They tell a story.”
Truth be told, Priam could understand why a young Snahert might choose to forget. He had spent years digesting his own darkest memories. Still, [Homo Elysian Obsession], one of his two racial Talents and the evolution of [High Human Adaptation], allowed him to move forward without being too burdened by the past. That was precious, especially when the slightest depression could kill his momentum.
“…Very inspiring,” Ophis said, his smile thinning. “One last question: did you notice anything unusual during the trial? An odd Gu, perhaps?”
He wants to know why I’m alive… and why the Empyrean isn’t.
As Priam opened his mouth, he felt his blood rush to his tongue. His draconic bloodline compelled him to speak the truth. Ophis awakened the dragon’s pride within him—and that supreme beast did not stoop to lies.
“This was my first Gu trial, so I can’t really comment on whether it was unusual. As for the Gu... From my perspective, they all seemed strange.”
Unfortunately for the Snahert, there were many ways to bend the truth—and humans had nothing to envy from the fae in that department.
Brows furrowed, Ophis opened his mouth to press further, but Priam raised a hand. The Champion’s eyes had hardened to steel.
“Your guards' behavior toward Blueberry was already insulting, but these questions are starting to feel like an interrogation. Maybe the first offense was a misunderstanding, but I’m starting to doubt your innocence. The tribes like to wax poetic about honor, so let me be clear: stomp on ours again, and the consequences will be unpleasant.”
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The words struggled to leave Priam’s mouth, so great was the fear his soul felt before the Transcendent’s. Still, if there was one thing school had taught the Champion, it was that groveling never stopped a bully—it only fed the beast.
The ball was now in the Tier 4’s court. He could try to punish Priam for challenging him in front of an Aelbe envoy, or he could claim it was all a misunderstanding.
True to its nature, Ophis feigned shock. “Champion Priam, I’m truly sorry if you thought that… This is all a misunderstanding. You’re our guests—it would be beneath me to try and deceive you. Please accept my apologies. I’m so troubled by this affair that I forgot to restrain my bloodline.”
Priam summoned a fake smile. “I accept your apology and leave you to your investigation. Good night, Chief Ophis. Shaman Sna. Champion Esmée.”
With that, he exited the tent with his companions.
“Well?” asked Blueberry. “Did you get the resistance?”
“I got the resistances,” Priam winked at Kazuki. “And a Title,” he added in Morse code. By manipulating micro-tensions at the corners of his eyelids with Micro, he could send silent signals to the hoplite.
“For collecting twenty ideal skills?”
“I’m sitting at nineteen.”
“Then for collecting ten ideal resistances?”
“Only nine,” Priam grinned. “And I don’t think there’s a Title for that—[Life is Hard; I’m Harder] covers ten epic-grade resistances. That’s better anyway, as my vitality is brushing up against the next Tribulation threshold, and constitution isn’t far behind.”
He was still nine Dexterity points short of hitting nine hundred in twelve different attributes, but none of his current resistances boosted it. On the other hand, the ideal version of [Art of Movement] will probably give that stat a solid nudge…
Now that the skill was maxed out, Priam was counting on the Aelbes’ help to unlock the ideal upgrade.
Kazuki studied him for a moment, then shook his head. “You need a Tier 3 race to push your thresholds higher. Without that, you’ll die soon.”
“With Osiris, I’ve got hope. After the tournament.”
Feeling left out, Blueberry grumbled until Priam and Kazuki looped him into a less secretive conversation. The three of them wandered to the Gaesert camp and settled on the terrace of one of the few open taverns. The banquet was in full swing a few hundred meters away, which explained the lack of patrons.
“This is where we’re spending the night?” Blueberry asked, flopping to the ground. “With all that racket, I’m never getting to sleep.”
“Sleeping in the middle of the tribal encampment is a great way to never wake up,” Priam replied. “Tensions are sky-high. I’d bet my arm there are assassins on the prowl.”
“Sleep-deprived me is a grumpy me,” the bear warned.
“With your Vitality, you can miss a night,” Kazuki said, settling onto a wooden stool.
“It’s not about whether I can, it’s about principle. Bears hibernate, we don’t do night shifts.” Seeing his two friends smirk, Blueberry growled again. “And why here, anyway? The Snaherts and Aelbes have way more fish. The Gaeserts only eat meat.”
Kazuki waved at a waitress before answering. “Priam thinks they’re more honorable than the other two tribes.”
Priam smiled as the wind brushed against his face. A bubble of air now enveloped them, shielding them from prying ears. Even if the odds of a local spy understanding English were near zero, the hoplite wasn’t taking any chances, using his Concept to distort sound.
“Of the three clans, they’re the only ones ignoring us,” Priam confirmed.
“And that’s good?” Blueberry asked, raising a brow.
The young man shrugged. “Beats the Aelbes’ condescension or the Snaherts’ contempt.” He fell silent as the waitress approached—a woman who looked old enough to be his grandmother. She took their order—fruit juice for Priam, tea for Kazuki, and one of everything on the menu for Blueberry—then shuffled away.
“Ophis is relatively young, but he’s led his clan for nearly five decades. I refuse to believe he can’t be discreet or pleasing. He used his bloodline in a rude way to try and force the truth out of me because he thought there’d be no consequence in antagonizing a Tier 0.”
“But you’re both Champions,” Blueberry pointed out. “You’ve got a shot at catching up.”
“We’ve got potential,” Priam admitted. “But for now, that’s all we’ve got. And Ophis clearly doesn’t think it’s worth worrying about. There’s only one reason for that, and I don’t like it.”
“The Tier 4 doesn’t think we’ll live long enough to be a threat,” Kazuki explained, seeing Blueberry’s confused expression. “Or worse—he plans to clip our wings himself.”
Priam nodded. The first insult aimed at Blueberry had been bait, a way to provoke him. The second offense—the pressure exerted on his draconic bloodline—was far more worrisome. Ophis hadn’t even bothered staying polite.
“The Snahert matter is clear to me; but could you elaborate on the difficulties presented by the Aelbes?” Kazuki asked.
“They’re cozying up to the Empyreans... When Rohan approached me to talk about Proxima, I thought his tribe wanted to ally with a Champion. That maybe Esmée’s brother had offered them a deal, but they preferred a rising star like Oasis. I think I overanalyzed it. Truth is, his clan’s genuinely concerned about Proxima.”
“Why care about Proxima?” Kazuki frowned. “Because of Elysian Laws, even if the Empyreans opened a portal, the Aelbes wouldn’t be able to stay there long.”
“Minors aren’t bound by those laws,” Priam reminded him. “And even adults can bypass them by rejecting the System—we saw it with the elves and the High Marshal’s inner world.”
“You think they’d go that far to survive?” Blueberry grunted.
“Maybe not just to survive. But to escape the Necromoon?” Priam leaned back. “Plenty of these warriors are brave enough to face death. Eternal servitude is another beast. No one wants that fate…”
The waitress returned with their drinks, and the three friends fell silent. Priam could tell Kazuki was thinking about his people. If the Empyreans allied with the Aelbes, the hoplites were in trouble. All their tech wouldn’t stop a Tier 3 raid.
“In exchange for their own continent, the Aelbes might be willing to pacify the whole planet for the Empyreans,” the general mused, staring into his tea.
“That’d make them your enemies,” Blueberry pointed out.
“The best way to commit a massacre is to kill the warriors before they realize the war has begun.” Kazuki rubbed his temples. “They’ll want us dead before the tournament ends.”
Blueberry shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe Priam’s wrong…”
“Maybe,” Priam sighed. “It’s possible the alliance between the Aelbes and the Empyreans is just temporary—or maybe there’s no alliance at all, just a tech trade and a non-aggression pact. After all, inviting Tier 3s into your backyard is a gamble—you risk them deciding to stay. The Empyreans would have to be losing hard to consider it. As for the Aelbes, they don’t seem eager to abandon their ancestral lands.” He paused, exhaling sharply. “Still, both sides need a fallback plan in case the shit really hits the fan—and that gives weight to my invasion theory.”
Kazuki slammed his fist on the table. It was the first time Priam had seen him so close to losing his composure.
“What does it matter what the enemy plans if we already know their strategy? The Aelbes want to survive—and we’re standing in the way. Maybe they haven’t realized it yet. Maybe they haven’t planned to kill us and wipe out our civilizations. But those are possible futures.” Kazuki’s jaw tightened. “I won’t allow them.”
Priam met the hoplite’s gaze and held his breath. Was he really ready to condemn people for crimes they hadn’t yet committed? Morality whispered no.
Both his pragmatism, and survival instinct screamed yes.
“So we kill those futures in the cradle?”
Empowered by his Duty Concept, the blue in Kazuki’s eyes swirled like a storm. “Yes. The Aelbes and the Snaherts must be erased.”
Priam glanced at his berry juice. “If I’d known it’d come to this, I would’ve ordered something stronger…”
Status:
PHYSICAL:
Strength 1 245
Constitution 2 065
Agility 1 631
Vitality 2 092
Perception 988
MENTAL:
Vivacity (D) 664
Dexterity 891
Memory 1 150
Willpower 1 298
Charisma 988
META:
Meta-affinity (O) 1 394
Meta-focus 880
Meta-endurance 1 568
Meta-perception 842
Meta-chance 1 089
Meta-authority 768
Potential: 33 989
Tier 0
[Tribulation]: Three Tribulations pending.
Future Tribulations delayed until:
Time: 2 months 12 days 16 hours 6 minutes 15 seconds.
Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 900 / 3 attributes > 1 800 / 1 attribute > 2 100
Next arc already complete on Patreon if you want to find out what happens next!
/ANovelConcept