A big one. Enjoy!
*
Chapter 459: The Ultimate Tier 0
“You lost an arm,” Esmée observed.
“Two, actually. I regenerated one,” Priam explained as he stepped through the rift. A part of him whispered that it was strange to regard an amputation with such detachment, but [Homo Elysian Obsession] and experience had long since warped his sense of normalcy.
One could not die a hundred times without becoming a little strange.
“I do not understand why you insist on using unmastered techniques in real combat,” the princess sighed.
“Half to improve, half for the love of the game.”
The two Champions smiled at one another. Kazuki interrupted their flirtation.
“The Terror?”
“Dead,” Priam said, pulling a length of entrails from his hair. Judging by the smell, it was unlikely to be his. He regularly cleansed his intestines with his flames. “Its regeneration was disgusting—”
“You’re one to talk,” Jasmine muttered.
“—but even underwater, Pyro got the job done.”
As he spoke, Priam realized he was standing in open air and finally took stock of his surroundings.
The four Champions stood within a gigantic antechamber covered in quartz. Across the floor stretched a magnificent mosaic of glyphs serving as the stage for a ballet of aether. Streams of colored energy chased one another through an exquisite runic labyrinth. The work of art beneath their feet was the only intact part of the chamber. Craters riddled the walls and ceiling.
“This place had an unhappy visitor not long ago,” Jasmine said, touching a shard of glass that still smoked.
“Yeah, and the ambient aether is still disturbed.” Channeling [Aether Perception] through his Domain and his eyes, Priam watched the invisible fluid churn like water molecules in a microwave oven. “The question is: who could be foolish enough to attack a Monarch in their own lair?”
“One of your rivals,” a new voice replied.
The four Champions turned toward the newcomer.
From a doorway opened in reality a meter above the ground descended what looked like an elf with snow-white pigmentation. Their night-colored boots settled upon the air as though an invisible staircase existed. Behind golden spectacles, their eyes regarded the assembly the way a king might regard his subjects.
Or a tamer his animals.
The analogy was not entirely absurd, for Priam realized he was incapable of speaking. His body was waiting for permission.
The apex being touched the ground, and a crystalline throne grew from the quartz to serve as their seat.
“Champions.”
The silence broke.
“Monarch Vertex,” Priam bowed, followed by Jasmine and Kazuki. Esmée curtseyed.
The dragon looked at him, and Priam felt [Ciphered Record] tremble. Unlike their last encounter, the skill gained no levels; nevertheless, Priam did not believe for a single instant that any of his secrets had escaped Vertex. Two slit pupils of pale white settled briefly upon each rival before returning to the Juggernaut.
“A quest fulfilled and a reward deserved.”
A door opened to another room. Sumstreh was waiting.
Priam bowed again. It felt appropriate.
“You have my thanks,” he said as he straightened. “You will soon have the heads of the last two.”
In exchange for Valaryth’s World Key. That had been the deal.
The dragon blinked slowly.
“Wretched is the lizard who bears the arrogance of the dragon.”
“...”
“I think they just insulted you,” Jasmine whispered through their mental link while Priam tried to process the sentence.
“My intention was not to offend,” said a third voice through the bond of the Shadow and the Juggernaut. “Watch, and learn.”
Before Priam could react, his vision changed.
*
A sun in a black sky illuminated an alien city. An amphibious one where canals replaced streets, and the houses possessed as many floors beneath the water as above it. The inhabitants moved as easily by swimming as by running across ropes. With a single glance, Priam took their measure. Around him, hundreds of scaled individuals wandered, bargained, and conversed. At the base of their necks, each bore brightly colored scales forming distinctive identity patterns.
It took Priam a few moments to recognize their species. Rehms. The inhabitants of Valaryth.
Suddenly, they all stopped, staring at invisible text before them.
Your galaxy is requisitioned by the Seven.
The specter through whose eyes Priam was seeing rose until it left the atmosphere. There, brushing past the natural satellites, the Champion contemplated a round planet. From space, he could see various gigantic constructions—the marks of an advanced civilization.
A movement drew his attention to one of the polar oceans.
There, the ice cap exploded, revealing a white more pure than snow. It took Priam a second to understand what he was seeing: a sclera without a pupil. A blind eye of monumental proportions.
The creature to which it belonged blinked before lifting a gigantic head from the ocean. The rest of its body followed, and within seconds an entire continent detached itself from the planet. Kilometers of earth and rock that had merely served as a blanket for the nap of an unparalleled monster. Plains revealed themselves as scales. Mountains as spikes. Seas as drool.
The simple motion of that titanic body reordered tectonic plates, triggering earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, and volcanic eruptions. Billions of Rehms died in that instant.
Because Priam’s addon constantly ran [Heroic Identification], it alerted him.
[Charybdis - Tier 8 - Marquess] - The Terror of the Abyss.A draconic creature that travels across universes in search of a cure to its curse…One of the Calamities of the Depths.Wanted alive or dead (Myth-redacted) by the Seven for a Major Wish (T8).
Lvl Up: [Heroic Identification] lvl 5PERC +1MEM +1CHAR +1
Stunned by the devastation caused by the mere collateral damage of its awakening, Priam watched the end of a world.
The dragon with storm-blue scales inhaled, nearly emptying the atmosphere, drank several oceans, and then launched itself into the void of space. The impact cracked the planet. Then it shattered.
Part of an archipelago was hurled toward Priam, and he recognized it as fragment 84—only younger and vastly larger.
The vision zoomed in on a fragment of skin that had peeled from Charybdis and fallen into the ocean of the fragment.
[Shed molt of Charybdis] - Some dragons are capable of shedding their skin in order to grow or regenerate. In such cases, the more terrible the wound, the longer the molt. This one is the result of millions of years of patience.
Driven mad by the sudden appearance of the molt, marine animals swarmed it. The dead skin was devoured within minutes, after which the survivors turned on one another. In the end, only five remained. Finally sated, the future mothers scattered to find places to lay their eggs. Creatures Priam would kill in a few centuries.
The vision then plunged into the bowels of the fragment until it reached a hidden cavern. A cave containing two eggs.
[Ovum of Charybdis] - One of the millions of gametes released by a draconic creature upon awakening. Fertilized by an ocean.[Ovum of Charybdis] - One of the millions of gametes released by a draconic creature upon awakening. Fertilized by a storm.
*
The vision shattered, and Priam groaned as he returned to his body.
“Priam?!”
Feeling Jasmine physically supporting him, he took her hand. Half to reassure her, half to lower the blade she was raising toward Vertex. If his Shadow wished to protect him, the feeling was mutual.
“It’s fine. Just… the last two Terrors will have to wait a little.”
Where the first five had been bastards born from dragons’ ability to fertilize almost anything, the last two were true children. Without the limitation imposed by the meager aether of Valaryth 84, the Champions might have been facing mid Tier beings.
“Thank you for the warning,” Priam said, turning toward his host.
Then he hesitated. As always, curiosity burned at his tongue. “I have a question.”
“False. You have a thousand questions. With a different sponsor, you might have become the Seeker.” Vertex gestured, and from their quartz throne emerged a glass. The ambient aether condensed into liquid. “One question for one question,” they proposed before taking a sip.
Seeing that, Priam wondered. Can pure-blooded dragons feed on pure aether?
A parallel thought prevented Priam from asking something so foolish. He straightened.
“My instincts and my mentor both urge me to Tier up for my Reunion, but my competitive spirit reminds me that the Colosseum holds one hundred waves… What would you do in my place?”
Part of Priam balked at abandoning the challenge before proving to the world what he was worth. He had begun the year as a mere mortal and had since caught up with a number of prodigies. In the entire Hope Sector—his rivals aside—he doubted he had an equal in Tier 0. And while one or two young masters groomed by ancient clans might perhaps surpass his attributes, it was debatable whether they would be as decisive in combat, or as willing to risk their lives to advance a single step further along their path.
Priam, for his part, was perfectly happy to sacrifice an arm for a level-up.
Vertex swirled the aether within their glass. “I would clear wave ninety-five for the reward, push as far as possible for the glory, then abandon the Colosseum the moment the wall grew too high.”
As Priam blinked, the dragon continued.
“I sense your surprise. You believe a dragon cannot accept defeat?” Vertex shook their head. “We are famous for our instincts, and even the most primitive lizard possesses a survival instinct. A useful talent, for one must live in order to seek the Zenith.”
Priam clenched his fist.
“What Your Majesty means,” he said carefully, “is that I have no chance of reaching wave one hundred before my Reunion?”
“What I mean is that you have no chance of clearing it. Not before your Reunion, not after, not even in a century.”
This time it was not only Priam—every Champion was stunned. With [He Who Eludes Death], the Juggernaut’s potential was scarcely imaginable, and a hundred years was a long span for a young man who had not yet seen a quarter of it.
“You must understand that the hundredth wave of every Tier is shared across the entire universe. To leave your image there means standing at the summit of an entire Tier. Not merely for this universe, but for all nearby ones. You believe you grasp what that implies, but you are mistaken. Every year, billions upon billions of contenders fail to dethrone a single being.”
A number equivalent to the grains of sand on Earth. The thought was dizzying. Priam clenched his fists. He wanted to be that person.
Seeing his reaction, Vertex allowed themself the faintest smile. The first the Champions had seen from them.
“A feat so glorious that the Title awarded does not come from the System, but from aether itself. Which is why I attempted it.” A flash passed through the Monarch’s eyes. “It is common knowledge that Tier 0 and the high Tiers are cursed—though for different reasons. I believed myself above such things. Upon arriving in the Concept Universe, I challenged the Elysian Colosseum, climbed every wave, and though the last slowed me, I ultimately triumphed.” They paused. “Then I met him.” Their gaze drifted into the distance for a few seconds. “Our battle was magnificent. Driven to my limits, I doubted myself for the first time. And I lost. A trial that breaks many geniuses. For me, it awakened a fire.” Vertex smiled with such pureness that Priam felt dirty in comparison. “I trained, and I returned. He was an image, while I was alive. I could improve. I had to defeat him. During our second duel, I held his heart within my claws. I squeezed… but in the face of death, he found his Path. His Faith.”
Their smile died, and the world seemed to lose its color. The dragon’s beauty was not sexual, but natural. Like a sunset.
“The One who guards the hundredth wave is the One who was destined to become the Faith God. A Zenith being. When His image approaches death, it becomes a conduit for a Tier 10. Forget you or me; even the Seven must unite to sunder His avatar.”
Priam glanced toward the door leading to Sumstreh. Alongside minor god Viracocha of his first Reunion, the Fallen was the second practitioner of the Faith Path he knew.
“…That’s unfair,” Jasmine muttered.
Vertex smirked. “The world is built that way. As for me, I took it as a lesson: to rely upon a Path already completed by another is to place one’s life in their hands.”
For if a Tier 10 could influence a Tier 0 who followed their path, could they not control them?
In light of this new information, Priam grimaced as the implications unfolded. The System had told him it was possible to reach the Zenith through Concepts. Yet achieving it through one of the Seven’s seemed improbable, as that would amount to seizing Their authority, and They would not permit it. With Pyro being under Energy, Mist under Matter and Breath under Soul…
If I am right, then the Eighth Throne is not merely a gift; it is the only way to reach the Zenith without betraying the Seven.
“I was under the impression that the Faith God was the enemy of the Seven,” Kazuki ventured, fishing for information without asking a direct question.
“They consider Him a traitor,” Vertex confirmed.
“But They will not alter the Colosseum.”
“They won’t. After all, every time a Tier 0 pushes the image to its limits, the Seven obtain a sample of their adversary’s power. In exchange, the Faith God eliminates a potential future rival while spreading His legend.”
An arrangement that suited everyone.
“But you are alive,” Jasmine pointed out.
“Father dotes on me a great deal.”
Could it be that daddy is a T10 dragon?!
The dragon set down their glass. “I believe I have answered your question at length.”
Priam bowed. “I thank you for it and stand ready to answer yours.”
“That will not be necessary.” Vertex turned toward Esmée. “My question is for you.”
*
The door closed behind dismissed Priam, Kazuki, and Jasmine, leaving the dragon and the princess alone. Vertex wasted no time.
“Esméralda Altézza Lucía Lóthandorim, would you care to work for me? In exchange for a service, I will guide you to Tier 4 without fail.”
The young woman’s eyes widened. It went against everything she had been told.
“Can you protect me against Tribulations?”
“The System has a pact with Father. For me, they’re optional. As for High Tribulations, the Heavenly Dragon is my grand-uncle. Should you be failing, he will be able to scare them away for a time.”
Esmée recognized the name of the being Priam and the System wished to emulate—a dragon capable of devouring High Tribulations. After a conscious effort to steady her breathing, she replied in a tone of utmost respect.
“I must apologize, but my freedom is too recent for service to another to be conceivable.”
Vertex shook their head.
“I am not offering you a contract of slavery. I am offering you employment. Well. Let us call it a deal.”
“... Is there a catch?”
“It may interfere with your duties as a Champion, and it will leave you little time to pursue your present plans… Moreover, should you prove weak, it may cost you your life.”
Strangely enough, the stakes reassured Esmée.
“I thank you for the offer, however, during the Tutorial, the System stated without ambiguity that the Seven hold my Fate until the final Reunion—”
“Kings and Queens may petition the Seven. So long as you participate in the war that approaches, they will give me face.”
Esmée’s instincts told her that not all Monarchs enjoyed such privilege.
Seconds passed without her refusing anymore. The offer unsettled her. Part of her urged her to accept the priceless offer. Another, more rebellious voice whispered that she could achieve it herself.
What was she committing to? Entering the wolf’s den was easier than leaving it.
Paralyzed by the choice, Esmée hesitated. Her vivacity did not help—quite the opposite.
Before the silence became unbearable, a crown settled upon the dragon’s head. A symbol of mind ennoblement, the Fate object differed from Priam’s in that it appeared tangible. With this new adornment, Vertex’s aura changed, becoming regal.
A true royalty, incomparable to the one Esmée had seen in her father.
“You doubt, filled with uncertainties,” Vertex said. “Your hope fulfilled, you now find yourself lost; like the slave who always dreamed of the world and no longer knows what to do once free. Your life never extended beyond your father’s death.”
The princess frowned. “I now aspire to change the traditions of my people.”
“Unable to see the next step of your own path, you seek to trace that of others. A practitioner of chaos preaching order… Persist in this, and your Concept will regress.”
Struck by the dragon’s words as though by a slap, the young woman trembled. Vertex continued.
“And you will fail besides. Just as no one trusts mind mages, people fear chaos witches. Your own will see your hand everywhere, and you will become a tyrant.” They paused. “That is, if you even manage to reclaim your people’s destiny from the Divine King—which is doubtful.”
The density of information in each sentence was staggering, but this was not the moment for analysis. One last thing troubled her.
Esmée raised her grimoire.
“During my Tutorial, I received and accepted a sponsor’s boon. A contract that takes precedence over all subsequent ones, its price etched upon my soul to this day in the form of a Talent. A promise I intend to honor.”
Vertex’s gaze settled upon the literary artifact. “That does you credit. Yet I doubt the plans of your august Patron conflict with mine.”
The grimoire opened by itself, and a single line appeared.
“My respects to the daughter of the Dragonslayer.”
The ambient aether, the air itself, the Champion, everything froze for a moment of eternity. Such was the honor owed to one of the rare beings who had reached the Zenith.
When control of her thoughts was returned to her, Esmée reflected.
On her past, her present, and her future.
On her dream, her role, and her fate.
On her fears, her doubts, and her desires.
On her father, her people, and her rivals.
“... Rather than advancing to Tier 4, I would ask for lessons in the mastery of aether,” she said with a bow. Everyone hailed the princess as a prodigy, yet Vertex was “the One beloved by aether.”
Esmée remained in that position for nearly a minute before the answer came.
“Your generation of Champions is decidedly interesting… Very well. Lessons in exchange for a death,” Vertex agreed. “That of one of your rivals. An unkillable cockroach.”
Esmée stepped back.
“Priam—”
“It is not Priam. I can slay the Juggernaut. It’s Kaya.”
*
*
*
Alright, I’m looking at what’s left and what I’ve already written and… there’s a 99% chance we’ll reach Tier 1 before the end of the month. That feels strange…
Alright, back to writing! The rest very soon!