Read the 468 before!
*
Chapitre 469 : The fifth legendary skill
He’s going to tear out my heart.
Priam would have struggled to describe the sensation. Particularly tragic news could cause physical pain—learning of betrayal or death, for instance. Add a heart attack to that torment, and you might approximate what he felt now, as veins and arteries strained in his chest to hold his heart in place.
“You can see it, you can destroy it, but you can’t have it,” the young man growled, blood trickling from his lips, [Kinetic Sovereignty] freezing his heart in place to prevent extraction. He had to sell his defeat, make it look hard-won .
His eardrums trembled under a roar of fury before the claws withdrew, replaced by a wet appendage. A rasping tongue filled the hole in his back, coiling around his vital organ. Hastenash had chosen to do what all dragons did after a victory: devour the opponent’s heart.
Regardless that the victim was still alive, or that the Juggernaut’s cells were vengeful.
The envious one had succumbed to his sin, and was ready to do anything to claim the coveted trophy.
Priam had no intention of stopping him. A cruel glint in his eyes, he recalled his kinetic mastery and deployed [Tribulation Hunter]. The skill destabilized his own Tribulation affinity at the exact moment the heart left his chest.
Lvl up: [Tribulation Hunter] lvl [43, 44,] 45META (Chance) +9
Bon appétit, motherfucker!
Hastenach swallowed without even chewing. A mistake.
Still pinned to the sand, Priam felt a wave of aether erupt from within the drake, then sweep across the arena, the Colosseum, the city, and potentially the entire Moon.
There were a few seconds of tense silence. Then, the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders as the drake collapsed onto his side. The sand lost its indestructible structure, and the enemy’s sphere of authority evaporated.
“Finally,” murmured the victor before grimacing. His draconic bloodline pulsed. If he remained without a heart for too long, there would be consequences. Perhaps even a drop in bloodline purity, a collapse of his draconic instinct, or a decline in his magical talent.
I’ll deal with that later.
Limbs trembling from severe anemia, Priam stood to assess his condition. With a hole in his stomach, another in his shoulder blade, a lung full of blood, and one heart missing, he was a sorry sight.
Still, he was in better shape than his opponent.
Eyes wide, Hastenash stared into the void, spasms wracking his body. A beast in its death throes.
“The System intervened to keep my soul from collapsing under the Tribulation affinity. That has to be a Tier 7 or 8 Concept. Maybe even 9. It’s hard to swallow for the unprepared.”
“...”
“I say that, but I’d have done the same if I were in your shoes,” sighed Priam. “What opportunity compares to a Tribulation affinity when it comes to breaking free from the Colosseum’s chains? By the way, I wonder if rogue phantoms exist?” A grimace. “Dude, I hope that never happens to me. The bastard would try to replace me. I mean, aren’t you jealous of your original?”
“...”
A faint breath escaped the drake’s lips. Despite the pain, Priam limped closer to listen.
“Sorry for the monologue. Must be the fatigue. Any last words?”
“... Second—”
“Hm?”
“—Wind.”
The young Champion leapt back just as a miracle of aether reshaped the enemy. In a fraction of a second, primordial energy infused the drake, restoring his body to peak condition. The tail regrew, meridians reformed, and Promesse fell from his socket. After a few blinks, the enemy exhaled in relief.
“Look at the pathetic state you’ve reduced me to.”
“...”
“You threw away your own heart to defeat me. Ruthless to others, but even more ruthless to yourself,” judged the phantom. “I must admit, you are a worthy opponent.”
Mouth agape, Priam swallowed. “Your soul should be in pieces. Don’t tell me the System accepts an apocryphal phantom…”
Having used the Merit of [Breathless] himself, he knew Second Wind only mended the body and the meridian network.
Hastenash straightened, a complicated glint in his eyes. “Last Stand buys me time. I’m going to die… but you first.”
“I see.” Priam frowned, then wiped the blood from his lips. He could accept sacrificing a heart for this. Second Wind had no cooldown; once used, the Merit point was gone. Making a come-on gesture, the challenger smiled. “Bring it on.”
The drake lunged. His speed far exceeded his agility, but this time, Priam was ready. His addon overclocked [Kinetic Sovereignty] beyond what his body could sustain. His golden adaptive meridians overheated, boosting his speed… and allowing him to move. Two holes in his torso were no small matter.
[Speedster mode:Warning: pathway meltdown in 154 seconds.]
A supersonic boom accompanied Priam’s dodge. Before the enemy registered his movement, he slipped beneath the drake’s belly—where the scales were softer—and struck.
Heracles’ strike.
The heroic Merit of [Five Ages of Man] granted offensive power ten times greater than the Juggernaut’s defenses. Choosing [Shear Resistance] as a base for greater penetration, Priam followed the motion of the Myth’s echo, raising Promesse high. The spear’s blade pierced both layers of scales and plunged into flesh as Priam advanced. In a fraction of a second, the drake was opened like a fish, from chest to anus.
The scream that followed mingled rage and agony.
Priam emerged beneath the tail, narrowly avoided being crushed by a paw, but took a wing strike to the chin. Sent flying several meters, he landed as best he could.
“M’ gowinh t—” He snapped his jaw back into place with a palm strike. “I’m going to gut you.”
Hastenash charged.
Priam leapt. Flipping over the enemy’s rush, he grabbed the bony crest beneath him and used it to land on the drake’s back. A projectile entered his Domain from behind, and Priam tilted his head aside, narrowly avoiding decapitation by a tail strike. His position was dangerous, but once on the dragon, one had to ride it.
Hecate’s New Moon.
The darkness in the Juggernaut’s left eye stirred before releasing a monochromatic pulse. In a world stripped of color, the aether froze. The spectral scales dimmed, then vanished a second later.
Priam slid Promesse beneath a physical scale and used his weapon as a lever. Ignoring the furious roar of his unwilling mount, he pried the plate loose, then tore it free.
“Too bad I don’t have a frag grenade,” he said, driving his spear into the exposed flesh.
Enraged, Hastenash reared violently, triggering the start of a deadly rodeo. In response, Priam clung with all his strength, ignoring the dizziness from blood loss. Indeed, the hole leading to his lost draconic heart refused to close, no matter how much lifespan he fed into his Hydra Title. Like his blood, his time was running out.
Then the drake took flight. In two wingbeats, Hastenash reached the barrier marking the top of the Colosseum, then dove. Priam didn’t need a picture to guess the rest: his body flattened by a lethal remake of a falling slam.
Facing that grim fate, Priam nearly abandoned ship, until an intrusive thought struck him: what better way to reach the final level of [Sun Steel Body] than being crushed by a drake?
Damn, this is the dumbest idea I’ve had today!
The ground wasn’t so far anymore. On either side, the nearly empty stands of the Colosseum blurred under the acceleration. The phantom plunged, ready to use speed and mass to obliterate his opponent, even at the cost of injuring himself.
If he didn’t act fast, Priam would end up between a drake and a hard place.
But if I survive, it’ll probably count as an ideal prerequisite…
One hundred meters. The Juggernaut banished his doubts.
Fifty meters. With Promesse embedded where a scale was missing, he stared at the sand below.
Ten meters. Priam prayed to every Concept willing to listen, then curled into a ball.
If I die like this, Jasmine’s going to lose it.
One meter.
Then she’ll try to resurrect me—
Impact.
*
Lvl Up: [Sun Steel Body] lvl 60CONST +6META (Endurance) +3
[Sun Steel Body - Epic] has reached level 60, its maximum level as an epic skill. Natural evolution to the Legendary Tier requires a connection with a Concept or Supremacy.
Prerequisites met:
̶H̶o̶m̶o̶ ̶E̶l̶y̶s̶i̶a̶n̶ ̶O̶b̶s̶e̶s̶s̶i̶o̶n̶
Draconic Scales
̶W̶e̶a̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶ ̶v̶o̶l̶c̶a̶n̶i̶c̶ ̶e̶r̶u̶p̶t̶i̶o̶n̶
Visited the void of space
Survived the pressure of the ocean depths
̶ ̶B̶o̶d̶y̶ ̶t̶e̶m̶p̶e̶r̶e̶d̶ ̶f̶r̶o̶m̶ ̶C̶o̶n̶c̶e̶p̶t̶ ̶i̶n̶f̶u̶s̶i̶o̶n̶
Crushed by a falling draconic being (bloodline purity >30%)
Parent Skill of Ideal quality
Hidden prerequisites fulfilled:
[Shear Resistance - Epic] (ideal skill) maxed.
… Spontaneous fusion between [Sun Steel Body] and [Shear Resistance].
You have gained the ideal skill [Nova Titanium Body - Legendary].POT -720
[Nova Titanium Body - Legendary] - Natural diamonds form under the pressure of mountains and the heat of volcanoes. Nova titanium requires far harsher conditions. During the birth of sufficiently massive stars, aether and Concepts sometimes infuse titanium atoms to produce this legendary alloy.
Your cells evolve, and your body transforms. Your scales take on the incandescent hue of this metal, becoming nearly impossible to cut or pierce. Your bones gain the blinding radiance of a sun, almost invulnerable to blunt damage. Your physique now bears traces of the Star Concept.
Ignoring the pressure of the depths, the void of space, and the heat of planets, you advance, confident your body will withstand the fury of the cosmos’ lighthouses.
Your smile now lights up the room. For real. Nova titanium teeth tend to do that.
CONST +24META (Endurance) +3
Tier 0 Soul legendary skill limit: 5/5
*
Two minutes after the crash, Béchar was wringing his hands in stress. He waited a bit more before mustering the courage to speak.
“Your Eminence, if Priam cannot win, perhaps we could evacuate him?” The shapeshifter wiped the sweat beading on his forehead. “I mean, the other humans also need to use the Colosseum, and it is not theoretically impossible that one of them might come and reach wave ninety-six. We wouldn’t want a bottleneck to form—”
He cut himself off as a finger as black as night covered his lips.
“I know you are worried about Priam, but there is no need to contend with the System’s rules. Our boy is not yet dead.”
Down in the arena, a movement drew the supervisor’s attention. Shoved from beneath, the drake rolled onto his side, revealing an indentation in his back and the tail of a shaft embedded in his spine.
On the ground, a pool of blood trembled.
No, not just blood.
Béchar’s trained eyes distinguished viscera, fragments of luminous bone, scraps of organs, a cracked yet nearly intact ribcage, and a skull—whole, if stripped of its scalp.
Two heterochromatic eyes opened, and aether twitched.
Then the Tier 3 swore.
“By the Seven…”
With Thaal’s laughter echoing in the background, the skull levitated in the air, soon joined by the ribcage and bone fragments to form an incomplete skeleton. Then, like a master of puzzles, an iron will took control. Proficient in anatomy, it arranged what remained of organs, muscles, nerves, ligaments, joints, skin, and hair into the shape of a human statue.
A naked, broken creation, held together by a kinetic mastery that defied imagination.
A body that stood at the threshold between aberration and the work of an indomitable polymath.
“Gross…”
“Magnificent…”
A wave of aether erupted. Several Titles and Merits activated to fill the gaps, mend fractures, regenerate wounds, and kickstart the vitality of the ruined vessel.
Soon, the primordial energy fell away into silence.
A second passed.
The Champion’s fist clenched.
“Did he just rebuild his body?” breathed the shapeshifter. “That’s… impossible.”
“A word that does not belong in the Juggernaut’s vocabulary,” a third voice interjected.
Béchar turned toward Luc.
“Do you think he can win?”
In the arena, the drake twitched, roused by something.
“If I’ve made one mistake since the Tutorial, it’s not betting more on my Champ,” winked Luc.
“You told me you wagered everything you had.”
“I should’ve borrowed more,” laughed the would-be billionaire. “Anyway, Priam won’t be stopped here.”
Béchar shook his head. “I doubt he can win. He’s on his last legs, while Hastenash still has plenty left in the tank.”
“Those are exactly the moments when he performs best. But we can bet if you want.”
The Tier 3 giggled. “Alright. He loses at wave 96.”
“Wave 97 for me. Thaal?”
The Primordial’s expression turned mischievous. “His final victory will be a defeat.”
“...”
Ignoring the bewildered Béchar, Luc sighed.
“Must every prophecy be cryptic, or do you just enjoy the sadistic pleasure of watching us struggle while you hold all the cards?”
“Luc, please. Why ask the question when you already know the answer?”
*
*Priam - rising for the blood