Read the 470 before!
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Chapter 471: The Sky is the Limit
Affinity, Harmony, Symphony, Unity,…
As the third stage, Symphony allowed two Concepts to merge. Priam knew the theory; Hastenach was demonstrating the practice with Desert and Spiritflame.
A storm rose within the arena. Sand lifted from the ground, spinning faster and faster. The friction began to erode Priam’s skin, forcing him to raise his arms to shield his head. Around him, the phantom’s will rewrote reality into a nightmare.
The apocalypse accelerated. Before long, the tempest drowned light and silence alike, leaving the young man blind in the middle of the arena. Easy prey.
Inside Priam’s Domain, two grains collided, creating a spark. The heat melted nearby particles into tiny shooting stars. Each one packed enough energy to leave craters in the Juggernaut’s skin. The swarm of burning comets grew until the molten ore clumped together into rivers of lava.
Fighting for his life, Priam watched the ground drown beneath magma as the Colosseum transformed into a volcano. New thermal currents dragged the remaining sand into the air, and the sky filled with thunderclouds. Everywhere, deadly tornadoes connected earth and heaven, generating huge potential differences. Thunder roared.
Priam’s hair stood on end. He threw himself sideways. Too late. One does not escape lightning so easily. A bolt left him sprawled in a puddle of magma, his body wracked by spasms. Then the sky began to weep burning droplets, and Priam screamed as the spirit flames corroded his meridians, burned his aether, and climbed his pathways toward his soul. He tried to control the liquid fire, but failed. Likewise, the mist he summoned to cool the air vanished instantly. There was nothing wrong with his Concepts; the enemy’s will smothered them in the cradle. At the heart of Hell, Priam was found guilty without trial, and the self-proclaimed judge tolerated no rebellion.
Before the torture could continue, the storm parted to reveal a colossal shadow.
Hastenash was not truly flying so much as being carried by the environment. The Hellbringer’s wings were cloaked in a glowing crimson halo, gliding atop two subjugated tornadoes.
“Mastery II?” Priam growled, opening one eye. He shut it again immediately when a grain of sand lodged in his retina. “I would’ve bet on the claws.”
“At high levels, wings allow one to fly through dimensions,” the drake explained. His face was paler than his injuries alone warranted. He had to be hemorrhaging absurd amounts of aether and willpower every second to sustain this spectacle. “Any last words?”
Priam sighed. “Two can play that game.”
“You could surrender.”
“Run from a fight I started myself? Might as well rip out my draconic heart.” Priam shook his head. “No. It’s too late to back down. And I’m tired of holding back.”
His soul called. Domain answered.
Within a three-meter radius around Priam, Hell’s dominion ceased. The wind fell silent. Heat bowed. Sand froze in place. Even the lightning curved away from the zone, leaving behind nothing but the scent of ozone. Despite his ruined sinuses, closed eyes, and traumatized eardrum, Priam could perceive all of it through his new Domain. The Supremacy was no longer merely a spatial sonar; it now simulated his senses as well.
A secondary benefit compared to the true revelation: the Juggernaut’s authority crushed the boss’s with the arrogance only a difference in Tier could bestow. If the eyes were the windows of the soul, then Priam’s reflected an essence ablaze with evolution.
Domain II detected at Tier 0.
High Tribulation incoming…
Priam felt a supreme attention settle upon him. Not the System’s, but the Seven’s. He tensed, expecting the descent of a lethal trial, yet neither the High Tribulation nor the pending Tribulations descended. As if they were waiting for something. Perhaps a signal from his soul? Permission? A sign of weakness?
Meanwhile, his soul vibrated, absorbing the ambient aether as though trying to evolve in order to support a Supremacy far too heavy for it. A burden it struggled to bear... yet did not immediately collapse beneath. Priam’s instincts whispered that its crystalline aspect was not unrelated. Domain II was too much for him, but he could endure it for a few hours. That would be enough.
Once reassured that his Tribulations were not imminent, the Champion turned his attention back to his opponent. Hastenash struggled like a demon, using Hell to batter the sphere of calm surrounding them. A futile effort. Here, the Juggernaut’s authority was absolute, and the drake was no longer the main character.
Priam’s will oppressed the boss’s until the tornadoes beneath his wings gave way. Had he not been locked in place by [Kinetic Sovereignty], the monster would have fallen. Then the storm calmed. The lava cooled, the clouds dispersed, and the sand rained back to the ground.
Priam approached the suspended beast with tranquil steps. From the monster’s throat to his anus, a vivid crimson line marked where Promesse had carved it open. With a wave of his hand, Priam parted the flesh the way a prophet might split the Red Sea, revealing organs and entrails. At the center of the sundered body, a large organ pulsed. The Champion extended his hand, plucking his opponent’s heart like ripe fruit. His gaze met Hastenash’s.
“Good fight.”
“There’s nothing good about losing.”
“Fair enough.”
Following draconic custom, Priam ate. His strength returned as the light faded from the phantom’s eyes.
An immense flood of energy surged through him.
The dragon thrives on victory.
Lvl up: [Nestling Phoenix’s Wings] lvl 9META(Focus) +7META(Endurance) +2
‘A portion of the vanquished’s powers is your rightful inheritance.’ This time, the Dragon Law had converted Hastenash’s Wing Mastery II into skill experience. Defeating draconic creatures didn’t always guarantee a level up for Priam, but the sheer intensity and historical weight of the fight had tipped the balance.
Of course, the disparity in bloodline purity was also factored into the reward.
Bloodlines:
Phoenix: 19%
Dragon: 8% (+1% via Draconic Victory)
[Draconic Vivacity: You possess multiple (two) streams of thought, each powered by 100% of your vivacity. Base: 80% +20% from Chimera.]
Hastenash the Hellbringer, phantom of Wave 96 for 999 782 years, has fallen by your hand.
Undefeated duration prior to termination: 0 years.
Crown of the Juggernaut:Minor Actions: 3/10 (+1)Major Actions: 2/3
Achievement - Genesis: As a Tier 0, you have forged your legacy in the crimson sands of the Colosseum.
Message for Humanity and Sector Hope:
Priam Azura has triumphed over the 96th wave of the Colosseum (Tier 0).
The Seven Concepts congratulate you.
Despite the avalanche of notifications, there was no reward from the System. Nothing but a fight to the death—the hardest Priam had ever fought—and the lessons he drew from it. That, and a few levels.
Lvl up: [Ciphered Record] lvl 24MEM +6META (Affinity) +6META (Authority) +15Lvl up: [Fount of Pseudo Ichor] lvl 37
VIT +9
As usual, the Sector erupted after the announcement. Priam ignored all of it and turned toward the future.
[Plan “Ultimate Mage”:Summary: Acquire Ideal Aether Manipulation and Ideal Aether Perception at every rank.Current State:[Ideal Aether Perception - Epic] → Obtained thanks to Ace’s Merit.
[Ideal Aether Manipulation - Epic] requires a recast and 5 unique ideal prerequisites:
Domain II (validated)
META (Affinity)(Oneiric) evolved > 1,000 (validated)
META (Focus)(Prince) evolved > 1,000 (validated)
META (Endurance)(?) evolved > 1,000 (missing, easily obtainable thanks to Ace’s next Merit)
Advanced aether mastery (validated?)]
Priam allowed himself a faint smile. Of all the prerequisites, Domain II was normally the hardest to obtain. While an elemental naturally possessed the ability to bend reality to its will, it was more difficult for a being of matter. Priam’s advantage was that he was talented at it. A mixture of innate gift, near-death experiences, and towering ambition. The latter point was crucial: a specific state of mind was necessary to subjugate reality to one’s volition.
In any case, he now had a genuine hope of shocking his mentor by obtaining both primordial skills at the ideal rank. A possible path toward the Zenith.
The arena fell skyward. Or perhaps it was Priam. He blinked, surprised to feel the ground against his face. His spiritual and physical wounds were severe, and his odds of winning the next fight against a phantom in perfect health were laughably slim. Logic dictated that he surrender. Exiting the Colosseum was easier during halftime than during a duel.
The Juggernaut looked toward the exit gate… and decided to take a nap instead. With any luck, he would wake up in fighting shape.
For the weary man, the sand was the softest of pillows. Priam fell asleep in an instant.
*
Announcement to Sector Hope:
Priam Azura has triumphed over the 96th wave of the Colosseum (Tier 0)!
Personal announcement:
Colosseum, Tier 0 - Your phantom has been defeated.
The timing of the two notifications left little doubt about the culprit.
Hastenash Riusling opened two slit pupils toward Neitlan’h. The phoenix Queen was doing her best to maintain a majestic expression, tinged only by the faintest trace of schadenfreude. A façade. To anyone who knew her, she was in fact struggling to suppress her hilarity.
The King read all of this effortlessly. If Hastenash had never succeeded in cultivating love between them, the drake had at least ensured he would never be ignored. The phoenix hated him, and for the lover he was, that was already enough.
“I assume you’re here to congratulate me. My phantom’s fight lasted six times longer than the one belonging to the failed omelet you call a son.”
Shaken baby syndrome was well known, and when it happened before hatching, the stillborn occasionally resembled an omelet. Hastenash was proud of his insult. Got her, he thought as Neitlan’h flushed crimson. Any reaction besides indifference suited him.
“A reign of nearly a million years ending at the hands of an upstart. Don’t tell me you aren’t furious,” said the Queen, ignoring the frozen orgy around them. As was the custom, the patriarch of the clan had been busy at work sowing his superior seed.
Hastenash shrugged. In truth, they were currently inside a secondary residence because he had destroyed the primary one a few days earlier in a fit of rage. The reason? His phantom’s defeats three weeks ago. Plural. Someone—or less likely, a group—had farmed his phantom several times a day, certainly to establish a template. Upon realizing this, the drake had been unable to restrain himself from laying waste to his surroundings. Beneath the Immortal’s fury, an entire continent had suffered. Had his main planet not been one of the Sector’s rare Tier 5 worlds, it would have burst apart like a rotten nut.
Twenty days to process the news had allowed Hastenash to remain calm upon hearing of the Juggernaut’s triumph. In his opinion, Priam Azura was already lagging behind at least one of his rivals.
“The younger generation will surpass the old,” the King declared magnanimously. “I bear no hatred toward this Priam Azura. In fact, I pity him. Being the Seven’s plaything is a tragic fate.”
“He insults you and you pity him? Why not let him mount you while you’re at it?!”
Hastenash smothered a sigh. If fanfictions involving him and Priam ended up trending on the forums in the coming days, he would not need to look far for the culprit.
Outwardly, he merely offered a hypocritical smile. “Your pettiness in the face of youthful audacity does you no credit.”
The phoenix nearly choked on her rage. She was beautiful when vexed. Angry sex with her must be something else…
“—sell me a few.”
Hastenash pursed his lips. Lost in his fantasies, he had not listened to his counterpart. A sub mind born from his draconic vivacity repeated the sentence. “Your son bought many humans to weave ties with humanity. Sell me a few.”
The drake had not reached a million years—or close to it—by being stupid. Neitlan’h wanted to arm certain humans and use them against Priam. Or manipulate him. Or lure him into a honeytrap. Or all three. It hardly mattered.
“A lot of noise over a mere Tier 0. Do you hate him because he spat on your son by publishing his victory for all to see? Because of the nugget from your wings Thaal fed him? Or because you fear he could reach Nirvana?”
The Queen narrowed her eyes. “Are you selling me those humans, or must I take them myself?”
Dragon law forbade fleeing an honorable duel, but he was under no obligation to take the bait on her terms.
“You would compromise my reputation…” the Immortal pretended to ponder before nodding. “Alright. Ten elite humans in exchange for one…” Date. “spar.”
Hastenash did not even enjoy fighting. Outside the bedroom, at least.
“Unofficial?”
“Official, broadcasted, and commentated.”
“Absolutely not—”
After several minutes of bargaining, the phoenix departed, not forgetting to drown the garden in a sea of flames. A childish move, and a reminder that no Immortal was truly stable. Time took its toll on the mind.
Watching the starfire, Hastenash sent a message to his son Aarthash. “Find me a messenger among the humans. Have him warn Priam that the phoenixes intend to harm him.”
Always play both sides.
“It will be done during the Second Reunion.”
“One more thing. The gift I promised for defeating Keltan’h’s phantom, give it to the messenger for Priam as well. With my compliments.”
Hastenash was a pervert, not a liar.
“…The slave disappeared a few minutes ago.”
The Immortal raised an eyebrow. The girl was on the planet and therefore encompassed by his Domain. Not even Neitlan’h could have stolen it beneath his nose. With a single step, he crossed his Tartarus—an evolution of Hell, the ultimate he had created in his youth—and arrived inside a secured warehouse. Aside from his son, it was empty. Even the dust had been stolen.
The burglary was not anonymous. On the floor, a sword had carved a name and a faction.
For the first time in years, Hastenash felt fear seep into his bones as he read it.
“Sora Arashi, officer of the Depths.”
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Sora = Sky/Liberty in Japanese.Arashi = TempestKazuki = Harmony/Peace