3/3! Enjoy!
Priam Character Sheet by the Discord guys! or https://anovelstatus.github.io/ by @fmorel / Fred on discord. Patreon key: FC9LXDxYC2uDsmQaL7w1dXCOCTTYY4Plus: the Discord. Come say hello!
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Chapter 474: You lose some, Priam win most
Lvl Up: [Priam’s System] lvl 29MEM +3VIVA +3META(Authority) + 3
“[He Who Eludes Death]...”
At the homunculus’ whisper, Priam went pale. The memory transfer had gone both ways. His complexion drained further when a silver blade slid from the Tyrant’s forearm and pierced clean through his chest. Thanks to his deep experience, Priam knew instantly that his human heart had been struck.
Worse still, he felt his aether evaporating on contact with the metal. At the lower Tiers, primordial energy despised radiation.
Lvl up: [Radiation Resistance - Epic] lvl 14
CONST +3VIT +3META (Authority) +3
A second uranium blade rose high overhead. Sunlight flashed along its edge, blinding Priam before it descended toward his eye. The young man watched death approach in slow motion. To survive, he would have to use one of the trump cards he had been saving for his High Tribulation. One thing was certain: he could not win.
Then lose, whispered [Homo Elysian Inspiration].
Priam’s eyes widened.
“Stop,” he ordered, a finger resting on Second Wind as an insurance.
The tip halted a hair’s breadth from his pupil.
“[He Who Eludes Death] is on cooldown. If you continue, I’ll die.” Priam stared into his opponent’s visual sensors—a fractal array of kaleidoscopic lenses devoid of even a trace of humanity. “Surrender.”
The homunculus tilted his head. “The First surrenders?”
“No. You do.”
A wind with no discernible origin swept through the arena, carrying grains of sand into Priam’s wounds and Arnold’s joints alike.
“...I do not understand,” the phantom admitted after several seconds.
“Killing me wins you this battle,” Priam said calmly, “but loses you the war.” He regarded the blade threatening him without fear. Logic would bind the Tyrant more securely than [Kinetic Sovereignty] ever could. “And I can prove it. Why are you fighting? Humor me.”
“The Colosseum rewards the original as long as the phantom persists.”
“You’re fighting to help your original,” Priam summarized. “In that case, killing me is irrational. You’d rob the outside Arnold of the opportunity to obtain my racial Talents. Worse, Esmée would curse him, Jasmine would spend every second of her existence searching for a way to destroy him, Kazuki would swear vengeance, and Dishnu would get their hands on Log-a-rhythm. Imagine the drya piloting my Tal Quercus like some treant mech.”
He let the argument sink into the homunculus’ electronic synapses before continuing.
“Look, it may sound counterintuitive, but your best move is to lose. And I think you’re pragmatic enough to accept that.”
Some people would sacrifice everything before surrendering their pride or honor. Arnold had no such weakness.
“Your life has value. However, your argument is fallacious as a draw is the optimal outcome for my original,” the homunculus countered in his cold mechanical tone. “My phantom persists, and you survive.”
Priam grimaced. He had hoped Arnold would overlook that third possibility, but the homunculus was smart. Unfortunately, that option was unacceptable. If the phantom survived this fight, it would inform its original, who would then come test Oasis’ defenses. Death with extra steps.
“Sorry, but I refuse a draw,” the Juggernaut declared, still pinned beneath the Tyrant’s knee with a uranium blade hanging over him. “Either I win, or I die.”
Tomorrow, he finished silently in his own head.
“Incorrect. I will not kill you,” the phantom replied before adding, “And you cannot kill me.”
“But I can kill myself.”
It took serious balls to hold your own life hostage against your would-be executioner.
The homunculus’ artificial eyes scrutinized Priam.
“Based on collected data regarding humanity, humans possess a strong survival instinct. It is highly probable that you are bluffing.”
“Statistics only work with large sample sizes. I’m more than a number,” Priam vowed. “But if you need proof...”
At the end of the day, actions spoke louder than words. Time to shock the enemy.
Avoiding any thought about how monumentally stupid this was, Priam lifted his head into the waiting uranium blade.
The sharpened point pierced his eye, drove through the optic nerve, punched into the cerebrospinal fluid, and brushed against his brain.
The phantom yanked the blade before accidentally executing the challenger.
“You were going to die.”
Was that genuine astonishment in the homunculus’ voice?
“I wasn’t going to die,” said the newly blinded man, using Micro to regulate the beats of his final heart.
If he was honest with himself, the Juggernaut was horrified by what he had just done. He had been almost certain the move would work, but when one’s life was on the line, almost was nowhere near enough. Keeping his voice steady with the body Supremacy, he continued.
“For all your strengths, you’re predictable, Arnold. You act according to probabilities and risk-reward calculations. The moment you decided my life had value, I knew you’d save me. Now all that remains is comparing it to the value of your phantom. One of us has to commit suicide. There are no other solutions.”
“You sound certain of the outcome.”
“I know you. Or rather, I understand you.”
Silence stretched on while the Tyrant’s quantum processors attempted to make sense of human madness. A task more difficult than resolving a paradox.
Meanwhile, finger resting on his backup cards, Priam awaited the verdict beneath an unhealthy amount of stress. Because he was bluffing.
For one thing, he did not know the Colosseum’s rewards and therefore could not accurately judge the phantom’s true value against the three Homo Elysian racial Talents Arnold would gain by killing him. For another, the vengeance following Priam’s death was far from guaranteed. If the real Arnold launched a raid on Oasis the instant he learned of the Juggernaut’s defeat or death, home-field advantage might not be enough to save the settlement.
All of that explained the almost physical pressure weighing down on him. The phantom’s attention dissecting every word, evaluating every option, and measuring every lie. On that front, Priam had stacked the deck as heavily as possible. Some poker players wore sunglasses to hide their tells. He had given up his own eyes to remain unreadable.
Seconds bled into minutes. Given Arnold’s vivacity, it was the equivalent of a human strategist deliberating for days. Perhaps weeks. For a homunculus as pragmatic as Arnold, such prolonged hesitation could mean only one thing: the pros and cons were nearly identical, separated only by decimals buried far beyond the point.
During that time, Priam cursed his own weakness. The uranium blade suspended above him like the Sword of Damocles highlighted his helplessness. For a man who loved freedom, being entirely at the mercy of another was unbearable.
An hour passed. Lying on the sand, Priam reflected on his life. He thought of his father. His mother. His sister. His childhood. Of the ordinary existence he had secretly despised, and the people he had hurt because of it. He thought of Victoire. Of love. Of Esmée. Of Jasmine. Of the choices still waiting for him. Of his new friends, and the wondrous world he longed to explore. Of magic, and all the mysteries he had yet to uncover.
Had he still possessed eyes, Priam might have cried. His life was hard, but he loved it so very much. An assault on Oasis by Arnold would destroy everything.
Please... Please!
Perhaps the Primordial Gambler heard him; the Juggernaut’s wager succeeded.
The uranium blade retracted.
Lvl Up: [Deception] lvl 6VIVA +1MEM +1CHAR +1Lvl Up: [Acting] lvl 7, 8CHAR +6
A laugh echoed through the arena. A byproduct of the stress leaving Priam’s body and the sheer absurdity of the situation. He had spent months leveling martial skills only for two rare social skills to defeat his opponent.
“You took your sweet time deciding,” he smiled.
“I waited one hour to counter a potential Back in an Hour before reaching my conclusion.”
His laughter evaporated, and Priam pursed his lips. His last triple Tribulation had brought his successful clears to twenty. An impressive number, accompanied by an exceptional reward: Back in a Minute. While it had cost him the three rewards, it allowed him to rewind time by sixty seconds. To be honest, that was one of Priam’s safeguards for surviving his triple Tribulation.
Back in an Hour... Don’t tell me this motherfucker cleared a sextuple?!
“I made the logical decision,” the homunculus continued. “And yet my instinct suggests I have erred. Curious.”
Priam nearly cursed aloud. That was exactly the kind of variable capable of ruining everything. Then he remembered Arnold’s description. If I ever find the idiot who gave him instincts...
The homunculus’s chest opened, revealing a core that was half metal, half crystal. The heart of a Var Elegis was scientifically magnificent, but Priam no longer possessed enough vitality to restore his eyes. The Tyrant grasped the artifact.
“Before I shut down, I have a question. Could I have killed you?”
“Curiosity from a Var Elegis?” The blind man smiled faintly. “I don’t think so.”
Without another word, the homunculus clenched his fist, crushing the core.
Through his aether sight, Priam watched several waves of energy burst through the arena before striking the barriers and ricocheting away. The signal rapidly weakened before vanishing entirely.
One last attempt to inform the original? Or something far worse?
“Well, that’s not ominous for the future at all,” the Juggernaut sighed while the System congratulated him.
Arnold NetSky, the Tyrant, phantom of Wave 97 for 0 years, has fallen by your hand.
Undefeated duration prior to termination: 0 years.
Crown of the Juggernaut:Minor Actions: 4/10 (+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 97th wave of the Colosseum (Tier 0).
The Seven Concepts congratulate you.
Legends spoke of glorious feats, but rarely of what came afterward. Maybe for good reason, as what followed was rather pathetic.
Blind, broken-bodied, soul-scarred, and mentally exhausted, Priam dragged himself toward the arena exit. The cowardly corner of his mind whispered that he should activate Second Wind and skip the long, agonizing recovery, but the hoarder within him refused with absolute conviction. Priam would sooner rip off his own balls than waste a consumable Merit like that. For real.
He slumped painfully against the Colosseum gate before murmuring, “Next wave.”
Without making him wait half an hour, the gate on the other side of the Colosseum swung open. Ever curious, Priam wanted to see the next phantom; a boss no one had faced in a million years.
A delicately manicured foot stepped onto the sand. With a second step, its owner advanced into the light. Almond eyes, orange irises, and long red hair, she was draped in a dress that bared her shoulders and revealed seven feline tails.
Priam ignored the body that would have given Jasmine’s serious competition in the sexy category and focused instead on two adorable vulpine ears.
“Catgirl?”
“Kitsune,” the female corrected, revealing canines just a little too sharp.
[Heroic Identification][Phantom of Tamamo no Kyūsei - Tier 0 - Princess - Kitsune (Sketch)] - She Who Seeks Immortality.
As a descendant of a secondary branch of Mageia’s imperial clan, Tamamo bears responsibility for advancing the Kitsune Project. Her quest demands astronomical quantities of bloodline resources, genetic knowledge, and mind rituals, compelling her to roam the universe of the Seven.
Shameless, she has no qualms about visiting a backwater Sector to bully the locals by climbing their Colosseum.Note: embryonic signs of a new bloodline Path detected.Concept traces detected: Illusion, Breath, Possession.Attributes: Physical (1 000), Mental (3 000), META (7 000)Weaknesses:
?
“Has no one ever told you it’s rude to stare at a lady?”
“Sorry.”
“Mmh. You’d probably be handsome if you weren’t riddled with holes. And bleeding like a raw steak.” Tamamo sniffed the air, then froze. “Two bloodlines coexisting in the same body? Fascinating. My original would like to interview you. Compensation included, of course,” she winked in a sexy way. “Interested?”
“Depends. If I agree to meet with her, will you let me defeat you?”
“No? Who would say yes to that?”
Priam didn't answer. The toll of his wounds was starting to weigh heavily on him, and the adrenaline had kept him awake for too long. The backlash was hitting, and he could feel himself slipping away. Falling backward, he crossed the arena threshold.
A pair of human hands caught him before he hit the ground. As his consciousness faded, Priam heard distant voices speaking English.
“Fuck, he’s heavy!”
“And he’s not even at max weight right now. Guy probably lost ten liters of blood.”
“Hilarious. Little help here, Béchar?”
“Coming, Luc.”
*
Thaal wore a paternal smile as he watched his protégé. Too many idiots approached combat with a binary mindset: fight when stronger, flee when weaker. In the Administrator’s opinion, that mentality was one of the System’s consequences. It slapped numbers on everything, and people started believing reality itself was numerical.
Reality was more complicated than that, as Priam had just proven by cornering his opponent with intelligence instead of brute force.
His reward was survival, for himself and his friends, and an Achievement. Now, that explained why billions of aether probes and divination techniques now crowded the Colosseum hall. Every single one rushed to scan the man who had defeated Wave 97. A feat no local had ever accomplished.
The galaxy’s journalists would feast on this story for weeks. Priam Azura was about to dominate every headline in Sector Hope. That was excellent news for 2die4.
“Luc, take off his boxer shorts,” the Primordial ordered.
“... Excuse me?”
“This is the marketing opportunity of the millennium, and I refuse to waste it.” Thaal produced a new pair embroidered with a mechanized draco-phoenix. “Colosseum Edition. Pre-order available.”
The young man sighed. “A collection needs more than a single piece.”
“Don’t worry, I am currently designing three limited models themed after each of the last three phantoms.”
“You realize the Riusling clan and the phoenixes are going to sue us?”
“In what court? The System’s?” the Tier 8 scoffed. “I’m the local Admin.”
Then he waved dismissively.
“Strip him and put the new pair on him. Just be careful not to touch his blood. It’ll kill you.”
*
Announcement to Sector Hope:
Priam Azura has triumphed over the 97th wave of the Colosseum (Tier 0)!
In another arena, a hoplite missing one leg smiled as he read the notification.
A tyrannical phantom stood before him, and despite his higher Tier, Kazuki doubted he could defeat it.
Suppressing his admiration for his friend, he raised his spear once more.
*
Aboard a smuggler vessel bound for Earth, twenty-six pirates exchanged glances. As the bounty on the Juggernaut’s head no longer seemed worth the trouble, they altered course.
*
On a world drowned in mist, Viracocha stared morosely at his plate.
The minor God had lost his appetite.
*
Behind the counter of the Mercenary Guild, Lasha frowned while polishing a glass.
No matter her efforts to powerlevel her boyfriend, there was little chance for him of catching up to a monster like the Juggernaut.
*
Maya Aston, leader of the human Mercenaries, grunted while reading the notification.
Still slick with sweat, she had just finished eight relentless hours of training. Clearly, it would not be enough if she intended to shine during the Second Reunion.
Turning on her heel, she marched back into the gymnasium and approached the instructor to request a double dose.
*
Prometheus raised a hand, adjourning a legal hearing mid-session. Five minutes later, he and his close guard of knights rode toward the front lines.
His Champion had just reminded him of an immutable truth: in this universe, the foundation of an empire was not civil law or constitutions. It was a strong army.
*
Immensely proud of her lord, Jasmine signaled to Esmée that sparring was over. She wanted to hold Priam close before nursing him back to health.
The two young women raised brows in unison when they discovered two parcels waiting outside the arena.
The Shadow opened hers and found a fiery string. The underwear was literally woven from burning phoenix feathers. Thirty seconds later, she admitted the material was pleasantly warm, comfortable and useful for grooming her nether regions.
*
At the center of a planet corrupted by the Depths, a traitor conducted experiments upon bloodline. The notification made him look up.
“Interesting. That is the one my phantom suspected of possessing [Chimera]. A hybrid phoenix whose ichor might prove useful…”
He turned toward an assistant.
“His Second Reunion should begin shortly. You know what to do.”
“Of course, Seraph Keltan’h!”
*
Connected to a reconnaissance drone through high-frequency waves, Arnold observed a revenant camping a rift too unstable to permit his passage. The Necromancer’s new general was a recycled tribesman. In life, he had led the Snaherts. In death, he carried out the dirty work of an undead rival.
Other Champions might have felt contempt for a defeated enemy; Arnold felt nothing toward Seth. As the first Champion to perish, the loser inspired no reaction in him whatsoever. Yet the Necromancer’s subordinate was undeniably formidable.
Far from losing his rank as a Transcendent in death, Ophis had gained troublesome abilities, among them infinite endurance and a necrotic affinity infused into his venom. Under the Tier 4’s supervision, the hordes of the Necromoon continued pouring through the newly opened breach. A passage the System itself had carved to guide its Champions toward Mageia—the prey upon which the Seven had fixed their gaze.
An entire universe lay beyond that portal. Arnold burned to invade it, plunder its resources, and establish his colonies across its worlds. Only the presence of a Transcendent—and the likely ambush of the Necromancer, who stubbornly continued to hate him—restrained his hand.
Personal announcement:
Colosseum, Tier 0 - Your phantom has been defeated.
One of his sub-systems connected to his base. There, the quantum tower relayed the news from the Var Elegis’ world in Sector Hope. Priam Azura had cleared Wave 97.
“...”
The homunculus’s cold gaze flickered. Shadows of emotion stirred in his mind, changes ushered in by [Artificial Instinct]. Arnold identified a trace of frustration, quickly replaced by excitement.
Bereft of his Patron’s gift, the phantom had been weaker than the original, even before Tier up. Still, anyone capable of defeating him deserved recognition. Not that the Tyrant had ever underestimated his rival. To him, Priam was a whetstone against which to sharpen his blade. A competitor to race against. A nemesis capable of erasing his phantom.
“... As expected of the First.”
The Tyrant shifted his gaze toward the undead Transcendent. Guarded by millions of revenants and backed by the Necromancer, the creature represented a difficult target.
The Var Elegis’s nuclear engine thrummed. Tearing through the air, the Tyrant launched himself toward the enemy.
“[Red Giant].”
Escaping the Juggernaut’s shadow, defeating Vertex, reaching the Zenith—none of those goals could be achieved without risk. He needed to grow stronger for to stagnate was to perish.
Like his phantom.
*