Chapter 418: Preparations

First chap of the week. Another one in a minute!

*

POT -4 985

Downgrade of [Virus Resistance - Legendary].

CON -18
VIT -45
PERC -9
MEM -9

A legendary skill… but far from ideal. Practically a stain on Priam’s otherwise dazzling status sheet. If he had hesitated to downgrade it for more than a month, it was mostly out of fear of turning himself into a glorified human nugget.

During his quintuple Tribulation, he had burned a legendary token to upgrade [Virus Resistance] in order to survive the attack crafted by his son-turned-Nemesis. By slowing down the infectious agent, the skill had shot up two levels—an exploit for its rank.

The problem was, nothing guaranteed the virus had actually been purged. Sure, Priam’s soul add-on had calculated a rough estimate of when his body would clear the pathogen by tracking its eradication rate, but medicine wasn’t nearly as exact a science as mathematics. Not at his level. The virus might still be lurking in him, dormant, biding its time until a lapse in immunity let it mutate and finish the job. That possibility had been enough to discourage Priam from downgrading, pushing him instead to choose quarantine.

Today marks roughly forty days. With Osiris nearby to step in should the virus flare back, it’s now or never.

If things went south, the teenager could probably save him. His son had once been a brilliant geneticist, but the Duatian played in an entirely different league.

Searching for a compatible skill...
Prerequisites met:

• [Homo Elysian Obsession].

• [Life is Hard; I’m harder].

• Presence of a legendary heritage—[Virus Resistance].

• Survival of a Tier 3 virus (Nemesis’ “Oedipus”)

•  …

“…”

When your own son engineered a virus to kill you and named it Oedipus, you knew you had botched his education. The me from that hypothetical future was one hell of a bastard. Would be a bastard? Damn it, what tense should I even use for a dream timeline tangled between past and future?!

Setting grammar aside, Priam grabbed his last Seed of Potential to manufacture a fifth ideal prerequisite. After all, he didn’t feel he had truly done anything more worthy. Even the virus he had inoculated during the Reunion had been relatively weak; only its Depths component had posed real danger.

The System begged to differ.

• Immune system artificially trained.

For a heartbeat, Priam froze. Training the immune system meant building resistance to a virus. It was natural, and why most people only caught one flu a season and no more. But what does It means with artificially—Vaccination!

In France, infants were inoculated against tetanus, hepatitis B, measles, etc, with more following as they grew. Commonplace though they were, those vaccines were nothing short of miracles; well worthy of an ideal prerequisite. The fact that Priam had done nothing to earn this except being born into an advanced civilization didn’t matter in the least.

Well, I’m not going to feel guilty for being privileged when some lucky souls pop out of the egg as true dragons. 

Ideal Upgrade unlocked:

[Adaptive Virus Resistance - Epic] - Level 3 - The human body fights viruses in two stages. First, its innate immunity indiscriminately attacks all pathogens the moment they appear. Then adaptive immunity develops over the following days. Possessing immune memory, this response targets a specific pathogen with lymphocytes—a type of white blood cell—and antibodies.
As an Homo Elysian, this second defense mechanism is amped up by your first racial Talent. This resistance only sharpens it further.
Extraordinary reactivity, immune memory synchronized with the Memory attribute—a durable database shared between your cells and your soul—ultra-rapid optimized mutations of lymphocytes and antibodies to hunt down and track all pathogens,... Nothing short of the most bizarre bio-engineered viruses will affect you. Even those will have to incapacitate you quickly, or your body will adapt and tend toward immunity.
Some might think a vial of your blood could serve as a universal vaccine. In truth, your antibodies would attack a transfused body as fiercely as any virus, turning it into organic soup. On Earth, your blood would be classified as biohazard level 4.
CON +9 (3/level)
VIT +9 (3/level)
MEM +9 (3/level)
Tier 0 Soul Legendary Skill Limit: 3/5

“The toxicity of a hydra, the power to combust at will, and now the ability to liquefy anyone dumb enough to inject my blood… my ichor’s about to be more dangerous than I am,” Priam quipped, even as changes rippled through his body.

Like an ant colony running along his veins, the downgrade itched maddeningly. No surprise, given that the ideal resistance was forcing all his cells to mutate simultaneously.

Stifling a groan, he resisted the urge to scratch and fished out a protein bar. Blueberry’s cooking had a taste that defied definition, but it did its job: supplying the body with chemical fuel and nutrients. The biological machine needed fuel to transform.

A minute later, the upgrade was complete. Priam exhaled in relief while rereading the description. At first glance, it resembled his downgraded skill, except for one key detail: the synchronization with the memory attribute. Most people would have skimmed past that, but Priam could smell opportunity.

I’ve got a Talent that boosts memory. If there’s a database of existing viruses, what’s to stop me from downloading it? Of course, my body would need it translated, but my add-on could serve as an interpreter. And that’s just at epic rank. At legendary, I could go further…

His vivacity-boosted mind began sketching plans before Priam forced himself to breathe and slow down. One thing at a time.

The Juggernaut opened his eyes again. In the distance, the translucent barrier separating the battlefield from the manor still held. No Aelbe had bailed yet, but the Champion wasn’t worried. That would come. Nobody wanted to die for nothing, and if Léo hadn’t lost his mind, he would eventually push his people to withdraw. If the clan leader somehow won, nothing would stop him from rejoining the elves afterward. For Léo, it wasn’t a bad ending.

Too bad I’m not about to let that happen.

Glancing at his mental watch—a neat trick from his add-on—Priam decided to tackle another skill and scrolled through his status sheet.

One had been taunting him for months, untouchable. He still lacked three of the prerequisites for [High Aether Manipulation]: evolved Meta Focus, evolved Meta Endurance, and Domain II. The next Ace’s Merit could cover one of the two attributes, and I’m confident about Domain II. There’s still one prerequisite left…

Lips tightening, Priam skimmed further until he reached an obvious candidate.

[Solar Resistance], upgraded from [Light Resistance], sat at a respectable level thirty-nine out of forty. Hardly surprising, given how many of his opponents wielded light-based attacks. The breath of the wyvern in his first Tribulations; Aydan’s wyrm; the runes of the Second Terror; Sumstreh’s divine lances; Arnold’s novas… not to mention Thaal’s gamma-ray burst.

Hell, I’ve died twice to light attacks. Four, if one counts the fake sun in my inner world and the nuke’s radiation before Back in Time.

Truth be told, Priam doubted any other Tier 0 in the universe had suffered more from light than he had. He was confident he had amassed all the ideal prerequisites for an epic upgrade, if not beyond.

“Just need one more level,” he murmured, glancing upward. High above, the Necromoon sat enthroned at the zenith, bathing the Wandering Islands in its sickly glow.

“Quiet for a battlefield. I figured I’d get to smash an Aelbe or two.”

Priam turned as Louis came bounding from rooftop to rooftop. With his arms folded behind his back, the old man looked every inch the kung-fu master ripped straight out of some 1980s Hollywood flick. Ip Man, only with a head of white hair.

“The fighting will resume soon enough. The children are safe?” Priam asked, springing lightly to his feet.

“With Blueberry, inside our dear Hekthorn’s inner world,” Louis assured him. “You look like a man hesitating at the crossroads.”

Priam made a face.

“To grind a level in [Solar Resistance], I was toying with the idea of conjuring a giant lens to focus the Necromoon’s light right onto me. Like a kid burning ants with a magnifying glass.”

“A kid, heh?” Louis gave him a pointed look. “Leaving aside the cruelty, I trust you realize the power gap between you and the Necromoon is infinitely larger than that between child and insect?”

His voice was calm, but Priam caught the shadow of pain in his eyes. The old man hadn’t forgotten Mirscella.

“Mmh. Which is why I’m dropping the idea.” After that little run-in with She Who Weaves Fate, Priam knew better than to go courting the attention of a Tier 9. “I’ve got another plan, but I’ll need Osiris…”

“I’ll fetch him,” Louis said with a smile.

Priam used his kinetic mastery to drift toward the hoplite command post. Maybe it was the dozen sentinels tracking his every movement, but he made a point of stabilizing his flight as much as possible. Pure vanity. Skimming over smoldering ruins, he touched down on the war platform orbiting the Aelbe manor. Fifty hoplites busied themselves there, trading sharp looks with the hundred or so tribal hunters pacing the ramparts.

The two armies glared at one another across the invisible divide, neither daring to make a move. Priam understood why when he noticed a few glowing embers, carried by the hot winds of the burning camp, sliding across an invisible surface that ringed the manor’s perimeter.

“A force field.”

“Correct,” said Hyshana as she approached. Kazuki’s wife had taken command. “It blocks bullets, fire, and sound. We’ve confirmed it rejects matter and most forms of energy, with one exception: visible light—below a certain intensity threshold, which rules out high-energy lasers. Still, radiation has managed to erode it.”

As Priam raised a brow, the swordmaster reassured him: “Your truce isn’t broken. All our probes were conducted underground, outside the Aelbes’ line of sight. Kazu wanted to verify that Braato Gaesert identified the dimensional boundary correctly.”

Priam nodded, watching a few hoplite drones patrol the battlefield skies. The Aelbe defenders couldn’t so much as scratch an ear without the hoplites noticing.

“What’s the protocol if they blitz?”

“We fall back along a pre-set path, mined and trapped in case they follow. It leads to Oasis, and most of the battalion is setting it up now. Once it’s ready, they’re ordered to shift to Valaryth. Ishaka needs them on Proxima; we can’t afford to bog them down on Elysium without crippling our front against the Var Elegis.” Hyshana grimaced, and Priam understood the war was going poorly. “The hundred left behind are for show. If the enemy’s Tier 4s step out, it’ll be a massacre. Our only hope is that the nukes work, because our other strategies are…”

She exhaled hard.

“Problem?” Priam asked.

“Against Transcendents, our arsenal is mostly useless. A clean hit from a gigajoule laser might vaporize one, but they’re predators: their instinct would warn them. With a second to defend themself… What Tier 4 doesn’t have a Concept that could shield them? You could survive it just by fusing with Pyro or Mist, and you’re only Tier 0.”

“Not everyone can reach Unity with a Concept,” Priam reminded her. “And not every Concept can laugh off a laser. Still, I get it.”

“Same story with the rest of our toys. The railgun on this platform needs obscene prep time, and we lost contact with the balloon meant to hoist an orbital kinetic payload.”

Priam glanced up at the black sky. Even before the Necromoon rose, his instincts had whispered never to climb too high. The skies of Elysium belonged to monsters even the Elven Demiurge feared.

“I know it’s your job to worry,” Priam said with a grin, “but it’ll work out. I’ve got a plan. Where’s Kazuki?”

“He’s withdrawn to meditate.”

“Is he holding up?”

Though the General hadn’t spoken of it, Priam knew he was chafing at the loss of so many soldiers. Every single one a subordinate he had trained.

“On missions, he looks only forward. The afterward will be harder, but I’ll be there.”

“So will I.”

Hyshana smiled faintly. “For now, the Tier-up keeps his mind busy. Apparently, his soul’s baptism has interesting consequences. But you’ll see that later. You’re here for something else.”

Priam raised his hands. “Guilty. I’m trying to push a resistance to the next rank, hoping it’ll net me a Title. I think you can help.”

The swordmaster arched a brow. “It took me half a year to unlock three common resistances and a rare—and I still shiver at the memory. Not sure I’m your best bet.”

“You won’t have to lift a finger.” Priam conjured his most innocent smile, tapping the platform beneath them. “This beauty’s packing weapons, isn’t it?”

“This is a seventh-gen MK-103-B war platform. It carries four thermonuclear bombs, a gigajoule laser, a railgun, an EMP scrambler, and a few grams of antimatter. I’ll let you do the math on its firepower.” Hyshana smirked. “Before you ask: it’s one of only three we managed to bring back to Proxima. I intend to return it intact as our civilization needs it to not drown under the Var Elegis’ army.”

Priam shivered. Above his head, invisible to any but Royalties, his crown trembled as the list went on, flaring violently at the mention of antimatter. The meaning was clear: surviving contact with such an exotic substance would do great for the Juggernaut’s legend. Let’s hold off until I’ve got a spare life, thanks.

“Well, that should do nicely,” the Champion said with a grin. “Think we could arrange a little demonstration with the laser? Might dissuade the Aelbes from trying something funny.”

Hyshana narrowed her eyes. “Given how this conversation started, I dread to guess the target you’ve got in mind.”

Priam wiggled his left hand.

Hyshana sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re a masochist.”

*

Status: 

PHYSICAL:
Strength 1 259
Constitution 2 304 (-13)
Agility 1 659
Vitality 2 134 (-79)
Perception 988 (-10) 

MENTAL:
Vivacity (D) 666
Dexterity 988
Memory 1 219
Willpower 1 310
Charisma 1 064 

META:
Meta-affinity (O) 1 459
Meta-focus 902
Meta-endurance 1 692
Meta-perception 929
Meta-chance 1 481
Meta-authority 1018 

Potential: 38 053 (-4 973)
Tier 0

[Tribulation]: Five Tribulations pending.

Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 1 200 / 3 attributes > 1 800 / 1 attribute > 2 400