Chapter 347: Wind Waker

Next chapter monday 24th!

Enjoy!

PS: Priam Character Sheet (you can thanks the Discord guys!)

*

“A powerful force field to protect your territory,” Rohan mused, stepping through as soon as he received permission. “Strong enough to stop any Duke without a legendary offensive skill, right?”

Priam returned his smile. The Champion was clad in nothing but a toga of swirling mist, sporadically streaked with flashes of fire. His hair behaved like living embers, individual strands rising and twisting like the tongues of a roaring flame. Yet nothing was as striking as his eyes—a shroud of mist veiled them, concealing a world, a dream, and an evil.

“The Sun Shop provides us with the means to withstand the Necromoon, but I’m sure our defenses pale in comparison to those of the tribes.”

Lie, Rohan’s instincts yowled. Having grown up among feline-natured people, the Aelbe ambassador knew how to recognize when someone was playing with the truth. Is he testing me?

Nothing showed on his face as he analyzed the words of the Lord of Oasis. The lie told him that Priam had already assessed the tribes’ fortifications—and that he had failed to detect their trump cards. Any Elysian faction that had endured the test of time would possess contingency measures to ensure its survival and Rohan wasn’t concerned with Priam’s lack of knowledge. He himself was not privy to every secret of his own clan. However, the fact that Priam had managed to observe the tribes undetected was shocking. I wouldn’t want to be in our spies' shoes when Father learns they can’t even track a Champion properly...

“Our outer fortifications aren’t particularly formidable,” Rohan admitted. If the secret was out, he might as well downplay its importance. “While theoretically capable of repelling a Prince, they are currently calibrated for Tier 0 Earls.”

“To conserve energy?” Priam asked, gesturing for him to follow.

Rohan nodded, matching his pace. “A spherical barrier’s energy consumption is dictated not by its perimeter or coverage area but by the volume it encapsulates. Since it self-sustains by absorbing ambient aether at its boundary, you can see the issue…”

“Since the cubic function of volume grows faster than the square function of surface area, there exists a critical threshold where the dome starts to expend more energy than it absorbs,” Priam reasoned. “For you, that point corresponds to defenses capable of resisting an Earl.”

And here I was, believing I could indefinitely expand Oasis...

Rohan maintained his composure thanks to Micro, but his mind churned. Even with his purchase of Priam’s native tongue from the Sun Shop, the Champion’s terminology was cryptic as the concept of a mathematical function had no direct equivalent in his own language. While the young me honed masteries of aether and the sword, he pursued entirely different disciplines...

“I assume the efficiency and rank of the runes generating the force field also factors into the final equation,” Priam continued. “And that you can temporarily restore the defenses to full power by feeding them cores.”

“Precisely,” Rohan coughed. Suppressing his unease, he recalled his directives and allowed his gaze to wander, scrutinizing his surroundings with the poised curiosity of a feline. Priam might attribute this to Aelbe instincts, and he wouldn’t be entirely wrong. Rohan’s high tiger bloodline was so pure that he had already embraced three atavisms. Yet, for all his instinctual inclinations, he remained far from a slave to impulse—his curiosity served a purpose.

The mechanism of Oasis' dome is embedded in the rampart, he noted mentally. No redundancies. If the wall falls, all defensive fortifications will collapse alongside it.

The rampart was expertly constructed. A single glance told Rohan that only his ultimate ability could breach it. Most would see no flaw in linking the dome to the wall—after all, any adversary capable of demolishing the latter could likely dismantle the first. But to Rohan, this configuration was dangerous—too vulnerable to sabotage. Any half-competent crafter with the right tools could compromise a crucial rune in the wall, thereby toppling the entirety of Oasis’ defenses. In the midst of a Necro event, that was an unacceptable risk.

Between the dome and the rampart lay an array of bio-traps, many of which had already undergone at least one evolutionary stage. Only a Baron might have hesitated before charging in, but Rohan’s keen eye discerned something subtler—delicate tripwires and intricate rune formations that, from an aerial view, resembled esoteric sigils. I’ve seen these before... a goblin’s work?

Many refused to acknowledge goblins as sapient beings, but Rohan had encountered individuals of staggering intelligence. Underestimating their traps had been the downfall of many a fool.

If Priam employs a goblin for fortifications, he isn’t bound by racial prejudice. Was Aydan lying when he accused humans of speciesism?

“We’ll have to jump,” Priam warned as they reached the base of the wall.

“No gates?”

“The last upgrade erased them.” The Champion appeared unbothered, and rightly so. During a Necro event, anyone incapable of leaping ten meters would not last long beyond the walls. 

One leap later, Rohan landed between two automated turrets. A cursory examination revealed that they were manually crafted. Oasis possessed at least one skilled artisan. Which means we can trade knowledge and technology.

Straightening, he surveyed his surroundings. Every thirty meters stood a hoplite, as identified by the System. Rohan nodded toward the nearest soldier, receiving a curt nod in return. His instincts remained silent—the defender was experienced but not nearly strong enough to concern him.

Unlike Priam.

Following the Champion down a flight of stairs, Rohan made his tenth attempt to gauge him, but both his instincts and his skills remained unresponsive. Somehow, Priam resisted all forms of evaluation. This mystery was somehow more terrifying than a bleak answer.

Beyond the rampart, a clearing housed Oasis’ civilian sector. To the left, a forum hosted an itinerant merchant and the menhir of a Guardian of Secrets. To the right, a monstrous bear tended a campfire while hoplites sparred in a dueling ring.

Directly ahead stood a young Tal Quercus. Rohan halted, inclining his head in deference to the noble tree lord. Its golden-crimson leaves bore no trace of necro corruption, and its regal presence implied that the elf who had birthed it had been a close relative of the Empress.

Rohan cast a sidelong glance at Priam Azura. Had the Champion been named guardian of the Tal Quercus? If so, the matter was political—and the Aelbes wanted nothing to do with it.

Priam led him to a wooden table beneath the tree’s sprawling branches, and Rohan sighed in relief as the weight of the Necromoon lifted from his shoulders.

After sitting down, Priam slid a tankard of clear liquid toward him. “To what do I owe the visit of the young lord of the Aelbes?”

Rohan sampled the beverage, registering a taste reminiscent of pink berry juice with undertones of nut-fruit milk.

“Delicious,” he complimented, setting the tankard down. “First, I come bearing our tribe’s formal apology for the incident involving our ambassador, Eleha. As restitution, we recognize Oasis as sovereign territory and commit to honoring its borders. Additionally, our shaman has modified these Necro cores. Consuming them unlocks or enhances [Necro Resistance - Epic] and should be of help to your crafters.”

In the midst of a Necro event, such items were invaluable. Priam accepted the twenty cores without hesitation. “Tier 2 cores?”

“They’re becoming increasingly prevalent.”

“Thanks. That’s a generous gift, and I accept it. As far as I’m concerned, the matter is settled—though Eleha remains banned from Oasis.”

“That’s only natural.”

“Mmh. Is that all?” Priam said, slipping the cores into his pocket.

Rohan smiled, careful not to bare his sharp canines. “No. I need your help to kill the necromancer before it’s too late.”

*

Priam raised an eyebrow.

“You have me at a disadvantage as you seem to know something I don’t. Seth?”

“Your seventh rival, yes.”

Priam lifted his other eyebrow. “You know our order of arrival?”

“Only that you were the first to arrive and he was the first to die. Hence why I placed him last.”

Priam regretted not having a third eyebrow to raise. From the seven that Rohan knew to the ten that existed, three were unaccounted for. During Back in Time, the tribes had gotten the number right. The only thing that had changed was the release of a certain fae. Eve had erased her team from their memory, Tier 4s included. Terrifying.

Suppressing a shiver, Priam refocused on the Aelbe. “What’s his plan?”

“Summoning a necro Tier 5.”

“Seth would need to sacrifice more undead than this island even holds to pull that off,” Priam pointed out.

He had briefly discussed summoning calculations with the necromancer during Back in Time, and if calling forth a Tier 4 had required millions of sacrifices—harvested via nukes, no less—then a Tier 5 was on an entirely different level.

Rohan shook his head. “According to the Guardian of the Forest, the necromancer plans to smuggle a necro seed into Elysium. Since it’s not a fully mature entity, the cost is significantly lower. More importantly, its plant-like nature allows for tree sacrifices.”

“Ah.”

Priam allowed himself a grimace. There were a lot of trees on this island, and Dishnu’s word lent considerable weight to Rohan’s concerns.

“The emergence of a Tier 5 tree would be catastrophic for all of us,” Priam admitted. “Still, I fail to see the necessity of my involvement. Your father should be able to handle this easily.”

Rohan grimaced. “The necromancer is using the cursed light to mask his presence, and my father is preoccupied with other threats.”

“The Fallen?”

“So you’re aware.” The young man tucked a stray lock of white hair behind his ear. “Him and the Tyrant are a more immediate and tangible threat than a seed.”

“You tell me. Still, even without the Aelbes’ chief, Dishnu should be able to handle Seth alone.”

“The Guardian has already killed the Corrupted a dozen times, but unlike you, he lacks the means to destroy his soul.”

Priam narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Rohan raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I don’t know myself, but the tree-man told me you’d understand.” His smile revealed feline canines. “Judging by your reaction, he was right.”

Priam pressed his lips into a thin line. How did Dishnu know about [There is no Heaven]? The skill—which he had acquired by disrespecting Viracocha—was capable of wounding his enemies’ souls to hinder most resurrection methods. Maybe because he was Death’s Obsession, Priam had a particular distaste for enemies who escaped the Reaper.

“I’ll discuss it with Dishnu,” he said noncommittally. If his rival hadn’t raised the alarm yet, things weren’t critical and Priam needed Osiris too much to purge his brother’s soul prematurely. “Anything else?”

Rohan leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. “With our tournament postponed, Gryphe—our shaman—advised me to visit the Champions. After all, you’ll be my most serious opponents,” he said, a predator’s grin stretching across his face.

“Ah!” Priam returned the smile. “Interested in a spar?”

“Very,” the feline man replied, springing to his feet.

“You’re supposed to be on break for two more days.”

Priam glanced at his shadow. “As long as I’m not risking my life or torturing my body and mind to grind resistances, I consider myself on break.”

“Since yesterday, you’ve asked the Guardian of Secrets three times for ways to develop [Necro Resistance] in crafters. You don’t even want me to spy on the empyreans. Using combat adrenaline to suppress your fears isn’t a viable long-term strategy. I know what I’m talking about.”

Half due to his promise, half due to the sadness in Jasmine’s voice, Priam chose to listen.

“Well, I just remembered I’m supposed to be resting,” he said apologetically. “Don’t worry though, I have another opponent for you.”

*

Returning from Valaryth after failing to clear the third zone of the Deluge, Kazuki was surprised to find Priam and a stranger casually having tea—or sap.

“Kazuki, this is Rohan. Rohan, meet the Warrior, Champion of his civilization, Wind Waker, illustrious Spearmaster, and Last Hoplite Hero, Kazuki Arashi.”

“…Wind Waker?” asked the one who knew the Name of the Wind.

“An inside joke from my people,” Priam grinned. “Anyway, interested in a spar before the tournament?”

Kazuki studied the young lord of the Aelbes. He knew he would be competing in the Tier 1 category, but testing Rohan would give Jasmine an opportunity to assess the abilities of her future opponent. Seeing Priam’s shadow wink, Kazuki understood that was precisely his friends’ intention.

“I would be honored to face the one who has triumphed over ten Tribulations,” he declared.

“Ah, well-informed, I see,” Rohan smiled. “Shall we?”

A few minutes later, the two warriors faced off in the center of the forum. Testing the stone beneath his feet, Kazuki ignored the growing crowd. Hoplites, humans, and natives pressed in, eager to witness a battle between one of their Champions and the local prodigy. Rohan might have only been the genius of a single tribe, but as an Elysium Noble, he was undoubtedly stronger than many so-called young masters of the Hope Sector.

“I’m unfamiliar with local customs,” Kazuki said, gripping the spear he had taken from Taishi’s corpse. “How is the victor determined?”

“Well, it’s just a spar,” Rohan replied, drawing a bastard sword. “But if we must set rules—no powers or items above Legendary rank or Tier 0. Let’s also try not to kill each other, and hope that whoever finds themselves outclassed has enough honor to admit defeat.”

Kazuki nodded, limiting Micro and Spear Mastery to the peak of Tier 0. The next moment, Priam clapped his hands, compressing the air so tightly that the resulting shockwave cracked like thunder.

The duel began.

Rohan lunged, sword gleaming. The star’s reflection off the blade blinded Kazuki, and he staggered back, a searing pain lancing through his right eye. Behind the pain, Micro informed him that his pupil was carved open by his opponent’s Concept. Cut? Blade?

The Aelbe was already upon him; there was no time to think. Sweeping his spear low to trip his opponent, Kazuki’s eyes widened in disbelief as Rohan stepped onto the shaft mid-strike. Thanks to his reflexes honed to perfection, the hoplite warrior lifted his weapon to prevent the Aelbe from penetrating his guard. Powered by immense strength, the spear acted as a lever, catapulting Rohan into the sky.

In the span of a heartbeat, Rohan reached the apex of the dome and wall-jumped off it. Under an impossible acceleration, his body vanished from the hoplite’s sight.

Kazuki’s Domain detected the shift in air pressure and he spun. Too late. His sphere of authority registered the descending diagonal slash mere milliseconds before steel bit into flesh. The attack was halted only by his metallic kneecap.

Ignoring the pain, Kazuki counterattacked. [Acceleration], [Glorious Thrust]. The spear shot forward like a missile, but Rohan had already retreated, landing on the grass without disturbing a single blade.

Kazuki moved to pursue, but his right leg faltered. He barely suppressed a curse. The bone had withstood Rohan’s strike, but his ligaments had not. Less than three seconds into the battle, and he was already crippled.

Should he concede? Unthinkable. The Champion had been given a mission, and he would see it through.

“Duty obliges.”

A nebulous yet absolute Concept, Kazuki’s Duty cared nothing for the path; only the goal mattered. A mere injury would not force him to surrender. Never!

Where the body faltered, the mind prevailed, reinforcing the physique. Even with a shattered ligament, he leaped forward.

Overclocking his body with Micro, Kazuki wove his Aura and Mastery into his spear and thrusted. The weapon struck with such velocity that the very air seemed to harden before it—only to shatter under the force of his assault. The pressure wave roared toward Rohan, collapsing upon him.

And yet, the Aelbe smiled then vanished an instant before the strike could turn him into a bloody mist. The hoplite’s spear met only empty space, but the cone of wind it birthed surged forward, colliding with an ancient tree at Oasis’ edge. Wood splintered, exploding as if struck by a bomb.

Kazuki ignored the destruction, scanning the clearing with his remaining good eye. He found Rohan at the foot of Log-a-rhythm.

“You showed me your Concept,” Rohan whispered. “Now, here’s mine—Cut.”

The single word was enough to slice through Kazuki’s ears, rupturing his eardrums and sending him reeling as his inner balance crumbled. Staggering, he barely registered Rohan stepping forward—then vanishing again in a blur of speed.

A heartbeat later, steel plunged into Kazuki’s back, slipping between the metal ribs of his titan frame to pierce his lung.  He twisted to retaliate, but his elbow struck nothing but air—Rohan had followed his movement, staying within his blind spot. Another blade pierced through flesh, eviscerating his liver. Kazuki roared in defiance, executing a desperate whirlwind attack. Spinning like a pulsar, he managed to force the Aelbe away.

Kazuki straightened to his full height and locked eyes with his opponent ten meters away. As if by unspoken agreement, both warriors raised their weapons in unison, and a storm of blades erupted between them. Each attack met its match in a flurry of sparks. Steel sang and Aura flared. Weaving his Spear Mastery, brute strength, and every ounce of his experience, Kazuki began overpowering Rohan in an inexorable symphony of destruction. Eventually, the Aelbe was forced to dodge a slash that carved deep into the ground, leaving a trench several meters long.

“No direct clashes. Noted.” Rohan grinned, sidestepping three successive thrusts with beastlike agility, showcasing ideal footwork. In peak condition, the Aelbe seemed to mock his bloodied opponent. Kazuki’s pride bristled, but remained subservient to his duty. There was no need to reveal his full hand to win a spar. He could bide his time until the tournament. Pretend to be a pig to eat the tiger, and all that.

From the corner of his eye, Kazuki glimpsed Priam. His lips moved, and though the hoplite could no longer hear, he understood the message perfectly:

“Wipe that fucking grin off his face. Show him our strength.”

The Juggernaut had never been one for laying low. 

Suppressing a smirk, Kazuki summoned his bound armor. A mechanical suit enveloped him as [Symbiosis - Knightmare] fused the Hoplite and the machine into a singular force.

Golden cables replaced damaged nerves, nanorobots stitched ruptured tissue, and heavy liquid surged through every cell, all while his metallic bones densified. When Kazuki opened his healed eyes, Knightmare’s AI had already synchronized with his thoughts, enhancing his mental attributes. Flesh and steel, logic and instinct, he was now truly a war engine.

Analyzing Rohan, Kazuki processed the variables coldly. 

A speedster, attuned to a Concept as esoteric as Shadow or Duty. Overpowering him conventionally was impossible. To defeat him, Kazuki would have to become a force of nature.

Reaching into his recent memories, Kazuki recalled the Deluge. An unending storm. A tornado that flayed flesh from bone. A cyclone that eroded icebergs to nothingness.

“Wind.”

Duty called and the wind awoke. Arashi, the tempest, was coming. 

*

Status: 

PHYSICAL:
Strength 854
Constitution 1 653
Agility 1 256
Vitality 1 709
Perception 888 

MENTAL:
Vivacity (D) 634
Dexterity 787
Memory 1 028
Willpower 1 238
Charisma 912 

META:
Meta-affinity (O) 1 165
Meta-focus 708
Meta-endurance 1 167
Meta-perception 667
Meta-chance 1 020
Meta-authority 627

Potential: 34 306 

Sun points: 666 860 

[Tribulation]: Two Tribulations pending.
Future Tribulations delayed until:
Time: 29 days 17 hours 53 minutes 8 seconds.

Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 900 / 6 attributes > 1 200 / 3 attributes > 1 500  / 1 attribute > 1 800