Chapter 342: Age of Heroes

We're leaving Proxima! Enjoy!

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

*

“Heroes.”

Age of Heroes: an era of great deeds…

Jasmine and the bunker vanished as Priam read the System's description. In their place, he found himself a disembodied spectator of a void. Then a roar echoed, heralding the arrival of a familiar wyvern. The setting of his first Tribulation appeared, and Priam found himself watching a highlight reel of his first epic battle. When he stole the creature’s heart, the vision shifted. The opponents followed one another in quick succession: Kazuki, Seth, then the necro titan, and finally, the seventh Terror of Valaryth.

Your Story takes the shape of a Myth as you charge into impossible battles.

A new scene appeared, featuring Sumstreh and a black homunculus. Instinctively, Priam recognized his greatest rival. Rather than retreat before the Fallen, the Var Elegis was winning. In the background, the Elysium tribes watched the cataclysm unfold with terror.

Odysseus and his Trojan Horse, Sigurd and Fáfnir, Sun Wukong and his Journey, Nanahuatzin and the Fifth Sun... They all distinguished themselves through their heroic virtues.

Yours are awakening.

Against a black background, a nude Priam stood, Promesse in his right hand. His left was gloved in flames, and a halo of mist crowned his head. The latter exhaled something regal. This Juggernaut was a Prince.

This image was identical to Priam in every way, yet the sheer willpower blazing in his eyes made him more terrifying than even the Tyrant.

When the clamor of war fades, they sing your praises.

A human army roared in triumph as the last undead crumbled to the ground. Men and women alike chanted the names of their King and their Champion.

But beneath their adoration lay the truth: you are alone. Perhaps, like Gilgamesh, your virtues are matched only by your flaws.

Jasmine being smote by the System. Log-a-Rhythm engulfed in flames. Kazuki falling to an unseen enemy. Esmée gazing at a shining gemstone on her ring finger.

From tragedy to joy, the line is razor-thin. What kind of Myth will you write?

In the abyssal void, Priam’s image rose. With a single thrust, he tore through the darkness.

[The Five Ages of Man - Mythical] - …
STR +10%
CHAR +10%
VIVA +10%
META (Focus) +10%
META (Perception) +10%

“Priam?” A worried voice called out.

Clenching his fists, Priam opened his eyes and offered Jasmine a reassuring smile.

“I'm fine. The System just wanted to remind me why I fight.”

The measured tone of his voice, the intensity of his smile, the warmth in his eyes, the precise angle of his body in relation to his companion—Priam became aware of a thousand subtle details that lent a reassuring quality to his words. What had once been unconscious instinct, guided by emotional intelligence, had now become a science. I guess a hero’s strengths aren’t just measured in battle. A merchant will have a harder time swindling me now, and this should unlock a whole range of social skills...

A fitting effect for a Mythical Title. However, Priam knew there was more. He was eager to wield Promesse and test the limits of his newfound power.

“So, your Aura?” Jasmine prompted.

“Give me a second.”

With a touch of apprehension, Priam pulled up the rest of his notifications.

Trees of Merit

[Horseman of the Apocalypse - Legendary] - Tier 0: Your aura is tinged with Conquest's spirit. ACQUIRED

evolves into

[The Five Ages of Man - Mythical] - Tier 0: Your Aura is tinged with a Heroic spirit. ACQUIRED

[The Five Ages of Man - Mythical] - Tier 1: Heracles blesses your arm; once per day, your weapon may pierce any defense up to ten times your own. NEW

10 Unused Merit Points.

“We were right. I’ve got a new Aura and a fresh Merit Tree.”

“Is it good?”

“That’s an understatement,” Priam chuckled. “Just the first Merit alone... my synergy with it is insane.”

“At last, you’ll finally spend your points.” Jasmine grinned, nudging him playfully. “Show me Aura.”

Wasting no time, Priam activated it. A golden wave burst from his body, saturating his surroundings. The Champion’s eyes widened as he looked around.

“So?” Jasmine asked.

Instead of answering, Priam turned to her. Something had shifted. Through the sense granted by his Aura, he perceived invisible levers covering her body. Acting on instinct, he activated one.

The moment he did, the others vanished, and a splitting headache lanced through his skull. Through the pain, Priam realized that Jasmine’s stance left her torso vulnerable. He could clearly perceive an attack angle where a thinner muscle just below her left breast, a gap between two ribs, and her heart aligned perfectly.

“I’m starting to think your Aura lets you see through my shadow dress.”

Priam flushed, realizing he had been staring at her chest for almost a minute.

“Sorry. My Heroic Aura... I think it lets me perceive an opponent’s vulnerabilities.” Seeing her unimpressed expression, he continued. “Normally, Micro and your natural resistance—your meta endurance and authority—should block me from scanning your body. But right now, I know exactly where your heart is and the optimal way to reach it based on your position.”

“Handy if you face an enemy with a weird anatomy,” Jasmine admitted. “But there has to be more.”

“That’s what I’m thinking too,” Priam replied, glancing around as his cooldown reset. A new wave of his Aura revealed that it wasn’t just Jasmine: the debris, the wyrm’s corpse, and even the bunker, all were covered in these invisible levers. When he saw that runes and what seemed to be the brain—or perhaps the soul—of Jasmine were affected too, Priam understood just how vast the potential of his new Aura truly was. It’s up to me to uncover its limits...

“We’ve got about twenty minutes left,” Jasmine noted, seeing Priam refocus on her. “I think I’ll grab some electronics, a screen or two and a lot of media content.”

“You’re not planning to spend eternity just training?” Priam teased.

“Sometimes, it’s nice to relax. You should try it.”

“I will,” Priam promised.

“Want to come?”

“Nope, sorry. For the time I have left in Proxima, I want to use my Achievement to grind divination resistance and interception.”

“As you wish. See ya!”

Alone once more, Priam closed his eyes, scanning the myriad of aetheric probes polluting his Domain. A lot of bastards were scrying him. He began to analyze them, and before long, tried his new Aura. A smile played on his lips when he noticed that many had levers on their surfaces. Activating one, Priam watched as it vanished—highlighting a specific section of the aetheric structure. Focusing on that spot, he spotted a flaw.

Channeling his aether like a lockpick into a cheap mechanism, Priam split the probe open, studying its runes, intent, and embedded Concept.

Lvl Up: [Divination Interception] lvl 31
META (Affinity) +2
META (Perception) +1
Lvl Up: [Ciphered Record] lvl 5
MEM +6
META (Affinity) +6
META (Authority) +15

Memory exceeds 1 000 points. Second milestone reached. Congratulations!

Synergy with [Ultimate Sensory Memory - Silver] detected…

*

In the grand operations hall of the Empyrean palace, Esmée stood in the background. Before her, her brother and uncle flanked her father, who personally supervised a team of fifty diviners. Their goal was to exploit the First’s Tribulations and extract intelligence on him. 

The venture had started as a complete disaster. Priam’s resistance to divination neared the limits of the legendary rank, and despite their efforts, the scryers had been unable to decipher the dream invoked by the Tribulations. They had to wait in tense silence for the Champion to awaken as any interference could have been seen as a critique. Since the king was responsible for the project, that would be equivalent to lèse-majesté, and there was only one possible punishment for such an offense. Death.

After two hours of tense anticipation, the Champion had emerged, his wrath drowning the Arkanian city in a sea of fire. Like every other spectator, Esmée had been awed by Priam’s mastery over his Concept. Neither the scorching heat nor the incandescent gases had so much as singed a single hair on the civilians’ heads; only the corrupted had been vaporized.

The rest of the quintuple Tribulation had been far more challenging. Esmée had felt her chest tighten when she saw the young man realize the identity of his nemesis. Though she herself would shed no tears for any member of her family, she had read enough to understand that her case was unusual. Books had kept her empathy from withering completely, unlike her brother’s, which had long since rotted away.

When Priam finally found his son in the virology lab, the king had demanded silence.

“Get a team on the interference caused by the bunker’s enchantments.”

“Team Two is on it, Your Majesty.”

“And bind the entire divination ritual to the assassin. I want to see what she sees and hear what she hears.”

Despite her hatred for her father, Esmée had no choice but to acknowledge his talent. Priam’s growing resistance to empyrean arts was becoming increasingly difficult to bypass without funneling his growth, and the remaining players in this confrontation consisted of a Tribulation vessel and two necro-corrupts. The last sorcerer who had attempted to link himself to an undead was currently shrieking in one of the palace dungeons, driven mad by the experience.

That left only one possible target: the Juggernaut’s Shadow. Soon enough, her racial Talents will make her as elusive as Priam, Esmée mused.

“Let’s see if you can dodge Promesse long enough for your viruses to take me down,” the Champion had said, signaling the start of the battle.

Several times throughout the confrontation, Esmée had to make a conscious effort to keep from wringing her hands. Stress was inevitable, but for a member of the royal family, letting such emotions show was unbecoming.

She didn’t give a damn about decorum, but refused to offer her family a weakness to exploit.

Priam’s first death nearly broke her resolve. Esmée suppressed a shudder as she watched him vanish. The necro-wyrm had tethered his fate to the corrupted elf’s, yet he hadn’t hesitated to vaporize her with a single Breath.

“An obstinate man,” the king murmured.

The transmission flickered, and one of the sorcerers bowed his head. “Apologies. The amount of aether he is releasing is disrupting the signal.”

The king nodded before turning to his generals. “Thoughts? Alexandre?”

“This Breath hits like an orbital laser. Its meta-attributes must be terrifying,” Esmée’s uncle commented.

“It’s also possible his draconic bloodline is purer than we assumed… How does it compare to your sun wyrm, my son?”

Aydan grimaced. “It’s still young, but Helios is growing fast. Its potential is limitless!”

“Out of all your brothers, you were the dimmest star—and now, you’re the only one left,” Maxime Lóthandorim pointed out. “More than anyone, you should know that potential means nothing until it’s realized.”

Aydan swallowed at the rebuke. “I understand, Father.” 

Esmée noticed him fidgeting with a tin bracelet on his wrist—a lucky charm. Was her brother foolish enough to believe his current position was mere happenstance?

The king’s gaze met Esmée’s, and she lowered her eyes. Does he know?

The war room remained silent for a few minutes, waiting alongside the nemesis displayed on the screen. When the Champion’s body reformed from nothing, the king’s eyes widened. 

“So, it’s true… Esmée, what are the limits of his immortality?”

“I don’t know, Father,” the princess replied, bowing her head. She had always taken great care not to learn too much about her rival—lest she be forced to reveal it. Betraying Priam’s trust seemed detrimental for one’s health.

“His nemesis seems to know, because your First doesn’t look too good,” Alexandre pointed out.

Limbless, Priam resembled a magician whose trick had gone horribly wrong. Esmée couldn’t help but wonder why. Were the Tribulations to blame? Or had his nemesis found a flaw in his resurrection mechanism?

Whatever the answer, Priam refused to remain a torso for long. He tore out his own eye, using it as the foundation for a new body. His second resurrection was so grotesquely gory that Esmée knew it would be fuel for her nightmares. For all the deaths she had caused, they had always been indirect and distant. The princess had never seen so much blood spill from a man—or an Empyrean.

Drawing a rejuvenation Token as if he had a dozen in stock, Priam swiftly restored himself to an Olympian physique. As his naked form flickered on screen, Esmée blushed, averting her gaze to gauge her family’s reactions.

No one, not even her rude uncle, made a single comment about the First’s regeneration. Something in his disdain for pain had sparked respect among the spectators. Judging by their grim expressions, it had also planted a seed of fear in their hearts. A man capable of inflicting such suffering upon himself could not be kind to his enemies. His son being the exception.

The rest of the projection might have unfolded in silence had it not been for the Shadow’s intervention. While the Juggernaut’s endurance compensated for his reluctance to eliminate his son, Jasmine’s sacrifice was openly mocked by the men in the room.

“He trained her well,” Aydan sneered, eliciting a round of laughter.

Fixing her eyes on the consequences of an incomprehensible act, Esmée did not share their amusement. The Shadow was as powerful as she was proud, and yet she had not hesitated for even a moment to give her life out of love. The princess didn’t know what to make of it.

To place a cause, an idea, a feeling above one’s own life—was that not the mark of an unshakable will? If I were truly willing to die for my freedom, I would have broken my chains already…

Her geass flared to life, drowning her mind in waves of agony… but for the first time in a long while, Esmée refused to yield. As her royal father and his generals spied on Priam, she tested the limits of her mental prison.

It took a notification to yank her back to reality.

Announcement to Sector Hope:

Priam Azura withstood a quintuple Tribulation at Tier 0.
Final rank: Sector - year: 2

“Second place,” the king murmured.

“Remind us of your own rank when you faced your quintuple, dear sister?” Aydan asked, his voice dripping with schadenfreude.

“Second.”

“Well, I suppose that makes you third now.”

Esmée lowered her gaze beneath her brother’s smug grin. Meeting his stare would only provoke him, and she had long since learned that such battles were never worth it as most male were vindictive.

Her father’s voice rose. The note of anger it carried was terrifying.

“Esmée is third in the Sector, having faced a single and then a quintuple Tribulation. She has the potential to surpass the First and the Tyrant. And you, my son, where do you stand?”

“I... Father, you know my sister's talent for Aether—” Aydan swallowed hard. Praising his sister, a woman, in front of their father was more than foolish. It was dangerous.

“Is superior to yours?” the king finished. “That, my son, is precisely the problem. Some nights, I go to bed regretting that your sexes were not reversed.”

The prince flinched under the insult, casting a venomous glare at his sister. Too much of a coward to stand up to his tormentor, he preferred to redirect his hatred toward a more accessible target.

“My daughter,” the king continued, “you, who have already conquered a quintuple, what rewards will the First receive?”

“In addition to the Achievement and a Mythical Title, he will be allowed to choose five rewards from a personalized list.”

“Tell me about this Title.”

“I personally received [The Five Ages of Empyrean], but the First must have received a variant linked to his civilization.” Esmée opened her grimoire, feigning the act of searching through her notes when, in truth, she was carefully weighing what to reveal and what to withhold. “The System then requires the recipient to select one of these Ages to gain a specialization. I chose the Age of Silver because I am unworthy of the Age of Gold. I do not believe the First will make the same choice.”

Esmée’s only advantage over her family was that, despite her intelligence and talent, they still considered her inferior. No one, not even her father, found her explanation suspicious. 

It was fortunate, for if they had questioned her about the Age of Defiance, she would surely have lost her life. Long accustomed to the shadow of death, the princess did not let fear betray her.

“Themarcles, summon our historians. I want a full report on all our myths concerning these five Ages and their assessments of the powers they may grant the First.”

“At once, Your Majesty,” one of the sorcerers responded before swiftly exiting the chamber. Esmée made a mental note to edit the final report. A drop of sweat falling over the most problematic specifics of the Silver Age should suffice.

A commotion followed, as everyone voiced their opinions on the First’s Tribulations. Esmée struggled to conceal her disdain for these sycophants, incapable of passing even a single one.

“You’re pleased he triumphed, aren’t you?”

Esmée turned to her brother and shuddered as her geass compelled her to speak the truth.

“Yes. I do not believe Priam is our enemy.”

“Our enemy?” Aydan echoed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Define 'our,' dear sister.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Thanks to the System, I now have an excellent memory. Recently, I had our conversation with the First analyzed—the one from our first meeting. He did not ask for Myuri. You gave him my sexual slave. Why?”

Esmée noticed the sudden silence in the war room. Every eye was on them. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, searching for an escape. Before she could figure something out, her geass activated, drowning her mind in a sea of agony.

The curse wrenched the words from her soul. “I wanted him to see how our civilization treats its women.”

I wanted to drive a wedge between you and him. Those words remained unspoken, but the damage was done.

“Treason,” Alexandre declared. The general unsheathed his blade, pressing the cold steel against her throat. With a flick of his wrist, he forced Esmée to tilt her head back. “Permission to execute, Your Majesty?”

A tense silence followed his request. Esmée closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was to come and ready to bite. Hidden within a hollowed tooth was a single drop of corrupted blood. 

One way or another, the princess would survive—even if it meant trading one master for another.

*

Status: 

PHYSICAL:
Strength 854 (-61)
Constitution 1 653
Agility 1 256
Vitality 1 709
Perception 888 

MENTAL:
Vivacity (D) 634
Dexterity 787
Memory 1 006 (+11)
Willpower 1 221
Charisma 894 

META:
Meta-affinity (O) 1 120 (+10)
Meta-focus 690 (+57)
Meta-endurance 1 145
Meta-perception 598 (+40)
Meta-chance 1 020
Meta-authority 603 (+24)

Potential: 36 758 (+6)
Tier 0

Sun points: 2 143 444  

[He Who Eludes Death] charge: OFF. Reloaded in 15 hours 52 minutes 20 seconds.

Concepts:

• Breath (T0): 100% / Harmony

• Fire (T0): 100% / Unity

• Pyro (T1): 100% / Unity

• Mist (T1): 100% / Symphony
  

Bloodlines:

• Phoenix: 5% 

• Dragon: 3% 

Tempering:

• Order Gate (Brain)

• Soul Gate (Right eye)

Rewards standing: 

• Fusion Token - Skill (Epic) 

• Affinity Token - Tier 1 (30%)

• Alien Concept fragment (7th Terror)

• Talent Token - Upgrade (Seraph)

• Revelation Token - Ideal Prerequisites (Epic) x2

• Colosseum VIP Token

• Minor skill Epiphany

• Seed of Potential x2

• Trophy Compass

• Experience Phantom Advisor - Skill (Epic - 1 hour)

• Experience Phantom Advisor - Supremacy (Tier I - 1 hour)

[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 / 1 attribute > 1 800
*

Once again, Esmée isn't a princess in distress. Not everything is about Priam ;)