Chapters 320 + 321

Here are chapters 320 + 321, enjoy!

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

*

Chapter 320: Critical Mass Before Detonation

On screen, Jasmine drove her blade into the Baron’s skull.

Esmee Lóthandorim, Princess of the Empyreans, summoned every ounce of her composure to stifle a smile. Without Micro, her latest Supremacy and one she had obtained through considerable effort, she would have failed.

“Damn it!” roared her brother from a meter behind her.

Their father remained silent, his expression contrite as he studied the holographic globe before them. This artifact, a masterpiece born of fused technology and magic, allowed scores of diviners to pool their powers, scrying faraway locations and exerting subtle influence over events.

It was through this miraculous device that Esmee had joined her father and a cadre of thirty relatives—cousins and nephews—to orchestrate the Necromoon assault. The million souls summoned by Seth had been merged into the corpses of the planet’s apex predators: the aquatic and aerial megafauna that separated continents. Like a nightmarish herd, the corrupted beasts had been herded toward the Arkanian capital.

The plan was threefold: annihilate the summoned humans and obliterate the city and its inhabitants, weakening both enemy civilizations in one fell swoop. The cherry on top? Dal Cal’s successor would likely find himself in the crossfire. Eliminating him in the ensuing chaos would allow the Empyreans to summon a million of their own elite warriors to Proxima.

With Arkania in ruins, the Empyreans would turn their attention to humanity. Outnumbered and with the undead horde at their backs, the humans would crumble. Victory on one continent would set the stage for eliminating the other civilizations using the forces of the Necromoon, culminating in the assault on the Var Elegis. The survivor of this confrontation would be so weakened that the Empyreans would have no difficulty conquering Proxima.

A devilishly ingenious plan. The Empyrean king had nearly subjugated eight civilizations without leaving his throne—though at the risk of alienating Priam.

Esmee had hesitated to intervene, knowing her rival would hunt her father relentlessly afterward—a potential solution to her problem. On the other hand, the death of a million humans would create an unbridgeable rift between her and Priam. In the end, the princess chose to support humanity—a decision made possible only because her geas was torn between a direct order and a mortal danger to its creator.

The sorceress had used her powers to dull Dal Cal’s paranoia, paving the way for Cassandra to poison him. Hours later, the weakened Baron fell to Jasmine’s blade, shocking every player as they realized the rules of the game had just changed.

“Your Majesty, your plan was flawless; our enemies are too foolish to follow the script—” began a sycophant.

The king silenced him with a raised hand, his gaze fixed on the holographic image of Ugo Dal Cal spasming, a shadow blade embedded in his brain.

“Barons aren’t elites on a universal scale, but they are far from weak. More than Jasmine’s blade, Dal Cal’s demise came from the machinations of his rivals.”

The Barons’ plots were difficult to discern, shrouded by measures they had taken to obscure the Empyreans’ sight. This had not prevented Esmée from guessing their plan and facilitating the Crime Lord’s poisoning—though she chose not to bother her father with those details...

“The Barons elected a new leader only to assassinate him hours later?” Her uncle Alexandre gawked in disbelief, proving once again his lack of strategic acumen.

“They eliminated a troublesome rival while summoning a million elites to Proxima,” Aydan explained, his voice barely concealing his disdain for his uncle’s ineptitude.

“Traitors to their race, the lot of them!” the general bellowed, fuming with indignation.

Esmee resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her uncle fancied himself the sole master of intrigue. In truth, no civilization was foolish. This was now a ten-player game, and everyone but the undead schemed to be the last one standing.

On the screen, the Baron of Crime convulsed one final time.

Proxima Announcement:
Congratulations to Jasmine Kaldwin for slaying the arkanian leader !
Ugo Dal Sal, the Crime Lord, has passed away.

Teleportation of one million arkanians to Proxima.

“No plan survives first contact with the enemy,” the king quoted before issuing his command. “Have the summoned Arkanians cross over and disperse the clouds.”

“Your Majesty?”

“The death of the Duatian leader revealed that the System creates outdoor, one-way portals within a five-kilometer radius of the event rather than directly teleporting new arrivals. Entering Proxima is a choice, not a mandate. Therefore, most exits will open in the streets and on the rooftops of buildings. My orders are clear: Make the chosen ones stumble or manipulate probabilities to ensure someone pushes them: I want the summoned Arkanians to cross over. When they are trapped on this side, disperse the lower clouds. The corrupted beasts must see their prey.”

Silence descended over the room as the meaning of the king’s orders sank in. Hundreds of thousands of winged behemoths were currently waiting in a massive stationary cloud above the city. Without a general to command them or enemies to annihilate, these monsters listlessly followed the winds’ direction. That would change as soon as they spotted prey. The cataclysmic horde would then descend on a city full of civilians. Within hours, Arkana would be nothing but a memory.

Her geas flared, and Esmee felt a searing pain ignite her soul, compelling her compliance. This time, there was no way to refuse or resist. Clenching her jaw, the princess joined the other sorcerers to condemn a civilization to destruction.

I’ve done all I can, Priam. The rest is up to you.

*

Hundreds of thousands of portals dotted the sky like stars in the firmament. The sight could have been breathtaking if it weren’t marred by the vision of countless winged undead diving through the clouds like shadows of doom. Faced with this apocalyptic horde, most of the newcomers rushed into buildings for shelter, but those who arrived on top of the buildings found themselves trapped. As a futuristic city, Arkana had countless rooftops, which turned into deadly traps for hundreds of thousands of people. Priam watched helplessly as brave but doomed individuals chose to leap into the void rather than be devoured by a corrupted creature. These nightmarish images reminded him of the horror of the World Trade Center attack.

Clenching his fists in rage, Priam took a deep breath to calm himself. Despite his superhuman status, there was nothing he could do. Brushing Cassandra's ashes from his suit pants, Priam turned to Jasmine. The young woman was just finishing lacing up her dress.

“How are you?” 

“I’m glad I killed Dal Cal. That bastard deserved it.”

Priam gave her a look full of warmth. “I’m not talking about that.”

Jasmine’s shoulders tensed, and she averted her eyes. “Cassandra was a traitor. There’s nothing more to say.”

“She might not have had a choice. Her addiction pushed her to obey, to get her next fix, and—”

“We always have a choice.”

Priam held his silence. Most people rushed to fill the quiet, but he had learned that silence could be an effective strategy—an invitation for the other person to speak without feeling interrogated. After a few moments, the tension in Jasmine’s shoulders eased.

“I wouldn’t have killed her if I thought she could be redeemed,” she admitted finally. “She was a double agent; the drugs were just a way for Dal Cal to trust her.”

“Are you sure?”

“She poisoned him right before we arrived. My attack was supposed to weaken him, give you an opening to finish him off. Instead, I one-shot him.”

“What?!” Priam narrowed his eyes, his formidable mind already piecing together the puzzle. “I warned them I was coming… Knowing that, the Barons chose one of their own to sacrifice. This was part of their scheme all along.”

A scream tore through the air, pulling their attention to the window. An Arkanian plummeted from the sky, too close to the tower to be caught by one of the reanimated bird corpses. His fate was to crash a kilometer below. He had just made a courageous choice.

Priam clenched his jaw, his mind racing to untangle the web of deceit.

“They activated Cassandra to guide your hand. It had to be an Arkanian who struck the killing blow. That was the only way they could summon reinforcements. If I’d delivered the final strike…”

Priam shuddered at the thought. Killing the Baron himself would have triggered the arrival of a million humans in the heart of Arkanian territory. The ensuing bloodbath would have been unimaginable. Neither the Barons, Prometheus, nor Priam would have wanted that. Unless the summoned appeared near their capital?

Without testing it, there was no way to know and Priam wasn’t ready to take that gamble.

“All this only makes sense if the Barons knew I’d be with you,” Jasmine pointed out.

“They knew,” Priam grimaced, recalling a particular detail.

“I’ve stayed hidden since we landed on Proxima.”

Even Prometheus hadn’t been certain of the assassin’s presence in his castle, reducing the risk of a traitor revealing her location.

Priam shook his head. “When I killed that Tier 2 on the beach, you spoke to a Baron’s son from his shadow. His father—or the Shadow Guild—must’ve connected the dots.”

“See you in a few hours,” she had said to Leopol dal Sallan to terrorize him.

Jasmine bit her lower lip. A joke she thought harmless had changed everything. “This is my fault.”

Priam shrugged. “If it wasn’t that, it would’ve been something else. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I can, and I should, if I want to grow,” the Shadow declared. “But why me? Another Twilight could’ve handled the assassination.”

The other guildmasters certainly had the skills.

“Dal Cal didn’t survive this long without being paranoid,” Priam pointed out. “You could get close because he didn’t see a Tier 0 as a threat.”

Jasmine let out a bitter laugh. “Why would he fear a pathetic assassin who can’t stay hidden for a single day?” she mocked herself, harsher on her failings than she ever was with others.

Priam hesitated for a fraction of a second before pulling her into an embrace. She stiffened at first but eventually allowed herself to be comforted. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he murmured, running a hand through her hair. “We all screw up. I came here thinking I could blitz through the city and assassinate the leader of a civilization… and, well, things didn’t exactly go as planned—for the best. Doesn’t matter now.”

“What does matter?” she asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

“We’re alive,” Priam smiled. “And stronger than ever. The system must have revealed things to you about your racial Talent, right?”

Jasmine nodded slightly. “My instincts are on steroids. It’s not louder than before, but the intensity... it’s like a new sense—or maybe a fusion of several. I don’t know. But it’s powerful,” she said, trembling slightly. “I could teach you,” she offered as if to make amends.

There was nothing to atone for in Priam’s eyes. However, the prospect of learning intrigued him. “Really?”

“I think so.” She met his gaze, her own filled with determination. “No, I’m sure. [Homo Elysian Predation] isn’t just a passive racial Talent anymore. It’s almost active now, like an extension of Micro.”

An active Talent… Priam recalled that one of the Colosseum rewards mentioned using [Chimera] actively to defeat Clock, the curse mage. Could it be that...

“Well, that sounds promising, but we’ll deal with it later,” he said, releasing Jasmine and turning back to the window. “Right now, there are more pressing matters.”

Outside, the dead waged war on the living.

“I’m struggling to see how this fits into the Barons’ plan,” Jasmine muttered.

The sight of Arkanians being hunted by flying nightmares was horrifying, and Priam clenched his fists. On a personal level, he had nothing against these people, and their suffering didn’t leave him indifferent.

“I don’t think they expected the arrival of Necromoon’s forces. Half an hour ago, the sky was clear. The cloud that concealed the undead dissipated only after the Arkanians were summoned. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

There were only two possible culprits.

“The Empyreans or Seth?”

Priam stared at the carnage outside. Among the adjectives flooding his mind, one stood out: chaotic. It was, quite literally, a shit-and-blood storm.

“The Empyreans,” he said finally. “There’s no general coordinating this attack—these creatures are acting on base instincts.”

The necromancer had brought the plague, but Esmée’s family was—crudely—wielding it.

“What do we do?” Jasmine asked.

Priam was silent for another moment before answering. “In the middle of a storm, the fish can’t see the fisherman.”

“...Meaning?”

“We use the chaos to finish what we came here to do before anyone has time to stop us. I’m starting my Tribulations. As for you…”

*

Chapter 321: The Juggernaut’s Quintuple Tribulation

Charls dal Sallan turned toward the window as thunder rumbled in the distance. No lightning was visible on the horizon, but a cloud was rapidly rising from the ground to meet the sky. The Dal Cal Tower was collapsing, its foundation obliterated by several tons of explosives.

“It begins,” he said. Despite the defeat, the Baron stood tall, his demeanor unyielding. Turning to his son, he continued, “Time is short. You must leave.”

“Father, must I truly abandon the city?”

“As a Tier 3, I am bound here. If I do not survive the coming hours…” Charls gestured at the swarm of winged titans devouring every poorly hidden Arkanian in sight, “…I will not allow our lineage to perish alongside me.”

“But our bombs, our army—”

“These creatures are impervious to bullets. Our lasers and kinetic weapons are too scarce, and I won’t insult your intelligence by explaining why detonating nuclear bombs in the heart of our city is folly.”

“Then let us hide!” His son stepped closer, a pleading expression on his face. “Let’s lock ourselves in the bunkers like everyone else and wait for these creatures to lose interest.”

The evacuation sirens howled through the streets, urging citizens to rush to the nearest shelters. They were useful only to the blind; everyone else had already begun fleeing at the sight of undead monstrosities scouring the skies for fresh meat.

“Our private bunkers, at full capacity, have a week’s supply of water,” the Baron revealed. “After that, we’ll have to tap into the public reserves. Unfortunately, Dal Cal’s death has triggered his failsafes. Right now, our water supply is being contaminated with deadly drugs.” Charls felt a wave of exhaustion as he said those words—a side effect of defeat. “That worm has held us hostage with this plan for decades. His life in exchange for billions of our citizens. Integration into this new universe was our chance to thwart him. To that end, all Barons secretly stockpiled rainwater for months, but…”

Charls turned back to the window. Outside, a crimson drizzle was falling from the sky, tainting their rainwater reserves. The Baron didn’t need his scientists to confirm that the rain was likely more lethal than Dal Cal’s poison. Pedestrians touched by the droplets writhed in agony before rising in a frenzy. Charls watched as one unfortunate soul lunged at a child, tearing her face off with feral teeth. A nearby guard shot the attacker in the head, but it was too late for the child. “All that planning… wasted. What a travesty.”

“What will you do?” Leopol asked, seeing his father lost in thought.

“I will join a public bunker to guide our people. When the potable water runs out in a week, we’ll emerge. If fortune favors us, these creatures will have moved on, and we’ll rebuild.”

As he spoke, Charls felt helplessness seep into his bones. His enhanced instincts, bolstered by his racial Talent [MKX Flair], screamed that this chaos was just the beginning. Some players still had cards to play—among them, the Champions. No other notifications… Despite the Guild’s assurance, Cassandra had failed.

“Father—”

The Baron cut him off. “Andrey has gathered our most loyal subordinates. He will help you lead them.” Near the door, the family’s butler bowed in acknowledgment of the command. “I will send new instructions as soon as I am able. Now go. Survive, no matter the cost.”

Leopol swallowed hard, bowed deeply, and left, leaving the Baron alone with his thoughts. Once he sensed the last spirit departing the building, Charls sat at his desk, opened a drawer, and retrieved ink, a quill, and paper.

“To King Prometheus,” he began to write.

If the corrupted army chose to stay, Arkana would fall. It was Charls’ duty to ensure his civilization did not vanish entirely.

*

Priam dodged a pterodactyl-like beast, then weaved through a swarm of bat-like creatures, each the size of a minivan. Some enemies were too fast or too numerous to avoid entirely. Promesse pierced two giant eagles, while Pyro incinerated a cloud of insects, clearing the way.

A vast gray expanse loomed ahead: the cumulonimbus hovering above the city. Priam plunged into the cloud, using his control over the dense mist to lose his pursuers. Most peeled off quickly, turning their attention to prey that wasn’t flying at Mach 3.

Priam’s sheer speed was staggering. At such velocities, even a minor turn would knock an untrained pilot unconscious. Behind him lay the remnants of the sound barrier shattered in his wake.

A kilometer per second—still far insufficient to escape Proxima’s grasp. His add-on had calculated the local escape velocity at over twenty kilometers per second. In the planet’s atmosphere, Priam struggled to reach even half that. Unlike a bullet, he could accelerate continuously, but even then, he fell short of reaching the first space velocity.

High in the atmosphere, new problems emerged. The Champion could no longer siphon thermal energy from the surrounding gases with his kinetic mastery to fuel his propulsion. Unwilling to burn through his aether reserves by powering [Phoenix Wings], Priam had been forced to abandon his dream of triggering his Tribulations in space.

“Next time,” he grinned, continuing his ascent.

Leaving dark shapes and shadows behind, the young man finally emerged from the cloud. A blue sky stretched endlessly above him, and he continued to climb. The feeling of leaving the madness of war behind made him laugh as, deep down, he knew he was about to unleash even greater havoc.

The temperature dropped as oxygen grew scarce. Priam continued to extract heat from the molecules within his Domain to fly higher. When the sky turned pitch-black, he finally stopped. Beneath him, clouds looked like weather charts, and rivers resembled blue ribbons.

Priam took a moment to observe his surroundings. Nearly a thousand kilometers up, he was at the edge of Proxima’s atmosphere—the exosphere. A few rare gas particles drifted lazily within his sphere of authority, just enough to keep him stationary without expending aether. Breathing was impossible, and he could feel his cells fighting against the radiation from the star around which the planet orbited.

A grin spread across his face as his hearts beat with exhilaration. Moments like this justified everything—the sacrifices, the pain, the endless battles. That was why Priam wasn’t hating the Concepts and the forced integration of his civilization. 

How many humans, both young and old, had dreamed of the stars? Humanity’s passion had driven them to conquer space as early as the mid-20th century, despite the lack of practical benefits. If Priam wasn’t the first human to journey into this vastness, he was the first to do so unaided. The first to commune directly with infinity, without a spacesuit.

Pyro’s spark, inside the soul of the Juggernaut, was alight with joy. Right here, right now, Priam Azura was not just a warrior, a mage, or a survivor. He was an explorer.

[He Who Eludes Death] charge: PRIMED.

The System’s notification seized his attention. It’s time. 

His safety belt was operational again; the break was over. Soon, Elysium’s laws would reclaim him—assuming he survived his quintuple Tribulation.

Priam cast a final glance at the world below. Somewhere far beneath him, Jasmine was pursuing her own quest, and the Arkanians were grappling with catastrophe. To his right, a continent loomed in the distance. Over there, Kazuki and Hyshana were likely rallying their people against the Var Elegis, leading them in the battle. Across Proxima, millions were struggling to survive. How many of them were even aware that an event poised to shape their lives was unfolding above their heads?

Thanks to [Ciphered Record], the answer was precious few. That suited Priam just fine. Among those who knew, even fewer had the means to interfere with his Tribulations. That was half the reason for his current isolation.

The other half stemmed from the nature of the Tribulations themselves. Thanks to Back in Time, an amazing survival reward, Priam had caught a glimpse of the coming ordeal and had spent entire days devising ways to triumph. One strategy had crystallized: he needed to place himself in an environment so hostile that the physical aspects of the Tribulations would struggle to unleash their full arsenal here. Contrary to what an observer might assume, initiating them in space wasn’t just some whimsical stunt.

The ocean depths would’ve been my first choice, but with the Necromoon around, that’s asking for trouble. Priam tried to take a steadying breath and failed due to the lack of air. Well, no point in dragging this out.

Opening Concepts Archipelago to draw a final deep breath, Priam retrieved two items. The first was a Mythic Gift, once used during the erased timeline to shield Sphinx from Sumstreh’s fury. The second was half the core of the Fallen, infused by Thaal with the essence of a High Tribulation and tailored to his soul. An ideal trophy to temper one of his gates with Heavenly Dragon.

“Good luck,” his phoenix mentor said.

Priam simply smiled as he closed the rift. He had spent over a thousand hours training for this quintuple Tribulation. The moment was upon him, and to the warrior’s surprise, fear had deserted his hearts. All that remained was exhilaration—a primal thrill to defy his rivals and shake the world to its core.

Deep within, Priam harbored no modest ambitions. He knew his potential to ascend to the Zenith and intended to seize it—or die trying. His thirst for freedom and adventure demanded nothing less.

Driven by his competitive spirit and unshakable self-belief, Priam opened his menu.

[Tribulation]: Tribulations are coming.
Time: 132 days 0 hour 28 minutes 25 seconds.

Would you like to trigger your Tribulations?

Yes!

The universe froze, as though an omnipotent force had hit pause. Just like in the erased timeline, the System was descending to test him. Unlike the last time, Priam was ready.

Reality exhaled as a figure materialized less than ten meters away. The Juggernaut observed the one the Concepts had summoned to defeat him. Kazuki had had Taishi; Priam now faced his own nemesis.

The Champion grinned at the sight of his familiar adversary gasping for air.

“I’m coming,” Priam vowed, summoning a dozen protective runes. Drawing inspiration from his battle against Clock, he crafted a defensive cage around himself, tethering it directly to his vast reserves of aether.

As a powerful illusion captured his mind, Priam activated his Mythic Gift. While the first two Tribulations summoned a mental demon to obliterate his sense of self, a mythical shield materialized to safeguard his body. The two defenses overlapped, coalescing to form a bulwark capable of repelling even a fully powered Breath. 

Priam had learned from his previous attempt. A simultaneous assault on his body and psyche wouldn’t succeed this time.

His nemesis studied the fortifications for a moment before shifting his attention to the planet’s surface.

“I’ll wait for you,” their lips whispered despite the lack of air.

Then, they dove.