Chap 307... + 308!

IT'S A DOUBLE BABY!

A few hours late for Chapter 307... but two days early for Chapter 308!
I lost a day because I was sick, but here’s a bonus chapter to make up for it! Now I'm going to sleep, I must be the only idiot who pulls all-nighters to write...

Enjoy!

PS: Priam Character Sheet (you can thanks the Discord guys! Come say hello.)

Chapter 307: When the Mighty Clash, the Weak Perish

[He Who Eludes Death] charge: OFF. Reloaded in 14 hours 53 minutes 4 seconds.

“Tell the three generals I’m leaving the continent.”

“As you wish,” Hina replied with a slight bow.

Descending the steps of the Hoplite stronghold, Priam slipped into the bustling crowd. His elevated charisma made it easy to either draw attention or blend into obscurity. No one batted an eye at the alien draped in mist, with fiery hair.

I could assassinate someone in broad daylight, and they'd never notice.

This new world was a stage of possibilities, audacious or unsettling. Brushing aside the intrusive thought, Priam focused instead on the vivid surroundings. Weaving through the crowd, he found himself smiling. The cacophony, exotic smells, and kaleidoscopic garb painted the picture of a foreign land. Everything was new and waiting to be discovered. Taking in the spectacle, Priam strolled up the main street.

Jōkamachi was a newborn city, its foundations laid less than two months ago. Despite advanced mechas, the System's miracles, and an abundance of resources, it still bore the hallmarks of a rushed development. Compromises were evident everywhere. While the military compound was stone, the rest of the buildings were humble wood. Colorful but basic banners and flags dotted the landscape, advertising markets, shops, or public baths. The dirt roads were pressed flat by the passage of carts and exoskeletons. 

Still, the diversity of the pedestrians was striking.

“Some people are practically naked, and others look like they’re wearing five layers,” Jasmine observed. “That guy’s got a better sense of style than me, but that one? A blind man would dress better.”

“Surprised? A civilization can encompass many cultures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Priam was surprised as Jasmine’s question was genuine. 

“Well, back on Earth, there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of traditional outfits depending on the region. Same with food and art—just as diverse.”

“Really? On Arkania, they taught us that social uniformity prevents hatred.”

“Sounds pretty dystopian to me. I’ll grant you this: standardizing science is useful—screw the imperial system—but diversity can be important.” Priam chuckled. “Sure, differences cause conflicts, but maybe the looming threat of extinction will help us get our act together.”

“That’s Prometheus’ problem, not yours. Ooh, that stand smells amazing!”

“You just devoured two steaks half an hour ago.”

“I have a fast metabolism,” Jasmine shot back. “Let’s see what they’re selling.”

The pair approached a street vendor hawking what resembled a hot dog. A rolled flatbread replaced the bun, the sausage’s meat was unidentifiable, and the sauce was a suspicious green. Yet, the smell awakened his appetite.

“What’s in it?” he asked.

“Not sure, but it’s three contribution points if you want to try it,” the young Hoplite said. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen.

Priam grimaced. “Forgot to bring any currency.” His Tier-6 silk boxers were probably worth more than the entire planet, yet he couldn’t afford street food. What a life...

“Figured as much. Your ocular implant isn’t even active. Move along; free samples are only for pretty girls.”

Priam rolled his eyes and turned away.

“It’s not bad,” Jasmine said, munching on something in his shadow.

“Did you just steal that?”

“It’s not stealing. He said it was free for pretty girls.”

“And that has what to do with you?” Priam teased.

“It’d be more convincing if you hadn’t popped a boner the last time you saw me naked.”

Priam wisely chose to let the jab slide, shifting his attention back to the intricacies of Hoplite society. Dematerialized currency and discreet ocular implants coexisted with martial culture and vibrant traditions. While Hoplite society sometimes felt like a blend of feudal Japan and Sparta, the technological sophistication reminded him how advanced this civilization truly was.

Stomach still growling, Priam reflected on the knowledge he had gained from the Hoplite database. New perspectives on thermal energy, groundbreaking theories on massive object kinetics, and a detailed genome map of the Hoplites had all enriched his scientific repertoire. Most thrilling, however, was a holistic compendium on spearcraft—its science and application among humanoids.

The true gem, though, had been the conversation with the military AI. It sparked the idea to request access to cutting-edge research on artificial intelligence. Two centuries ahead of humanity, the Hoplites had danced close to creating a true AGI. While the integration had erased it, its foundations remained meticulously documented. With this new knowledge, Priam felt more capable of understanding—and perhaps advancing—his add-on. His mentor’s warning still echoed: [Priam’s System] is a boon until someone turns it into a bane.

Grinning, Priam eventually took to the sky, heading toward humanity’s new capital.

*

Plains, forests, deserts—every biome was dotted with the scars of war. Priam passed by Var Elegis strongholds without engaging. Despite his bond with Kazuki, he wasn’t aligned with the Hoplites. In exchange for their knowledge, he was willing to assist them, but provoking the Var Elegis risked retaliation from Arnold in Elysium. An open war was premature.

The memory of his battle against the Homunculus Tyrant made his jaw clench. After my quintuple Tribulation, I wonder if he’ll remain the strongest... The upcoming duels against the tribes would settle that question.

Flying a hundred meters above the ground—the maximum altitude to avoid angering the sovereigns of the sky, winged titans capable of massacring Hoplites and Var Elegis alike—Priam crossed a significant portion of the continent in under two hours. More than abstract numbers, this long journey gave him a sense of the planet’s vastness. His fiery wings and kinetic mastery propelled him at Mach 3 with minimal energy expenditure, yet the journey still dragged on.

At last, the coast appeared. Priam didn’t slow, breezing past a Var Elegis defensive line. He absorbed a few bullets, shifted into mist to evade laser fire, and left the continent behind.

The ocean sprawled endlessly, its vastness echoing Valaryth’s. Ten minutes later, Priam encountered a storm capable of swallowing entire fleets. Tempered by the Deluge, he soared through unscathed, laughing as the elements battered him in vain. Nature’s fury was wasted on the Juggernaut.

Eventually, calm returned, broken only by glimpses of leviathans lurking in the waves or shadows of sea colossi above. Priam theorized that as long as he stayed between sea and sky, he was relatively safe.

That assumption faltered when a massive shark leaped, aiming to devour him. Priam sidestepped midair, brushing his hand against its rough hide as it arced past.

[Identification]
[Mega Squatina Proxima - Tier 1] - A titan of the deep, a hybrid of three shark species from the homeworlds of the Hoplites, Terrans, and Æsir. Its gigantism has altered its perception of its environment, and it now sees small humanoids like you as food. Hunger, not malice, drives it. For a human, the distinction is irrelevant.

“Even here sharks are misunderstood,” Priam muttered as he activated [Kinetic Control]. His meridians protested, but the colossal shark froze mid-leap. He nearly laughed aloud at the feat. In a few months, he had gone from a regular human to a Champion capable of immobilizing a titan. “Well, since I’m here, let’s test this gigafauna.”

Hoplite reports suggested the System had scattered the nine civilizations across three continents to stave off immediate, catastrophic war. The oceans separating these lands teemed with nightmares meant to deter naval expeditions. Priam was curious about just how formidable these guardians were supposed to be.

Raising his right hand, he summoned a fireball the size of a car and hurled it into the shark’s gills. The resulting shockwave and searing heat injured but didn’t kill the beast.

“Resilient…”

Though still Tier 0, Priam knew the strength of his attacks. Even a mundane Pyroball could incinerate a Tier 0 Earl.

Lowering his hand, he reached for the mist, summoning Promesse. [Unrelenting Thrust]. 

His favorite spear skidded across the shark’s slick hide before finally sinking in.

“Bulletproof.”

The study of the shark's strengths and weaknesses dragged on for a few minutes more before Priam finished the beast with [Tribulation Piercing Spear]. Promesse tore through the monster like a meteor before vanishing into a cloud. 

“No threat to us, but I can’t see anyone normal taking this thing down,” Jasmine summarized, nestled in the shadow of his neck.

“This thing’s as tough as a top-tier Tier 1 tank. And considering it’s a marine creature, even a Tier 2 would struggle to kill it. Perfectly engineered to isolate continents before the second Reunion,” Priam concluded, his tone clinical.

“And after?”

“After? It’s going to be a massacre…”

Relaxing his kinetic control, Priam released the prey that had thought itself a hunter. The corpse hit the water’s surface with a resounding crash.

“With any luck, it’ll serve as a warning to the next ones…”

*

Four hours later, the System interrupted Priam’s study of his new knowledge.

New Quest: Proxima - Domination
A territorial war pits humans, Arkanians, and Empyreans against each other.

Eliminate a crowned enemy leader.

Reward: Teleportation of one million humans to Proxima.
Reward (last hit): ̶A̶c̶q̶u̶i̶s̶i̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶a̶r̶g̶e̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶r̶a̶c̶i̶a̶l̶ ̶T̶a̶l̶e̶n̶t̶(̶s̶)̶.̶ Understanding of associated Talent (Homo Elysian Predation).
Difficulty: Mythic

Fifty additional sub-quests available. Expand?

Narrowing his eyes at the notification, Priam finally spotted the coastline. The new home shared by humanity, the Arkanians, and the Empyreans lay just ahead.

“About damn time… All this water is unnatural.”

Priam chuckled at Jasmine's exasperated sigh.

“You remind me of a cat. Most of them hate being wet.”

“Oh, I love being wet. I just hate the ocean.”

Priam was spared from replying to her provocation by the sight of a skirmish on the beach. A hundred humans clashed against twice as many Arkanians.

Swearing under his breath, the Champion surged forward.

*

Markus stifled a sob as he dragged himself through the sand. Behind him, the screams of his company filled the air, haunting cries that would haunt him until his death—which seemed imminent.

The thought sent another wave of panic crashing through him. His lungs seized, each breath a battle. Desperate, he dug his nails into his thigh, biting the inside of his cheek to jolt himself back into focus.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Move or you’re dead!

He wanted to curse his weak body and his weaker mind.

A movement to his left caught his attention, and he turned his head. Carmen was running—fleeing the carnage. Sweet, radiant Carmen. A rookie teacher who had confided in him that she chose “Hard” mode during the Tutorial to follow one of her students—a choice the autistic child had made without understanding the consequences. The boy had died at the end of the trial, but Carmen had survived. At least physically.

She wasn’t a fighter, but her love gave her the strength to protect the weak. When Prometheus had raised an army to rescue humans scattered across the continent, she had joined to honor the boy she couldn’t save. She wasn’t a warrior. For that reason—and because he had fallen in love with her—Markus had followed her. If a teacher could fight, so could a bus driver.

This was their last mission before leave. They had just completed a reconnaissance mission at the Arkanian border. When they returned, he planned to propose. The ring was in his pocket.

“My love,” he whispered.

Carmen stopped, hearing him despite the noise. Her gaze swept over his bloodied leg, and she understood. Markus wouldn’t make it alone.

She could have run. Should have run. Instead, his future fiancée decided to come back for him. Markus knew it was a terrible idea, but it filled his heart with joy. Carmen took a single step toward him, and then her chest exploded.

A projectile struck her left breast, obliterating the heart behind it. Markus’s eyes widened in horror before he screamed. Blinded by tears, he began crawling toward her.

Through the explosions and chaos, he moved for what felt like an eternity, fueled by rage, despair, and a love that refused to die. Yet, Carmen remained far away.

When the cries began to subside, he couldn’t help but glance back. A wave of dizziness overtook him as he saw a figure approaching, framed by fire, blood, and grief.

The man had a tattooed face and a cybernetic hand, gripping a chainsaw-like weapon. He wasn’t human. He was the enemy.

“Please,” Markus begged, raising his left hand to plead. “I just want to hold her. Let us be together in death.”

Life had become unbearable. Maybe death would be kinder.

A snicker answered him. The Arkanian moved, and pain blossomed. It surprised Markus less than the object that fell beside his head. Half-buried in the sand, his severed hand seemed to wave at him.

Horror gripped him so tightly he didn’t even try to fight back as the monster crouched to bring its face closer to his.

“Ah... You pain? Don’t cry. Soon no pain,” the Arkanian mocked in broken speech.

The chainsaw roared, edging closer to Markus’s face, and he scrambled backward. The sand scraping against his stump tore a scream from his throat, but the agony helped him move. Carmen was within arm’s reach when a boot pressed him down, pinning him against the sand.

Markus looked up as the Arkanian raised his weapon. In that instant, the enemy became the embodiment of all the world’s evil.

A part of his mind caught a fiery streak in the sky behind the enemy. Hope flickered in Markus’s eyes. My king?

As the chainsaw decapitated him, he was still hoping.

His head rolled to rest beside Carmen's body.

*

Status: 

PHYSICAL:
Strength 893
Constitution 1 422
Agility 1 173
Vitality 1 322
Perception 858 

MENTAL:
Vivacity (D) 599
Dexterity 752
Memory 891
Willpower 1 012
Charisma 653 

META:
Meta-affinity 999
Meta-focus 559
Meta-endurance 915
Meta-perception 539
Meta-chance 594
Meta-authority 429 

Potential: 27 621
Tier 0

Sun points: 1 143 444 

[He Who Eludes Death] charge: OFF. Reloaded in 8 hours 43 minutes 18 seconds.

Concepts:

• Breath (T0): 100% / Harmony

• Fire (T0): 100% / Unity

• Pyro (T1): 100% / Half-step Unity

• Mist (T1): 100% / Symphony

Bloodlines:

• Phoenix: 3%

• Dragon: 1%

Rewards standing: 

• Fusion Token - Skill (Epic) 

• Evolution Token - Skill (Legendary)

• Affinity Token - Tier 1 (30%)

• Alien Concept fragment (7th Terror)

• Talent Token - Upgrade (Seraph)

• Revelation Token - Ideal Prerequisites (Epic)

• Colosseum VIP Token

• Reborn Token - Reset biological lifespan (Legendary) 

• Minor skill Epiphany

• High Tribulation essence (Soul Tailored - Sumstreh’s half core)

• Seed of Potential

• Trophy Compass

[Tribulation]: Five Tribulations pending.
Future Tribulations delayed until:
Time: 132 days 9 hours 12 minutes 31 seconds.

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

Chapter 308: The End of Innocence

[He Who Eludes Death] charge: OFF. Reloaded in 8 hours 43 minutes 18 seconds.

“NO!”

Priam slammed into the sand at Mach 5, the impact shaking the beach like a minor earthquake. Flashing out of the crater, he backhanded a punk who had a chainsaw grafted in place of his forearm. The Arkanian’s body detonated under the force of the blow, shards of bone and brain matter scattering across the beach.

Ignoring the geyser of blood, Priam dropped to one knee beside a decapitated corpse. Gently, he lifted the severed head lying nearby, studying the lifeless features of a young man roughly his own age.

Dark brown hair, green eyes, lightly tanned skin, the dead man could have been his brother. Priam froze, staring into the face of death. Terrible memories assaulted him. Back in Time, the Reunion, and the Tutorial. Violence, blood, and screams filled his mind. He had grown desensitized to his own death but not that of others.

Plop, plop, plop…

Priam looked down. Red liquid flowed from the severed neck, tracing down his forearms, pooling at his elbows before dripping onto the thirsty sand. This was the lifeblood of someone who had dreamed, hoped, and loved. In the grimace of horror etched onto the face before him, Priam read a reproach. If you had been faster, I wouldn’t be dead.

The young Champion gently laid the head back where he had found it, then wiped the innocent blood from his hands. Rising, he turned toward the battlefield. A chilling silence blanketed the combatants, his explosive entrance having stunned everyone.

“C-Can you save us?” asked a young woman.

“No.” Priam could still feel the lifeless gaze of the severed head boring into him. “But I can kill them,” replied the Juggernaut.

As a sniper adjusted his aim, Priam roared, unleashing the full weight of his charisma and Conquest Aura. The air itself seemed to buckle, and most of his enemies dropped to their knees, crushed under the oppressive force of his presence. Refusing to sully Promesse with impure blood, Priam surged forward unarmed.

A brutal acceleration brought him to the enemy front line. His first punch shattered an Arkanian’s ribcage, reducing bones, lung, and heart to pulp. Before life had even left the man’s eyes, Priam was already moving. Four meters further, his elbow obliterated a machete, a cheekbone, and the brain behind it in a single motion.

Drawing on Micro’s control, Priam weaved through his allies, delivering death to every Arkanian in his path. Jabs, uppercuts, and kicks moved too fast for the Tier 0s to track, and no flesh could withstand the force of his blows.

A shield blocked his view. Priam struck, deforming the metal with a single blow. The warrior behind the shield grunted but remained standing as runes absorbed much of the impact. Humanity was losing because their equipment was inferior.

Furious, Priam dropped low and swept the legs from beneath his opponent. His tibias smashed through steel boots and flesh alike. Pushing off the ground with his hands, the Champion sprang up, ripped the shield from his dying opponent's hands, and hurled it like a frisbee. The makeshift weapon decapitated five Arkanian fighters before embedding itself in a cyberpunk-styled tank. 

Raising his left foot, Priam brought it down on the shield-bearer’s skull. The sensation of brain matter oozing between his toes made him want to vomit.

“Watch out.”

Jasmine’s warning rang out an instant before the tank’s cannon glowed orange. Priam summoned his wings and overclocked his legs, launching himself out of harm’s way as the cannon fired. A glowing projectile shot past, scorching the air.

Summoning a sphere of ice in his hand, Priam hurled it into the tank’s barrel. When the weapon fired again, its cannon ruptured. Despite this, the tank remained a threat.

Flashing directly onto its hull, Priam plunged his Conquest Aura-shrouded hands into the armor. Against his overwhelming force and the silvery halo, the steel parted like water, and his arms disappeared up to his shoulders.

Feeling air through his fingertips, Priam summoned Pyro, igniting a fireball inside the cockpit. Pressure built instantly, and he rode his mist as the tank detonated.

Cheers erupted from the human defenders. With Humanity’s Spear, they found hope once more.

Priam reappeared in front of a young Arkanian woman. The ferocity of her facial tattoos clashed with the fear in her eyes. He hesitated for a heartbeat, and a shadow blade slit her throat before he could act.

“Before you showed up, she was killing with just as much savagery as the others. I saw it,” Jasmine said coldly.

“You don’t have to fight them.”

“Because she’s an Arkanian? Screw that. I was born on the same planet as them, but I chose to be your Shadow.”

There was nothing more to say. Priam turned to his next target and executed him with a crushing headbutt. He had witnessed Arkanian cruelty firsthand. There would be no prisoners today.

The two Champions spread death without anyone able to stop them.

*

[Observation]
[The Juggernaut - ?] - ?

Leopol dal Sallan’s hands trembled as he watched the slaughter through his binoculars. Three kilometers away, his forces were being annihilated. The comet from the horizon had turned out to be a monster—a living engine of destruction obliterating his subordinates and artillery with bare hands. Flames and shadows occasionally added to the carnage, crushing any resistance. The Tier 0s and 1s stood no chance.

“Young master, I recommend we retreat.”

Leopol turned to his bodyguard. “If I abandon my troops, my father will—”

“They’re already lost.”

Leopol turned back to the battlefield and grimaced. Of the thousand men and women he had brought, fewer than a third were still standing. In moments, none would remain, and nothing could change that. Unless...

“Gerald, could you stop him?”

“It’s not my role.”

“Your role is to protect me. If I draw his attention, he’ll come. Can you defeat him?”

Gerald’s expression turned thoughtful. The System restricted the movement of powerhouses, but his bodyguard had arrived on Proxima as a Tier 1. His recent, local ascension bypassed those rules—a trump card Arkana’s nobles sought to hide from Prometheus. If the Divine King learned of their existence, he’d take troublesome measures. But if every human dies, he won’t find out! 

“Hard to say,” Gerald answered after considering. “His raw agility and strength match mine, but the deceleration during his arrival would have shattered my legs. His unarmed combat is crude, but his earlier roar worries me—it felt like a mental attack.”

“A fear spell?” Leopol shuddered, thinking about the primal roar. Had he been closer, he might have lost control of his bladder.

“Possible.”

“And his scorching fire? His evanescent shadow? He wields those Concepts masterfully.”

Gerald nodded. “Despite their qualities, they aren’t Tier 2; my Tenacity would shield me. What bothers me is his high resistance to observation. He had to possess a legendary item to block such scrutiny. I might be able to take him, but it would be hard to ensure your safety at the same time.”

Leopol clenched his fists, watching his last soldier fall. This expedition was a catastrophe. Would his father forgive him if he returned with the Champion’s head? Should he risk his life to avoid punishment?

A blinding flash erupted before a shockwave knocked him to the ground. As the dust cleared, Leopol’s breath caught. The slayer was only meters away.

Up close, the figure was imposing. Towering, muscled, and wreathed in flame, he seemed more force of nature than man as his misty eyes were judging Leopol. His wings shimmered with heat, lifting him just above the ground like a demigod refusing to dirty himself with the world.

Leopol wanted to swallow, but the Juggernaut's presence was so oppressive that he was paralyzed. His rage was palpable, suffocating the young noble.

The Juggernaut was power incarnate.

To Leopol's shame, he lost control of his bladder. Time resumed, and Gerald stepped between them. The sight of his protector reassured Leopol, but Gerald had taken several seconds to recover. Even the Tier 2’s experience hadn’t shielded him from the Juggernaut’s overwhelming aura.

The monster opened his mouth, and a cascade of incomprehensible sounds poured forth. Leopol grimaced. He had long since abandoned any hope of learning the language of these savages after discovering they spoke in thousands of conflicting dialects.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted when it became clear Gerald wouldn’t respond. You’re going to pay for this. I’ll tell Father!

“I’ll translate.” A feminine voice startled him, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. “My boss says you look like an aristocrat. Is that true?”

“I… I am a dal Sallan,” Leopol stammered, swallowing hard.

“Ah, yes. Charls’ son, right?”

Leopol’s eyes widened in shock. No identification skill he knew of could pinpoint someone’s lineage. Is this some kind of setup? He began to sweat. Did my fiancée use the war as an excuse to get rid of me?

“You’ll do nicely.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“You’re going to contact your father and let him know the Champion of Humanity will be visiting your capital in a few hours.”

Leopol’s eyes widened as he grasped the weight of the statement. If she wasn’t lying, he was facing the Champion. “V-very well.” Images of his father screaming at him filled his mind, and he mustered enough courage to ask, “May I ask why?”

The Champion’s presence shifted, and Leopol nearly burst into tears. The woman’s voice erupted into laughter, musical but utterly devoid of comfort.

“Why else? To gather you all in one place, of course. It’ll be easier for Priam to annihilate your army if it’s all in one spot.”

It was the response of a madman. Had he not been so terrified, Leopol might have laughed. But this might be my chance. Despite the fear gripping him, Leopol felt a surge of hope. If Gerald could defeat the Champion of Humanity, the war would be won, and the dal Sallan family would reap many rewards.

The young noble had witnessed what Priam was capable of, but the Champion was still just Tier 0. With a two-Tier advantage, his bodyguard stood a real chance. Greed eclipsed fear as Leopol gave a signal. Somewhere deep in Gerald’s body, a hidden capsule shattered, flooding his system with a berserker elixir. 

The air detonated.

Leopol was thrown like a ragdoll as the two warriors launched themselves at each other. In the blink of an eye, a hundred blows were exchanged—cut, uppercut, slash, kick. The earth quaked under their assaults, shockwaves ripping through the air. Both combatants had overclocked their bodies past their limits, elevating the clash to a Tier 3 level.

As abruptly as it had started, the fight ceased. Dust settled, revealing the outcome. Gerald’s blade had penetrated a few centimeters into the Juggernaut’s neck, while Priam’s hand rested lightly against his opponent’s chest.

Just as Leopol began to smile, he noticed his subordinate’s flushed face. Despite straining every muscle, the man stood frozen, completely paralyzed.

“History will remember him as a level in [Shear Resistance],” the feminine voice whispered in Leopol’s ear.

The Juggernaut brushed the blade aside, and his flesh began to knit itself together in seconds. He stepped forward, placed a hand on Gerald’s skull, and clenched.

Leopol nearly vomited as a drop of blood splattered into his right eye. He wiped it away with his hand before realizing he was now alone. The Champion had vanished, likely to rally his people.

“See you in a few hours.”

Leopol could have sworn his shadow just winked at him.