A Novel Concept - A death a day, MC will live anyway!-Chapter 344: Rocks and Neons
Jasmine whistled as she wandered through the aisles of Rocks and Neons. The dim lighting, deafening music, and lingering haze of narcotics recreated the atmosphere of a legendary concert. Passing by several instruments mounted on the walls, she paused for a moment before a harmonica carved from the femur of a long-dead rockstar.
“Cool.”
The store was worth the visit for its sheer aesthetic alone, but Jasmine was here for the catalog—so vast that half the music available couldn’t be found anywhere on the net. With the cost of server maintenance skyrocketing, major corporations only kept the most famous tracks in their databases. But fame didn’t always equate to quality. The owner of Rocks and Neons, a true fanatic, burned through his inherited fortune collecting every obscure gem he could find.
Spotting the high-BPM section, Jasmine pressed her stolen tablet against the terminal and selected the entire catalog.
“Insufficient credits,” a robotic voice rejected her request.
“Shit.”
“Vulgar. As expected from a pauper.”
Leave it to a rock fanatic to install a sass mod on their payment terminals. Refusing to argue with a dumb chatbot, Jasmine checked the prepaid credits on the stolen tablet and swore again.
“Barely enough to buy a damn insect steak. Should’ve robbed a rich asshole…”
Frowning, she inspected the payment terminal again. Top of the line. No way she had time to hack the store’s security before Elysium called her back.
Lifting her head, Jasmine glanced around. Maybe because of the apocalypse outside, there wasn’t a single employee in sight. In fact, she was alone.
“Lazy bastards,” she muttered.
The music abruptly softened.
“Need help?” a voice asked through the speakers.
“Nah.”
“... There should be a master key under the front desk.”
Jasmine raised an eyebrow but made her way to the counter. Underneath it, she found a small safe.
“The code—”
The voice paused as Jasmine wordlessly sliced through the lock with her dagger and a flicker of Death Aura. Retrieving a badge from inside, she returned to her selection. The process went smoothly, and the manager’s badge allowed her to bypass the payment step.
Her victory was short-lived. Another error message popped up.
“Insufficient storage space.”
“The music sold at Rocks and Neons is in uncompressed high-fidelity format. It takes up a lot of space,” the voice pointed out.
“I can read,” Jasmine shot back. “I suppose there isn’t another safe with a better tablet?”
“Ah. A shameless one…”
“Damn right. And if you don’t have anything useful to add, fuck off.”
A sigh echoed through the speakers. “My own tablet could help. Years ahead of the best on the market, with enough storage to download the entire store’s catalog. I’ll trade it to you for five minutes of civilized conversation.”
Jasmine tilted her head. “First sign of bullshit, and you die.”
The music cut off entirely, and the front door unlocked.
“Then I’ll be careful,” the voice replied as footsteps approached. Soon, Jasmine spotted a man with neatly combed silver hair, dressed in a suit that probably cost as much as a luxury car, poorly masking an alarmingly powerful spiritual presence. He extended a sleek tablet toward her. “As promised.”
Jasmine took it and began downloading music on the device. “You here for your son? I didn’t do anything to him—though that little shit deserved it.”
Charls dal Sallan, the newly appointed leader of the Arkanians, grimaced. “Leopol is…” He struggled to find the words. “He has a good heart.”
“He ordered an attack on humans.”
“That’s what happens in war.”
Jasmine arched a brow. “We’re at war? Where are the nukes, the bioweapons, the self-replicating nanobots? If you really wanted humanity crushed, it’d already be done.”
Most Arkanians didn’t realize how many apocalyptic weapons corporations had, but Jasmine did. Despite her unconventional upbringing, she had brushed shoulders with well-informed military figures.
“Self-replicating nanobots are science fiction… or so I hope,” Charls shuddered. “As for the rest, most civilizations have doomsday weapons, but the first to use them would be targeted by all the others. Beyond that, poisoning a world that might become our stronghold would be self-sabotage. And…” He locked eyes with Jasmine. “The System only transported a handful of nuclear warheads and one bioweapon lab—without its scientists.”
“Zero labs now.”
“Given humanity’s adaptability and our genetic similarities, that’s for the best,” Charls admitted. “As you can see, our options are limited, and I’d wager the same goes for the other civilizations. The weapons we do have are purely defensive, meant to prevent outright annihilation. I’m pretty sure the Grand Concepts want the conflict to drag on until the Third Reunion."
Jasmine remained silent but agreed with his assessment. As a Champion, she knew the Concepts valued individual evolution over technological escalation. As a result, they ensured that a civilization’s fate rested in its own hands.
“So, to sum up: you’re waging a war you know you can’t win?” Jasmine’s voice was sharp. Unlike Priam, her memory was painfully vivid—closing her eyes was enough to see the corpses they had found on the beach. Was this bloodshed pointless?
“When humans steal our resources and Empyreans our women, we can’t just sit back, right?”
“A non-aggression pact could solve that.”
“In theory, sure. In practice, these skirmishes accelerate our soldiers’ growth far beyond training alone. If the death of a thousand men leads to the rise of an elite few, we’ll have a better shot at the second and third Reunions. It’s a bloody calculation, but unavoidable—because losing to Prometheus or Maxime would mean the end of our civilization. They’d integrate us and erase our identity, deciding for us what’s best. I don’t know much about the other factions, but the Hoplites and the Var Elegis seem even less merciful.”
Jasmine snorted. “Yeah, integration wouldn’t be an issue with those homunculi. As for the Hoplites…” She shrugged. “Honestly, I’d get along with them better than the Empyreans.”
A trapped heart was enough; she could never accept a geass like Esmée’s.
“Their king will change his mind. Cutting his workforce in half is stupid.”
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“Wow, couldn’t last thirty seconds without being a corporate asshole?”
Charles inclined his head. “If my words offended you, I apologize. I was merely stating the pragmatic side of things.”
Jasmine didn’t answer, too busy sorting through her downloads. A romantic playlist for when I’m alone with Priam? Gotta set the mood…
“I came here to better understand your stance on this conflict,” Charls admitted, sensing her disinterest.
“I plan to do absolutely nothing.”
“You’re Arkanian.”
Jasmine flashed him a cold smile. “I was born on a world rotting under corporate greed and organized crime. Kidnapped as a child by an anonymous guild, I spent ten years pumped full of drugs, undergoing genetic therapy, training day and night to become a weapon. A soulless blade. At sixteen, they removed my uterus so I wouldn’t get pregnant if a mission required seducing a target. My instructor—a man I had known for ten years, someone I had considered a second father—tried to rape me while I was still drugged from the anesthesia. He apologized when I killed him. Later, I learned he had suffered the same fate in the exact same circumstances.” A lump formed in Jasmine’s throat, and her anger surged. How dare she feel even a shred of pity for a traitor?
“A hard childhood—”
“Shut up. You might say I’m unlucky; that’s bullshit. Parents drowning in consumer debt or crushed under the cost of their children’s education, forced to sell a kidney or become lab rats—they’re the unlucky ones. Arkana is rotten to the core. Our so-called freedoms are illusions, and I’m supposed to feel patriotic?” She spat on the ground. “In my opinion, for its people, it’s better if this world burns.”
Ten seconds of silence passed before Charls finally nodded. “Arkana is sick. Every generation has repeated the mistakes of the last, tightening the knot until it's impossible to untangle... But this integration gives us a second chance! Out there, something unprecedented is happening,” he said, gesturing toward the large window. Outside, hundreds of people had gathered, working together to organize a communal meal, coordinate research, and set up a makeshift hospital. “The System is reshuffling the deck, and this catastrophe is forcing us to stand together. If we had a figure to rally behind…”
Jasmine burst into laughter. “You're asking a shadow to step into the spotlight?”
“You are our Champion, chosen by the System to—”
“I am your Champion because I survived the Impossible Tutorial,” Jasmine cut in. “That's all.”
“...Will you still be our Champion if you do nothing for us?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. I’ve suffered my entire life, and now I want to fight for something that actually matters to me.”
“Priam?”
“Well-informed, aren't you?”
Charls hesitated, shifting his stance slightly, his body language that of a man preparing for a fight. “And when you’re no longer in love?”
The Shadow laughed again, this time with genuine amusement. “You think I’m in this for love? That’s just a bonus.” For the first time since the conversation began, her eyes smiled. She didn’t bother explaining how every instinct in her screamed to follow that man, nor that she would lay down her life for him without hesitation because she knew he would do the same for her. The woman who had never known intimacy was starting to cultivate her own secret garden.
“I see.” Charls turned away. “I want the Juggernaut to know that the Arkanians consider him a friend. Prometheus is too xenophobic for me to trust, but I’m willing to talk to Priam.”
Jasmine watched the new leader walk away, eyes sharp with scrutiny. What’s his game?
A soft chime pulled her from her thoughts. The downloads were complete. Smiling, she disconnected the tablet and made her way to a media store.
[Threat Killer - Bronze] becomes [Threat Slayer - Silver]!
[Threat Slayer - Silver] - You’re not the shield that defends humanity. You are the spear that annihilates its enemies.
A million undead tried to raze humanity’s capital on Proxima. You eradicated two-thirds of them. Whether you intended to or not, your actions preserved the future of your civilization.
You detect threats to humanity.
STR +10%
META (Perception) +10%
With a single step, Priam left Proxima and arrived on Oasis. The portal sealed behind him as he lifted his gaze to the Necromoon, its pale light shimmering against the infinite black canvas of the cosmos. With his heightened perception, he could distinguish so many celestial bodies that counting them would take a lifetime. Despite all his power, he was still insignificant compared to the vastness of the universe—and rather than discouraging him, that thought filled him with wonder. Was one of those distant lights the galaxy that now cradled Earth? Were Elysium and the Hope Sector merely separated by billions of light-years, or did they exist in entirely different planes?
“As a kid, you were obsessed with space. Always bombarding me with questions about stars and black holes.”
“I never managed to be satisfied with just Earth,” Priam admitted, turning to face his father.
The craftsman was carrying a steaming cauldron, and the rich aroma of its contents made the son’s stomach growl.
“Smells nice. What’s that?”
“Vegetable julienne simmered in meat broth. The banquet’s about to start.”
“Already mealtime?”
Alain shrugged. “This endless night is wrecking our biological clocks. Blueberry suggested a feast to celebrate passing our Tribulations, and everyone was on board.”
“That bear must have Gaulish blood,” Priam chuckled, recalling the adventures of Asterix and Obelix. Every story ended with a feast. “Congrats on your Tribulations by the way. How was it?”
“Easy.”
“You're flexing.”
Alain smirked. “According to Ymir, most tribal children pass their first Tribulation between sixteen and twenty. As I’ve spent sixty years drawing blueprints, I’d better be able to pass the first tests."
“Fair point,” Priam conceded with a grin. “And Rose?”
Alain gestured toward the edge of the clearing with his chin. Priam spotted the teenager deep in conversation with Jasmine, her expression radiating so much pride that her chin was comically sky-high. It didn't take a genius to guess the news was good.
“Glad to hear it.”
“What about you?”
“First two were a breeze. The rest... The System screwed me over.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Yeah, but not now. Let me give you a hand,” Priam said, taking the cauldron from his father.
Heart lighter than it had been in a long time, he carried it toward the central table. It felt good to come home.
Status:
PHYSICAL:
Strength 854
Constitution 1 653
Agility 1 256
Vitality 1 709
Perception 888
MENTAL:
Vivacity (D) 634
Dexterity 787
Memory 1 006
Willpower 1 221
Charisma 894
META:
Meta-affinity (O) 1 120
Meta-focus 690
Meta-endurance 1 145
Meta-perception 637 (+39)
Meta-chance 1 020
Meta-authority 603
Potential: 36 758
[Tribulation]: Two Tribulations pending.
Future Tribulations delayed until:
Time: 29 days 17 hours 24 minutes 28 seconds.
Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 900 / 6 attributes > 1 200 / 3 attributes > 1 500 / 1 attribute > 1 800
Next arc already complete on Patreon if you want to find out what happens next!
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