A Novel Concept - A death a day, MC will live anyway!-Chapter 420 - 409: Serendipity or Destiny

A thousand iron-shod heels striking the cobblestones could rouse only two emotions: excitement or fear.

"What's that noise?" asked one of the Aelbes, his voice pitched just a shade too high.

"A hoplite company," Kazuki answered. "You planning to invade Proxima? Well, we'll invade you first."

Sometimes, the General could sound epic. As though waiting for their Champion to finish his line, the soldiers arrived in force, storming the square in seconds. On the rooftops overlooking the plaza, in the alleys that led deeper into camp, even piloting aerial transports—one thousand hoplites sealed every exit.

With a gesture from Kazuki, the few remaining civilians were allowed to flee, while the portal to the Demiurge's inner world snapped shut, just as dictated by the elves' non-intervention policy toward Champions. For now, everything was unfolding according to plan.

"Is this a declaration of war?"

To their credit, the Aelbes didn't look panicked. In their minds, twelve Tier 3s could easily crush a thousand Tier 0s.

"My people don't take kindly to your designs on our new home."

"So you dispatch a military company onto our soil as protest? Ironic."

"Should I wait for you to invade first, so I can claim the moral high ground?" Kazuki shook his head. "Words are worthless. Diplomacy's been a dead end for a long time now."

The General raised his hand, signaling his troops.

Priam saw it all unfold as if in slow motion. He knew a single word from him could halt the slaughter about to begin. Kazuki respected him enough for that. But to what end? After losing the tournament, the Aelbes' had dwindled to two: flee into Proxima, or steal territory from one of the victors. To spare them today was to wait for their revenge tomorrow. Madness.

At least, that's how I justify my inaction.

A blinding flash. The transports had dropped their bombs. Then came a thousand overlapping detonations that shredded the eardrums of the weaker onlookers. Bullets split the air. Orchestrated by an AI, the hoplites maneuvered to avoid friendly fire. Neither attributes nor skills mattered; armed with rifles, each soldier simply aimed and fired. The sustained barrage from a thousand muzzles poured down on the Aelbes like an execution squad.

After a few cries of pain, the image of a mythical, giant cat surged into being to tank the storm of bullets. Kazuki summoned his lance. They had always known the fight would turn close and personal. Hoping to kill several Tier 3s with mere mundane firearms was nothing but a dream.

"Kazu?"

"Mmh?"

"Change of plans," Priam said, eyes fixed on a storm cloud rolling in the horizon. "Can I leave this battle to you?"

Knightmare nodded once before leaping forward. The two friends had been meant to take on the Aelbes together, but no plan ever survived the field.

"Louis, Blueberry, you handle the children."

"Of course."

"I'm eating the first bad guy that comes too close."

"Be careful!"

Priam gave Rose a grin, then turned to Arnold. "With me."

Without waiting for an answer, he dashed toward Aelbe territory—not toward Léo's manor, but the outskirts of the encampment. There lay a barren patch of land surrounding a mansion that radiated an ominous aura. The Champions stopped just shy of stepping onto the naked soil.

One breath was enough to wrinkle Priam's nose in disgust. The stench of death clung to the air. At first he thought it a cemetery, then dismissed the idea. Just as cats did not bury their dead, neither did the Aelbes. Most often, corpses were burned to prevent reanimation by a necromancer—or more recently, the Necromoon.

The reek of rot seeped from the mansion itself, while the barren ground served as a natural buffer the keen-nosed Aelbes refused to cross. Piecing the clues together, Priam drew the obvious conclusion.

"A house tainted by death, yet no one dares challenge its master… This was Old Nekomata's home. Right, Arnold?"

The Var Elegis regarded him with unsettling intensity. "Indeed."

Priam raised his gaze. A white cumulonimbus, veined with lightning in every shade of the rainbow, loomed over a quarter of the camp and swelled larger by the second. Already it brushed the firmament, while its base pressed downward, threatening to crush the earth. It was as though the sky itself were falling.

"All that aether makes my fur stand on end," growled a rough voice. Braato's arrival pulled Arnold's attention away, and Priam's guts finally unclenched.

"A High Tribulation's coming," he predicted.

At least, that's what [Tribulation Hunter] and his draconic instinct were screaming. He was far from a true Heavenly Dragon, but the stormcloud's proximity made his mouth water. Without [Chimera] to rein in his bloodline, he would already have bolted skyward to devour the cloud like cotton candy—or died trying.

"Given the location, the aether density, and the Necro Concept polluting the cloud… Old Nekomata isn't dead," judged the Juggernaut.

According to [Ideal Aether Perception], the magical energy density here exceeded the Deluge on Valaryth by a factor of a thousand. On top of that, Priam felt [Necro Resistance] twitching. It didn't take a genius to put the pieces together.

Braato cocked an eyebrow at Arnold. "First time I've seen a High Trib so lost. Still, it's clear it suspects you. Where'd you hide the body?"

When the Var Elegis held his tongue, Priam ventured, "A High Trib hunts its target to the end of the universe, but no further. Yet here we feel it drawing closer. If I had to make an educated guess… Arnold's carrying a rift to a world-fragment."

Valaryth 84th lay just outside Elysium, and Priam doubted it was unique. Moreover, a world-shard was the perfect place to interfere with a High Tribulation, since the universe's Laws tangled with the local ones until neither held absolute sway.

Arnold stayed silent, and Braato assumed the pose of a thinker.

"There are other explanations: aid from a high Tier, a minor wish from the Seven, a rare artifact, an internal world propped up by an alien Concept, and so on."

"Possible, but unlikely. Most are too complicated to set up just to capture a mere Tier 3. I claimed the Colosseum's Space Seed and don't sense its twin on Arnold. Pretty sure he did go with another reward for that wave. Anyway, that makes it unlikely he has a true internal world. The simplest explanation is the likeliest: a portable rift to a fragment world."

Had Arnold not already known about his internal world, Priam would have kept the secret. But since that ship has sailed, better to act confident. Sow doubt in their minds. "If he gives up this kind of secret so easily, he must have plenty more. Best not to rush him."

At least, that's what Priam hoped.

Braato wasn't finished. "One of our rival clans owns an artifact containing a small world that—"

"The First is correct," Arnold cut in, his autotuned voice smooth as silk.

In Priam's opinion, a murder-machine had no right to sound that melodious. Then he processed the words. For an instant—absurd as it was—he thought the homunculus annoyed at Braato for daring to question the First's judgment. The notion passed quickly. As if the Tyrant held me in such high esteem. Ah, I'm delusional.

"Anyway, the High Trib won't leave until it's either struck or its target stops breathing," Braato reminded them. "If you insist on keeping Old Nekomata alive, you'll get shredded, ironboy."

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Thunder rumbled overhead, heralding a trial both primal and lethal. After the warning shot came a black lightning bolt, falling down onto the Tier 3's house and vaporizing it. The impact released an aether both deadly and intoxicating, sending shivers down Priam's spine. For a heartbeat, his bloodline roared. Eyes lifted skyward, the Juggernaut licked his lips, radiating a terrifying aura. Then [Chimera] seized back control.

"As expected from the First…"

Priam frowned before he caught the awe in his rival's voice. Then he processed the sight before him. The stormcloud had recoiled by a hundred meters. As though, for an instant, the universe's instinct had recalled some ancient, terrible memory.

Behind him, Braato and Arnold stood frozen. Eyes wide, the homunculus seemed to glitch.

Priam might have laughed at the misunderstanding if the wrath of the world hadn't descended at that very moment. The High Tribulation had recognized its mistake: it wasn't facing a real Heavenly Dragon. Not a hatchling, nor even a convincing counterfeit. Enraged, the cloud surged forward again, determined to punish the insolent.

"This is gonna blow," Braato warned.

"I've got [Lightning Resistance]," Priam said dismissively, even as the heavens rumbled.

The Gaesert let out a low, amused growl. "The clouds and lightning are just theatrics. Warning for fools. A High Trib tests your Path, not your lightning resistance. Given what I know about Old Nekomata, I'd expect a karmic or spiritual trial."

"Mmh." Priam fixed his gaze on the wrathful cloud. In his eyes, fear, madness, and desire warred. One of them won. "I need your help holding it off long enough to temper one of my resistances."

A laugh rivaled the thunder's roar, only to falter when Braato realized the young Homo Elysian wasn't joking. "Ah, I know I'm more famous for my muscles than my brains, but you wouldn't be bullshitting me, would you?"

"If you told the truth in the arena about your double tempering, you should understand me," Priam replied, never taking his eyes off the heavens. His mind was made up, hearts hammering. "This is the perfect chance to forge one of my gates. Serendipity or destiny, I don't know why I'm here, but no way in hell I'm letting it slip!"

Soul Baptism, Mind Ennoblement, Body Tempering… which avenue of growth wasn't perilous? Yet danger often matched reward.

From the moment Priam had laid eyes on the cloud, his crown had thrummed. The Juggernaut had fate with it. Ever since its arrival, he couldn't stop thinking of the heart of a draconic necro-chimera he carried.

Before Back in Time, Sphinx had sacrificed herself to save him, summoning a sevenfold Tribulation. The echo of that calamity still lingered in her core. Rather than devour the aether stone, she had gifted it to him as a birthday present. Using that unique base and Moonie's blood, Seth had forged a draconic creature. Summoned by his son during a quintuple Tribulation, the beast had slain Jasmine. A woman Priam held dear.

After all that, who could deny his history with the organ? That the item wasn't entangled in a web linking his loved ones and his enemies alike? The heart embodied a vast portion of the karma he had accumulated since the integration, ticking the Story prerequisite for a Karma Gate. That Sphinx and the chimera each wielded one of its sub-Concepts was just icing on the cake. Finally, its dual nature as dragonic-Tribulation made it the perfect trophy for the Heavenly Dragon method. Not even Seth's necromantic touch could sour Priam's appetite for it.

And yet, for over a month, the organ had gathered dust inside Priam's inner world. To build and temper a Karma Gate, he still needed both a fitting resistance and the right environment.

"..." Braato spat to the ground. "What skill could demand a High Trib as hostile environment?"

"Karmic Consequence."

"Ah. Not an easy one to level. If you've got the recipe for the ideal upgrade, I'll take it," the Tier 3 grinned. "Word is you collect them."

Priam barked a laugh, then ticked off the ideal prerequisites on his fingers. The skill's at level thirteen. Even with a Seed of Experience, a phantom advisor, and a High Tribulation to fuel its growth, there's no way I can push it to legendary before Kazuki reaches Léo. However, I can downgrade it and recast it as epic. The question is: do I have all five prereqs? My racial Talent, and [Life is Hard; I'm Harder] make two. Third one, I can pay-to-win with a Seed of Potential. Then there's dying to Sphinx's riddles; I got [Karmic Consequence Resistance] as a high skill thanks to that. Just need a last.

His pinky stayed curled for a beat, then lifted. "Yesterday, I survived the disapproval of… let's just say I avoided a fated death." A grin. "That's five. If you help me, I'll walk you through it all in detail."

Braato turned to him. In the warrior's eyes, Priam read solid resolve, raw courage, and the heavy weight of responsibility. Through the fate-vision of his crown, he glimpsed a titan: a Gaesert holding up the sky so his clan could live in peace.

"... If you're lying, you lie well." The leader placed a hand on his chest. "The simplest definition of karma is the web binding all souls, all events, right? By that measure, profiting off someone else's High Trib makes a fine Story." Braato nodded. "And surviving the backlash of that theft would be a feat suited to temper your resistance. Plus the trial itself. Let's not forget that this shit will help you grow your archetype, crown, mind or whatever. The only hitch is: you'll die. We're talking about a trial that gatekeeps mid-Tier. The aether won't smite you, but your body'll melt like snow in summer. I wouldn't give you thirty seconds in there."

Priam opened his mouth, then shut it again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arnold listening, motionless. The homunculus showed no concern for Braato's presence—the most imposing clansman Priam had ever met—nor for the hoplite army nearby, the wrath of heaven, or even Léo's looming shadow. The Var Elegis disregarded it all. For the Tyrant, only his will mattered. The world would bend the knee.

That's it. And my archetype is…

"As a newcomer to the System, there's plenty I don't understand," Priam admitted. "All this talk of fate, of crowns… it's still a blur. But I know—" He shook his head. "No, I feel the Juggernaut is a force that builds momentum by defying the impossible. Every time I endure something that should've killed me, my odds of surviving the next catastrophe grow. What doesn't kill me makes me stronger—that's my creed." The Champion smiled. "I don't know if I am the Juggernaut, a puppet of the Concepts, or if Lady Fortune just spends her free time saving my ass, but I've got a unique chance to grow stronger, and I'll seize it. With or without you."

As thunder split the air, Braato studied Priam before answering. "The Aelbes made my clan bleed, and your existence poisons theirs. Still, the enemy of my enemy is a tool, nothing more. However, Gabrielle and Laepa speak highly of you. That's the only reason we're talking."

"I understand. What do you want?"

Braato pointed at the looming cumulonimbus. "For every minute I spend tanking part of that thing to keep your hide intact, I want one recipe for an ideal resistance. And I'm out the moment it turns sour."

The price was steep, but cost the young man nothing. Besides, Braato was a leader. His death would doom his clan, which merited hazard pay. And Priam wasn't foolish: without help, nor [He Who Eludes Death] primed, his chances of tempering a gate were nil. He would fail, or die trying.

"Deal," Priam said, extending his hand. Braato gripped it firmly. "I can swear on the System—"

"Don't bother. If you lie, I'll kill you."

Priam almost smiled before checking himself. First, he didn't want to insult his would-be ally. More importantly, his instincts told him Braato could make good on the threat. Where Léo could be dissuaded with the threat of a nuke, the Gaesert was the kind to walk through atomic fire just to crush his enemy's skull with his bare hands. Making an enemy out of him was as pointless as it was stupid.

"Good. Arnold, can I count on you as well?" Seeing the homunculus watching him in silence, Priam elaborated. "Without its target, the High Trib will keep searching forever. Or rather, for the five minutes it'll take to pin down your world fragment's coordinates, or to decide to go through you instead. I don't need to paint you a picture of what happens then. Help me, and I'll dissipate it."

Braato raised a brow but said nothing. Priam himself was only half-certain of his claim, half bluffing, but… isn't it the Juggernaut's job to defy the impossible?

Of course, the homunculus could just kill Old Nekomata to disperse the High Tribulation. It was the easiest solution.

That wasn't the Tyrant's way.

Arnold's steel-blue eyes flickered like LEDs before locking on Braato. "So long as he endures, I endure."

A vein bulged on the Gaesert's forehead, and he growled so deep Priam's lungs vibrated.

"That's the spirit."

The Juggernaut smiled. To endure a full Tier 4 High Tribulation was suicide. To survive long enough to forge a gate under even a third of that power… was still nearly impossible.

Then why the hell am I smiling?

The crown above his head thrummed.

"One last thing," Braato rumbled, stripping off his clothes. Not everyone had the foresight to garb themselves in mist or fire.

"Mmh?"

"I spent a decade on my first tempering," the warrior revealed, while showing that scars spared no part of his body. "A flawless, mythic one, with seven gates and a fulcrum. Inherited from my ancestor." Priam and Arnold both perked up at that. "And since I walk away empty-handed if you die, here's a piece of advice. Don't forget Micro."

A lightning bolt struck less than a hundred meters away, gouging a molten crater. The acrid bite of ozone filled the air like a threat. Time was running short.

"Because it's the Supremacy tied to Body Tempering?"

"There's more to it. You know the difference between a skill and a Supremacy? Why we bother with Micro instead of using something like [Body Control]? The answer's simple: a skill is a rune engraved on your soul. A pattern that resonates with aether to affect reality. A tool you didn't build." He spat to the ground. "A Supremacy is a sense, a muscle, an organ. When you flex it, you resonate directly with the aether!" Braato clenched his fist, and through his Domain Priam felt reality shiver. His Breath Concept no longer brought him any information about the Gaesert. "That's why it's a path to the Zenith."

The implication was clear: Braato doubted that a skill could carry anyone to the Zenith. At least, not a System skill.

"So… Micro is the answer to what question?"

The Tier 3 bared a feral smile. "Micro governs your body. Don't forget it."

Micro governs my body. My muscles, my nerves, my organs, my senses, my… Ah, and Body Tempering build—!

Something clicked in Priam's mind.

"Thanks."

There was nothing more to say. After a glance toward Kazuki and another toward Léo's manor, Priam shot skyward, toward the monstrous nimbus. In his hand pulsed a black heart.

And then the High Tribulation made a mistake. It swallowed the Juggernaut.

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