Bechar: I have a feeling that my protg is going to make it to wave 51!
Golpar't: Not bad, but mine will reach wave 61.
Pmthu: Do you think he can beat a Marquess? In Tier 0 I was struggling against Viscounts...
Golpar't: I wonder how you reached Tier 3...
Pmthu: Well, Im sorry I didn't have parents who helped farm Titres from age two.
Bechar winced as he read the answer. His two friends tended to bicker. It was particularly true when talking about their birth. Golpar't had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, while Pmthu was an orphan from the slums.
Today, all three were proud Tiers 3 contracted by the System, but Pmthu had never forgotten.
Nevertheless, the two liked each other well enough to have married over three hundred years ago. I couldn't stand their love-hate relationship...
Bechar: Let's calm down guys. I hate being the third wheel. Pmthu, it seems your candidate is the strongest, right?
Pmthu: This Arnold will win the 70th wave. Maybe even the 75th. He's an absolute monster. I almost feel sorry for the Colosseum creations.
Golpar't: I don't understand why he didn't finish first in this years Tribulation ranking. A monster capable of defeating a Marquess so quickly...
Pmthu: He could beco a King while in Tier 0.
Golpar't: I'd be surprised if this Arnold beca a King. There hasn't been one in this area for over a thousand years.
Pmthu: I don't think this guy will let the stats hold him back.... He's been using the System for two weeks, and he's just destroyed a Marquess - and not a weak one at that.
Bechar: It's clear to that this year's System recruits are quite extraordinary.
Golpar't: Well, these three are indeed exceptionally powerful, but they're just Tier 0.
Bechar: Tiers 0 living in Elysium.
Pmthu: Bad luck for them. I wonder if this insane world will kill them before they kill each other
Bechar: I wish courage to whoever tries to kill Priam. He's starting the fiftieth wave, so I'll afk.
Golpar't: Bye!
Pmthu: Piss off :)
Bechar left the chat application and refocused on the fight. He'd never managed the fiftieth wave while in Tier 0.
"Make dream, Priam..."
The gong sounded as Priam gasped for breath. The monsters of the previous four waves were all Viscounts of the highest rank. A logical sequence began to erge. Every twenty waves, the nobility of the bosses increased by one rank. The boss of wave sixty would be a Marquess.
Thus, the Boss of wave fifty-five would be the last Earl. The waves in between were starting to get complicated. The fifty-fourth wave had summoned a Viscount as mighty as the Basilisk of wave thirty-five.
Priam had dragged out the fights. Now, he had to face the truth: he was exhausted. The last Earl was coming, and Priam was pinning all his hopes on his Breath. The aim was to severely wound the boss to finish the fight quickly.
Two minutes earlier, his Breath had finally finished charging. Priam couldn't wait to set it free.
POT -10
Spending his Potential had enabled him to recover slowly. At the cost of several hundred points, the pain had begun to recede. Too bad I haven't gained any resistance yet... [Spirit Resistance] has a nice ring to it.
The clip-clop of a horse coming up was heard. A gate opened, revealing the silhouette of a centaur. Unlike the creatures common to human fantasy culture, the boss had the torso of a treant. It possessed attributes not only of plants but also of horses.
In his hand, the boss held a wooden spear - an oak of so kind. From experience, Priam knew the creature possessed Micro as well as Mastery. Close combat was a bad idea.
The centaur cocked his arm, and Priam teleported into the mist to dodge the attack. An explosion confird the weapon had crossed the ground in less than a second.
Reappearing so ten ters from the boss, Priam opened his mouth without wasting ti. Draconic Breath!
A warmth invaded his body, and a power built up at the back of his throat.
The centaur widened his eyes and disappeared. His speed was so great that he created a tunnel of vacuum behind him - the air being pushed back. At Priam's command, the mist condensed for a mont, slowing his enemy down.
Priam turned to the hobbled centaur.
A second after invoking it, the Draconic Breath took shape. A blinding glow appeared at the back of Priam's throat.
Suddenly, an avalanche of light invaded the arena. Colors disappeared. The world turned white. The air turned to plasma as the mist disappeared. The Colosseum barrier shook, and the sand turned to lava.
The Breath finally dissipated. Exhausted, Priam blinked and closed his mouth. He couldn't tell how long the attack had lasted. The overheated air in the arena turned back into gas.
Breathing in the scorched air, Priam winced. Wrapping a cloak of mist around himself to cool off, he searched his eyes for his enemy.
"Holy..."
A notification sounded. Of the centaur, a creature at the pinnacle of Earl rank, not even bones remained.
Faced with draconic wrath, annihilation was total.
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