The ritual proceeded without a hitch. Inside a room within Log-a-Rhythm, Priam stood face-to-face with Myuri, holding her hands. Beside them, Rose waited patiently. The young man required her presence to reassure the forr slave. Even though Myuri knew Priam was different from the Empyreans, he was still a man and preferred not to rush the young woman.
Activating his Primogenitor Title, he was montarily embarrassed to see Myuri's naked body in his mind's eye. The sight of her scars quickly ignited more violent emotions within him, and he refocused on the ritual.
The transformations soon beca significant enough to dispel any lingering awkwardness, and they began discussing the various possibilities that now lay before her. One of Myuri's first decisions was to erase her scars and burns and then increase her height by nearly ten centiters.
Years of malnutrition had stunted her growth, and she seized this chance to correct the flaws that had accumulated, reshaping her physique to achieve a magnetically cold beauty.
The ritual temporarily bound the Primogenitor and the future Homo Elysian, and Priam realized that the costic changes were far from re vanity. Following Jasmine's advice, Myuri now saw her body as a weapon. If a man was focused on her appearance, he was less likely to concentrate on her sches.
In addition, Priam felt a bit awkward when he realized that Myuri had a fierce determination to repay a debt she believed she owed him. He hesitated to bring it up, then decided against it. One step at a ti.
Once Myuri finished customizing her appearance and swallowed the Hydra Pill to regenerate her body, Priam left Log-a-Rhythm to review the plans proposed by his father for the new outpost. The architect had already completed the blueprint and was waiting for his future artisans to get to work.
Priam looked up as Myuri stepped out of Log-a-rhythm, accompanied by Rose. The young woman had transford, now exuding an aura of confidence. Their eyes t, and their charisma clashed. Without intending to, Priam's aura overpowered Myuri's, causing her to flinch.
Stolen story; please report.
"Sorry, it was a reflex," Priam grimaced. He hadn’t had the ti or opportunity to master his social aura. "Was that a charisma-based skill?"
"I thought it would be good for my work as an administrator," Myuri replied, her eyes downcast.
"It’s a good idea, but my effective charisma is at least four tis yours. Against anyone else, it would have been compelling," Priam reassured her. "Are you feeling okay?"
The question brought a rare smile to the forr slave’s lips. "I have never felt better. For this and everything else, I owe you eternally."
Seeing Myuri start to kneel, Priam's eyes widened, and he quickly caught her.
"That's unnecessary! I'm your boss, not your king."
"I'm not sure I understand the difference," Myuri admitted, tilting her head.
"It's... we'll talk about it later, okay?" he said, gesturing towards the three summoning circles reaching maturity.
Myuri nodded and put on a neutral mask. Priam focused on the ritual nearing its completion. An elf, a native, and a goblin appeared simultaneously and looked around.
"Welco to Oasis," Priam smiled at the newcors.
"Master!" the goblin exclaid, turning to him, grinning widely. "You spend thirty percent of Sun Points on traps?!"
Priam stifled a smile, pointing at the hoplites. "I suppose that was the requirent to be able to select you?" The green being nodded so fast only a supernatural constitution kept his neck from snapping. "If you want to know more, I suggest discussing it with Hyshana, the leader of the hoplites."
"Hyshana, Trap coming!"
Watching the ADHD-afflicted creature scurry on its short legs, Priam hid a smile. The general escorted Trap towards the rampart while the second artisan, a native man, observed the scene, nodding.
"No unnecessary speeches, I like that," the native declared. "My na is Bertomne Gah’l, and I’m a sand singer."
"My na is Priam Azura, Duke of Oasis. As you can see, there’s little sand here, but there’s plenty behind a rift we control."
The man squinted before lowering his gaze to Log-a-rhythm's roots. "Yes, I can feel it."
Note to self: isolate the first bunker.
[Note recorded.]
"Before I hand you over to those who will take care of you, I’d like to exchange a few words about this event and the Wandering Islands in general."
The forr tribesman nodded, and Priam turned to the elf, who seed srized by Log-a-rhythm.
"Lamnas?"
"This Tal Quercus is just splendid... I feel a connection between it and the nearby plants. A mutation, perhaps..."
"It’s my partner, and I’d be happy to discuss it with you—that’s why you’re here, after all—as soon as we clear up a few points," Priam replied, projecting his charisma to capture the elf’s attention.
"Oh, of course," the elf apologized, finally noticing his new Lord.
"Alright then, let's get started."
Status:
PHYSICAL:
Strength 707
Constitution 1 105
Agility 617
Vitality 1 040
Perception 760
NTAL:
Vivacity (D) 570
Dexterity 652
mory 832
Willpower 1 159
Charisma 677
TA:
ta-affinity 784
ta-focus 403
ta-endurance 608
ta-perception 339
ta-chance 274
ta-authority 210
Potential: 13 527
Tier 0
Sun points: 1 465 0197 ( 219)
[He Who Eludes Death] charge: PRID
[Tribulation]: Five Tribulations pending.
Future Tribulations delayed until:
Ti: 156 days 13 hours 35 minutes 41 seconds.
Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 600 / 6 attributes > 900 / 1 attribute > 1 200
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