Rohan halted his hand just before it struck the door. Beyond lay the entire Aelbe delegation, and he found himself with little desire to deliver his report—certainly not so soon after his defeat. For the first ti in his life, Rohan was confronted by failure, and he was discovering that he did not like the taste of it.
Raised on tales of his ancestor’s exploits, he had nursed the dream of facing a Champion. That dream had now been fulfilled—and he had lost.
Of course, the sycophants would claim he had bested Jasmine, but Rohan knew better. The only true way to overco an assassin was to survive a murder attempt. Winning a duel against one was a joke, like racing a swimr on dry land or wrestling a crafter.
A hollow victory. That was why Rohan had so readily agreed to challenge Priam. First among the Champions, the Juggernaut was the symbol of a legendary order.
And yet, even astride the shoulders of giants, Rohan had lost. Before activating his mythical skill, he had been outmaneuvered. Afterward, he had beco a helpless spectator to a masterclass in tenacity. All of it for what? A promise of friendship and eternal sha.
Shaking his head to banish such thoughts, Rohan knocked, then stepped through the door.
“Young Lord,” greeted the guard at his right.
eting the man’s gaze, Rohan didn’t know what to do with the flicker he found there. What might have passed for respect the day before now seed more questionable. Was it schadenfreude? The prodigy had finally t his better, and the end of his winning streak had beco a source of jest.
“You're unusually quiet.”
Rohan turned toward the speaker and offered a shallow bow. “Elder Felix. I was reflecting on my mistakes.”
“A comndable habit, though don’t dwell on them too long. He was a Champion, after all.”
The remark wounded Rohan more than he would have thought. A lifeti of accomplishnts, earned through tireless effort, now swept aside to fertilize the myth of Priam. Rohan had beco a re stepping stone for another.
Fuck. I’m worth more than that.
Forcing a smile, Rohan worked to steady his voice. “I assu Father is awaiting my report?”
“Co forward, son.”
At the sound of his father's voice, Rohan obeyed, halting at the right of a stone throne overlooking the arena. Below, a few elves were scrubbing blood from the sand, preparing the grounds for the next match.
“Gryphe, check his ridians.”
Despite his father’s gruff tone, Rohan detected a trace of concern. The realization ward a heart that had grown cold since his defeat.
The soft shuffle of slippers on stone made him turn. An old woman approached. The clan shaman exchanged a warm smile with the boy she had once raised as her own, then began her ticulous examination.
“[Myth of the White Tiger] taxed his pathways,” she declared after a quarter hour. “The energy coursing through them far exceeded safe thresholds, hence the minor aether burn. Capillaries ruptured, but the rest held firm. With rest, I estimate a cooldown of three days.”
In other words: no high-intensity training or combat unless he wished to court long-term damage.
“So not until the tournant ends… terrible timing,” sighed Leo. “You did well, my son.”
“I lost.”
“This Priam defeated our version of the White Tiger. It is our entire clan that has suffered defeat.”
A brief silence followed, broken by Gryphe’s grumble. “Fewer than one in a thousand Tier 1s awaken a mythical skill. To think a Tier 0 could survive it... what a ridiculous boy.”
“It’s worse than that,” said Felix. The elder looked weary. “My niece… when Eleha faced him, he was considerably weaker. His rate of progression is concerning.”
“We’ve always known the Champions needed to be broken in the egg,” Gryphe spat, casting a glance toward the wall behind her. In the adjacent chamber, the Empyreans were waiting for the next match.
“They’re both a threat and a solution,” said Leo. “Esmée is seeing whether these duels truly cannot be rigged.”
Rohan smiled at the thought of the beautiful princess. Were it not for the necessity of charming the High Marshal's apprentice, he would have gladly…
The father turned his eyes on his son.
“How are you feeling?”
“… Defeat leaves a bitter taste,” Rohan admitted.
“Defeat—or death’s shadow?”
Rohan pondered the question. He recalled Eleha’s body, turned into an aether battery by Dishnu. Compared to that, death seed almost rciful.
“Defeat.”
“Ah. Well said. And what will you do now?”
“Ensure I win next ti. By any ans necessary.”
“Juggernaut! Juggernaut! Juggernaut!” roared the crowd.
The heavy door of the arena thudded closed, bringing silence, and the victor let out a sigh of relief. Glory was an intoxicating but heavy crown. Nevertheless, he would hold his head high. He hadn’t fought with such rage, such pugnacity for nothing.
Thinking back about the fight, Priam leaned against a bare wall. His skull against the cold stone, he replayed the events in his mind. The confidence he had felt walking into the arena, the exhilaration of overwhelming an Elysium Ace, and then the mythical skill. A harsh reminder of reality: he could have lost.
The Juggernaut possessed advantages Rohan could scarcely dream of, yet no Ace was ever truly weak. To believe that [He Who Eludes Death] would allow him to soar unchallenged through the competition all the way to the Zenith was folly—were it otherwise, his Patron would not have fallen before the Seven Great Concepts.
“A mythical skill… If Rohan had been Tier 1, would I still have won?”
[Chance of victory: 99%]
Not 100%, huh?
Most people would have been satisfied with that. Not Priam. Nothing short of the absolute would guarantee his victory—and therefore his freedom. Tomorrow, he would face a Tier 2, and his opponent would almost certainly possess a mythical skill. A soulbound one.
Still, he couldn’t afford to lose. That possibility couldn’t even be allowed to exist.
A smile. The duel had barely ended, and he was already thinking ahead. Seeking distraction, Priam opened his notifications.
You have gained the skill: [Deception - Rare].
[Deception] - Before twenty thousand witnesses and a Tier 5, you toyed with the truth. And they believed you.
Many can spot a lie, but trickery takes countless forms—concealnt, misdirection, theatrics… You wield words like weapons, and your foes fall without ever realizing they have been struck.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
This skill enables more precise use of language when twisting the truth.
Beware: a lie is a poison that taints both victim and liar. The forr is misled; the latter, unable to trust anyone again.
VIVA 1
M 1
CHAR 1
Priam pursed his lips as he read the skill’s description. He hadn’t truly lied to Rohan—rely manipulated ambiguity, played with words. For the survival of his clan, the Aelbe would betray him eventually, and Priam knew it. Still, he had let Rohan believe they might beco friends. A calculated deception, designed to lull the enemy into complacency.
Though Priam did not regret the act—it had been necessary—it left a bitter aftertaste. No one likes a liar.
As he strode through a corridor of the Colosseum, heading back to his lodge, Priam reread the description of [Deception]. Beyond the final warning—that the chronic liar becos suspicious of all—the stat bonuses intrigued him.
“Vivacity to think quickly—lies must co swiftly if they’re to pass for truth. A bit of mory; a good liar rembers his fables. Last but not least, a pinch of Charisma to persuade,” he mused aloud. “I suppose a skill’s stats offer clues to its developnt.”
Driven by an impulse, Priam searched for the description of another of his recent abilities.
[Heroic Identification - Rare] - One sense is enough to unlock [Identification]. One sense is required to unlock its Heroic version. The nuance matters.
Myths of heroes abound. Heroes themselves are far rarer.
To beco one, a person must be able to find the key to a Story: the weakness of a monster, the answer to a riddle, the flaw in a labyrinth, or the quality that wins a princess’s heart. Whatever the target, the hero succeeds where others fail because he walks the right path.
This skill helps you find it.
PERC 1
M 1
CHAR 1
As he reread the description, Priam realized keen perception alone was insufficient to wield it effectively. He could understand the need for a touch of Charisma. After all, he had to infuse his Heroic Aura into his eyes to activate it—and all Auras were rooted in that attribute. Charisma did not rely charm others; it also beguiled reality itself, coaxing it gently to the wielder’s will.
“But why give mory…”
“Is that a problem?”
Priam glanced upward and smiled as a shadow dropped from the ceiling.
“Trying to remind you’re an assassin, and your loss was just a matter of unfavorable odds?” he said with a smirk.
“You’ll never be popular with won if you keep insulting them so bluntly,” Jasmine shot back.
“Sorry,” chuckled Priam. “You… How are you?”
Jasmine shrugged. “Getting your ass handed to you in front of twenty thousand people sucks… but I saw it coming. And you got payback for , so it’s fine.”
“…You sure?”
“Nope.” The Shadow cast a glance behind Priam, toward the Aelbe box. “Can’t wait to show them what I’m actually capable of. For real this ti.”
“Mmh. You’ll get your chance soon enough.”
Priam didn’t add anything more. Walls had ears, and the two Champions understood each other well enough without spelling everything out. Soon, Jasmine’s talents would be put to use under real conditions.
“You, though…” She narrowed her eyes, studying him. “I figured you’d be more joyful. You just won a brawl against the echo of a Myth without even playing your trump cards—and the crowd’s eating out of your palm.”
Priam gave a jaded smile. “Got other things on my mind. Honestly, I’m wondering why my identification skill has been feeding mory on top of Charisma and Perception.”
“You just bested the pride of the Aelbes, and that’s what’s bothering you—” The young woman growled, then shrugged. “[Identification] grants mory even in its common version, and that’s never kept you up at night.”
With feline grace, Jasmine turned and ascended the staircase leading to the section that housed Oasis’ private box.
Priam’s gaze lingered on the curve of her figure for a mont before he caught himself and looked away.
“Well,” he continued, “I always figured the skill injected information directly into my mind, so mory didn’t seem too far-fetched—though Perception would’ve made more sense for the common version. Still, at this point, I’ve got enough mory to morize an entire encyclopedia. A few lines about an enemy hardly overheat my brain. This stat is useless for this skill.”
“Says the Tier 0 with the attributes of a Tier 1 or 2.”
Priam shrugged. “It’s got nothing to do with my status. If I do push-ups, I expect to gain Strength—and maybe so Vitality for stamina. If I suddenly got Vivacity as a reward for a physical workout, you could argue exercise rewires the brain all you like—I’d still find it odd. This is the sa. mory doesn’t quite track with identification.”
“Mmh. Maybe it’s like Charisma?”
“What do you an?” Priam asked.
“Well, you gain one point of Charisma per level because of the link to your Aura, right? Maybe it’s the sa with mory. The attribute relates not to your mories, but to your ability to identify soone’s status.”
Priam opened his mouth, then shut it. Jasmine’s instincts were really sharp. She’d be right.
Still, the answer wasn’t entirely clear, so he decided to approach the problem from another angle.
[Ciphered Record] acts like a screen between and any identification skill. Warriors manage to gauge because they rely on physical senses—the higher their Perception, the more details they get. On the other hand, mages struggle to asure my worth, because my resistance scrambles my connection to the Akashic Records…
Priam’s eyes widened. The Akashic Records, a compendium of every event, thought, word, emotion, and intention to have ever occurred in the past and present—and possibly even the future, if certain theories held true. After his last conversation with Rohan about Myths, Priam was almost certain there was a link between the two. If the forr is a book, perhaps the latter are the stories written within it?
At least, that was how Priam pictured it. Viewed this way, the role of the mory attribute began to crystallize. Both [Heroic Identification] and [Ciphered Record] grant mory… So the attribute doesn’t only pertain to personal mory, but also to one’s connection to the Akashic Records?
The extrapolation was far from obvious, but Priam was nearly certain he was on the right track.
“Judging by that smile, I’d say sothing just clicked?”
Priam eagerly shared his insight with Jasmine. “I’m almost certain I’ve nailed it! All ntal attributes have both an overt and a hidden effect—like Charisma with Aura, or that Willpower fuels Concepts’ use—and I think I’ve just uncovered mory’s secret: it allows one to connect to the mory of the aether!"
Maybe there was even a connection to the Myths…
“Mmh. That’s nice and all, but I fail to see how that changes anything,” confessed Jasmine.
Priam blinked, then laughed. “Well, it changes nothing. The world remains the sa, whether one is learned or ignorant. Still, as a scientist, I refuse to leave a mystery unsolved.”
“A lot of words just to say you’re curious.”
Priam gave a nonchalant shrug. Jasmine was right, and they both knew it.
Status:
PHYSICAL:
Strength 1 249
Constitution 2 083
Agility 1 637
Vitality 2 092
Perception 988
NTAL:
Vivacity (D) 666 ( 2)
Dexterity 891
mory 1 152 ( 2)
Willpower 1 298
Charisma 990 ( 2)
TA:
ta-affinity (O) 1 398
ta-focus 886
ta-endurance 1 584
ta-perception 842
ta-chance 1 089
ta-authority 768
Potential: 34 005 ( 2)
Tier 0
[Tribulation]: Three Tribulations pending.
Future Tribulations delayed until:
Ti: 2 months 12 days 7 hours 52 minutes 37 seconds.
Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 900 / 3 attributes > 1 800 / 1 attribute > 2 100
Next arc already complete on Patreon if you want to find out what happens next!
/ANovelConcept
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