"Ladies, gentlen, and honored guests, welco to the penultimate day of this grand tournant!" Zulkar threw up his arms, drinking in the roar of the crowd. "Today begins the Tier 3 duels… but first, the Tier 2 final: Death's Obsession versus Thick Skin!"
Priam tilted his head back to et the eyes of his opponent. Literally. On a basketball court, the colossus wouldn't have needed to jump to dunk.
The Gaesert studied him in silence for a long mont, then inclined his head.
"It is an honor," he said, his baritone carrying easily over the thunder of thousands.
"Likewise," Priam replied, eyes tracking the thick veins bulging across his rival's body. Each one of his arms was thicker than his own thigh. Even the man's neck looked reinforced, like those of F1 drivers built to withstand crushing g-forces. Forgetting attributes, judging only by physique, Priam would rather fistfight a silverback gorilla over the giant before him.
And yet sheer muscle wasn't what set his instincts on edge. His gut whispered that he was facing no re brute, but a true warrior.
The Juggernaut smiled. After being trampled by a Tier 9 and battered by the bizarre Thaal, he hungered for a fight he could actually win.
He activated his Fate Vision and imdiately understood this bout wouldn't be enough to fuel significant growth for the Juggernaut's Myth. However, as he looked closely at his opponent, he saw sothing in his heart. A figure of a titan holding up the heavens… like Atlas of Greek myth? The warrior's Story was still in its infancy, but the simple fact that he had one marked him as worthy.
[Heroic Identification]
[Gaillard Gaesert - Tier 2 - Marquess] - The cunning of a hunter, the muscles of a cyclops, and the bones of a daeodon. Earned the moniker "Thick Skin" after tanking a Tier 2 boar's charge without spilling a drop of blood.
At the ti, he hadn't even hit puberty.
asurents:
Height: 2.5 m. Mass: half a ton.
Attributes:
Physical (4 000), ntal (2 000), TA (1 000)
Weaknesses:
Orifices
Mind
Reading the guy's weight, Priam rembered how attributes increased density. He himself was over four hundred kilograms now, packed into two ters of fra. I'm not fat, just dense.
"The eyes of a hero," Gaillard rumbled.
Priam arched a brow as his Heroic Aura faded, mist reclaiming his pupils. "You've seen them before?"
"In his moirs, my ancestor described a rival who carried a galaxy in his eyes. Behind your mist, I glimpsed stars."
"Damn," Priam muttered. "I'll have to try that line on a girl."
From the corner of his eye he noticed Rohan stiffening in the Aelbe box. Good instincts, dude.
Gaillard caught the glance and smirked. "Normally I'd take pleasure in rattling a flea-sack, but today I'd rather focus on our fight. Unless the Prince believes he can beat easily?"
In theory, a Tier 0 Prince and a Tier 2 Marquess were equals. In practice, Priam knew the gulf between royalty and nobility was vast. He felt no fear, but that didn't an he underestimated this foe.
Priam inclined his head. "I ant no insult. And I take you seriously. At the very least, you're tankier than I am. That's rare these days."
"This will be a good fight."
"It'll be a good fight," Priam echoed with a grin, though yesterday's mories tugged at him. There had been more victories than defeats, but the losses were the ones that lingered.
Putting aside high Tiers, Vertex was a foe so far beyond his reach that even chasing her seed laughable. Not a pleasant thought.
Yet, as Priam reread Gaillard's attributes, a spark of defiance flared. On paper, he was the weaker man. Still everyone here knew he could still seize victory. By surpassing his limits. By being smarter. By giving everything. It wouldn't be easy. But then, it never was. And that was how he liked it.
"Let's give it our all."
"Sounds good."
A theatrical sigh rolled across the arena.
"I was hoping for so trash talk," Zulkar groaned. "Instead I get love confessions." The elven announcer clapped his hands. "Hey, if you're going to talk, do it with your fists! The crowd wants blood, damn it!"
The spectators roared. Above them all, the Demiurge raised a hand.
"Begin."
The colossus lunged forward. Each stride built speed, inertia piling up behind his massive fra until his charge beca a natural disaster in motion. Tribal runes flared across his skin like war paint, and he lowered his elbow battering ram style.
With that montum, he could have smashed through a vault door.
Priam had yet to move. He watched his opponent accelerate with the tranquil assurance of a concrete wall facing down a car.
Ten ters out, the Champion raised a hand. Five ters, his left eye darkened. Bound beneath [Chira]'s leash, Hecate's New Moon pulsed monochro. The Gaesert's runes fizzled out and he nearly stumbled. Four ters. His mist crown thrumd, overclocking his Domain. Three ters. Supremacies clashed. Two ters. His sphere of authority shredded the other's, leaving the tribesn vulnerable. One ter. Priam's kinetic mastery stole the montum of the charging giant.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Contact. Priam's finger brushed the colossus's elbow. One man, motionless before an onrushing tank. The outco was inevitable.
[Kinetic Sovereignty].
With a cry, the Gaesert was hurled backwards as if struck by the hand of a god. His body sailed fifty ters before crashing into the arena wall with bone-rattling force. The Colosseum trembled.
Priam lowered his hand. And in that instant, the picture called for a revelation. Understanding struck.
The Juggernaut was not rely an icebreaker, a force of nature bulldozing all before it. He was also immovable, a rock unshaken by any tide.
Smiling, Priam summoned Prosse as Gaillard staggered to his feet. The colossus shoved a dislocated shoulder back into its socket, flesh already knitting. He took off his top, the leather half-torn, revealing a torso crisscrossed with scars.
"Is that all?"
"I'm just getting started," the Champion smiled, cocking back his arm. Three ters long and glinting with a silvery gleam in the sun, his spear seed to roar in his hands. Guided by the whispers of his newest skill, he loosed the weapon. [Kinetic Sovereignty].
Lvl Up: [Spear Launcher] lvl 6
STR 3
AGI 4
TA (Focus) 2
[Spear Launcher] - The projectile leaves the hand, but the power begins in the legs. Energy born in quads, hamstrings, and glutes transfers through the core, into the torso, and finally the shoulders and arms. Once you can throw, you must learn to aim. Eyes, motor cortex, nerves, every piece must align in harmony to allow perfect coordination.
This skill helps you extract maximum placent and explosiveness from your muscles. It also refines the asurent, processing, and transmission of all data involved in a throw. Finally, it synergizes with [Kinetic Sovereignty], amplifying power and range to skewer prey hiding beyond the horizon.
Do you know the difference between you and an athlete? When they throw a javelin, it's sport. When you launch a spear, it's war.
The lance sank into the Gaesert's arm in a scarlet spray. For a heartbeat, both n froze, staring in equal surprise.
"That was supposed to impale you," Priam admitted.
"That wasn't supposed to pierce my skin," Thick Skin retorted, yanking Prosse free and tossing it aside. "I've got three atavisms from the bloodline of a legendary boar, plus my hide is reinforced by two legendary resistances."
Priam chuckled. "Well then… if we're both disappointed—"
The two n shrugged in unison before hurling themselves at each other. At the last instant, Priam vaulted, soaring clean over his opponent. Gaillard snatched upward to seize him, but the Mist Sage rged with his Concept, slipping like smoke through the colossus's fingers. Deep within his soul, the rune of his dodge skill thrumd.
Ending the Unity with his Concept, Priam landed lightly, then dashed toward his spear. A kick launched it skyward; his hand closed on the haft as he spun to face his foe not a second too soon. The Gaesert was already upon him.
Blocking a jab aid at his stomach, Priam stepped back, buying himself enough space to wield Prosse. A feint to the flank drew Gaillard's attention wide, and a thrust to the chest spilled blood. Three drops pattered to the sand before the wound knit shut. Priam grinned. From his perspective, the more durable the punching bag, the sharper he could hone his skills.
"My turn."
The giant suddenly accelerated. In the space of a heartbeat, his speed multiplied tenfold, catching Priam flat-footed.
Shit! I'm not the only one with skills.
An uppercut caught the Champion's jaw, snapping his head back. Dazed, Priam glimpsed blue sky during his brief flight before landing hard on his backside in a spray of sand. His draconic instincts seized control; he rolled away just in ti to avoid the enemy's crushing dive. Knees first, Gaillard smashed into the earth, gouging a crater and shaking the whole arena.
Priam pushed off the ground with both palms, rose in a smooth flip, reclaid his spear, and replayed the last few seconds in his mind. When his foe had surged forward, one of Priam's soul-bound runes had stirred. An epheral sensation, but one his eidetic mory had perfectly preserved.
[Battle Flow]?
He had maxed it during his month of training, though he had held back from upgrading. For a skill so central—ant to conduct the rhythm of battle—he wanted nothing but the best. Until now, no path forward had shown itself. But just now, sothing had changed. An idea was budding, and Priam shifted into a defensive stance. If a flower needed water and sun to bloom, then a revelation demanded genius and a flash of epiphany. His opponent seed poised to provide the latter.
"Hope your chin doesn't hurt too much," Gaillard smirked as he rose.
"A scratch," Priam replied, touching the swelling the size of a quail's egg beneath his jaw.
"One of my skills lets inject my vitality to suppress yours. You'll find it hard to heal."
Priam shrugged. "Are we talking, or are we fighting?"
The Gaesert roared with laughter before dashing.
Status:
PHYSICAL:
Strength 1 259 ( 5)
Constitution 2 295
Agility 1 659 ( 6)
Vitality 2 211
Perception 995
NTAL:
Vivacity (D) 666
Dexterity 985
mory 1 219
Willpower 1 310
Charisma 1 010
TA:
ta-affinity (O) 1 459
ta-focus 902 ( 2)
ta-endurance 1 686
ta-perception 871
ta-chance 1 367
ta-authority 1018
Potential: 43 909 ( 3)
Tier 0
[Tribulation]: Five Tribulations pending.
Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 1 200 / 3 attributes > 1 800 / 1 attribute > 2 400
Next arc already complete on Patreon (50 chaps ahead) if you want to find out what happens next!
spatreon/ANovelConcept
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