The craftsman's words stopped Priam in his tracks. They can raise the dead?! If that were true, it would change everything. Maybe I can sell them my own head? If they can resurrect people and I can revive every day at midnight, perhaps I've just discovered a glitch!
Priam beca serious again. He was ready to make peace with the Revenants if they could resurrect certain mbers of his family. Perhaps he'd even shake Claire's hand. Shake her hand very hard.
Soon, all the implications of the news beca clear. Priam massaged his temples as he insulted them. Resurrecting humans wasn't impossible - he was living proof of that - but it couldn't be easy.
However, whether this was true or false was of no consequence. The Cult had given hope to all humans who had lost a loved one.
All it took was for one person in a hundred to believe in it and be desperate enough to try, and millions would seek to kill him. Priam wasn't worried about his health; he was far beyond the power of the average man. Even if a few people still had guns, no small-caliber bullet could hurt him - his Constitution and [Kinetic Control] would stop them.
What worried Priam was his public image. Most attackers would be desperate, but Priam couldn't spare them all. He would have no choice but to fight for his freedom. If he had to slaughter thousands of idiots fighting for their families, it would affect him and his relationship with humanity.
Maya or rcury would understand that he had to kill thousands of people. And he would do it to survive. But his family would be shocked by the news.
Priam raised his head sharply, clenching his fists. So people will realize that they don't stand a chance against . But I've got a weak point, my family...
Suddenly, Priam panicked. It wasn't impossible that the Revenants would resurrect mbers of his family who had already died. After all, if rcury hadn't found any mbers of his family yet, they might have already died. The idea knotted Priam's stomach, but he didn't want to lie to himself. If that were the case, he'd have to ignore what they'd done if he didn't want his family tortured. But I'll never work for them, even if they hold my family...
"Sons of bitches..." he swore. He looked at Boss again. "Do you believe in this resurrection power?" he asked.
"It's a fact. They've resurrected enough people to believe in it. Even soone I know. Unfortunately for them, I don't love anyone but my wife, and she's safe in another world ruled by the Lotus Sect," the craftsman explained with a laugh. Priam sighed: if Boss believed it, so would others, and it wouldn't be one in a hundred, but one in ten.
The tailor understood Priam's thoughts and continued. "I know the others believe in it too. At least, they want to. Despite the Tutorial and [Humanity adapts], it's hard for most people to deal with this apocalypse. Many were unhappy with their lives and now want to beco n and won of exception. For them, this apocalypse is a second chance. But for those who cherish their families... The Revenants' offer gives them hope."
"And when even death can't stop hope... "
The craftsman nodded. He approached a cabinet, took out a bottle and poured himself a glass.
"The Cult won't hurt . There's a big difference between forcing an artisan to work and killing him. Anatole is an intelligent man, and he won't take any risks. He provides with free resources, so it's not such a bad deal for ," Boss said, pointing to the workshop around them.
Priam sighed, "Good for you, I suppose. I don't have much ti if what you say is true. Will you agree to work on my outfit?"
"I'm not planning to report you, but why would I help you?" the craftsman asked, raising his glass. The amber liquor was srizing. "I'd have to make your tunic outside my working hours if I didn't want the Cult to notice."
Priam remained silent for a few monts. He could threaten the craftsman, but there was nothing to stop Boss from agreeing and escaping with the spider glands. Sphinx sensed Priam's indecision and jumped onto a work table.
She glared at Boss, who cowered. Despite her small size, she exuded a majestic aura. Sphinx ca from a mythical race and the craftsman instinctively knew he was outmatched.
"You will help Priam to accumulate positive Karma," she declared. "You didn't resist when asked to work for the Revenants. They commit their misdeeds wearing your clothes, and the blood they spill taints your karma. Help Priam defeat their master and atone for your cris. All other choices lead to your death."
When the last word was spoken, Sphinx emitted an aether wave, like a divine judgnt. The wave struck the three humans present in the workshop, and instinctively, Priam shivered. Sphinx's words were imbued with a magic that Priam knew well. The sentence was final: Boss would obey or die.
The difference in power and the craftsman's negative karma enabled Sphinx to activate her power without posing a riddle. Priam clenched his fists. Sphinx was on his side, but how many monsters in this Universe could kill him with a simple thought? I've got to get stronger...
The craftsman remained petrified for a few seconds as he pondered the situation's stakes. One of the qualities of those who work with psychopaths is that they are quick to make sensible decisions. An essential quality for staying alive.
"I'll help. As much as I don't care about strangers, knowing that monsters are wearing my creations bothers ," he admitted before turning to Priam. "I'll make your tunic."
The assistant chose this mont to cough. Priam and Sphinx turned to her.
"I overheard so Revenant officers complaining this morning - when I was helping them change their wardrobe," she said as the attention turned to her. Priam smiled as she saw that the assistant also wanted to get rid of her negative karma. "Beneath Viracocha lies an area guarded by a terrifying spider. The Cult is planning a full-scale attack in a few hours to defeat it..."
"Its gland could strengthen my tunic," Priam guessed.
"Indeed," replied Boss. "But it's a Viscount. Handling Tier 1 material is too hard right now. I won't be able to get the best out of it. On the other hand, while those idiots are fighting the spider, you could break into their vault," Boss offered.
"There are quite a few materials I'm interested in for your tunic and myself. I'll make you a list. They've stolen from almost every faction in Viracocha, so there's quite a lot of interesting stuff." The craftsman's eyes sparkled and Priam laughed. The last twenty-four hours had taught him that he loved stealing valuables.
"Let's make a contract then," said Priam, winking at Sphinx.
The tailor took half an hour to get Priam's asurents and expectations. Strangely enough, the craftsman was highly qualified in the field of wardress. He inford Priam of so of the young man's preconceptions and guided him towards the perfect outfit.
Apparently, the silk was supple and resistant to both physical and magical damage. The artisan explained that the System would evaluate the final product to improve his skills and that he intended to make it his masterpiece. Trusting the tailor to defend his own interests, Priam let himself be guided.
"Well, the outfit will be as light as it is strong and won't hinder your movents. The pockets will be large and secret, and the hood will protect you from the elents." Priam had insisted on a hood. He sensed that the rain in Elysium would be dangerous and insisted on his anonymity.
"Finally, I plan to entrust the inscription of the outfit to another craftsman. He's not a friend, but he'll accept to increase his skills, he's also very qualified. These inscriptions are not just stylistic; the runes ford interact with the surrounding aether to increase the silk's resistance. I know that so grandmasters can inscribe runes so powerful that the garnt repairs itself and increases the wearer's power, but we've only been using the System for a few days. I will have an alchemist treat the silk to strengthen it. It will be a masterpiece of humanity," Boss declared.
Priam had to admit that, while the craftsman had neither scruples nor empathy, he was very competent. He hoped his equipnt would finally be up to the task of his enemies. Arnold, the hoplite champion and all his future rivals were certainly over-equipped. He couldn't afford to fall behind.
"How soon will the outfit be ready?" he asked.
"It's hard to say. I've never worked with such impressive materials. I'd say three days," replied the craftsman.
Priam frowned. He was facing a Tribulation in less than a day. Even with two lives, he wanted to put all the odds on his side.
"Can't we go any faster ?" he asked.
Master Boss laughed dryly. "I'm not teaching you how to kill monsters, so don't teach my job. It's three days of spending all my ti on it and betting that you'll kill Anatole. I'll give up all my other projects for that. Without my skills, it would be at least two weeks. If you want the best equipnt, you'll have to wait a while."
Priam nodded. His paternal great-grandparents had been tailors, and he knew this kind of work took ti.
"Three days then." He turned to the assistant. "Do you know where this treasure room is?"
Status: (Average value for a Homo sapiens male before integration: PHY 10 / N 10 / TA 0)
PHYSICAL:
Strength 119
Constitution 197
Agility 143
Vitality 212
Perception 272
NTAL:
Vivacity 165
Dexterity 148
mory 38
Willpower 98
Charisma 109
TA:
ta-affinity 115
ta-focus 81
ta-endurance 61
ta-perception 7
ta-chance 46
Potential: 196
Tier 0
[He Who Eludes Death] charge: PRID.
[Tribulation]: Tribulations are coming.
Ti: 25 hours 12 minutes 38 seconds.
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