A Novel Concept - A death a day, MC will live anyway!

Chapter 50: Into the Lion's Den

Maya's eyes widened as she read the System's notification. Stunned by the news, she reacted a fraction of a second too late and Kenzo's saber stopped just a millimeter short of her eye. The warrior hadn't held back, Maya had simply prepared the ground. Multiple threads, all thinner than a hair, were blocking the saber blade. These wires were stretched across the duel zone, and Maya's opponent spent his time getting tangled up in them.

In the private training room, the two adversaries looked at each other for a moment. Without warning, Maya activated a skill and a storm of wires was unleashed. Hundreds of wires swirled around the swordsman. The eye of Maya's cyclone was the most dangerous place. Kenzo tried to defend himself, but the attack was omnidirectional.

A few light wounds began to appear as the swordsman's defensive style began to be overwhelmed. A second later, the warrior was immobilized: hundreds of razor-sharp wires held him at bay. One of the greatest Mercenary fighters had just been easily defeated.

Maya smiled and Kenzo returned her smile.

"End of training," Maya announced, fetching a towel to wipe off her sweat. A dozen fights stopped in the next few seconds and the Mercenaries left the sand arena.

Maya always insisted on selecting a sandy arena. Moving around in the sand was tiring, even more so when gravity artificially increased. In this new aether-filled world, physical exercise was never finished. The harder the training, the better the results and the greater the skills level up. Maya had already evolved [Athletics] and [Fitness] into rare skills thanks to her iron discipline and rigorous training.

"Still, it's not enough to catch up with that monster..." murmured Maya.

"Excuse me, Leader?" asked Kenzo.

"Nothing. I want everyone in the conference room in five minutes," declared Maya before heading for the showers.

"YES!"

Five minutes later, Maya entered the conference room. Twenty-three Mercenaries were present. All were fighters, even those in administrative positions. Humankind had around a hundred Mercenaries, but Maya only took the best with her. Only the elite team was currently absent, busy trying to defeat a Viscount. Maya was confident they would succeed before the end of the Meeting.

The Mercenary Leader walked around the central table and sat down. She took a second to organize her thoughts before speaking.

"I won't keep you long. You've all seen the global announcement. Priam, humanitys champion, has received a second Completion. This time, he survived after resisting the wrath of a god."

Maya marked a second of silence.

"In light of this news, a policy change is in order. The Mercenaries are neutral, but we are not pacifists. Quoting from the System, 'Priam Azura refused to obey the tyranny of a minor god.' Which means he was attacked first. The Cult of Viracocha - since that's them we're talking about - lost its right to neutrality. Paolo, what are our options?" Maya asked her assistant.

He stood up and pretended to read a file. Maya rolled her eyes. She knew her assistant knew its contents by heart.

"An attack on the Champion of Humanity is an attack on humanity. If the majority of this assembly agrees, we can order a Hunt."

Exclamations erupted as Paolo sat back. For two minutes, various Mercenaries shouted to be heard. The question wasn't whether they should remain neutral - they all admired Maya enough to join her.

The real question was whether they should start a Hunt: the total annihilation of the Cult. It meant actively invading Viracocha to execute Anatole and all allied factions - including the most important, the Revenants.

After two minutes of heated debate, Maya clapped her hands and the assembly fell silent.

"I think most of these questions are pointless," she said. "Priam is at direct war with the Revenants. They've practically merged with the Cult of Viracocha. At least Anatole is the leader of both factions. This war is the crucible in which Priam will be reforged. If he succeeds, we'll have an exceptional champion. If not, the Revenants will be weakened," said Maya. She swept her gaze over the assembly.

"In the meantime, let's focus on our objectives. We have no time to lose. If humanity survives this Reunion, later will come the Meeting of Civilizations. We must be ready."

The assistant opened his notebook. "Concerning the Revenants, our final position?"

"No Hunt," Maya decided. "But they are declared enemies of the Mercenaries and will be executed on sight. Any faction that collaborates with them will suffer the consequences."

Anatole sighed as he read the notification. He grabbed a rag and methodically wiped his bloody hands. He could already hear the panicked footsteps of his henchmen in the corridor. They came closer and stopped in front of his door. Anatole sensed their fear. This feeling was a formidable tool for dominating the weak.

Revenants were weak. For Anatole, being afraid enough of death to accept a resurrection in exchange for a contract was a sign of weakness. The Grand Master of the Cultists was not scared of death. He had even committed suicide before the Tutorial. When the System offered him the chance to become a Revenant, he refused it. He then made another proposal to the System. He would destroy humanity and die. In exchange

Anatole chased away his useless thoughts as he observed his work. His thirty-seventh Chimera - or Abomination as the System identified them - would not be weak. Anatole smiled as he watched the spirits of a few Revenants writhing in pain as they were gradually fused into the monster's flesh. Their sacrifice, catalyzed by the Urn of the Depths, was the cement that solidified the Abomination.

For Anatole, their sacrifice was an honest ending for these perjurers. They had promised to fulfill their mission and had failed miserably. Some should have brought him Baron cores - indispensable ingredients for creating chimeras. Others had been tasked with stealing treasures from enemy factions. They failed. The price of it was terrible. Fortunately, Anatole would find a use for them if they failed to be useful to the cause.

In fact, some of them found an unsuspected usefulness. If Anatole had been a gambler, he'd have bet that his thirty-seventh creation would soon face Priam. In a way, it was his destiny. "I wonder if Priam will be happy to have you back Albin..." he murmured as he watched a face writhing in pain, melted into the Abomination's flesh.

Albin had disappointed him greatly. The Revenant had been so afraid of death that he'd sold important secrets to Priam. Anne, too, had been punished, but her talents could be useful in attracting an Earl. Albin, on the other hand, had been a disappointing subordinate as well as a traitor and a coward. Now he was paying the ultimate price, and his punishment would motivate the other Revenants to succeed.

The henchmen were still hesitating and Anatole unfolded his right index finger. The door opened and two officers entered then saluted. It was easier to manipulate men when they were conditioned. Anatole didn't claim credit for most of his ideas; he had freely drawn inspiration from the worst dictatorial regimes to control his faction.

Anatole stared at the two Revenants for a few seconds, and they began to tremble. The Grand Master winced inwardly. Fear was a useful tool, but it often broke the weak.

The officer on the right, trembling slightly less than his comrade, cleared his throat.

"Grand Master, a global announcement has been made," he announced.

Anatole sighed inwardly. He turned quickly to his Abomination, but it didn't need another mind.

"Teach me something I don't know, will you?"

Swallowing, the officer nodded hastily.

"Of course, Grand Master. Priam is currently in our cathedral. He doesn't seem to have been hurt by his confrontation with Viracocha. The Generals are afraid that our allies will become reticent when they see that Viracocha cannot command respect from a Tier 0. Our members might start to wonder..."

"He pissed on a statue and survived, that's all. We're going to announce that he's been cursed by Viracocha for his deed and is now easy to kill. All the idiots of this Reunion will rush to do the job for us. I'll take care of our allies. For those members who are wondering..."

Anatole held out his hand. "You need a tongue for that. Give me yours," he asked. The officer widened his eyes and turned back to his comrade, who looked away. Abandoned, the officer swallowed before shakily reaching for his dagger. He took one last look at Anatole's impassive face before cutting his tongue. Keeping the Grand Master waiting was a bad idea.

Anatole retrieved the tongue and threw it in the direction of his chimera. The tongue stuck to the monster's venous surface and slowly fused with it. Three seconds later, it had disappeared.

Anatole turned back to the two officers. "Priam is dangerous but predictable. He's coming for our treasures, the Urn of the Depths and my life. Tell the Generals present to be ready to intervene. His Achievement increases his value in the eyes of the System, which makes his murder even more lucrative. I'll dispatch two Viscount-rank chimeras to stop him, along with my new creation. If that's not enough, set off the trap. I want him dead."

Anatole turned to the second officer. He didn't seem talkative, but he always would be more so than his comrade now. "Have we got hold of his father?"

"... N-not yet Grand Master." Anatole thought momentarily about creating a thirty-eighth chimera with the help of the two idiots before giving up. He was in a hurry.

"Then bring him back. No, you'll fail, I can feel it," Anatole reconsidered. "Tell our Champion to take care of it. She'd better be careful, Mercury's men are on the case too," he ordered before dismissing the officers. The two men walked towards the exit with stiff, quick steps.

Anatole turned toward his Abomination. Created from three Viscount cores, it almost reached Earl rank. Enough to exterminate any Baron, Champion of Humanity or not. Why confront Priam himself when this was not his forte? Anatole was no warrior. He was a strategist and a creator.

A Baron core had enabled him to create a Baron-ranked Abomination. Thanks to this, Anatole defeated other Barons and made more Abominations. The first Viscount killed by the Revenants had beaten eight Abominations before dying. With its core, it was easy to create Viscount-rank Abominations: a true Tier 1.

Anatole had grandiose dreams. The Champion of Humanity could continue to piss on statues.

He grabbed a metal sphere from his worktable. It was directly connected to its twin, held by the General in charge of the Revenants army. Anatole guided his aether into the sphere and activated it.

"Get the army ready. We're going to attack the Earl of the Dark Wood. It's time for the Revenants to obtain Achievements."

Claire sat down on the bed in her cell. She reread the notice a second time before bursting out laughing.

"What a son of a bitch... Bravo Priam. I'm counting on you to keep Anatole busy."

The young woman straightened up. Locked away in Mercury's mansion, she was safe from the Grand Master. Their disagreements were numerous. For example, Anatole didn't value Claire's life at its fair value.

However, if Priam kept him busy enough, she could advance her own agenda.

Claire walked to the door and knocked. Moments later, a servant appeared on the other side of the door. "Can I help you, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes," Claire smiled, activating her skills. "I must go. Will you help me escape?"

Priam sat for a few moments on the cathedral's stone floor. He needed to catch his breath. The confrontation with Viracocha had undoubtedly been a mere thought for the god. Yet the weight of his attention had nearly killed Priam - or rather, captured his soul. For Viracocha, the incident was no more important than a footnote in the story of his day. But Priam had survived and was stronger than ever.

His bravery - and folly - had given him a Gold Rank Title, an epic skill, a few attributes and a unique talent.

Right now, Priam was feeling more complete. More legitimate to breathe. The sensation was complex to describe, but Priam could sum it up simply: the aether now accepted him.

Priam didn't yet know what this would change, but he was now unique, which was bound to have great significance. Does that mean I wasn't unique before? Do Concepts play with our consciousness? Are other Moons, Reunions, and Priams fighting for their freedom?

The Baron had no idea how to answer these questions. If he had to make a hypothesis, it was that his theories were wrong. Anyway, the System had now confirmed something: he was unique.

Priam sighed for a moment before rereading his status. He would now have to be careful with his Willpower. Who would have thought that suffering the wrath of a God would temper it? He was not far from a fourth Tribulation. Priam summarized what he knew of these events.

Deadly, almost impossible to predict, he had just over twenty-four hours left to call the Tribulations or they would erupt at the end of the timer.

Certain attribute levels triggered these Tribulations. These levels were three, six and twelve attributes above 100. Then one, three, six and twelve attributes above two hundred. It was the same levels for three hundred, four hundred and so on.

The Tribulations could overlap, and Priam sought to use the barrier of Viracocha's dome to separate them and face them one after the other. Apparently, a triple Tribulation was unimaginably dangerous.

Nevertheless, Priam had a few advantages. Firstly, the Tribulations were calibrated to the power of the user when he triggered them. A tribulation was always perilous, but Priam's first Tribulation was meant to be endurable by the Priam who had just left Anne and Albin. Since then, he had made much progress. The next two would be more difficult.

In addition, he had stolen some of the best objects currently in the possession of humanity. If he added to this the various treasures of the Revenants - which would soon be his own - he had a real chance of getting out alive.

Priam rose to his feet. The Tribulations were coming and he wanted to be ready.

The spiral staircase descended with torches fixed to the wall. Some footsteps sounds reached him in the distance. Priams bare feet made no sound on the carved steps. The coffin closed behind him.

A few minutes later, the sound of footsteps faded and Priam cautiously descended the last few steps. At the bottom, he glanced around using a mirror borrowed from Sphinx's palace.

The staircase led to a twenty-square-meter room occupied by two guards. They looked more like assassins given leather armor, but the shortage of fighters forced even the most powerful factions to use any man-at-arms to protect themselves. The quality of their equipment also seemed to leave much to be desired, but their mere presence was problematic.

Priam wondered for a second. Should he try to penetrate the complex discreetly? Or should he kill all the Revenants to not give them a chance to sound the alarm?

Another question appeared in the back of his mind. Could he really massacre former men and women, resurrected by the System? There was a difference between killing Generals and leaders and slaughtering henchmen who couldn't defend themselves.

While Priam was still hesitating, he noticed a disturbing detail. The walls of the staircase leading downwards were covered with marks. Dozens of clear lines were carved into the soft rock at shoulder height. Suddenly, Priam understood.

These weren't sordid decorations. They were fingernail scratches. Not everyone who had descended those stairs had done so of their own free will, and some had resisted.

Priam gritted his teeth and gripped his spear. He had made up his mind.

Status: (Average value for a Homo sapiens male before integration: PHY 10 / MEN 10 / META 0)

PHYSICAL:

Strength 130

Constitution 197

Agility 146

Vitality 212

Perception 279

MENTAL:

Vivacity 168

Dexterity 153

Memory 38

Willpower 187

Charisma 135

META:

Meta-affinity 118

Meta-focus 85

Meta-endurance 61

Meta-perception 7

Meta-chance 114

Potential: 736

Tier 0

[He Who Eludes Death] charge: PRIMED.

[Tribulation]: Tribulations are coming.

Time: 24 hours 2 minutes 16 seconds.

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