Chương 381: Chapter 370: Don’t Feed the Juggernaut

The tent flap fell shut behind Rohan.

"The Aelbes and the Empyreans are tighter than we thought," hissed Ophis, dropping into a chair. With a lazy flick of his hand, he dismissed the servants.

"Otherwise, their little Lord wouldn't have defended those aliens so fiercely." The Aelbes' young master had stood his ground when Ophis had tried to pin the blame for Alexandre's corruption on the entire Empyrean delegation. After five tense minutes of verbal sparring, the Snahert chief had relented, agreeing to let everyone go without prosecution. The shadow of Leo, the strongest Transcendent of the three clans and Rohan's father, loomed too large. For now.

"You think they're prepping for migration to Proxima?" Ophis asked, noting his mother's silence. The shaman was circling the tank that had contained Priam.

"I can't fathom abandoning the System. I'd sooner join the Necro—""Shut your mouth!" snapped Sna, raising a hand as if to slap him. She stopped just short.

"If the High Marshal hears you, you're dead." Ophis stammered.

"H-He's too busy hunting the Fallen. The Empire hates them."

"The Empress hates the gods," the shaman corrected.

"The Crown Prince, on the other hand, fights for his people. Rumor says his Myth is brushing up against Immortality. The Necromoon is the perfect storm for his ascension, an opportunity to cross that threshold. The High Marshal hasn't picked a side yet, so be careful with your mouth!" Ophis frowned. As a Tier 4, his clan saw him as a font of wisdom about the Zenith climb. In truth, the higher you climbed, the steeper the path. Even as a Transcendent, he could barely conceive the advancement method for a Tier 6.

Nevertheless, he knew enough to understand that the Prince had intertwined his Myth with the fate of the Empire. If he managed to become its shield against the Necromoon, he would earn his place beside the Empress in the pantheon of Immortals. If the High Marshal decided to link his chariot to that of the Prince, then his priorities would change. The hunt for the Fallen would become secondary to the annihilation of the Necromoon's minions.

And even if Hekthorn stayed loyal to the Empress, nothing stopped him from backing the Prince's crusade on the side by hunting the agents of the Necromoon.

"This Empyrean's corruption has turned the spotlight onto us," Ophis growled.

"Bad press at the worst time." His eyes lit up as a new theory struck him.

"You think the Aelbes set this up? Trying to sabotage us in front of the elves?"

"No," his mother replied firmly.

"It was Champion Esmée."

"That bitch!" Ophis stood so fast his chair toppled.

"I'll—""You'll do nothing. She's with us." He blinked.

"You didn't mention that."

"I didn't know myself until I smelled her. She was wearing the scent of my special reserve—an undetectable perfume for anyone but me. She's the one who broke into my vault, and she must know about the altered love potion we gave Rohan. Yet she hasn't said a word—if she had, Leo would've already paid us a visit."

"The princess wants to destroy the Aelbes?"

"She wants to destroy her own family," Sna corrected.

"Never underestimate the wrath of a scorned woman… She orchestrated her uncle's death and she'll shatter the tribe that backs her brother to get him. Right now, the princess is the enemy of our enemy, and that suits me just fine." Ophis grinned.

"You used to tell me stories about our ancestor's exploits. I can't wait to see what a furious Champion is capable of."

"Careful what you wish for," Sna muttered, withdrawing her hand from tank seven.

"I had my doubts when I saw the charred corpse of the corrupted one, but the Infernal Gu Tamulus was definitely inside Priam's tank. What little liquid remains is laced with its venom." Ophis's brow furrowed.

"The scorpion attacked the Champion… and he survived?" It should have been impossible. As one of only four people in his clan with [Poison Resistance – Mythic], the Chief knew it was the only version strong enough to survive the scorpion's sting. Yet, no Tier 0 could obtain a Mythic resistance.

"I guess a maxed, tempered, ideal Legendary resistance could do the trick," Ophis muttered. In just three months? That was ridiculous; most Snahert elites would spend their entire lives without raising any resistance to that level. On the other hand, Champions were supposed to be monsters, and Priam was the first among them.

"But then why enter our Gu Trial in the first place? It doesn't make sense."

"He didn't resist the poison. His blood caught fire." Sna tapped the side of the tank.

"The bottom is coated in Gu ash, and the enchanted glass reached temperatures high enough to start melting. Hell was unleashed in there, and yet… he endured." There was a note of admiration in the shaman's voice, and Ophis felt jealousy clutch at his chest.

"So, a monstrous fire resistance?"

"I don't know," Sna admitted. For the first time since his father's death, Ophis saw hesitation behind his mother's mask.

"But he's hard to kill, that one. And thanks to your diplomatic finesse, I doubt we'll convince him this was all a misunderstanding. So tell me, my brilliant son, how do you plan to fix this?" Ophis winced. Ordinarily, he would try to buy off a tough enemy. According to his intel, Priam was pragmatic. He might have been appeased by some rare loot, ancient secrets, or a few beautiful women. Unfortunately, the behemoth of war was awake, and now it had to be ridden.

"Oasis is our opponent in this tournament. Whether it's in the arena or elsewhere, we'll have to eliminate them," he said, glancing at his mother for approval. The shaman didn't even blink.

"I'll notify our assassins." As he turned to leave, Sna's voice cut through the tent one last time.

"Tell them not to use poison. I know it's their specialty, but I'd rather not feed the Juggernaut." A chill crawled down Ophis's spine. Giving the enemy an ideal resistance could have been a terrible mistake. Munching on a sandwich, Priam dropped into the private box reserved for Oasis. His gaze swept across the packed stands of the arena before settling on the center stage. There, under a storm of cheers, Jasmine faced off against Rohan.

"Dear spectators! I, Zulkar, am thrilled to welcome you back for the second day of the Tribal Tournament!" the elven announcer roared to the delighted crowd.

"This afternoon, the Tier 1s will clash in the semi-finals to defend the honor—and lives—of their clans! But before the main course… allow me to serve you a most delectable appetizer: the Tier 0 finals!" The elf seemed to punctuate every sentence with an exclamation. It grated on Priam's nerves, but maybe that was what made a good showman.

"Before your awestruck eyes… Jasmine the Shadow versus Rohan Twin-Blade!" Priam clapped as his friend twirled gracefully in response to the ovation. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"To commentate this exceptional duel, I call upon the assistance of two distinguished gentlemen. Give it up for the Juggernaut and the White Tiger!" Before Priam could even process the words, space twisted. In a heartbeat, he found himself standing on an invisible platform beside the High Marshal and Zulkar.

"Champion Priam, leader of Oasis—the fourth faction in this tournament," the announcer proclaimed.

"We'll see him later in the arena. Indeed, though Tier 0, he's set his sights on tougher prey. As for Chief Leo, he's the head of the Aelbe Tribe and father of Rohan! Gentlemen, your predictions?" Leo frowned slightly and glanced at the High Marshal before shrugging.

"Rohan will win. I don't question the skill of his opponent—she was chosen by the System, after all—but an eagle that hasn't yet spread its wings is easy prey for a tiger."

"A sound opinion! Priam, I imagine you disagree?" Zulkar asked, placing what looked like a recording disc in front of Priam's mouth. Priam scanned the suddenly silent crowd before locking eyes with Jasmine.

"Where I come from, tigers don't eat eagles. And even if they tried, I doubt Rohan's more than a housecat… while my Shadow's a damn panther." If Priam had been a weaker man, the smile Jasmine flashed him would have stolen one of his hearts. Maybe two.

"Well then! Enough talk—let the blades do the speaking!" bellowed the announcer. The roar of the crowd shook the air as the duelists took their stances.

"Begin," commanded the Demiurge. Jasmine leapt backward, Rohan immediately giving chase.

"And right from the start, the Aelbe takes the advantage!" shouted Zulkar.

"Jasmine is forced to retreat!" Priam snorted.

"More like she's dodging a clingy suitor." As the crowd burst into laughter, the assassin reached the arena wall. In the sky, the sun gleamed as if it were two hours before Zenith. The angle between the star and the Colosseum cast a long shadow over the sand—and Jasmine vanished into it. Rohan skidded to a stop just shy of the shadow realm and drew twin blades. Sunlight reflected off the steel, slicing into the darkness like twin scalpels.

Priam winced, remembering the times he had used his watch's glass to blind someone at school. Rohan was pulling the same trick—but with his Blade Concept, the reflection would do more than dazzle Jasmine.

"Rohan is searching for his opponent. He's still groping in the dark, but all it takes is a bit of good luck—or bad luck, depending on your bets—for him to seize the upper hand. I give it thirty seconds before—" An explosion of darkness cut Zulkar off mid-sentence. Born from the shadows, a cascade of darkness engulfed Rohan. For a moment, hope clenched in Priam's gut. Then, two silver flashes sliced through the black tide, severing the shadowy wave before it splashed to the ground and dissipated like a bad dream.

The only remaining shadow was Rohan's—and from it, a silhouette of ink emerged. A dagger bloomed from the Aelbe's shoulder blade. He pivoted before it could find his heart.

"First blood to Jasmine!"

"He didn't see that coming," Priam gloated.

"Shadow—one of the rare Concepts capable of fooling an untrained Domain," explained Zulkar.

"A brilliant reversal, but Rohan looks pissed." That was putting it lightly. Enraged, the clansman now wielded his blades with the precision of a master. His speed blurred his arms to Priam's eyes, and a threatening Aura cloaked both swords, forming a terrible sheath. A never-ending combo gradually drowned Jasmine's defense. The sound of clashing blades echoed a thousand times in a few seconds before the balance of the duel tipped. Drops of blood splashed onto the sand.

Priam's fists clenched as he spotted a shallow cut marring his friend's face.

"Second blood to Rohan!" While Priam's add-on recorded the young master's movements to study later, the Champion's brain boiled with frustration. Second by second, Jasmine was being pushed back, unable to escape the bastard's slash-spam. Ten heartbeats later, she stumbled, rolling to avoid a blade aimed for her gut. A cry of pain rang out. The audience leaned forward, breath held, eager for the first serious wound. Priam swore when he saw Rohan's sword embedded in Jasmine's palm.

"All that's missing is two more swords and a cross for a proper crucifixion," grimaced Zulkar.

"Never did like that style of execution…"

"Do you yield?" asked Rohan, raising his second blade. In response, Jasmine yanked her hand free. Priam flinched as her palm split from index to wrist—a mangled mess, utterly useless. A roll bought her some space. She rose, gripping a dagger in her remaining hand. Priam noticed a faint sway to her stance—and Zulkar caught it too.

"The fight's not even a minute old, and Jasmine already looks spent. Trust my long years of commentary—it reeks of poison!" Priam's eyes widened as he saw Rohan's grimace. He wasn't denying it. This asshole! The Juggernaut didn't need to glance toward the Snahert box to know what had happened. For him, this tournament had been a way to strengthen Oasis. For the tribes, it was a deadly game, and they weren't above a temporary alliance to eliminate the new contender. Rohan stepped forward. Jasmine stepped back.

Robbed of shadows and surprise, the assassin had been crippled from the start. Now that she was wounded and poisoned… Give up, Priam's lips murmured. He didn't want to watch her suffer. That was when Jasmine looked up at him. And in her eyes, Priam saw no fear. No hesitation. Just pride. A moment later, something stirred beneath him. Floating high above the arena, Priam, Leo, Zulkar, and the High Marshal all cast a shadow. The Champion's rose, opened its mouth… and breathed.

Though the attack made no sound, Rohan spun around to block the pale echo of the Juggernaut's ultimate move. Jasmine seized the moment to pounce. Raising her last dagger high, she plunged it into her opponent's heart. When she smiled, her teeth were painted red with blood.

"Guess you're more kitty than tiger."

"You guessed right," Rohan gasped, spitting crimson.

"I've still got eight lives." Jasmine sprang away—too late. Her head flew through the air. Rohan caught it before it hit the ground, then turned to face Priam.

"I think it's a shame to hide behind such a beautiful Shadow. Champion Priam, I challenge you to a duel!" The Juggernaut roared. Status: PHYSICAL: Strength 1 245 Constitution 2 065 Agility 1 631 Vitality 2 092 Perception 988 MENTAL: Vivacity (D) 664 Dexterity 891 Memory 1 150 Willpower 1 298 Charisma 988 META: Meta-affinity (O) 1 394 Meta-focus 880 Meta-endurance 1 568 Meta-perception 842 Meta-chance 1 089 Meta-authority 768 Potential: 33 989 Tier 0 [Tribulation]: Three Tribulations pending.

Future Tribulations delayed until: Time: 2 months 12 days 8 hours 12 minutes 19 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! https: //www. patreon. com/ANovelConcept