Chương 397: Chapter 386: Death’s Obsession vs. Gold Fangs

Gold Fangs

"Victory to Kazuki Arashi from Oasis! Champion of the Tier 1 bracket!" the announcer bellowed, grinning wide.

"Get it? Champion?" he chuckled, as the High Marshal brought the Gaesert back to life and restored the shredded lower half of Kazuki's body. Priam winced, having just watched his friend collide with both his opponent and the ground at supersonic speed. Even bonded with his mech-symbiote, Kazuki should have died. Only his Duty had anchored his soul. Dying was a sign of weakness, and the hoplite Champion couldn't afford to look weak. When Kazuki returned to their viewing box, Priam welcomed him like a brother.

"I feel bad for the poor sods who'll have to mop up all the blood you spilled into the sand."

"You mean my foe's blood."

"That too," Priam grinned, giving him a thumbs-up.

"You crushed it."

"Failure wasn't an option. Your turn now." Priam nodded. Thanks to the three points Kazuki just secured—and the one Jasmine earned the day before—it was now up to him. Reaching the Tier 2 finals would be enough to clinch a spot on the podium for Oasis. He just needed to win today.

"There's still one match before yours," Jasmine reminded him, pointing at the arena. Two Tier 2s were stepping into the ring for the first semi-final. They couldn't have looked more different. One was short, gaunt, pale, and visibly shaking. The other was huge, broad-shouldered, sunbaked, and brimming with confidence. Telltale of the Snaherts' dwindling presence, not a single cheer rose for their representative. Meanwhile, half the arena roared for the Gaesert.

"Toxic Dude versus Thick Skin," announced Zulkar.

"I wish I could say this fight's gonna be thrilling, but let's be real… we all know how this ends."

"Those stage names are absolute garbage," Jasmine grimaced, as the audience chuckled at the Snahert's expense.

"They're translated into Elvish," Rose pointed out.

"In their respective tongues, maybe they sound cooler. We're missing the cultural nuance."

"I don't need cultural nuance to know that you'd have to be a heat-struck teenage fangirl to cheer for someone who calls himself Toxic Dude," scoffed the Shadow.

"I'd bet good money you've screamed the name of some singer with a trash alias," Priam teased.

"I've seen your playlist from Arkana."

"You wanna go there? Let's talk about all the crappy movies you used to watch just 'cause the female lead was hot. Your dad ratted you out." Priam cleared his throat and looked away.

"Anyway. Wasn't supposed to be Toxic Boy in today's match, right?"

"Yeah, Venom Fanatic—another awful name—died last night. They had to find a replacement on short notice," Jasmine shrugged as the match began. A sickly green drool dripped from the Snahert's fangs as he lunged at the Gaesert. When his canines failed to pierce the giant's leathery skin, Jasmine sighed.

"With all the elite Snaherts dead, they must've scraped the bottom of the barrel to find this clown. It's gonna be a slaughter." Prophetic words. The Gaesert caught his opponent by the neck and began pounding his skull with his free hand. Twenty seconds later, the Demiurge resurrected Toxic Dude.

"May your match be just as swift," Kazuki deadpanned.

"Mmh." Priam checked the match board. Tier 2 Semi-Finals: ̶V̶e̶n̶o̶m̶ ̶F̶a̶n̶a̶t̶i̶c̶ Toxic Dude (Snahert) vs. Thick Skin (Gaesert). Death's Obsession (Oasis) vs. ̶W̶h̶i̶t̶e̶ ̶F̶a̶n̶g̶s̶ Gold Fangs (Aelbe).

"They changed the color," he noted.

"Apparently he's the cousin," Jasmine replied, frowning.

"What bugs me is that gold's supposed to beat white. So why send him out second?"

"Maybe it's just his teeth," Priam said, eyeing the warrior now descending into the arena—his fangs gleamed with metallic luster.

"Implants. Probably shattered the originals when he was younger."

"Then shatter them again."

"With pleasure." Jasmine bit her lip, then stepped close enough for her perfume to fill Priam's senses.

"Rose told me that, back in your country, women used to give their knight a ribbon before a joust. A sign of honor." A thousand years ago, maybe. Priam wasn't stupid enough to say that out loud.

"I don't have a ribbon… but good luck," she whispered, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. In that moment, amidst the brutality of the arena, Priam knew one thing with absolute certainty: he could not lose.

"Death's Obsession versus Gold Fangs!" Zulkar's voice rang out, drawing the attention of curious elves now beginning to fill the upper seats.

"Now this is a fight worth opening your eyes for! From childhoods filled with tales of Archetypes to teenage dreams of greatness shattered by a long-dead Champion's record, we've all wished to witness history in the making. Today, before our very eyes, the First of his generation steps forward to challenge an Elysian Tier 2—less than six months after entering the System! Will Priam defy the odds and drag the name Gold Fangs through the mud for millennia to come?

Or will we finally get to mock one of the System's so-called chosen? We'll find out very soon!" The crowd stirred to life. Aelbe cheers rained down on Gold Fangs, while jeers and taunts were hurled at Priam. Somewhere in the background, Rose and Jasmine were shouting, their voices struggling to rise above the noise. The elven and Gaesert spectators were eerily silent by contrast. Striding to the center of the arena, Priam offered a theatrical bow to his feline detractors.

"Not exactly a favorite, are you?" Gold Fangs smirked, sunlight catching his golden teeth in a deliberate flash meant to blind. [Solar Resistance] flared to life, and Priam didn't even squint—a detail that added to his legend.

"Doubt they'll still be cheering in a few minutes," Priam replied, summoning Promesse. His reforged spear gleamed beneath the midday sun. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Oh, so you managed to glue your toy back together," Gold Fangs sneered.

"Mmh. Can't say the same for your cousin. Did you even find enough ashes to bury him?" The Aelbe paled, then flushed with fury.

"You dare?!" Priam burst out laughing.

"Come on! You can't start trash-talking and then get offended when I join in!" The tribal warrior was done talking.

"This duel will be a massacre," he growled.

"That's the idea," the Juggernaut smiled, shifting into an offensive stance.

"Begin," commanded the Demiurge. Gold Fangs launched forward in a blur. Priam waited until the last possible instant before vanishing in a bloom of white mist. Unlike a typical smoke bomb, this cloud didn't stay in one place—it devoured Priam's aether to expand, flooding the arena.

"Coward!" the Aelbe roared, lashing out blindly. He didn't get a lucky strike. Fifty meters away, Priam reappeared, his Mist Concept feeding him data about his opponent. With Arnold, Dishnu, Léo, and the elven observers all watching, he couldn't afford anything less than a dominating victory. Time to leave an impression. His opponent was so fast that Priam mostly saw afterimages. Gold Fangs moved at high velocity, blinking in and out of sight to deliver attacks that were instantaneous and devastating.

Halos shimmered around his claws—evidence of a Mastery II or III—which he used to conjure massive aura-blades that carved through the fog for dozens of meters. Slick. Better not get hit. First step: limit movement. Priam knew exactly how. During his perfect fight against Clock—a Colosseum boss—the System had shown him how to use runes to divide the battlefield.

While he lacked the stats and skill to replicate the feat of inscribing ten thousand runes in under a second, and no longer had the [Aetherist] Merit that let him copy-paste runes like a magic printer, he had a plan. Priam rode the mist to the center of the arena, then drew upon his aether. The primordial fluid surged from his reserves—vast even by Tier 2 standards—coursing through his refined meridians, pouring into his soul space, and from there, flooding his Domain.

With a single thought, the mage seized control of his power. Drawing on his prodigious memory, he envisioned one, ten, then a hundred identical runes: Boundary. His meta-affinity gave substance to the mental images, weaving them into reality, while his meta-focus ensured the operation wouldn't take three hours. In truth, it lasted barely a second—just long enough for Priam to carve a tunnel in the mist between himself and his opponent, baiting the Aelbe's gaze.

Gold Fangs roared in fury as a barrier materialized between them, with Priam standing just beyond it. Another shimmering shield rose beneath the Aelbe's feet—then a third behind him. In three swift pulses, he was enclosed in a cube. Imprisoned. Robbed of the movement that made him so dangerous. With a feral snarl, he lashed out. The Tier 2's strike—empowered by a Mastery unreachable by any Tier 0 save, perhaps Kazuki—shattered the barrier in front of him… and the fourteen others layered atop it.

Still eighty-five short of reaching Priam. To the untrained eye, the wall hadn't even rippled. As if the defenses the Champion had summoned in a flash had simply tanked a Tier 2's killing blow. Gold Fangs stared dumbfounded at the cube around him, seemingly incapable of grasping what had just happened.

"That's it?" Priam asked, lifting a mocking brow. During the moment of confusion, and while delivering the barb, he had crafted another three hundred runes. And the number was still climbing. The taunt worked. His opponent's outrage promised a savage—but brainless—retaliation. Exactly what Priam wanted. In truth, only one rune had been used per wall on the remaining five sides; they were fragile as eggshells. A bluff that wouldn't have fooled a proper mage. But Gold Fangs wasn't one.

He saw red, and, with another roar, erupted into motion. A hailstorm of strikes slammed against the walls, each one obliterating a dozen sigils—only for Priam to instantly replenish them. The Champion was losing ground, of course, but he only needed a few seconds of immobilization. Raising Promesse, Priam inscribed a Free rune along its shaft, allowing it to pass freely through his Boundary barriers. Then he cocked his arm back and activated one of his newer skills, an evolved form of [Tribulation Piercing Spear].

[Tribulation Heroic Strike] - A hero is forged in the crucible of tribulation. His eyes assess, his mind plans, then his blade delivers the critical blow. The more dire the situation, the sharper the scheme, the more devastating the strike. STR +3 AGI +3 META (Focus) +3 This duel wasn't exactly a life-or-death trial… but Priam was eager to test the skill. Heroic Aura bled into his vision, highlighting his enemy's weak points. Without hesitation, the Champion rode his mist and reappeared above his prey.

He targeted the left shoulder and struck. Promesse sliced through flesh… a heartbeat before six afterimages exploded outward. One of them smashed into a rune-reinforced barrier, while the other five fled in all directions after bursting through fragile walls. Priam landed, glanced at his spear, and sighed. Only the first five centimeters were red; the wound hadn't been fatal.

"That was your one shot," came a low growl from within the mist. Priam turned and raised an eyebrow. Gold Fangs was crouched on all fours, favoring his right shoulder. His fingernails had become claws, his ears were pointed and triangular and his eyes were narrow slits blazing with hate. He awakened his bloodline to force atavism? The Aelbe launched forward, bloodlust gleaming in his gaze. It was the only thing Priam had time to see before instinct screamed at him to raise his arms like a boxer.

Agony split his world. Only months of painful fights kept his mind clear. According to Micro, he had just lost nearly half a kilogram of flesh below the wrists. Through the gap between his arms, Priam saw the stunned expression on Gold Fangs' face. His claws had been stopped cold by the Juggernaut's reinforced skeleton.

"I'll scrape your bones clean," the Aelbe hissed, "and crack them open to suck the marrow." Status: PHYSICAL: Strength 1 253 Constitution 2 083 Agility 1 652 Vitality 2 092 Perception 990 MENTAL: Vivacity (D) 666 Dexterity 894 Memory 1 152 Willpower 1 298 Charisma 996 META: Meta-affinity (O) 1 405 Meta-focus 886 Meta-endurance 1 584 Meta-perception 861 Meta-chance 1 089 Meta-authority 768 Potential: 33 704 Tier 0 [Tribulation]: Three Tribulations pending.

Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 900 / 3 attributes > 1 800 / 1 attribute > 2 100 Next arc already complete on Patreon (50+ chaps ahead) if you want to find out what happens next! https: //www. patreon. com/ANovelConcept