Chương 409: Chapter 398: The Difference Between Surviving and Living

If his hypothesis proved true, then the next question presented itself quite naturally: who was the third Champion without a sponsor? Sorting his rivals by order of arrival on Elysium gave the following list: Esmée, Arnold, Dishnu, Kaya, Ève, Tyr, Seth, Jasmine, and Kazuki. The last two were known to be sponsorless, and if a pattern were to be inferred, Seth might be the third.

It was plausible, but Priam had learned to distrust premature conclusions, especially when he hadn't yet crossed paths with the Beast or the Judge. Given that they travelled alongside Ève, he wasn't certain he wished to meet them. Rather than chasing a thought that led nowhere, Priam decided to finish the last pages of the journal.... Father commanded me to establish a forward outpost upon a world called Elysium. I am not fond of the idea, yet his commands are absolute.

From the very first council, Esmée has been ceaseless in her warnings about the dangers of the place. I eventually silenced her with an uppercut mid-meeting. … Elysium is a waking nightmare. Two of my finest soldiers perished within minutes, devoured by what appeared to be a massive lupine creature. Our blades cannot pierce its hide, and its spiritual pressure exceeds even that of Father. At a minimum, it is a Tier 2 entity. I believe the beast is keeping us alive to eat us later.

Tonight, a porter was caught in a near-invisible web. As we attempted to free him, the strands began to vibrate. I ordered a retreat. I still hear his screams. … A dozen entries followed, lamenting the weakness of his troops. … The First resembles an Empyrean to such a degree it borders on the uncanny. Still, I consider myself the more handsome, as his cloudy eyes are too alien by our standards. Setting aside its appearance, its civilization seems primitive, as he parades about half-naked like a savage.

Barbarian or not, he is dangerous. Anopt possesses a skill that gauges the threat level of an individual, and this Priam broke every scale. I was compelled to give him Muyri. No great loss, she had begun to wear out. … The fauna devours us, the flora poisons us, the Champions spy on us, and now even the suns seem prepared to surrender to eternal night. I despise this world. All of this is my sister's fault.

I considered handing her over to the soldiers as punishment, but why should they enjoy a woman when I sleep alone? … With trials come rewards. That is the law of the System. Or of the Concepts? I'm not certain there's a difference. My sister claims the latter helped create the former, but what does she know? Regardless, the arrival of the Necromoon has ushered in the Sun Shop. I was able to purchase some locals to build an underground base. A pity the slaves are so unsightly. …

I thought this infection would rob me of my lineage. All of my Potential flowed into [Disease Resistance], but at least I survived. Damn this world, where even mating is hazardous. The timing of my recovery was fortunate, for Esmée used her Minor Wish to add a second anchor to our Hearthstone. Proxima is no Empyréa, but I yearn for civilization. … The next entry was a barely legible scrawl. He's mad! MAD! Father threatened to turn me into a woman. I, his last son! Uncle Alexandre assured me it was empty talk.

A clumsy attempt at motivation. I'm unsure whether to believe him. The mere mention of that ritual is taboo... … Esmée let slip that, with the System, Father could rule until the end of time. If that is true, then my title as Crown Prince is naught but farce. Does he even require an heir any longer? … Uncle Alexandre overrode one of my orders today. He called it a mere veto. The soldiers obeyed him. Esmée asked if she should follow my command. As Crown Prince, I hold precedence over her geas, save for a husband.

And, of course, Father. That knowledge brought me some relief. I felt shame at first, before recalling she is a weapon. I would be a fool not to wield her. … The tournament approaches. The three tribes shall face one another beneath the watchful eyes of the elves. Father desired an alliance, and I proposed the Snaherts. Alexandre prefers the Aelbes, and made it clear his word was final. Esmée thinks he seeks to undermine me. If Father carries out his threat, my uncle will become the Empire's second-in-command.

Oh, how I would love to feed him to Sunny. … We depart at dawn. Our aim is to convince the Aelbes to emigrate to Proxima. Thereafter, we shall assimilate them by marriage—war against a Transcendent is unthinkable. A few thousand against millions is feasible over time—especially since their adults will lack access to the System. They have no princess for me, so Esmée shall be the one to spread her legs. This is Alexandre's strategy to strip me of my last weapon.

I have a plan of my own—but not one I dare entrust to paper. … I have given my sister her orders. The traitors will perish. The Empire will prevail. Priam set the book down and lifted his gaze to a painting, though his eyes did not truly see it. The psychological transformation of the prince between the journal's beginning and its end was stark. Engineered.

"Just as skilled at manipulating people as she is at manipulating probability, huh? Impressive… and terrifying."

"The Princess only manipulates her enemies." Priam turned.

"I was starting to think you'd never open that door."

"The Prince forbade it," said the young woman standing in the doorway. She was beautiful, her features reminiscent of the Empyreans. The reason for her access to the royal chambers was quite clear.

"He is…" The chamber slave let the question trail off.

"Dead? Not yet. But I doubt you'll see him again." Priam winced as he caught the fear in her eyes.

"That wasn't a threat. I'm not here to hurt you. Either of you." The door opened fully, revealing a man.

"I was holding my breath."

"Your heart," replied the Champion with a shrug. With a Perception over a thousand, Priam could hear a lot. Normally, he dulled some of his mundane senses to stay sane, but here, in a bunker full of unconscious soldiers, he allowed himself some leeway.

"An organ I can't really stop without serious risk. I'm her husband." Priam opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

"You… the three of you?" He grimaced at the king-sized bed.

"Forget I asked. Not my business." The woman paled, and the man wrapped an arm around her.

"The Prin… Aydan used my wife for his pleasure. He only kept me alive because I'm a physician, and he was a hypochondriac." Watching one's own wife be prostituted must be unbearable. Priam knew he couldn't have stomached it. Were he in the doctor's place, he would have poisoned the prince or carved him a permanent smile, Joker-style.

"You think me a coward."

"No," said Priam.

"If you'd killed him, the soldiers would've butchered you, and I don't even want to imagine what they'd have done to your wife. You endured, and now, you're free. In the end, life proved you right."

"Free?"

"Alexandre is dead. The Prince won't last much longer. As for Esmée... I don't know what she'll do. But she's not the kind to hold innocents against their will." The husband and wife exchanged a glance. A whole conversation passed in silence, spoken only through their eyes.

"That's great news. However, without the Empyreans, this bunker won't hold long."

"It would be smarter to leave," Priam confirmed.

"To go where?"

"Wherever you want."

"With the Necromoon, our options are limited. The Sun Shop's employment board is still on cooldown." Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. In other words, they were as good as dead. Priam grimaced.

"Damn… Look, things are complicated right now, and there's a good chance I'll be fighting in a war pretty soon." Seeing hope flicker and die in their eyes, he sighed.

"I'll see what I can do, but you'll need to hang on a few more days." Oasis was far too small to shelter all the Necromoon refugees, and truth be told, Priam had no intention of taking care of strangers. It was the surest way to bind oneself, and he lacked any sort of hero complex. Still, the quiet resilience of the couple before him struck a chord. The Gaeserts, the elves, Valaryth, or even Proxima—if they were willing to forsake the System—were all viable options.

"Maybe it's a trap… but I doubt the Prince would hand over his diary just to test us. Thank you, in advance," the woman said with a bow, soon mirrored by her husband.

"You're welcome. I'm Priam."

"Oh! The First," the young woman smiled.

"I'm Erza."

"Victor."

"Pleasure. If I were you, I'd round up the mole-folk and lock up the soldiers. Most of them are going to wake up with a hell of a headache, and could get violent…" Victor nodded and strode off toward the rest of the bunker. Erza followed, before pausing at the doorway.

"Behind the last door is a Sun Wyrm. Be careful."

"I'm here for it," Priam smiled. After a brief stop in the spartan quarters of the two former slaves—Priam didn't want to be paranoid, but nothing assured him they hadn't stashed the Hearthstone or one of the Prince's treasures—he laid a hand on the third door's handle. No traps. It opened into a decompression chamber, which he passed through. The next room had no other exits. In the center, a flaming wyrm the size of a horse roared in Priam's direction.

The Champion gave the flying serpent only a cursory glance, more interested in the platinum-blonde beauty caressing it. She wore a backless cocktail dress that bared a single shoulder in a blend of elegance and sensuality. The crimson fabric hugged her form before flaring near the ankles. Twin crystal pins held her hair in place, paired with a pearl bracelet and a silver belt that completed the royal ensemble. Esmée blushed.

"Is it… too much?" she asked, turning slightly as if to hide her bare shoulder.

"Didn't know a collarbone could be that seductive," Priam replied, openly admiring her. The princess raised a gloved hand to hide her lips, but her eyes betrayed her smile.

"I already knew that. Your mist doesn't hide much when I scry you."

"Good thing I finally found a pair of boxers, then."

"For my part, I think that's a shame." she said with a mischievous grin. Priam laughed aloud.

"What happened to the shy little princess?" he asked, his misty toga shifting into trousers and a shirt. He might have forgotten to button it all the way up. I've got some pecs, might as well show 'em off.

"The thought of freedom's intoxicating," she replied, her eyes shamelessly roaming.

"And it's your fault." Priam raised a brow. Esmée's expression turned wistful.

"All my life, I have struggled simply to survive. Against my Father, against men, against Elysium itself... I drifted from one day to the next, without hope of ever breaking a geas refined over millennia, etched onto millions of women. I was mentally conditioned to never rebel. Then I met you." A soft smile touched her lips.

"You fascinated me, and it took me time to understand why."

"My wit?" Esmée's smile deepened, revealing two charming dimples.

"You, who had survived, were striving to live. You no longer fought against death; you fought for your freedom."

"I try," Priam said softly. Freedom wore a different face for everyone, but in his view, a chained soul was never truly living.

"That is what I want for myself." Esmée placed a hand over her heart.

"So long as I bear this geas, I shall always remain a slave. Even the thought of the word 'freedom' unleashes excruciating pain within me." A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I'm weary of survival. I want to live. I want to—" Agony seized her, cutting the sentence short, but she did not collapse. The sheer resolve in her eyes made her majestic. Priam clenched his fists. The geas wouldn't even let her think about removing it. She had to conspire at the risk of her life, moving her pieces without being allowed to envision victory, answering every question from her opponent while remaining silent. The game was rigged, but if anyone could win it, it was her.

"I understand better than anyone," Priam whispered.

"I know."

"Do you want—""No. I must do this myself. For my Story... and because I will not let gratitude become another chain."

"I get it." The Juggernaut's gaze slid to the draconic nest. There, between two flaming branches, was a spherical hole—perfectly sized to fit a Hearthstone. The hiding place was empty.

"It's soon, isn't it?"

"The day after tomorrow." Priam hadn't expected an answer, and arched a brow.

"Is it truly wise to tell me that?"

"I am not your enemy." The wyrm coiled beneath the princess as she seated herself gracefully atop it. The heat did not seem to trouble her.

"A projection?" Esmée nodded, pointing toward the ceiling. Someone had painted stars across it, and when Priam studied the constellations more closely, he realized they formed a glyph. Esmée was an artist, weaving her runes into the world itself.

"I possess a Talent that tracks the growth of my abilities. When I saw that the skills governing my traps were gaining experience, I scryed the intruder. Imagine my surprise when I could glean almost nothing..." In less charming company, Priam might have growled. [Ciphered Record] was formidable, yet the absence of information was information.

"Don't pout. I like the mystery in you," Esmée smiled.

"With my powers, it's rare I meet someone I can't read like a book."

"Always hated the dark handsome strangers. And now I am one. The irony."

"Handsome?" she winked.

"To be honest, I was starting to doubt myself. I've been waiting here for half an hour."

"I'll endeavor to be punctual for my next burglary," Priam deadpanned.

"You weren't sure I'd be here?"

"Your resistance to divination is... frustrating. And this projection can only transmit visual and auditory signals," she said, pointing to two sections of the ritual.

"This bunker wasn't the only location I trapped—you might have gone elsewhere. But the odds were low. After all, stealing the Hearthstone was the cleverest course of action."

"Which made it predictable. Next time, I'll act stupid to surprise you."

"Like you did this afternoon?" Esmée frowned.

"You could have died."

"I didn't like what I saw."

"Says the man who refused to marry me."

"Out of respect—for you and for me. Doesn't mean I'm not drawn to you." A faint blush crept up Esmée's cheeks. She looked away, then bit her lower lip.

"I don't intend to marry Rohan," she added, as though needing to justify herself. Priam felt his lungs expand just a little more easily, but his brow furrowed.

"Really? You didn't fight the engagement," he said, his gaze lingering on the crimson dress—the traditional wedding color among the Aelbes.

"Rohan must purchase me from my Father." Priam took a moment to consider the implications. Factoring in Alexandre's death and what he had learned from Aydan's journal, a vision began to form. It wasn't a plan, as Esmée's hands were tied by her geas, but a chessboard. She had arranged her enemies like pieces, and was counting on their flaws to make the next move without her. Priam saw only one flaw.

"Rohan can be… unreliable."

"He tried to make me drink a love philter. I turned it against him."

"What a fool," Priam muttered.

"Well, I hope fortune favors you. However, if Kazuki chooses to stand in your way… I won't let a friend fight alone." Despite the mutual attraction between him and the young woman, and the admiration he held for a rival chasing her own freedom, Priam knew where his loyalty lay. The princess frowned.

"Even after your defeat today?"

"Kazuki won't let them invade Proxima."

"What we wish to do and what we can do are two very different things. I should know."

"You misunderstand me," Priam said.

"If he was willing to go apocryphal, Kazuki could annihilate a healthy Léo." The General's Talent was too overwhelming for his own good. His blaze might last only seconds, but in those seconds even the Demiurge would have to flee his spear.

"I see…" Esmée's face clouded at the revelation.

"And if I manage to persuade Léo not to step onto Proxima overmorrow?" Priam doubted the Aelbes would launch an assault on the humans or the hoplites before the wedding… and he doubted even more that the transition from Elysium to Proxima would be completed in a single day. Thus, the Aelbes' forces would likely return by day's end to retain their System. Without a Transcendent, it was far too short a window to raid humanity or the hoplites. Kazuki could accept that.

Better yet, the General would likely see it as an opportunity to strike. By sending a Tier 3 delegation to Proxima to seal the alliance with the Empyreans, the Aelbes would be deprived of a significant portion of their elite forces for twenty-four hours. After all, Rohan's guards had to be strong and numerous enough to protect the young master and display his clan's power. With more than half their hunters out of this world, that would be the perfect moment to strike.

Of course, Léo remains a wild card, but if I can convince the Gaeserts to join in, then we have a real chance. To make sure he wasn't making a poor judgment call, Priam turned the situation over from every angle before nodding. If Esmée could convince Léo to stay on Elysium, then their goals aligned. The paranoid part of him considered the possibility that the princess might betray him, but it seemed unlikely. She, too, stood to benefit from the Transcendent's death.

Intelligent people were predictable, and Priam was certain Esmée knew exactly where her interests lay.

"If Léo stays behind, I can talk Kazuki into allowing Rohan and his escort to Proxima. But nothing more. He won't let foes close to his people."

"That will suffice. The Aelbes have no intention of migrating until magical contracts are signed. They've no wish for their non-combatants to be taken hostage." Priam nodded, reassured that trust among his enemies was thin.

"All of this only matters if Léo remains behind. Do you think you can pull this off?"

"I already managed to get him to drink the coffee Jasmine brought him. Which was no small feat, as he knows the face of everyone in his clan." Priam closed his eyes, suddenly aware of how close they had danced to disaster. Had Esmée sounded the alarm, Jasmine would now be their hostage. He shuddered to imagine what demands the Aelbes might have made to him to keep her alive.

"Thank you. If you'd told me from the start—""—you would have thought I was blackmailing you," Esmée finished for him. Her eyes dimmed.

"Enough people already see me as a manipulator. I would rather you not join them." If she had been physically there, Priam would have taken her into his arms. Since she was only a projection, he settled for the next best way to lift her mood.

"Don't worry, I always give second chances to beautiful women," Priam said with a roguish grin.

"A second chance?"

"You're the reason I died my first death on Elysium, remember?" Esmée flushed.

"About that… If I survive this, I'll make it up to you."

"Oh? How?"

"I don't know. A lesson on aether, perhaps?" she suggested. Priam shook his head with a faint smile.

"I think I'd rather go on a date." The princess' face turned the same shade as her dress. Red. Status: PHYSICAL: Strength 1 253 Constitution 2 181 Agility 1 652 Vitality 2 132 Perception 994 MENTAL: Vivacity (D) 666 Dexterity 985 Memory 1 208 Willpower 1 298 Charisma 998 META: Meta-affinity (O) 1 446 Meta-focus 889 Meta-endurance 1 625 Meta-perception 871 Meta-chance 1 089 Meta-authority 927 Potential: 33 779 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! https: //www. patreon. com/ANovelConcept