Chương 297: Chapter 289: The First Gate

Entry 3 Sphinx is back, and it no longer feels like the universe will collapse if I don't push myself at a breakneck pace. For a long time, I was like a car without brakes, barreling down a rutted road flanked by cliffs, shrouded in a dense fog. It felt as though the world was conspiring against me—everything was a threat, and I had no way of seeing what lay ahead. To survive, I gripped the wheel tightly, embraced the System, and seized every opportunity to improve.

It wasn't the intensity that bothered me; it was the lack of a plan. Now that I can chart my own course, I have to make it count. As I write this, I hear cheers. Sphinx just swiped two skewers from Blueberry while Moonie kept him distracted. The bear grumbles, but I'm pretty sure he anticipated losing a couple of extra skewers. Oasis is a place of celebration, and this festive atmosphere puts my mind at ease. Even if I don't always have time to join in, it's enough to know those close to me are happy.

That's why I can't let up. My instincts scream that the System isn't done with me yet. … I'm almost surprised to admit it, but I don't mind. No, it actually excites me. I'd have sold my soul to access the System before the Tutorial, and I'd still do it today. Maybe I need to dance with Death to truly feel alive. Entry 4 Chance, the manipulation of Concepts, and my own choices have left me well-equipped to ascend to the Zenith—or at least, that's how it seems. Kinetic control, spear, mist, fire, and resistances…

those are my cards now. Amassing more won't help me conquer my Tribulations; I need to strengthen what I already have. The priority is clear: temper my body. The hologram that serves as my mentor has told me everything he can, but I sense his limitations—bound by oaths... and fears. Some topics seem taboo, and I'm nearly certain he projects his own anxieties onto me. Is he afraid that I might choose, as he did, to join the Depths? The lack of spoon-fed information bothered me at first, but I've made peace with it.

Maybe it's for the best. Despite his former status, my mentor was only the Prince of a minor branch of a mythical clan. I don't want faulty guidance to stifle my growth.

"He didn't know it was impossible, so he did it." That phrase makes me want to aim for the sun; worst case, I'll land among the stars. Last night, while gazing at the firmament, I pondered the best skills to combine with Heavenly Dragon and thought about mimicking the universe. With a physique inspired by the Seven Great Concepts, I'd have no weaknesses. For that, I need seven trophies, seven ideal resistances, and seven brutal trials to temper them…

It's a project of titanic proportions, but I have time to prepare. I feel like a med student before their first operation—I want to know exactly what I'm doing. Entry 5 I've been researching the nature of a resistance and how it differs from a typical skill. The first thing I've confirmed is that they are passive; I don't need to activate them or even think about them for them to protect me. By cross-referencing data from [Diagnosis], my genetic knowledge, and various descriptions, I understand why.

A resistance alters the body, the genome, and the aetheric code—whatever that means. Some even affect the mind, the spirit, and potentially the soul. It isn't just a rune inscribed on one of my soul's layers, replicated throughout my cells; it's a mutation of the user. (Added in the margin.) This explains why humanity's racial Talent is so powerful. By increasing our adaptability, it accelerates positive mutations, and thus, the acquisition of resistances.

Thanks to [He Who Eludes Death], I've managed to acquire twenty-five resistances. In comparison, Kazuki has only eight. Conversations with the other residents of Oasis helped me develop a theory: a resistance defends the user against an influence perceived as harmful. For the body, that's straightforward: if a disease kills my cells, only the ones that survive will multiply, eventually creating a resistance with the System's help. For the mind, it's more complicated.

As a side effect, [Free Will] seems to strengthen my desire for freedom, but is that all? Every experience shapes my ego, but am I comfortable with the idea that the System might do the same? I also learned that the source of a resistance's creation doesn't necessarily come from outside. This morning, Myuri revealed that she possesses [Fear Resistance] and [Shame Resistance].

Respectively, these abilities dampened her terror and allowed her to obey degrading orders when she was still under Esmée's brother's control. Despite the rage that rises in me as I write this, I can't help but wonder. Just how much can one reshape themselves using the System? Entry 6 The first gate of Heavenly Dragon will be founded on [Ciphered Record], an ideal legendary resistance. It will symbolize Order, one of the Seven Great Concepts, as it shrouds my identity—my place in this reality.

The core of the second Terror, a draconic Tier 1 Prince capable of evading any form of identification, will make the perfect trophy, and a sentence from my mentor gave me the idea for a trial capable of tempering it. Waves eighty, ninety, and all from ninety-five onward deserve an Achievement. The residents of Sector Hope are too fearful to watch me in Elysium. However, the Moon isn't as well-guarded. Millions, perhaps billions, of users ready to scry me are an opportunity too good to pass up.

There, I can begin my tempering. Using their voyeuristic tendencies to strengthen my privacy… I relish the irony. —Excerpt from Priam's journal. If Memory hadn't been sealed, Priam was sure [Ciphered Record] would have gained several levels in seconds. After being barred for so long by Elysium's laws, every seer, prophet, augur, diviner, paparazzo, and spy in Sector Hope was jumping at the chance to glean information about the First Champion of the Golden Generation.

An extravagant number of aetheric probes flooded the arena, searching for him. Within his Domain, they swarmed like an infinite number of locusts, eager to devour his secrets. He couldn't count them all and forced himself to ignore them. Still, a faint smile curved his lips as most evaporated upon contact with him. [Ciphered Record], his resistance to divination, was frustrating billions of intelligence agents.

The probes that managed to pierce his skin's barrier coursed along his meridians to his human heart, then up to his brain. There, a special meridian connected his decision-making organ to his soul. Between these two critical points lay a threshold: the spirit. Since obtaining [Brainless], Priam's brain functioned largely as a processor and a secondary hard drive.

Most of his emotions and decisions originated from his spirit, the home of his mind, a sort of phantom brain composed of the same spiritual material as his meridians. Some probes scanned his brain for information, but the majority of diviners seemed to lack anatomical knowledge and continued onward. It was fascinating to see the different ways one could attempt to gather intel on a target.

Half the remaining probes stopped at his spirit, while the others pressed forward into his soul space to observe his essence directly. Based on the data collected, the diviners and oracles could partially reconstruct his status. Unfortunately for them, [Ciphered Record] scrambled Priam's aetheric signature and encrypted his aether, rendering the gathered data useless. It was already an impressive outcome, but he needed to go further.

The legendary skill struggled to intercept all the probes and encrypt his aether quickly enough. Despite his resistance's efforts, his secrets were slowly being revealed. To change the game, he needed to temper it.

"Here we go." Priam's meridians spread like roots around his head, reaching every corner of his brain. This spiritual network, superimposed on his arteries, veins, and the labyrinth of his neurons, had recently been reorganized according to Heavenly Dragon's instructions. The pathways no longer occupied random positions but formed a three-dimensional magical pattern.

It was a ritual of mind-boggling complexity, infinitely more sophisticated than anything Priam had seen before—a sequence of arcane sigils woven into a formation as mysterious as it was sublime. Worthy of a dragon. Taking a deep breath, Priam activated [In the Zone]. His laser-focused mind harnessed every ounce of his willpower to control [High Aether Manipulation]. The aether circulating through his body froze, then rushed into his brain to fuel the ritual.

His cerebral meridians, some as narrow as capillaries, swelled with energy. As the aether thickened within those slender channels, pressure gradually built, condensing the fluid. Soon, only [Adaptive Golden Meridians] and their recent refinements kept the delicate pathways from rupturing. Too concentrated to feel the pain, Priam continued drawing in all the energy he could muster.

His human heart generated the aether, his soul purified it, and he guided it into the draconic formation completing itself within his mind. After several tense minutes, a critical threshold was breached, and the ritual ignited. At the center of Priam's brain, where his primary meridian met his mind and soul, the aether compressed to the point of changing state. A core formed, a tiny grain of solid aether that gradually expanded to the size of a grain of rice before stabilizing. The seed of the gate was ready.

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"Phase two," Priam murmured while raising the second Terror's core and pressing it to his forehead. Swallowing hard, he directed the aether to another segment of the ritual. The energy flow eroded the smallest meridians, but most held firm. The second draconic pattern released a pulse that halted upon reaching the core of the second Terror. Heavenly Dragon had detected the trophy that would fertilize the gate's seed. In the next instant, an irresistible force seized it with tyrannical intensity.

Priam screamed as the orb of solid aether—a sphere the size of his fist—fractured his skull and penetrated his brain. Any ordinary human would have died instantly, but Priam was no ordinary man. [Tenacious Spirit] took over, allowing him to maintain control of his body through Micro despite half his head splattering across the arena's sands. Ignoring the agony once more, Priam focused on the magic working at the center of his skull.

The Terror's core was vaporized by the draconic formation, transformed into a cloud that soon enveloped the gate's seed. After a moment of suspension, the miracle of creation repeated itself. Drawn in like matter to a newborn star, the nebula condensed and fused with the pseudo-core. Once every particle of aether was absorbed, an orb floated at the heart of the Champion's brain. The fertilized seed had become the embryo of a gate.

Both physical and spiritual, it lay nestled between Priam's brain and his soul, clogging his primary meridian. The immense energy it contained—equivalent to the reserves of a Tier 1 Prince—gave it a weight and a gravitational pull that disrupted the ambient aether. Suddenly, the embryo trembled, shaken by a quake. With a grimace twisting the unscathed side of his face, Priam unleashed his draconic will against the lingering ghost of the ego hidden within the core.

Had he not defeated the Terror himself, the unstable sphere would have detonated, and the tempering—and this life—would have ended here. But Priam had triumphed fair and square. Acknowledging its defeat, the Prince's spectral presence dissipated. The Champion took a moment to admire his handiwork. At the center of his half-shattered brain floated the seed of a gate. On the spiritual plane, billions of aetheric probes coursed up a spiritual meridian at that same location. It's now or never.

As [Tenacious Spirit] began to waver, Priam roared and activated the third and final part of the ritual. Channeling his aether into a different segment of the draconic formation, he watched as the embryo grew. The sphere stretched and hollowed out, forming a ring. When the circle's diameter reached the size of a small pea, Priam used his aether proficiency to etch a rune from the fourth layer of his soul into it. The rune of [Ciphered Record], an ideal legendary skill, was intricate but beautiful.

As soon as it was done, he bordered the rune with several mysterious draconic runes. The meticulous work—each rune only a few microns across—split his skull with pain, but Priam was grinning. The gate was almost complete. Satisfied, he restored his head using the daily boon from [Three-Headed Hydra]. If all went well, he wouldn't lose his head again today. Using his aether mastery once more, the novice aetherist manipulated his primary meridian so its edges would fit snugly inside the ring.

The adaptation occurred with a spiritual click, and suddenly, the aether fueled the gate. It began to vibrate as the rune on its surface resonated with the one in his soul. [Ciphered Record] was no longer just a skill; it was now physically anchored within Priam's body. The tempering could begin. The ring encircled a meridian through which millions of divinatory probes passed at any given moment. For an aetheric gate designed to resist divinations and other espionage attempts, this was an affront.

Powered by the aether flowing through it, the rune inscribed on the modified core began filtering the current. A kind of spiritual net formed, but the probes that reached this point often came from Mid Tiers. They tore through the mesh, breaching the gate's defenses. This was exactly what Priam sought: a trial capable of tempering his creation. After all, there was only one way to cultivate resistance, and that was through pain, fire, and blood—sometimes literally.

Fueled by its creator's aether, the gate reconstructed the torn net over and over. Stimulated by failures and victories alike, the draconic runes on the ring's surface multiplied, reinforcing the structure and amplifying the effect of the resistance. Focused by Heavenly Dragon, [Ciphered Record] obliterated the divinatory probes while encoding Priam's aether. The gate's influence wasn't just local; it affected his entire body. Time passed, and the tempering continued.

Despite the lack of level-ups, the resistance grew stronger, and the gate evolved. Like thorns devouring the corpses of fallen intruders, the sigils spread by consuming the probes halted by the net. Several hours later, when Priam opened his eyes, the gate was complete. The ring was covered with runes so sophisticated and enigmatic that even Gollum might have abandoned the One Ring for it. Half physical, half spiritual, the structure was woven from countless strands of aether.

Its mere presence influenced the ambient energy, even while dormant. The Champion rose, ending the Heavenly Dragon ritual. The aether surged out of his brain to flow naturally through his body once more. His human heart pulsed the primordial fluid from the soles of his feet to the depths of his soul, passing through the new gate. A shiver ran down his spine as it fully activated.

The tempered resistance spread its wings, filtering his aether, encrypting his signature, and fortifying his Domain to banish all attempts at spying. Thanks to Micro, Priam detected the remnants of billions of probes floating within him. A few survivors still moved, searching for a way out of the hostile, labyrinthine environment. In his influence sphere, the probes drifted like drunk drivers, seeking Priam but failing to find him.

As Priam beheld the tyrannical dominion of his resistance, a grin spread across his face. [Ciphered Record] had finally earned its description.

"Everyone sees me, but none understand." Then, he sensed a new capability within himself. Through his gate, he could now temporarily overclock his resistance. With a dismissive flick of his hand, he banished the vast majority of the divinatory probes from the arena. No skill below Tier 4 survived the purge.

"The power of a single tempered resistance... I wonder what the final form of Heavenly Dragon looks like." Priam grinned.

"No, more than that—I wonder what a true dragon is really like." Sitting on his throne, Viracocha opened his eyes. He had spent the last few hours spying on Priam Azura, using the Talent he had granted him at the end of the Reunion. The young human seemed to have had enough and had just metaphorically slammed the door in his face. The minor god waited a few moments before exhaling in relief. Despite the insult, the System hadn't granted an upgrade to the Champion's [Iconoclast].

Having someone piss on his statue was humiliating enough, but being unable to observe one of his chosen... Hoping no one would ever learn that he had just been dismissed by a Tier 0, the Tier 5 wondered if he should reconsider his plans for humanity's second Reunion. The ice shattered in front of FK-13 and FK-14, exploding into a flurry of enchanted shards that skittered harmlessly across them. Even if constitution wasn't their forte, injuring a Tier 4 was no easy feat.

"Those scrying tools don't come cheap," a voice growled from behind. FK-13 was the first to scramble to his feet, swiftly followed by FK-14, and both bowed before the Slayer, the leader of the Hope Sector branch of the Assassin's Guild.

"Slayer," FK-13 addressed him, his voice laced with the respect due to a Myth.

"Murderer FK-13, FK-14." The Tier 6's gaze swept disdainfully over the dozens of unconscious assistants lying amidst the remnants of shattered ice. None of them would likely rise above the rank of batteries for aetheric tools.

"Report."

"Target 17 has begun tempering his body after defeating the eightieth wave of the Colosseum," FK-14 began. FK-13 had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. The entire Sector knew that already. A shadow passed over the Slayer's eyes, and FK-13 realized he wasn't the only one irritated by the redundant report. Given a Tier 6's capacity for collateral damage, he hastily added more detail.

"The target used the fact that half the Sector was trying to scry him to temper a legendary evolution of [Divination Resistance]." The Slayer sneered.

"I assume no one thought to deprive him of that opportunity?"

"Your assumption is correct," FK-14 answered the rhetorical question without hesitation. This fool is going to get us killed!

"I suspect the resistance was maxed and at ideal rarity," FK-13 interjected quickly, gesturing to the shattered ice behind him.

"That's the only explanation for why he could wipe out billions of probes with a mere gesture… and why our intel is so scarce." FK-13 felt ashamed to admit it, but even the scant data gathered by his scrying skill was mostly indecipherable. The visual of the target they had managed to capture was also remarkably blurred.

"It's possible his tempering method itself is of mythical rarity," FK-14 added.

"During brief fluctuations in his aura, I detected two distinct mythical signatures. One matched the hydras, the other, dragons. He could be trying to purify a bloodline." The Slayer's eyes narrowed.

"The target hasn't declared any new Tribulations since his quadruple. His profile shows a tendency to boast about his progress. If he's not hiding any Achievements, it's impossible for his resistance to be maxed; he would have undergone seven Tribulations by now." FK-13 exchanged a glance with FK-14.

"Forgive us, Slayer, but without a maxed skill, even a mythical tempering wouldn't be enough to elevate a resistance to the point where it could break a Tier 4 scrying tool. It's likely the target hasn't disclosed all his Achievements." The Tier 6 bent down to inspect a shard of glass. The blurred image of the target was still faintly visible, captured at the moment of the ice's explosion. He remained silent for a moment before responding.

"No. He's published everything—I can sense it."

"But then—""There are ways to boost the potency of one's resistances. Did you document his Concepts?"

"An unknown evolution of Fire, an alien variant of Mist, and Breath. None of them should be able to encrypt his records to this extent."

"Then he must be using a Talent or Merit… or perhaps both. Reclassify Target 17 as a Mid Tier threat. At his next Reunion, no novice is allowed to approach or engage him."

"But the client insisted on the urgency of the mission. If he makes it past wave ninety-five—" began FK-14. An oppressive aura slammed FK-13 and his colleague to the ground. The Tier 4 lost all sense of his surroundings; his thoughts were obliterated until only primal terror remained, a fear so deep it made him wish for death. An eternity later, FK-13 let out a ragged breath as air filled his lungs once more. A voice drifted to his ears.

"If Priam Azura has proven anything, it's that no Tier 0 in this Sector can stop a Champion. I won't draw his suspicion with failed assassination attempts. No Low Tier agent is permitted to intercept him. Should he set foot on an unprotected planet, I want every available Mid Tier on him. That includes Tier 5." When FK-13 finally rose to his feet, he sighed at the sight of his rival's lifeless expression. FK-14 was dead, and now he would have twice the workload until a replacement was found.

As he exited the scrying chamber, he wondered idly if Priam knew a Tier 4 had just died because of him. Just a Tier 0, and yet…

"Ah." FK-13 let out a joyless laugh.

"No, whatever he is, Priam Azura is far more than that." [Tribulation]: Five Tribulations pending. Future Tribulations delayed until: Time: 136 days 17 hours 27 minutes 59 seconds. Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 600 / 6 attributes > 900 / 1 attribute > 1 200 Next arc already complete on Patreon if you want to find out what happens next! https: //www. patreon. com/ANovelConcept