Chương 330: Chapter 322: A bad dream and a second Gate

The coldness of sea spray hitting his face dragged Priam from slumber. What... Where? Priam blinked at the sound of waves crashing against the shore. It was a bad idea, and the blinding rays of the sun immediately punished his curiosity. He groaned, shutting his eyes again, and let his hearing take over. To his left, the ocean waged war on the shore, relentless waves battering the sand mere meters away. The tremors of their assault reverberated through the ground, reaching up into his body.

Despite the violence of the tide, Priam found himself smiling. The rhythmic crash of waves, the salty tang in the air, the soft caress of sand beneath him, and the sun's kisses on his skin—all of it felt familiar. I'm home. A sudden chill on his feet snapped him from his reverie. A dying wave had summoned its final strength to lap at his toes before retreating, leaving the warm summer breeze to dry his skin. Must've dozed off. Yawning, Priam stretched and began piecing together his memories.

When he had first sprawled out for a nap, the ocean had been far off. Now, hours later, the rising tide had claimed dozens of meters of beach to reach him. Shaking out his towel to free it of sand, he sighed. The rude awakening had dragged him out of a fantastic dream. I was... some kind of mage? Or maybe a tank? Both? The details were already slipping through his fingers like water. What he remembered, though, was exhilarating—he had had powers. Better yet, the dream had been lucid: he had been in control.

Casting fireballs from his palms, riding mist like an elemental... The thought alone made him grin. I'm probably forgetting the best parts. The remnants of his dream were already fading, and the sound of an older voice behind him dispelled it entirely.

"Caught off guard by the tide, son?" Priam groaned.

"I think the barbecue coma got to me."

"You'd feel better during the day if you went to bed earlier," his father repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

"Victoire keeps me up," Priam replied with a wink.

"And she goes to bed at a decent hour, leaving you to rot your brain reading until dawn. Well, you're an adult; it's your call." Alain squinted up at the bright star, now approaching its zenith.

"Mind the sun—it's dangerous at this hour." Priam glanced at his tanned arms. By late summer, after two months of boating and beach days, his skin had turned a rich Mediterranean bronze. Even though sunburn was no longer a concern, he nodded. His father's caution wasn't without cause; after Alain's bout with skin cancer, he took UV rays seriously—and rightfully so.

"I'll throw on a shirt next time. Promise."

"You'll thank me later. Where's Victoire?" Priam gestured northward.

"Off collecting shells to make roudoudous." Filling a clam's empty half-shell with caramel to create a makeshift candy was a childhood favorite in the region. Simple, sweet, and homemade.

"Ah, there she is," Alain said, pointing. Priam squinted but failed to see anything. His eyesight was more mole than hawk, and his deteriorating vision wasn't helped by late-night reading or hours spent gaming. Even with prescription sunglasses, distant shapes blurred together.

"It's been three years, you two. Things going well?" Alain asked casually.

"She's amazing. Honestly, I can't find a single flaw." Alain raised a skeptical brow, and Priam sighed. He was closer to his father than anyone else in his life. Because of that, Alain was sometimes able to read Priam behind his masks.

"I'm weird."

"You're not in love. That's different."

"But I want to love her!" Priam snapped. His heart rebelled against reason, and with each day he failed to return her feelings, guilt gnawed at his soul.

"I couldn't ask for anyone better. She's perfect."

"People rarely fall in love with perfect. Your mother—""I'd rather not talk about Mom." Silence fell, broken only by the sound of waves. Victoire's figure was growing closer, her exaggerated, playful gestures drawing a laugh from Priam. He did care for her—like a sister. No. That's gross. Like a friend. As Victoire closed the distance to fifty meters, Priam plastered on a smile.

"Hey there, lovebirds!" Victoire called out, her green eyes sparkling with joy.

"Did my prince charming sleep well?"

"Yeah. Had an awesome dream."

"Oh? Tell me!"

"Can't remember much, but I was some kind of mage-warrior and—" Humanity has been chosen by the Seven Great Concepts. Congratulations! The Tutorial is about to begin. Complete it to find your starting place in a new Universe. Choose your level of difficulty. Time: 60 seconds. The notification appeared squarely in Priam's vision, demanding his attention.

"What the... You see that too?"

"Words floating in front of me. And I can read them without my glasses." Unlike his son, Alain was farsighted. As his father and girlfriend reacted to the message in their own ways, Priam's heartbeat thundered in his chest. Adrenaline flooded his brain, kicking him into the zone. What could be the origin of this message? Possibilities ranging from a prank to an alien invasion were dissected before Priam admitted his incompetence.

If someone could penetrate the minds of at least three people without visible tools, then they were out of his league. One thing was certain: the world had just changed. Sensing potential danger, Priam reread the message, analyzing it. If the entity or organization behind this notification had put as much effort into crafting the message as transmitting it, then every word had likely been chosen with care. At first glance, several unfamiliar keywords appeared.

On the second, it seemed clear the information provided was insufficient to make an informed choice. These two elements suggested Priam was supposed to have knowledge he didn't yet possess. From this conclusion, the next step was obvious.

"... What are the levels of difficulty?" he asked aloud. There are seven levels of difficulty. Free, Easy, Normal, Hard, Perilous, Nightmare. Time: 50 seconds.

"Priam, you—" He raised a hand to ask for silence. The notification responded, offering a clue about its true nature. This wasn't just a message. Whether advanced AI or an interface with a higher being, the conclusion was the same: they were being monitored.

"What's the difference between the levels? Survival rates?" Priam pressed aloud before continuing in his thoughts.

"Are there prerequisites?" A higher difficulty level gives access to greater rewards. Survival rates depend on the species and the individual. The System does not yet have information on your species' chances of survival. There are no prerequisites. Time: 40 seconds.

"You see what I see?" Priam asked, forcing himself to stay calm despite the realization that an unknown entity could read his thoughts.

"Yes," Victoire confirmed.

"How many messages?"

"Three." In the distance, chaos erupted as people panicked. Their reactions weren't in sync with Priam's questions. For some reason, likely geographic, the three of them shared the same thread.

"This looks dangerous—" Alain began.

"What's the seventh level?" Priam interrupted. Time was running out, and these free questions were clearly crucial. The seventh difficulty level is Impossible. Time: 25 seconds.

"Is it really impossible?" Nothing is impossible. Time: 20 seconds.

"Priam," Victoire whispered, clutching his hand. With a subtle nod, she indicated Alain. Priam turned to his father, the person he loved most in the world. He saw the wrinkles, the shortness of breath after walking on the sand, the hunched back. Reading the worry in his eyes, Priam felt something break inside. Despite all his desires for adventure, despite his heart screaming to choose Achilles' path, Priam rejected danger and glory for safety and peace. Time: 5 seconds.

"Hard. Let's go with Hard," he sighed. Reason applauded while his heart wailed. Lvl Up: [Free Will] lvl 13 If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. WILL +6 CHAR +3 While the Juggernaut endured his dual mental Tribulations, his add-on activated, taking over his unconscious body. Without its creator to guide it, [Priam's System] began executing pre-programmed protocols. [Verifying nemesis activity.] The first priority was to ensure that the Mythic shield was preventing the remaining three Tribulations from reaching Priam's body, mind, or soul. According to his mentor, no Tribulation below the tenth had the means to emulate a Mythical skill, which was the minimum required to affect the temporary protection. Still, it was better to err on the side of caution. It wouldn't be the first time the Phoenix Prince had been proven wrong. Using its host's senses, the Assistant scanned the surroundings.

Infrared, ultraviolet, visible spectrum, Domain, anomalous particle movements... Nothing. It appeared the enemy had vacated the area, and no further Tribulations manifested. The add-on lacked the ability to worry and was therefore unbothered by this strange development. [Low probability of interference. Initiating tempering process for the second gate— [Free Will].] Early in his journey, Priam had discovered a unique synergy between his racial Talent, [Humanity Adapts], and his unique boon, [He Who Eludes Death].

One helped him develop resistances to harmful stimuli, while the other allowed him to resurrect while erasing almost all physical scars. Together, they formed a virtuous cycle—a feedback loop that could, in time, render him unbreakable. From that moment, Priam understood he was meant to become a tank. Of course, the repeated destruction of his body, mind, and soul would inflict pain so intense it transcended agony, but the Juggernaut had accepted this reality even before acquiring [He Who Eludes Death].

His ability to endure present torment while focusing on a radiant future was one of the reasons he had earned the Talent in the first place. The subsequent adventures only confirmed his vision. Barriers that stalled others simply did not exist for him. Legendary skills demanded ties to a Concept or Supremacy? What had seemed like an insurmountable wall crumbled before ideal upgrades. Better still, Priam's resistances often exceeded those of his peers at similar levels of rarity.

Few dared dream beyond a high upgrade—how could they? Priam himself had to die multiple times to collect some ideal prerequisites. Only Tribulations remained as a true obstacle, preventing the Champion from simply holing up in a cave for a millennium to farm his resistances. An overdose of vitality and constitution would inevitably push him toward perilous thresholds.

He wasn't the only one in the universe blessed with broken abilities, and the System ensured through grueling trials that its fighters weren't mere stat collectors. Though Priam had initially loathed the concept of Tribulations, he now understood their purpose. Without them, he might have abused his resurrection ability to a dead end. As his patron had failed to reach the Zenith, Priam couldn't blindly follow the same path.

Surviving the System's ordeals was a way to defend his build from Tier 0 onwards, testing the viability of his progress and the potential of his choices. Tribulations, lethal to the average, were a precious gift to prodigies. Priam's pride demanded that he see himself as such, and his intellect ensured he lived up to the title. This drove the Juggernaut to scrutinize his build. Was focusing on defense causing him to overlook critical objectives like aether manipulation or pursuing Supremacies? Maybe.

So what should he do? The answer lay within his heart: he had to be greedy. His mentor concurred. Why settle for one path? This wasn't a role-playing game—it was his own life. If he could possess the defense of a tank and the offense of a mage, it would be foolish to hesitate. Perhaps the System or the nature of the Zenith would one day force him to specialize. On that day, he wouldn't shy away from making a choice. For now, he would aim to become a master of all trades.

Reassured about his goals and dreams, Priam resolved to take his greed a step further: if the backbone of his build was his resistances, they had to be absurd. Ideal upgrades and the merits of [Life is Hard; I'm Harder] were helpful, but the pinnacle lay elsewhere. Body tempering. Five opportunities, from Tier 0 to Zenith, to refine his body—to perfect, reinforce, and elevate it. If he were honest, Priam didn't fully understand this opportunity.

It seemed linked to Micro; Béchar had been stuck in his Supremacy progression due to poor-quality tempering. Beyond that, Heavenly Dragon allowed Priam to purify his draconic bloodline, another avenue to the Zenith. Furthermore, an enigma troubled him: a Mythic tempering method was supposed to be perfect for Tier 0, yet Heavenly Dragon surpassed that rarity by two ranks. These mysteries piqued his curiosity, but they paled in comparison to the facts: tempering his body allowed him to anchor resistances.

These passive skills would no longer be mere runes etched into his soul and inscribed in his cells. The creation of a gate enabled resonance between body, meridians, mind, and soul, multiplying the resistance's effectiveness while elevating its quality. Naturally, such opportunities weren't infinite. Priam could temper only eight resistances. The first was [Ciphered Record], a guardian of his privacy. A skill that had proven invaluable countless times. For his second resistance, Priam had chosen [Free Will].

Its purpose was simple: to protect his mind, consciousness, and ego from manipulation or assault. An interesting side effect of the skill was that it increased the resilience of that which it protected. It was no secret that Priam valued his freedom above all else, and this resistance would safeguard the most important aspect: his freedom of thought. Its Epic rarity instead of Legendary didn't diminish its core mission; in fact, its tempering might even fulfill an ideal prerequisite.

To balance its benefits, tempering wasn't free. It required a trophy—a meaningful artifact tied to the warrior's history. For this occasion, Priam had selected Sumstreh's core, a fitting treasure for multiple reasons. First, Sumstreh had been and still was a formidable enemy—the remnants of a minor god commanding the souls of his followers. Priam had chosen to model his tempering after the Seven Grand Concepts, with [Free Will] aligning under Soul. Sumstreh's core was a perfect thematic match.

Second, the Fallen had attempted—and briefly succeeded—in turning Priam into a puppet. Even now, the memory of that day filled him with rage—and robbed him of sleep. That day, despite his resurrection ability, Priam had nearly lost everything. That brush with eternal enslavement had shaken him awake, flooding him with the fear necessary to keep pushing forward. Sumstreh had left an indelible mark on Priam's journey, making it poetic justice for the enemy's core to become the warrior's strength. [Trophy selected.] Priam's hand closed around the half-core. A surge of pure aether spilled forth. Tracing its origin, any skilled aetherist would find its source: the heart of a High Tribulation, tailored specifically for Priam and traded with Thaal against the fulcrum of the Deluge. On its own, the core was a decent trophy. With the infused High Tribulation, it became an ideal trophy, rivaling any dragon heart. [Reading Heavenly Dragon instructions… Activating draconic ritual.] The add-on harnessed its host's energy, channeling it through [High Aether Manipulation] to guide the primordial fluid along his pathways. Generated by his hearts, purified by his soul, and transported through his [Golden Adaptive Meridians], the aether stream surged toward Priam's right eye. The Heavenly Dragon method allowed its users to choose the organ where their gates would be formed, yet emphasized its critical importance. Priam had chosen one of his eyes as they were the windows to the soul.

For a resistance based on Soul—one of the Seven Concepts—the choice was meaningful. The fluid surged into the eye with such force that some meridians swelled, their walls scraped raw. Had he been conscious, Priam might have winced in pain. His add-on ignored the nociceptors' pain signals, devoting its full computational capacity to managing the aether's flow. If pathways were like three-dimensional webs, the final ritual required a specific pattern that resonated with aether to alter reality.

In truth, the draconic formation was a labyrinth of impossibly complex runes, a construct beyond Priam's understanding. Fortunately for him, comprehension wasn't a prerequisite for replication. Roughly one-third of the eye's meridians needed to be filled, while the rest had to remain empty. Simple on paper, but in practice, hundreds of pathways of varying sizes—some as minuscule as capillaries—had to be precisely filled.

To add to the fun, excess pressure could rupture the aether vessels, triggering a cascade of failures that would culminate in the ritual's implosion. Priam had calculated that releasing such an immense and chaotic amount of energy would result in his head detonating; a creative way to die but one that would set his plans back by months. Unacceptable. Oblivious to its master's potential frustration, the add-on directed the aether through the correct meridians in precise quantities.

Within Priam's eyeball, a constellation of glowing lines appeared, some bizarre and others possessing a geometric elegance. Gradually, they began to pulse with energy. After five minutes and forty-six seconds—three seconds faster than the average of the simulations—a critical threshold was reached, and the ritual activated. In the center of the eye, hundreds of energy-laden pathways, perfectly mirroring Heavenly Dragon's blueprint, hummed with power.

The superimposed draconic sigil radiated a magical property that resonated with the world. Within a tiny vortex, the aether condensed into a solid state. Soon, the seed of the second gate, no larger than a grain of rice, hovered in the center of Priam's right eye, nestled among frayed optic nerves and eroded meridians. [First phase—Gate Seed Creation—completed successfully.] Without indulging in any misplaced sense of triumph, the add-on seamlessly transitioned to its next task.

[Initiating second phase: Seed Fertilization.] Priam's body raised his right hand to his right eye. The instant Sumstreh's demi-core made contact with his pupil, the second phase of the draconic ritual began. The seed's voracious pull on the trophy ruptured his pupil, unleashing blood. As though struck by a battering ram, the double mental Tribulations quaked.

Lvl Up: [Free Will] lvl 14 WILL +6 CHAR +3 Status: PHYSICAL: Strength 893 Constitution 1 434 Agility 1 194 Vitality 1 326 Perception 864 MENTAL: Vivacity (D) 599 Dexterity 758 Memory 902 Willpower 1 032 (+17) Charisma 691 (+11) META: Meta-affinity 1 016 Meta-focus 568 Meta-endurance 935 Meta-perception 541 Meta-chance 616 Meta-authority 453 Potential: 27 680 (+6) Tier 0 Sun points: 1 143 444 [He Who Eludes Death] charge: PRIMED.

Concepts: Breath (T0): 100% / Harmony Fire (T0): 100% / Unity Pyro (T1): 100% / Half-step Unity Mist (T1): 100% / Symphony Bloodlines: Phoenix: 3% Dragon: 1% Rewards standing: Colosseum VIP Token Fusion Token - Skill (Epic) Evolution Token - Skill (Legendary) Affinity Token - Tier 1 (30%) Alien Concept fragment (7th Terror) Talent Token - Upgrade (Seraph) Revelation Token - Ideal Prerequisites (Epic) Colosseum VIP Token Reborn Token - Reset biological lifespan (Legendary) Minor skill Epiphany Seed of Potential Trophy Compass [Tribulation]: None coming.

Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 900 / 3 attributes > 1 200 / 1 attribute > 1 500 Next arc already complete on Patreon if you want to find out what happens next! https: //www. patreon. com/ANovelConcept