[Art of Movement] has reached level 40, its maximum level as a rare skill.

New upgrade available:

[Speedster - Epic] - You are nearing the upper limit of velocity achievable by a mundane biped. High upgrade potential. Potential Cost: 160

“Well, that wasn’t so hard,” Priam said with a playful grin, throwing in a quick dance step.

Rohan growled. “Everything’s easy when someone spoon-feeds you the solution.”

The remark stirred a memory from university. Priam had once spent four agonizing hours during a math exam trying to crack a problem. He had the beginning and the end, but the middle was a tangled mess. When the solution was released a week later, he had sworn out loud. The answer was as simple as it was elegant—it just required the right insight. Until you find the trick, you can chase your tail for a thousand years.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful,” he said. “You spent three thousand years optimizing how to unlock prerequisites, and now I’m reaping the harvest.”

The ease with which he’d just unlocked the upgrade had less to do with his brilliance than the clan’s groundwork.

“Mmh. As long as you know it,” Rohan replied, waving magnanimously.

Priam felt a flicker of annoyance tug at his hearts. “Has anyone ever told you you’re irritating?”

“Often. But I don’t see why I should listen to people weaker than me—or those who need my help to earn an ideal Skill.”

The two Aces locked eyes until Kazuki stepped in.

“How did you figure out the perfect training regimen for each prerequisite? That grip-enchantment on the track was particularly well-tailored.”

Without it, the speed prerequisite would have been a nightmare to acquire. Rohan responded with a casual wave, beckoning them to follow.

“Mostly thanks to the high upgrades. Volunteers max out [Art of Movement] and then attempt to unlock a single prerequisite through different programs. Our shamans track their progress and time to draw conclusions about the most effective approaches.”

“But candidates’ natural aptitude must skew the data,” the general pointed out.

“True. But with enough data, the best path eventually emerges. After three thousand years, we’ve figured out the optimal method.”

“For your clan only,” Kazuki countered. “Anatomical differences alter the equation. I doubt copying an Aelbe training regimen will let my hoplites achieve the same prerequisites in a short time.”

Rohan nodded. “Well, if you want to get really thorough, you’d also need to consider individual attribute distributions. I know our shamans have created alternate paths for specific builds.”

“Differentiated pedagogy, huh? Same destination, different maps,” Priam summarized. “Smart.”

“Mmh. Given your stats, I’ll show you the method we sell to the Gaeserts to unlock the ‘turning’ prerequisite.”

He stopped in front of a hundred-meter track ending in a sharp hairpin curve.

“Instructions are simple: sprint full speed, then make a sharp turn at the end. I’ll let you guess why our warriors tend to avoid this method.”

“Ankle fractures,” Kazuki offered. “Unlike the Gaeserts, whose high constitution lets them shrug off those kinds of injuries.”

Unlike the feline Aelbes or reptilian Snaherts, Gaesert warriors fused with a boar core during a coming-of-age ritual, pushing them into a defensive build.

“Sprint and turn hard? Sounds simplistic. I’m sure I could perform that already. The System must expect something more,” Priam mused.

“Eh. The System just wants you to prove you’re capable. I’m pretty sure I could survive a lightning strike, but I still won’t earn the Title unless I take the hit. It’s not what you can do, it’s what you do.”

“Makes sense,” Priam admitted. “Just before I try… what method do the Aelbes use?”

“Well, as we’re not brutes with more constitution than agility, we like to play tag whenever we’ve got free time. It’s fun, and it teaches us to change direction fast to avoid getting caught.”

“Doesn’t sound very optimized.” Priam’s tone made it clear he wasn’t impressed.

“Yeah, once they’ve maxed [Art of Movement], our apprentice hunters take about a year to meet the prerequisite—less for those with hypermobility,” Rohan revealed, glancing pointedly at Priam’s hands. “It’s slow, but safe.”

Priam broke into a cold sweat at the idea of taking that long for a single complex prerequisite. “By the balls of Thaal… Hard to believe anyone would spend that long chasing a single prerequisite. Talk about a long run.”

Rohan shrugged. “Only those who make it are trained by our elite hunters. What’s a year, when you’ve got a dream?”

“Not much,” Priam admitted. His mentor had warned him: from mid Tier upward, grinding core skills would become a nightmare. At high Tiers, it only got worse. Some of the oldest Immortals were billions of years old, and they weren’t stagnating by choice. “You only get to build your foundation once…”

“Exactly,” Rohan echoed, then leaned in with a smirk. “Between you and me, though, it’s mostly to keep our teens busy. After the bloodline ritual, their feline instincts go wild, and… let’s just say the adults are grateful when that energy gets burned off during training.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Priam chuckled. He had never owned a cat, but his friends had told stories about their furry gremlins.

Kazuki nodded sagely. “There is nothing like a few dozen kilometers of running to calm the young… though I doubt humanity shares our views on athletic education.”

Priam narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that when we first met, you were as plump as a toddler and nearly as round. You didn’t earn those rolls from running laps.”

Rohan burst out laughing while Priam turned crimson. “First of all—they’re called love handles.”

“Ridiculous,” Rohan scoffed. “Trust me, in bed, women prefer gripping something firm. Like muscles. Or—”

“Second,” Priam cut in, “my physique was the result of a brutal school system. I spent fifteen years glued to a chair learning to read, write, calculate, and philosophize.”

“Sounds mind-numbing,” Rohan yawned.

“Sometimes. Often, really. Still, while I didn’t have a six-pack, I can explain why the sky looks blue.”

“Which I’m sure saved your life countless times,” the clansman deadpanned.

“Funny you bring up saving lives, as I did spare yours just hours ago,” Priam said, then winced as Rohan paled. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“Nah, it’s the truth.”

“Still, it’s beneath me. I apologize.”

Rohan studied him for a few seconds, then sighed. “You’re sincere. That’s… not how we do things here. And stop looking at me with pity—it makes me want to gouge out your eyes.”

“Sorry,” said Priam, hastily redirecting. “About the ‘turning’ prerequisite… You said it’s mandatory for hunters. Why go to such lengths if it takes that long to get?”

“Well, as you probably know, the prerequisites you choose during an upgrade color the final result. This one helps with turning on a dime. At epic rank, [Art of Movement] whispers to your instincts—where to plant your foot, how to position your body, whether a certain move is likely to break something. Our shamans even noted that the ideal upgrade strengthens the ankles and tendons to handle the sharpest turns.”

Genuinely interested, Priam leaned in. “Are you saying it alters the genetic code?”

“If by that you mean the instructions hidden in our cells, then yes,” Rohan nodded. “Yet another reason not to settle for a mediocre upgrade.”

Priam narrowed his eyes. While dissecting his genome to create Homo Elysian, he had discovered that resistances altered a user’s DNA. If Rohan was right, that could apply to all passive skills once they reached a certain rarity. Maybe even active ones?

Moreover, epic upgrades weren’t the end of the road. Legendary ones boosted the soul’s affinity for a Concept. From there, it stood to reason that Mythic-tier skills offer something just as significant. Priam needed to find out what, before committing.

Because if there was one thing the Champion knew for sure, it was that blindly leveling up was a recipe for disaster. He refused to end up with a sloppy build that would cripple his growth.

“Anyway, in real life, we rarely move in straight lines,” Rohan continued. “As our hunters chase prey through woods and forests, being able to turn without losing momentum is vital. That’s why this specific prerequisite is mandatory.”

“Makes sense.”

“Glad to know we’ve got a Champion’s seal of approval,” Rohan said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, if you’re done with the questions, can we get to work?” He pointed toward the track.

More out of habit than necessity, Priam stretched a bit, then stepped up to the start. He crouched down like an Olympic sprinter and waited for Kazuki’s signal. When it came, the young man launched forward. His latest upgrade still fresh in his mind, he focused on his sprint technique to build speed fast. In just six strides, he hit the end of the straightaway. Time to turn.

Planting his left foot at a forty-five-degree angle to prepare for the direction change, he dumped his full weight into it. Every ounce of kinetic energy he had gathered surged through his ankle, which trembled under the strain—then he pushed off. His trajectory swerved sharply, and pain flared in his foot. Biting back a cry, Priam shifted his weight onto his right foot to catch himself, then planted the left again to accelerate. Only Micro kept him from eating dirt as his injured ankle screamed in protest.

A hundred meters later, Priam slowed to a jog. By the time Rohan and Kazuki caught up, he was sitting on the ground with a grin on his face.

“Hardly lost any speed.”

“And you wrecked your ankle. We heard it pop from over there.”

“Didn’t break.”

“Only because you outscale a Titan in raw constitution. You weren’t supposed to accelerate in the turn, dumbass. No one likes an overachiever.”

“I guess I did go the extra mile.” As nobody laughed, Priam sighed. “Anyway, I got the prerequisite.”

[Art of Movement] has reached level 40, its maximum level as a rare skill.

New upgrade available:

[Dribbling Addict - Epic] -Your current trajectory prevents any prediction of your next move. High upgrade potential. Potential Cost: 160

“Nice.”

image [https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/pw/ADCreHe-VDvVNooY-CjCTx95D8D_RUn9rz7oFWsQL4yjepeKtJK3hIxWrXMJJFjsyXIg7k5foKGYLiiBeueoRifa5JCVygDmrczn6BdLDh8qGLFKkcFknHdjXunPVbkXLHP9Xd8BTq30WLyonWE8fPlkW9I=w1181-h295-s-no?authuser=0]With five prerequisites secured, Priam could have stopped there and picked the ideal upgrade. Instead, he followed Rohan to the camp’s outer wall. He was gunning for a passive skill that would sharpen his motor control, and verticality appealed to him more than its kinetic counterpart.

“With Micro, you’ve already got precise control. Add in freerunning, dashing, and tight turns regardless of speed…” Rohan ticked off the advantages. “Now you just need to master three-dimensional movement.”

“So, climbing? I already have a skill for that, so I’m not sure it’s worth fusing them.”

“Depends what you’re aiming for. If you plan to grind [Climbing] to Legendary, keep it. But as we don’t live in the Death Curse Mounts, I don’t really see the point.”

Priam raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, right, I forgot you didn’t get a proper education,” Rohan lied smoothly. Insults seemed to be his love language. “It’s one of the zones that restrict the Wandering Islands journey. A mountain range whose peaks scrape space itself, cursed by an Immortal Concept multiplying local gravity and banning all forms of flight—magical or mundane. Its creator was something else…”

“Wait—its creator? An Immortal created multiple mountains?!”

“Millions of them. All at once,” Rohan corrected. “What’s surprising about that?”

“I don’t know, maybe the scale of it?” Priam replied with a scoff. “That a Tier 7 is that far beyond a Tier 4? That they can rewrite the laws of physics over a whole region? That a single being can casually reshape the geography of Elysium?”

Rohan blinked, then burst out laughing. “Priam, most of Elysium is artificial. The Death Curse Mounts are the corpse of its creator, a steel elemental. The Wandering Islands are leftovers from the internal world of the last Elven Emperor—the actual Empress’s father. You really thought a world this rich in aether and resources happened naturally? The System and the Concepts suck entire universes dry to build this deadly paradise.”

Priam didn’t even think to argue. It made too much sense. From the moment he had arrived in Elysium, he had felt death breathing down his neck.

What else would you expect in a graveyard built for and from high Tiers?

Next arc already complete on Patreon (57 chaps ahead) if you want to find out what happens next!

/ANovelConcept