Chapter 396 385: Kazuki the Storm vs. Brhawa the Wanderer - A Novel Concept - He Who Eludes Death

"Esmée warned Léo about a ritual capable of dooming his clan," Priam announced, turning to the other members of Oasis. "The Snaherts were holding a grenade, and she pulled the pin while it was still in their hands."

He said nothing about the Necromoon. Whether Esmée had spoken the truth to earn her brother's favor, or simply couldn't lie due to a geas, Rose wouldn't forgive.

"So what, she gets a free pass?" the teen spat, jaw clenched. "She's some kind of aether genius, right? She could've disabled the poison cloud before it ever went off."

"Léo would never have let her," Kazuki interjected. "He wanted the Snaherts gone."

"Then she could've told us! You could've found a way to stop the ritual during Léo and Ophis's fight."

Kazuki and Jasmine remained silent. Deep down, the hoplite and the assassin were probably satisfied with how the night had ended. Priam didn't judge them for it. They were the counterbalance to his idealism. Without them, Oasis would crash and burn. Without him, their rise might set the world on fire.

"Double-crossing a Transcendent can be deadly," Louis said gently. "Especially when you're not all that strong. Esmée isn't stealthy like Jasmine or lethal like Kazuki—her weapon is her influence. Betraying Léo was gambling with her life… and between her own and the lives of thousands, she made her choice."

Rose glanced around, searching for support. "Am I the only one disturbed by so much selfishness?"

No one answered—until Osiris raised his hand. "I... All life is precious," he murmured hesitantly.

Louis sighed. "I would've tried to find another way too. But you can't blame someone for valuing their own life over strangers'."

"That depends on how many lives we're talking about!" Rose flared. "One versus ten thousand—"

"Rose, you are not responsible for your father's actions," Priam interrupted. "You don't need to redeem the lives he destroyed to bring you back."

The teenager's eyes widened. She looked away.

"As for Esmée… There's only one Champion per civilization. It takes a certain mindset to rise above billions. And the first rule is: believe in yourself more than anything else. Esmée's hope for freedom lies in herself, and only herself—no matter how many lives that costs. No one's saying it's right. But it is understandable."

Rose collapsed into her seat, frustration etched across her face. "I don't like it. Esmée... she feels like a spider, weaving people into her web to get what she wants."

Priam glanced at the princess once more. Standing behind three men, forced to remain upright while her brother picked from a bowl of sweets, the woman didn't quite match Rose's portrait.

"A spider? No… more like prey, caught in the web of fate, thrashing to exist," he murmured—too softly for Rose to hear. "And every twitch she makes leads to tragedy."

"She makes me sad," Jasmine said, leaning against his shoulder. "But none of this changes much for us, does it?"

"No. See if you can find a way to worsen Léo's condition."

"I already have a few ideas," the young woman smirked, stifling a yawn. The all-nighter was catching up. "You think the Aelbes are going to get cocky now that it's just them, us, and the Gaeserts?"

"I think they'll get scared," Priam replied. "All the scheming in the world won't matter when the tournament results come in. And today, I'll crush their chances of taking the Tier 2 title."

"You sound confident."

"I'm a Champion," said the Juggernaut. He, too, believed in himself more than in anyone else.

The wanderer watched as a true giant landed lightly in the arena. His body was crisscrossed with scars, each one a testament to battles past. His opponent had been forged in combat and tempered in blood. Well, that makes two of us.

The duelists met at the center, stopping just a few paces apart to size each other up. They looked like half-brothers from different worlds. One with green eyes and pale skin, the other brown-eyed and sun-darkened, both of them powerfully built, both wielding a spear.

The clansman gave the enemy's weapon a second look. A spear longer than its wielder by half; it would give his foe excellent reach, but it would become a liability if he got inside the guard.

"Begin," commanded the Demiurge.

He launched forward, deflecting an opening blow meant to stall him. Refusing to play the enemy's game, the tribal warrior surged ahead, channeling Micro II to accelerate.

The shaft of the enemy's weapon came for his head. He ducked low—only to run headlong into a rising knee. Eyes clenched shut, he tucked his chin and led with his forehead, trusting his physique.

Bone met air.

Realizing he had been baited, the Gaesert planted a foot to stop his fall, failed to deploy his Domain, and opened his eyes. Shit.

The enemy hadn't overlooked his blunder. Muscles twisting, the warrior twisted at the last second to avoid being gutted—but not fast enough. The blade slashed his side, shredding some abdominal muscles.

After a roll to reposition, he looked up to see the enemy already upon him. A freezing fire exploded in his shoulder as steel bit deep.

He's herding me. Damn it—if I don't change the rhythm, he'll control the whole fight… and I'll lose.

Growling, the warrior unleashed his Berserk Concept. The world turned crimson as his spilled blood became the fuel for raw destruction.

"Madness is the enemy of the soldier," his opponent sighed. "When it hinders Duty, it must be subdued."

As instinct seized the reins and pushed ego aside, Brhawa roared—an animal challenge meant to rattle the man before him.

When the air finally stilled, there was no fear in the hoplite's gaze. Only an implacable certainty.

With a single thought, Kazuki summoned Knightmare. The mechanized armor enveloped him like a second skin, and then metallic atoms fused with his very biology to enhance every fiber of his being. The synergy of skill and Merit rewrote him down to the cellular level. Where once chemistry governed his flesh, now nuclear reactions pulsed through it. If not for Duty keeping him grounded, Kazuki might have cracked a grin at the immense energy now coursing through him. He was at the top of his game, and he knew he could crush his foe.

The onboard AI finished its calibration, syncing his mind with quantum processors. Then golden eyes opened on the world.

Across from him, the enemy had succumbed to his own Concept. Two predators stood now, one forged of blood and bone, the other of alloy and algorithm.

Kazuki lunged. Raising Dori high, he brought the spear down with the full fury of his augmented form. Metal and muscle screamed under the strain; polymer tendons tore under the weight of the strike. The result?

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[Guillotine - Epic].

A move inspired by Priam—unstoppable, brutal, and deadly enough to jump a Tier.

The arena exploded. Sand erupted in all directions, and a crater marred the battlefield like a scar. As a few wayward grains scratched his armor, Kazuki scowled. His blade was clean.

"ARHHHHHHHH!"

The hoplite looked up at the approaching avatar of wrath. Bloodshot eyes, reddish-brown skin—his enemy descended like a comet bent on causing an extinction event. Another Tier 0 might have crumbled under the sight, but not Kazuki. After all, he sparred with the Juggernaut every morning.

Bracing behind his spear, Kazuki barely budged under the blow. His physique, altered by his Titan bloodline and strengthened by a few Merits, bowed only to the Juggernaut's.

Now locked in close quarters, Kazuki winced at the stench of the Gaesert's garlicky breath. Activating his filtration system, he would have sighed in relief if the enemy wasn't trying to crush him.

His spear still pressed against Kazuki's, the Gaesert hit the ground with a heavy thud. The berserker roared, trying to throw the hoplite off-balance, who retaliated in kind. A contest of raw strength began.

The tips of his sabatons dug into the stone revealed beneath the stripped-away sand, and the hoplite pushed. His back arched like a drawn bow, his opponent mirrored him with feral brutality.

Ten seconds passed, the world holding its breath. Soon, it became clear the two warriors were evenly matched. Prodigy of a millennia-old clan, Tier 1 and still, the Gaesert couldn't outmuscle Kazuki. His instincts must have picked up on it, because the boar-man let out a roar.

Kazuki watched with morbid fascination as the man's lower canines pierced through his lips, tusks blooming from a distorted jaw. When muscles bulged grotesquely and veins burst like over-pressurized pipes, it was proof that the berserker was overclocking Micro well past safe thresholds.

An alarm shrieked as Knightmare's rivets began to twist under the pressure. Frowning, Kazuki activated [Acceleration] and called upon the Name of the Wind. Twin nuclear turbines in his back roared to life, compressing gas and hurling it through exhaust nozzles at supersonic speed. Propelled by the same engines as a fighter jet, Kazuki took off—his enemy in tow.

They soared beyond the arena walls, past the colosseum's rim, into the open skies of the inner world.

"Time to end this."

With a single surge, Kazuki broke free. The Gaesert plummeted like a stone, roaring in helpless rage. Buried in the sound was a psychic attack meant to drive him mad with bloodlust. It shattered harmlessly against Kazuki's Duty.

The Warrior holstered his spear, then, aiming downward, he fired two [Railgun - MK Javelins]. The projectiles caught up to the enemy, and punched into his limbs, pinning the brute to the arena floor far below.

Then Kazuki dropped. Arms wide, a perfect swan dive. His engines flared, and with a thunderclap, he broke the sound barrier. Splitting the sky like lightning, feet together, Kazuki closed his eyes.

[I am the Spear - Legendary]. Spear Mastery II. War Aura.

The impact fractured the arena. Blood was found as far up as the stands.

image [https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/pw/ADCreHe-VDvVNooY-CjCTx95D8D_RUn9rz7oFWsQL4yjepeKtJK3hIxWrXMJJFjsyXIg7k5foKGYLiiBeueoRifa5JCVygDmrczn6BdLDh8qGLFKkcFknHdjXunPVbkXLHP9Xd8BTq30WLyonWE8fPlkW9I=w1181-h295-s-no?authuser=0]If he had been a thousand years younger, Sumstreh would have screamed in rage. Breaching Oasis' defenses had been a grueling ordeal, made worse by the constant pain of his mutilated soul. None of the protections exceeded Tier 0, but the quality was so absurdly high it hardly mattered. Who the hell used a legendary dome of the seventh rank to repel undead? Even a Tier 4 would need a few minutes of sustained assault to punch through. The full installation had to cost at least ten million Sun Points, a fortune big enough to buy a small planet.

Disgusted by the vulgar display of wealth from the upstart who had become his nemesis, Sumstreh had opted for stealth. He had had to draw on every scrap of his old self's knowledge to hack through the barrier without triggering a single alarm. The operation took him nearly twelve infuriating hours, but the fallen god had prevailed.

Evading the guards had been relatively easy, but he nearly fainted upon discovering the second barrier woven into the rampart. Riding the momentum of his recent success, he identified a weak point within a few hours and finally entered the inner sanctum.

Compared to the outside, it was heaven. The influence of the Necromoon was barely noticeable here. That would change in the months to come, but for the moment, it was a balm. The peace soothed Sumstreh's frayed temper, and he chose not to massacre the residents right away. A decision he would later congratulate himself for as a slaughter might have alerted Priam or triggered a defensive quest. The last thing he needed was Champions rushing back with a Demiurge in tow.

After some exploration, Sumstreh was not thrilled to find the passage to the world fragment was underground, housed in a chamber accessible only through the Tal Quercus. Given that the tree was a direct descendant of the Empress herself, damaging it was out of the question. Sumstreh resorted to trickery and tagged along with a crafter.

The Fallen then spent five hours scrutinizing the rift for traps, alarms, or hidden defenses. Nothing. Priam had made a mistake, and ironically, that cost Sumstreh more time than if a proper defense had been installed.

"Am I overestimating him? No, even the Tyrant agrees with me. The lack of defense must be part of his plan!"

Choking down his fury, the rabhorn leapt through the tamed rift. A chamber of song-sculpted glass welcomed him. Raising his adorable little snout, Sumstreh scanned for signs of Necromoon corruption.

"Nothing," he smiled.

Rummaging through the building, he found a well-enchanted outpost nestled in a paradisiacal bay. A few hoplites and crafters came and went, but the place was mostly deserted. Its defenses were aimed outward.

After adding traps to the rift, Sumstreh went in search of the locals. His soul was in a deplorable state and needed spiritual healing. System users were rarely bothered by such issues—resistances handled the minor stuff, and Tribulations the major—but most heathens had to heal themselves. Sumstreh hoped a shaman or spiritualist could help him before he went Apocryphal.

He had no desire to become a demon.

An hour later, he was swimming toward the largest cluster of souls in the world fragment. Several illusion arrays tried to mislead him, but they were useless against the spiritual senses granted by the Faith Path. He could hunt a soul like a bloodhound tracks a fugitive.

Swimming with the grace of a horned rabbit, Sumstreh pondered his life choices when he felt a powerful soul stir and dove. Far beneath the waves, his Domain brushed against a massive whale-like creature. Draconic in origin, the colossal beast paid him no mind—a sign of limited intelligence. Pleased to have found a mount worthy of him, Sumstreh invoked his Concept to tame the Fourth Terror.

The pseudo-leviathan reared, unleashing an impressive but futile defense. It was only delaying the inevitable. At the end of a mental duel, Sumstreh triumphed and reached out to bind the defeated soul.

That was when he discovered an old soul-mark. The creature already had a master. Ignoring the warning, Sumstreh erased the signature and imprinted his revised divine brand—refined after the Priam scandal.

Satisfied, the Fallen opened his eyes just as a shockwave tore through the ocean. A true spiritual tsunami scanned the entire world fragment in a fraction of a second and then locked onto him.

Sumstreh froze. Even at his peak, he had never wielded such a potent Aura. A primal fear surged through him as a terrible presence weighed down on his very essence. The herald of a Monarch's approach.

When the Fallen's horrified heart gave out, a supreme Will denied him death.

In the abyssal depths of the ocean, Sumstreh finally understood the meaning of terror. For a Tier 1 to wield such might, their race could only belong to one of the three supreme bloodlines.

The Terror's draconic nature gave him all the clues he needed. A true, pure-blooded Dragon was coming.

And he had just tried to steal from it.

image [https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/pw/ABLVV86ntzoD-HJqDVAP1s444IvMXkepEihhSPuBu0d47WxVUUFRguQ_8nYcMN9aBTM0At6gkJAg08bpBWOOTjFiD2hdRWzDPMxaTJPwXFhhfte2683qZMgu-ZEV_BMGNKexI5K87smBQhRzI3lno1TfgEkn=w1181-h295-s-no?authuser=0]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

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