A Novel Concept - A death a day, MC will live anyway!

Perched on a branch of the Log-a-Rhythm tree, Priam gazed out over Oasis, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. The hoplites were defending the perimeter while the bio traps devoured wave after wave of corrupted.

In the battle zone between the rampart and the barrier, a streak of white lightning darted after Sphinx. The kid laughed, using the undead like springboards, leaving behind splatters of gore. Behind her, the juvenile moon wyrm, blessed with Holy Guardian properties, pierced through her enemies with ease. For now, she was adorable—looking a lot like Dratini from Pokémon—but Priam knew she would grow terrifying in adulthood.

“She stole another kill from Moonie?” Jasmine asked lazily, sprawled out on a nearby branch.

“Almost certainly. She’s been gunning for a name change, too.”

“Moonie?”

“Yep.”

“Because of Sphinx?”

“Yep.”

The young sphinx had been deeply moved when Priam told her about her death in the erased timeline. To honor the sacrifice of her alternate self, she vowed to give up her name after her first High Tribulation. If the dead had only their names left, they deserved to own them fully.

That had surprised Priam, until the phoenix prince told him Sphinx was following an ancient tradition.

“Still seems kinda weird,” Jasmine mused.

“Surviving a High Tribulation baptizes the soul and ego with aether. Many creatures gain sapience during that time and choose a new name,” Priam explained, repeating what he had been taught.

“So that’s why they call it a ‘baptism,’ huh?”

“... I suppose?. In any case, that’s what happened to the first sphinx—who named herself Sphinx—long before she founded her bloodline.”

When Priam had asked if the first phoenix called itself Phoenix, his mentor had shot him a look of pure disdain.

“Our young friend is following in her ancestor’s footsteps,” summarized Kazuki. The hoplite hovered, held aloft by a powerful updraft. Since completing his Tribulations, he had embraced the Wind Concept—“The Name of the Wind,” as he liked to call it. “Since she is an orphan, it’s not surprising. She was never going to keep this baby name forever.”

“Orphan or not, it doesn’t change a thing. According to the prince, mythical beasts’ parents pick a name at birth. It’s expected they’ll rename themselves at Tier 1.”

Priam found the tradition fascinating. Most beast clans had achieved or surpassed the level of civilization found in sapient races, yet they still honored their primal roots.

“Have those two picked names yet?” Jasmine asked.

“Sphinx is torn between Rhia and Aida. Moonie’s still too young to choose… though she’ll hit her High Tribulation first.”

Moonie’s artificial nature gave her a rapid growth rate. She was originally supposed to spend six months at Tier 0, but Holy Guardian IV cut that time to a quarter.

“How long until she Tier up?” Jasmine asked.

“Twenty-nine days,” Priam calculated. “I just hope she doesn’t grow up too fast. She’s really adorable right now…”

“Hard to believe you almost sacrificed her as a trophy to temper one of your resistances,” Jasmine said with dramatic flair.

“Shhh!” Priam glanced quickly at Moonie, relieved she hadn’t overheard. The little moon wyrm had just caught up with Sphinx, and the two were rolling around in the mud, occasionally vaporizing a corrupted too dense to sense the danger. “I was young and dumb.”

“That was sixteen days ago,” Kazuki pointed out.

Jasmine delivered the finishing blow. “Still dumb, though.”

Priam clutched his chest, feigning a mortal wound. “Betrayal…”

Kazuki ignored his theatrics. “To be fair, a wyrm core would have been perfect for Heavenly Dragon.”

“Speaking of dragons, what about that arrogant prince, Esmée’s brother? He’s got a Sun Wyrm, right? Bet its core would do wonders for your [Fire Champion Physique],” Jasmine remarked, as a shadow brought her a blueberry granita.

Lamnas had managed to graft several different types of berries, one of which tasted remarkably like blackcurrant. When Rose discovered a rune that absorbed ambient heat, she quickly created ice. From there, Priam had the bright idea of mixing the ice with sugar and fruit juice to create an Italian classic.

The result would have made a Sicilian cry.

Fortunately for Oasis’ residents, Blueberry had taken charge and perfected the recipe. Now, Jasmine was downing five kilos of the stuff daily.

“Not gonna lie, I’ve thought about it,” Priam admitted, salivating at the thought of a Sun Wyrm core. “But he hasn’t attacked us yet. I’m not about to become the kind of guy who takes out anyone just because they’ve got something I want.”

If he started doing that, what was the difference between him and Arnold or Anatole? Haven’t thought about him in a while…

“Say that to Myuri!” the assassin protested. The young empyrean had been sexually assaulted by the prince for years. She never spoke about it, but the way she flinched whenever she heard a man’s voice made it clear her past still haunted her.

Priam winced. “Fair point. Guess I’ve got one reason to crack his skull open…”

“Don’t make any hasty decisions,” Kazuki warned. “He’s the crown prince of the Empyreans, a rival civilization. His father is king and resides on Proxima, the same planet as the Earth elites. If he learns you killed his heir and seeks revenge, you’ll have to live knowing that thousands, if not millions, of your kind died because of your decision.”

“So, because he’s powerful, he deserves to live?” Priam fumed.

“They all deserve to die—that’s not the point.” Kazuki’s gaze hardened. “As Champions, our actions have consequences. Don’t forget that it won’t be you who pays the price of a war between your two civilizations: it’ll be your people.”

Kazuki’s words hit Priam like a cold shower. He was right, of course—his age and experience gave him a clearer view of the situation. I may not be a hero, but I’ll be damned if I let others die because of my choices.

It was the lesson he drew from his previous Tribulations.

“Justice and my tempering demand Aydan’s death… but no one can know it was me,” Priam summarized. “Maybe I can help Esmée finish him off.”

Kazuki’s smile turned wicked. “Now you are thinking.”

“Unless she’s already taken care of it,” Priam continued. “It’s been two weeks since anyone’s seen her.”

“Speak of the devil,” Jasmine said, pointing toward the horizon. Esmée was emerging from the forest.

“Need a hand?” Priam offered as Esmée finished scaling Log-a-Rhythm. There was something almost comical about watching the princess hike up her dress with one hand while reaching for handholds with the other. Flexing his biceps, he hoisted his rival up the last meter.

“Thanks.” She gave him a faint smile.

“Something wrong? You seem frustrated.”

Esmée settled in beside him, sitting sidesaddle on the branch. “My brother is less of an idiot than I thought.”

Priam raised an eyebrow as he handed her a slushie. “Meaning?”

“I had planned a… prank. It failed.”

Jasmine snorted. “That sounds like a euphemism for an assassination attempt, right?”

A shiver ran down the princess’s spine, and Priam clenched his jaw. “Let’s be careful with our words; Esmée’s geass is trigger-happy. Even thinking about betraying her father is dangerous.”

“Oh…” Jasmine grimaced. “I know how that feels. Sorry.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The princess wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “It’s nothing.”

“What happened?” Priam asked.

“Aydan contracted a mutated, aggressive form of syphilis. It should have killed him, but with the Sun Shop, my help, and the tribes, he survived long enough to develop [Disease Resistance - Epic]. He is recovering…”

Judging by Esmée’s grimace, she wasn’t pleased..

“One of our scientists’ concerns is that Elysium’s bacteria might also be boosted by the ambient aether,” Kazuki said with a frown. “Is that the case?”

“It’s a sexually transmitted infection from a bacterium; I’m almost certain it evolved to overcome the natural vitality of the locals. However, it’s true that the shaman caring for my brother mentioned worrying diseases.”

“Where did he find someone carrying syphilis?” Priam asked. Esmée’s look was answer enough. “I see…” He shuddered. She’s ruthless!

“Lucky for him, he had you to help him,” Jasmine remarked with irony.

“It shouldn’t have made a difference,” the princess sighed. “Back in Time messed up my predictions. In the normal timeline, the tribes would have been too busy with the Fallen to help him.”

The Champions grimaced. Priam’s reward had had unforeseen consequences.

“Well, I apologize for missing our rendezvous. Still, I’m glad to see you managed to save your friend,” Esmée said, watching Sphinx play nearby.

“It’s partly thanks to you,” Priam replied with a smile.

“Really? I’m curious to know what I did.”

Discussions, plans, sacrifice... and a kiss. Memories flooded Priam’s mind.

“I’ll tell you later,” he answered, aware of Kazuki and Jasmine’s presence. “It’s good that you’re here, though; we were just talking about heading back to the Moon.”

That was where his body tempering would begin.

The air seemed to fold in on itself, and then the Heartstone portal appeared. Without hesitation, Kazuki, Jasmine, Esmée, Louis, Sphinx, Priam, and five hoplites stepped through. The rest of Oasis's defenders saluted before returning to their posts.

You have just left Elysium.

Location: Moon - Earth’s natural satellite - Sector Hope

A fragment of rock orbiting humanity's cradle. Home of the first Reunion.

You cannot leave Elysium indefinitely.

Calculation of your conditional freedom time:

You have changed sectors.

No secure passage opened between this planet and Elysium.

No ongoing event.

No authority on this planet.

Conditional freedom time granted: 1 day.

“One day... That limits sightseeing,” Priam muttered as he surveyed his surroundings. He stood in Sphinx's throne room, Ducal’s Palace, where he had left the mark of the Hearthstone.

“Elysium is a jealous lover.”

The warriors spun around in surprise. On Sphinx’s massive throne sat an old man, his wrinkled face paired with oversized muscles that strained his suit. He was grinning. “I thought you would show up sooner.”

“Béchar! I—”

“That’s my throne!” Sphinx roared.

“Oh, pardon me, my dear. I was just keeping it warm for your arrival,” Béchar deflected, gracefully hopping off the throne. He landed softly and offered a treat to Sphinx, who devoured it, promptly forgetting the insult. Returning to her colossal size, she curled up on her throne, purring.

“I would’ve come sooner,” Priam continued, shaking Béchar’s hand. “But I’ve been pretty busy.”

“I can imagine,” Béchar replied, turning to the new arrivals. “I recognize Sphinx and Louis, but your other companions are new.”

“Allow me to introduce them. Kazuki, my friend and the greatest spear genius in the Sector.” The hoplite nodded without contesting the title. “Jasmine, my shadow…” Through their bond, Jasmine asked him not to elaborate. She was already sizing up the shapeshifter for any weaknesses. “And Esmée, my rival whose pen is sharper than most swords.” The princess performed a flawless bow.

“I am Béchar, one of the four supervisors of humanity's Reunion. I mainly handle warriors and the Colosseum.”

“One of the four supervisors?”

“You didn’t think the other professions would be ignored by the System, did you?” Béchar raised a hand, stopping Priam from asking further questions. “Still so curious. You’ll meet the others during the next Reunion. I assume you’re here for the Colosseum?”

The warriors nodded.

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

The door to Béchar’s office clicked shut. The other fighters hadn’t wasted a second, eager to make the most of every second to rise as high as possible in the Colosseum. After all, they wouldn’t be able to return for a month—the time it would take for Priam’s Hearthstone to recharge.

“You wanted to see me?” Béchar asked, handing Priam a steaming cup.

Priam sank into a leather couch and took a sip. He grimaced. Hot cola?

“Thanks,” he said, setting the drink down and promising himself not to touch it again. “My mentor told me you couldn’t betray my secrets.”

Béchar nodded. “I’m under contract with the System. Just as I can’t show too much favoritism, I’m bound by professional secrecy to never reveal a human's information to anyone.”

“No favoritism?” Priam raised an eyebrow, gesturing around the lavish room. “I find it hard to believe every human gets a snack break with you.”

“Not every human is about to become the First Gladiator; you’ve earned your perks. Enough beating around the bush—what do you need?”

“I want to start my body tempering before my next Tribulations,” Priam said.

“Another quadruple?”

“A quintuple.”

Béchar cursed. “I heard rumors, but I didn’t think you were that crazy.”

The worry in Béchar’s eyes betrayed his harsh words, and Priam smirked.

“I’d say fearless.”

“Same thing,” Béchar grumbled, pouring himself a drink. “Do you have questions about body tempering?”

Priam nodded. The Phoenix Prince had told him everything he could, but his knowledge was limited by oaths. Béchar was the only powerful warrior who could answer his questions without a chance to sell information on him. The Guardian of Secrets might have known more, but the cost was prohibitive.

“My tempering method is called Heavenly Dragon. I’m supposed to forge seven gates and a fulcrum, each tied to a specific resistance and trophies, then temper them under extreme conditions—like, say, bathing in a magma chamber. For weeks, I’ve been wondering which resistances to pick and, more recently, for what purpose.”

“How so?” Béchar asked, downing his cup of hot cola in one gulp and sighing in satisfaction.

This guy has the taste buds of an animal...

“I can get any resistance in its perfect form,” Priam said.

“Yeah, I think the whole Sector knows that by now,” Béchar chuckled. “Everyone knows I can’t reveal anything about you, but I’ve received more messages since your departure than in the rest of my life. You’re a rising star.”

Priam shrugged. “Want an autograph? I’ll sign you one if you can beat me.”

The shapeshifter leaned forward, his teeth turning into fangs. “We’ll see about that in a few minutes. And make it a hundred, they’ll sell like hotcakes.”

“You have no shame,” Priam laughed. He was looking forward to measuring himself against the supervisor.

“Only rich young lords can afford shame; the rest of us don’t have that luxury,” Béchar smiled before summarizing. “You can get any resistance, and you’re wondering which ones to choose.”

“Spot on. At first, I thought about focusing on mental and metaphysical resistances. After all, a resurrection would take care of physical damage. However, if someone messes with my karma, mind, memory, or soul… I might as well be dead.”

Béchar narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“My mentor said the same thing, without being able to explain why. Can you clarify?”

Béchar hesitated. “I’m strong for a Tier 3, but my education’s lacking; we’ll have to speculate. What I do know is that ascending to the Zenith involves the baptism of the soul, the ennoblement of the mind, and the tempering of the body,” he said, raising three fingers.

“That sounds like it’s tied to the three Supremacies: Mastery, Domain, and Micro.”

“I have the same feeling but no proof,” Béchar shrugged. “In my experience, each path changes you. My Concept shapes me, and it’s the same with tempering.”

“You tempered your body?”

Béchar grimaced. “With a common method and three rare resistances.”

In comparison, Heavenly Dragon was of seraphic quality.

“What difference does that make?”Nôv(el)B\\jnn

“My fulcrum’s too weak to support the Low Tier tempering,” the supervisor shrugged again. “In other words, my foundation’s too fragile, so that path’s closed to me, and I’m blocked from advancing Micro.”

“You can’t use another method to temper your body?”

Béchar gave Priam a complicated look. “A gate is like a secondary core. It’s a half-physical, half-spiritual structure that elevates the resistance it’s built on while anchoring it to a part of your body. Tempering your physique means syncing your soul, meridians, and body while transforming the latter. The resistance becomes part of you; it changes you fundamentally. Purging mine would be like tearing out my organs and meridians.”

“Shit,” Priam grimaced. “I thought nothing was impossible in this universe.”

“Hah! True, there are ways,” Béchar gestured to his office. “One hundred years working for the System—that’s the price of my physical rebirth. When I’m done, I’ll temper my body with an epic method. That should unlock Micro and open my path.”

Once Micro was advanced, Béchar could attempt a Tier-up, extending his lifespan. It was a solid plan, but Priam focused on something else: a youthful mistake had cost Béchar nearly a century.

“I hope it works out for you… and I get it now. Focusing on esoteric resistances would put me on too narrow a path.” Priam was more than just a mentally resilient tortoise capable of resurrection. “I had a second idea.”

“Which is?”

“I need to choose seven resistances… What better way to avoid weaknesses than to take inspiration from the best?”

Béchar’s eyes widened. “You mean…”

“Seven gates for seven Great Concepts.”

And one fulcrum to rule them all.

Priam's hearts pounded with force. His body would be second to none.

Next arc already complete on Patreon if you want to find out what happens next!

/ANovelConcept

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