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

Béchar teetered between awe and disbelief. Priam's plan was as mad as it was magnificent. Energy, Matter, Dimension, Karma, Soul, Order, and Chaos. Together, these Grand Concepts embodied the entirety of creation. A body constructed upon such foundations could only be flawless.

“Brilliant. Just…” He struggled for a stronger superlative, then gave up. “Brilliant. But I doubt [Energy Resistance] even exists—and if the Concepts allow it, it would be far beyond Legendary quality, incompatible with Tier 0. How do you plan to pull this off?”

“I’ll select resistances capable of evolving toward these Grand Concepts. By continually refining [Fire Champion Physique], I think I can get closer to something like [Energy Resistance]. Later, I’ll probably have to merge it with other skills to expand its scope, but that’s a problem for future me. Right now, the priority is a perfect foundation.”

Béchar nodded. His own failure had been not having a strong enough base, a mistake he was still paying for. In contrast, Priam was chasing perfection, a pursuit that promised a grueling path ahead but also the power needed to stand a chance at victory.

“Have you already chosen your seven resistances?”

“Not all of them. I’ve got most of the necessary ones, but not all at ideal quality. For example, [Space Resistance] or [Gravity Resistance] would be perfect for Dimension, but right now, they’re just high skills,” Priam sighed, glancing down at his snack.

“I’ve got no idea what their prerequisites are,” admitted the overseer. He was even wondering how Priam had managed to get such skills before mid-Tier. “But you’re still young; you’ve got time to find them.”

Priam shot him an annoyed look. “My instincts are screaming at me to Tier up before the next Reunion.”

“So what? The first body tempering has nothing to do with Soul cultivation. You can always finish it at Tier 1.” Seeing Priam’s eyes light up, Béchar chuckled. “Feeling better?”

“You’re insane.”

The Colosseum’s sun-warmed sand tickled Priam’s feet. The sound of the massive double doors closing echoed across the stone stands. It was in this empty arena that he had fought through the first fifty-five waves. He intended to beat his record today, but first…

“What about your fulcrum?” Béchar asked, cracking his knuckles. “You need a final resistance to bind the other seven together. What could possibly stand above the Seven?”

Priam simply smiled. “That was the first thing I thought of."

“For someone so curious, you sure do like your secrets,” grumbled the overseer.

“I’ll tell you if you beat me.”

“Is that a wager or a taunt? Ha!” A wicked grin spread across the old, muscle-bound man’s face. "I can’t wait to humble you.”

Like gun duelists from history, the two opponents stood thirty paces apart. When the gong sounded, Priam summoned a dozen hybrid Pyro-ice spears. Propelled by his will, they intercepted the shapeshifter mid-charge.

Priam’s lips curled into a grin as Promesse materialized in his hands. The cloud of flames and frost exploded as his opponent emerged. In the next instant, razor-sharp claws clashed against the blade of his bound weapon. A shower of sparks flew as the two fighters recoiled from the impact.

“You’ll need to upgrade that spear,” Béchar noted.

Priam frowned at the chipped blade. “It’s on my to-do list.”

Without another word, Béchar leaped again, and Priam greeted him with a slash. His spear narrowly missed taking his opponent’s head, while he jumped to evade a spiked tail lashing out at him. Though the shapeshifter maintained a humanoid form, he allowed himself a few enhancements. The appendage changed directions behind him, and only Priam’s instinct and experience saved him from being skewered. The Domains of both combatants canceled each other out, leaving only their natural senses to guide them, and he didn't have eyes in the back of his head.

Lvl Up: [Matrix Dodge] lvl 16, …, 31

AGI +32

DEXT +16

Priam scrutinized his opponent, searching for any tell. According to Kazuki, a warrior's intentions were betrayed more by the orientation of their feet, hips, and shoulders than by their gaze. A powerful strike required gathering momentum, and that action was visible. There!

Béchar's eyes were fixed on his neck, but his torso was tilted too low. He’s preparing a lateral attack.

Priam leaned forward. Spinning Promesse, he parried with the spear’s shaft and siphoned off the kinetic energy to fuel his own counterattack. The blade of Promesse arced toward Béchar’s right foot. At the moment of contact, instead of piercing the flesh, it bounced off a plate of bone. If not in the midst of a duel, Priam might have raised an eyebrow.

Undeterred by the failed strike, he continued his assault. Planting Promesse’s tip into the ground, he used the spear as a pole. Gathering momentum, he unleashed a spinning kick, planting his foot against Béchar’s chest and sending him flying. Priam summoned a dozen explosive projectiles aimed at his airborne opponent.

As the haze and smoke obscured his view, Priam analyzed the previous exchange. The strength behind his maxed-out skill and the halo of Spear Mastery should have been enough to damage a Tier 3’s defenses. He hadn’t expected to win easily, but Béchar’s bones were unnaturally durable. Constitution over four thousand… plus an evolved [Piercing Resistance]?

The wall of flames tore apart, revealing the shapeshifter. His clothes had burned away, exposing an old yet ripped body. Despite the barrage, his torso bore no visible marks; it would take more than that to bring down a Tier 3. Exchanging grins, the two warriors clashed once more, circling each other, searching for an opening.

Béchar’s claws sometimes moved fast enough to slash at Priam, slowly shredding skin and flesh. The supervisor’s martial skills were superior, as were his attributes. The fight was uneven, but that was just how Priam liked it.

He was learning. His shroud of mist extended steadily, blocking his opponent's vision or concealing his movements, while [Kinetic Control] granted him the speed and power needed to bridge the gap between their physical prowess. His meridians strained under the pressure, absorbing each impact to fuel his own offenses.

A normal Tier 0 would have long been dead, but Priam grinned as he felt the immense energy coursing through his body. It seemed to roar, and he was perfectly content to let it rage. Thrust, cut, swing, grapple, feint, dodge, parry—the young warrior was putting into practice all the knowledge he had accumulated over the past two weeks. As he fought Béchar, the experience from thousands of duels synthesized into a unique style. Priam’s style.

According to Kazuki, this was the best way to upgrade his spear skills to the ideal quality.

"You’ve worked on your fundamentals," Béchar acknowledged, leaping forward. Both his opened arms ended in five massive claws, poised to clamp down on Priam like a vise.

The Champion jumped back, hurling his mist forward to blind his opponent. The Tier 3 stopped his attack, raising his elbows to protect his face; he was a sitting duck. Priam seized the opportunity, unleashing half of his kinetic reserves through Promesse, bringing his spear down like the wrath of a god.

Béchar blocked the strike with his forearms, channeling the force into the ground. The stone beneath his feet cracked like a spider’s web. Grinning between two massive claws, he met Priam's gaze: this duel was far from over.

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“If that’s how you want to play it…”

Priam summoned Pyro, and the entire arena erupted in flames. It was as though a star had ignited at the Colosseum's center.

The shapeshifter grunted, holding his breath. Moments later, the flames had consumed every molecule of oxygen. If Breath couldn’t steal the air from a master of Micro, a more mundane approach would do the trick. Enraged, Béchar dashed through the inferno. Priam vaulted over him like a child playing leapfrog, planning to punish the useless charge.

Kazuki had repeatedly told him to exploit every single mistake his enemy made. The young warrior hadn’t forgotten that lesson, nor the others.

Priam had spent nearly five hours a day honing his weaknesses. The Strength threshold had prevented him from pushing his basic skills further, but the experience was still invaluable. Moreover, he cared less about raw stats and more about achieving an ideal upgrade. The fruits of his two weeks of training were generous indeed.

Lvl Up: [Unrelenting Thrust] lvl 38, 39, 40

STR +9

Lvl Up: [Hoplite Slash] lvl 16, ..., 20

STR +15

Lvl Up: [Hoplite Parry] lvl 3, …, 7

STR +15

Lvl Up: [Spear Grappling] lvl 11, …, 16

STR +6

AGI +12

Lvl Up: [Battle Flow] lvl 32, …, 38

PERC +7

DEXT +14

Lvl Up: [Battle Footwork] lvl 17, …, 30

AGI +28

DEXT +14

Dropping back to the ground behind Béchar, Priam crouched and swept his leg in a wide arc. His shin smashed violently into his opponent’s leg, and blood sprayed across the sand. At the last moment, the shapeshifter had sprouted a bone spike from his ankle, piercing the Champion’s calf.

Bechar’s grimace was even more pronounced than Priam’s, betraying his secret: he had suffered too. Instead of retreating, the young warrior grabbed his opponent’s arm and gathered the fury of Pyro. At last, the enemy’s skin began to soften, melting like hot wax. With a bellow, the overseer slammed his forehead into Priam’s.

Thrown back, Priam tucked into a roll before staggering to his feet. He glanced down and assessed the damage to his leg. The muscle was torn—it would take nearly half a day for his vitality to heal it naturally. Fast by any measure, but far from instant. Letting his add-on use his kinetic mastery to stabilize and compensate for the injury, Priam straightened up fully.

“The bone thorn was a nice trick,” he said through the mind bridge.

“Usually ends the fight,” Bechar grunted, inspecting his ankle. “You’ve got, what, a quarter of my Constitution? And still managed to fracture my bone.”

“You know I’ve got ideal resistances.”

“I don’t know shit, kid. The only ones with top-tier resistances like that are heirs from powerful factions, and I wasn’t dumb enough to fight them.”

Bechar’s crude language was a dead giveaway of his pain.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Priam taunted, merging with his mist. He reappeared in close proximity to the overseer. [Tribulation Piercing Spear]! A spiraling sheath of aether surrounded the spear’s tip as Promesse slammed into Bechar’s bare chest. The shockwave sent sand flying and shook Priam’s arm down to the bone.

Lvl Up: [Tribulation Piercing Spear] lvl 19, …, 24

STR +6

AGI +6

DEXT +6

“Not bad,” Bechar said with a thin smile.

Priam’s eyes widened when he saw the spear’s tip struggling to penetrate the wrinkled skin. Beneath the surface, the shapeshifter’s pectoral barely quivered.

“What the—”

An uppercut caught him on the chin. [Kinetic Control] absorbed most of the impact, but the remaining force still launched Priam into the air. Bechar caught him mid-flight and drove a kick into the young warrior’s solar plexus. The blow would have knocked the wind out of anyone else, but Priam was a Breath’s master. He seized the shapeshifter's foot, locking him in place with his kinetic mastery.

He opened his mouth, drawing in the ambient aether...

Attacking a servant of the System will result in your expulsion from the Colosseum.

Time: 1 hour (considering your Title of Nobility)

Priam released Bechar and disengaged, dispersing Pyro and Breath back into his draconic lung.

“Damn...” Bechar panted, his hands trembling uncontrollably as he touched down.

“I... Sorry,” Priam apologized. The overseer had updated the Colosseum's parameters at the last moment. Locked by [Kinetic Control], this had been his only way of signaling Priam not to finish the attack.

“It’s my bad. I should’ve figured you’d unleash your Breath when Promesse didn’t pierce my defenses,” the Tier 3 muttered. “[High Piercing Resistance], [Great Cutting Resistance], and[Blast Resistance]—that’s how I tempered my body. Served me well in my youth, but nothing that could stop a draconic assault.”

With a casual gesture, he summoned a pair of linen trousers and a shirt, quickly dressing.

“And Pyro?” Priam asked. “It didn’t do a thing to you.”

“Némésis lets me nullify an enemy’s Concept.”

“The hell? That’s cheating!”

Bechar let out a gravelly chuckle. “Maybe it’s an advantage against lower-tier Concepts, but it’s not much help against the heavy hitters.” He studied Priam’s gaze for a moment before shaking his head. “I doubt you’d be able to unlock it; you’d have to be willing to sacrifice your life for vengeance. Unless you’re Monte Cristo, don’t even bother. Anyway, I won’t keep you—you’ve got some rewards to claim.”

With those words, the overseer vanished from the arena. He’s wounded in his pride, right?

Priam himself was far from satisfied with the outcome of the duel. The Tier 3’s body had been so resilient that Promesse had proved useless. He had had to resort to extreme measures to secure victory, and that rankled him. I need to strengthen my offensive capabilities…

Determined to work off his frustration on some unfortunate bosses, Priam challenged the Colosseum. There were rewards to be earned.

An iron gate clanged open, and a boar charged forward. Bechar predicted a massacre. With a single sweep of his spear, Promesse pierced the beast’s eye and brain. The gong sounded, heralding the start of the second wave. The first hadn’t lasted five seconds.

In the minutes that followed, the overseer watched the young Champion cut down beast clone after beast clone, always with his spear. Despite the disparity in attributes, Priam studied each opponent, seeking inspiration or, failing that, the perfect strike.

“He seizes every opportunity to improve. With that kind of mindset, no wonder I lost.”

After a century of battle, Bechar was superior to Priam when it came to martial skills. It brought him no pride, as his experience and superior attributes hadn’t been enough to overcome his opponent. Kinetic mastery and versatile mist had been all the Champion needed to hold his own against a stronger opponent.

“And a stupidly resilient body. He barely grimaced when I kicked him.”

Promesse found a weak spot in Galapagos’ shell, the boss of the twentieth wave, and the massive tortoise collapsed. Watching the result of the young man’s progress over the past two months, Bechar couldn’t help but wonder what he himself had accomplished in the last two centuries. Sure, Priam was a terrifying prodigy, but he was still just a Tier 0.

“And he could’ve killed me…”

The naked truth was too ugly to be dressed up; it had to be faced. Bechar shuddered, recalling the moment his instincts had dulled while Breath threatened to obliterate him. Unable to move, he had had to wait for Priam to release him before his animal brain recognized that he had stared death in the face. One of the Champion’s Talents had numbed his caution, and if he hadn’t noticed the signs of a draconic attack, Bechar would have died.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“And he’s got the gall to be disappointed he didn’t wipe the floor with me. No respect for your elders!” exclaimed the Tier 3 to himself.

Through the screen in his chamber, he watched as the arena’s sand coalesced into a massive golem. Five heartbeats later, the boss of the fiftieth wave was vitrified by impossibly hot flames. An Earl stood no chance against a Duke.

Priam’s previous record was wave fifty-five. The further he pushed, the more exceptional his rewards would be, possibly earning Achievements that would echo throughout the Sector.

If the Champion defied the odds in his Colosseum, Bechar would also reap some rewards.

“Now go and set an impossible record, kid. If you become famous enough, I might even brag about losing to you.”

And Priam granted his wish.

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

/ANovelConcept