Priam
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Chapter 392: Generational Clash
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 07:44:54 +0000 UTC2 days late, but a bonus chap to compensate. By the way, I don't plan to keep up with multi-releases all at once and then go silent for a few days. It's just that I got so off schedule that I needed time to get back to a more normal writing/posting rhythm!
Enjoy!
*
Priam clenched and unclenched his fists as he streaked toward Oasis. From the ground, he was nothing more than a black smear slashed across an inky sky. His wings folded tight to remain discreet, he relied on [Kinetic Sovereignty] to propel himself forward. Powerful though the Legendary Skill was, it had a drawback: it generated no energy of its own.
Originally, the skill’s Epic version, [Kinetic Control], had siphoned off kinetic energy from any object that came into contact with Priam—or later, with his Domain—then redirected it elsewhere. Most often, that meant hurling Promesse straight into the hearts of his enemies.
Usually, finding kinetic energy wasn’t a challenge. As a Pyro Sage, he could conjure a flame. At the microscopic level, heating a material meant increasing the agitation of its molecules. For a scientist like Priam, thermal energy was kinetic energy.
Of course, the energy of any one particle was negligible—but their sheer number wasn’t. He had calculated that by lowering the air temperature in his Domain by a single degree—Celsius or Kelvin—it yielded enough kinetic energy to fire Promesse at fifty meters per second. A drop of twenty-one degrees would have launched the Juggernaut toward Oasis at supersonic speed.
Too bad the old elf forbade me from disturbing the environment, Priam thought, resisting the urge to scratch his left eye. The Demiurge had taken up residence there for the duration of the journey.
To soar through the sky unnoticed, the Champion had been forced to tap an internal energy source: the surplus kinetic force of his own twin heartbeats. Even with over a thousand Strength, each beat only pushed him an additional two meters per second. Fortunately, the Juggernaut had two hearts. Within a minute of departure, he had hit half the speed of sound—his cruising velocity. Any faster, and [Echolocation] would no longer be able to cancel out the sonic waves trailing behind him. A skill issue.
Following the Demiurge’s instructions, Priam moved like a stealth bomber—nearly invisible against the starless sky, clinging to clouds and silent. Last but not least, Jasmine was erasing his shadow in real time. The precautions were excellent for training, but they slowed him down, and Priam chafed at the delay, praying Sumstresh hadn’t already obliterated Oasis. He had asked the Demiurge to teleport them, but the Tier 5 had refused, citing a contract between his Queen and the System that barred direct interference with Champions.
“Can’t we go any faster?” Priam ventured. It took courage bordering on madness to question the orders of a Tier 5, but his patience had reached its limits.
Only silence answered. His lips tightened.
“Hey, my help in reaching Sumstresh is worth at least a few answers, isn’t it?”
The mental equivalent of a tongue click echoed through his mind. “Insolence.”
The rebuke wasn’t thunderous, but coming from a Tier 5, it carried weight. Priam faltered in the sky, his consciousness flickering like a dying flame.
He plummeted thirty meters before his will surged back to life, stabilizing his flight. The overwhelming urge to kneel before the power of the Demiurge threatened to drown his mind—but Priam resisted with every ounce of his being. The Juggernaut had begun his journey by cheating death and had continued it by pissing on the statue of a god. He wouldn’t bend the knee before anyone.
“You’ve spent too much time around elves who’ll tell you your farts smell like roses just because you’re strong,” he spat. “If you think I’m going to be just another doormat—”
“Don’t utter words you’ll regret. All Champions struggle with authority, but most are wise enough not to test certain limits.”
“My limits were crossed half an hour ago,” Priam growled. His tongue had moved faster than his mind, his high Vivacity affecting both conscious and unconscious thoughts.
“Was that when you heard about the Aelbe invasion plan, or your sweetheart’s engagement?” the Demiurge mocked.
Priam said nothing, refusing to take the bait.
“At least you’re learning.” A pause. “A Necro Herald has been trailing me since I left the Empire’s heartland. They’re observing from afar—not even on this island—so I gather they’re still too weak to confront me. Still, the moment I cross the rift, nothing will stop them from massacring the tribes. That includes your friends.”
“As if you care about the clans.”
“My Crown Prince wouldn’t appreciate me feeding sacrifices to the Necromoon.”
“I guess being honest is the privilege of the powerful... Couldn’t Léo hold off the Herald?”
“He could. For a second. Ten, if he weren’t currently so weakened. At his peak, your fight would’ve been an execution—or several, if we count your pseudo-resurrections.”
Priam clenched his jaw. He had dissected the battle from every angle and still couldn’t see how he might have beaten the Tier 4. Even with all the upgrade paths suggested by his add-on, he would fall short. The fusion with the White Tiger’s Myth had made the Transcendent damn near invincible. Victory had been a fantasy.
A tooth cracked. He had overclocked the muscles in his jaw without even realizing it.
“Arrogance is the number one cause of death among Champions.”
“Whad?” Priam said, running his tongue over the cracked enamel.
“You’ve gotten used to jumping Tiers, but the gap starts to widen from the mid-Tiers. Don’t delude yourself: beating a Tier 2 raised by a tribe of inbred savages doesn’t mean a damn thing. Be grateful you’re still breathing after crossing blades with a Transcendent, and quit your whining.”
“I’m not whining—” Priam bit back the retort, remembering who he was talking to. “Léo reminded me I’m weak. Worse, he reminded me that the weak don’t get to choose freely. That pisses me off almost as much as this marriage announcement.” He stared ahead, consciously relaxing his jaw. “I’m not whining. I’m just furious I had to bargain.”
The Juggernaut didn’t like compromise.
“Fascinating. Unfortunately, I’m not your therapist.”
Son of a bitch.
Priam swallowed the insult. He wasn’t suicidal, and the Demiurge’s personality reminded him of his maternal grandmother. The kind of person who wouldn’t stoop to telling you the time of day, but would make you bitterly regret any lapse in manners.
The Champion soared over a valley, skimmed a mountain pass, and cleared his throat.
“You never answered my question.”
“You already know the answer. You just don’t want to admit it.” A sigh. “But fine, if you insist on being handed everything like a child... Why did I forbid you from using your wings?”
“The light would be visible for kilometers to the Corrupted. And the Herald can likely see through their eyes.”
The Necro Envoy that had possessed Mirscella’s body certainly could.
“Why are you flying so slowly?”
“Because this is the maximum speed I can reach without making a sound. You think the Herald could detect the vibrations?”
“Why did I instruct you not to draw thermal energy from the air within your Domain?”
“Because...” The answer wasn’t obvious, but given the stealth-related theme of the questions, Priam’s scientific mind formed a hypothesis. “The temperature of a gas affects its density, and density affects its refractive index. If I drained heat from the air, it would’ve warped the way the Necromoon’s light propagates—like a mirage. The Herald could’ve sensed that? Is that also why I’m flying below the clouds? Why you asked Jasmine to erase my shadow? Shit. Are you telling me a Tier 5 can notice something like that from another island?!”
The nearest one was over a hundred kilometers away.
“Demiurge means creator deity. There’s a reason the inhabitants of my inner world worship me. Don’t forget that the next time you speak to me.”
*
Upon reaching the dome of his settlement, Priam exhaled. The journey had taken no more than a few minutes, but it had felt like hours.
He passed through the barrier, offered a curt nod to the hoplite guards, and released a quiet sigh of relief when he saw Hyshana approaching at an leisurely pace.
“The tournament wasn’t supposed to end for another two days. Is Kazuki…?” the hoplite asked, concern lacing her voice.
“He’s fine. I’m here about the rift.”
“The rift?”
“Sumstresh crossed it. No time to explain,” Priam said, already moving toward Log-a-rhythm.
As he laid a hand on the towering, leafy colossus, a spark flashed from its eye. A moment later, the High Marshal materialized at his side, his mere presence freezing Hyshana and every bystander in place.
“My respects, prince,” murmured the Demiurge, inclining his head. With his mask on, it was impossible to gauge his exact emotions. After a few seconds, he turned to Priam. “Let’s proceed.”
The tree opened a passage to a chamber hollowed directly into the bedrock by its roots. Priam groaned at the sight.
Suspended between the chalky white floor and a ceiling of crimson vegetation, a rift levitated. The dimensional tear between two worlds was of impossible geometry. Where Priam’s eyes saw a sphere, his Domain perceived a singularity—a transition from one space to another.
The portal he once stabilized had reverted to its wild state. One didn’t need to be a genius to understand why after seeing the shattered remnants of a runic circle scattered on the ground. The aether that had once composed it was so dense and pure that the fragments had not yet dissipated, though each passing second eroded a few runes into the ambient energy.
“A broken Tier 0 Rift Stabilizer,” recognized the Demiurge.
“Half a million Sun Points,” Priam sighed. “I’ve got just under four hundred thousand left,” he added, glancing at the High Marshal.
“Your subordinates should be able to make up the difference.”
“Most of them answer to Kazuki.”
“You’re wasting time when your friends on the other side could be getting tortured right now.”
“As Sumstresh didn’t attack anyone here, I’d bet he made a quick escape.”
“Precisely. And the trail grows colder with every wasted second.”
“I’ve got all the time in a world to find him. You, on the other hand, have other obligations.”
A staring contest ensued between the two misers before the Demiurge nodded like a teacher conceding that their most stubborn pupil had finally nailed an exercise.
Priam felt a will seize the ambient aether, weaving it into millions of micro-runes that spiraled together like pieces of an impossible puzzle. The fragments of the old stabilizer rose and returned to their place within the glyph: a two-meter-radius circle that locked the singularity in place. The ritual flared, manipulating the dimensional weave, converting the wild rift into a safe portal. Through it, Priam glimpsed the outpost he had ordered constructed.
"Fuck. You tried to get me to buy another stabilizer when your Concept can just do that?!”
“That wasn’t my Concept. Just basic aether manipulation,” came a mocking voice.
Priam turned, and froze. Two elven twins stood before him. Identical body, different soul. While he had almost grown accustomed to the overwhelming presence of the first, the second was clearly less impressive.
“A clone?”
“This fragment of reality lacks Tier 2 aether,” the unmasked clone explained. His face was a lattice of scars, and his eyes bore the weight of exhaustion. “If my true body crossed over, my internal world would begin leaking energy, and I’d have to pay for every action. That Fallen isn’t worth the expense.” With that, he received another mask—the symbol of Imperial justice.
“A Tier 1 clone’ll be enough to track him?”
Priam had no doubt they could defeat Sumstreh—but finding him was another matter.
“No one escapes Justice,” declared the original as the clone stepped through the portal.
“Cool line, but I know a few politicians who would beg to differ,” said Priam before following.
*
Hekthorn - Weary Demiurge
Comments
Expertreader
Lmao reading this right after the kirk assasiantion was funny
Thibault Sabini
So are his wings permanent now? Always on his back?
신현준
Gracias
IdolTrust
Oh the elf that was rooted Log a rhythm is a prince. He needs to get something that can unlock that expensive theme. We need a super op tree to match Priam.
Andrew
Thank you!
Stormblessed
Priam out here toying with death when he doesn't have a second life loaded is exactly what I'd expect from my GOAT
LucStar
We will finally have the final confrontation with the Fallen God.
Custus
Thanks for the chapter!
PriÀm
True. Sorry about that. I pulled an all-nighter to post chapters 389/390/391, which slowed me down a bit. To make it up to you, this one's a double. I promise I shall get back to a more regular schedule!
Julia Niles
Last time didn’t you say the next chapter would be out in 48 hours for real this time?
