Priam
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Chapter 349: A Story for a Story
🕑 Added 2025-03-30 07:28:56 +0000 UTCNext chapter monday 31/03, enjoy!
PS: Priam Character Sheet (you can thanks the Discord guys!)
*
“Tastes like sake!” Louis exclaimed before grinning. “Natsukashii.”
Taking the wooden cup offered to him, Priam lifted it to his nose. The sharp fumes invaded his nostrils, making them tingle. Looking up, he caught Rohan watching him with amusement.
“It's more for breathing than drinking.”
Shrugging, Priam dipped his lips into the clear liquid, trying to roll the liquor over his tongue to extract its full flavor. Having grown up in Bordeaux, he had learned how to taste red wine long before his majority.
Aelbe liquor was not red wine.
The drink set fire to Priam’s mucous membranes, and he swallowed quickly to spare his poor mouth. The next instant, his throat ignited as well, forcing a rough cough from his chest. This liquid fire... he hadn’t felt anything like it since his first sip of rum.
A firm hand patted his back, and Kazuki offered a rare smile. “Don’t let it go down the wrong way.”
With the help of a few Sun Shop pills, the hoplite had mostly recovered from his injuries.
“This is an assassination attempt,” Priam groaned, feeling his esophagus and stomach protest in unison. He didn’t need Micro to track the liquor’s path—his pain receptors screamed that he had just ingested molten lava.
Lvl Up: [Poison Body] lvl 34
CONST +1
VIT +1
META (Endurance) +1
“...This is an assassination attempt?”
Rohan burst into laughter. “Originally, yes.”
Blueberry, holding a cup the size of a plate to his mouth, froze mid-sip. “What?”
The young cat-boy smirked. “Offering alcohol to new friends is an ancient tradition in my tribe—one that started with a murder attempt.” Seeing the intrigued expressions of Oasis’ residents, he continued. “This event dates back nearly three thousand years. Aelbe, our primogenitor, was a Champion, and like you, he didn’t arrive alone. Paragons of their civilizations, eight rivals had conquered terrifying trials to become new immigrants to Elysium.”
“We were kidnapped,” Priam corrected. He might have been one of the few humans who thrived under the Concepts’ interest, but he hadn’t forgotten that none of them had been given a choice.
“I suppose,” Rohan conceded, wetting his lips with more of the potent liquor. “Shortly after reaching Tier 2, my ancestor met Snahert to negotiate an alliance during a trial that involved all their civilizations. The Tiger brought food, and the Serpent, drinks. At the meal’s end, just as a truce was signed, Snahert unveiled a special bottle to celebrate—a liquor he claimed could intoxicate even monsters like them.”
The fire crackled, punctuating the statement.
“That’s weird,” Rose murmured, momentarily forgetting that everyone present had supernatural hearing. As eyes turned toward her, she flushed.
“Share your thoughts,” Priam encouraged.
“Well, I just find it odd that two alien civilizations both knew what alcohol was. It’s not exactly easy to make, is it?”
“Actually, it is,” Louis interjected, his expression radiating the wisdom of a kindly grandfather. “If you take a step back, even animals get high. Dolphins with pufferfish, deer with psychedelic mushrooms, baboons with iboga bark, wallabies with opium, and even some felines with catnip,” he said, eyeing Rohan. The Aelbe’s slit pupils narrowed. “So it’s no surprise that humans have been interested in drugs since the beginning of time, across all continents. The fact that nearly every ethnic group developed their own alcohol shows that brewing is no great secret.” He raised his empty cup. “I said this tastes like sake, right? One of the oldest sakes, kuchikamizake, was made from chewed rice. Saliva breaks down starch into glucose, which ferments into alcohol. Epitome of simplicity, right? So, I’m not surprised that alien races discovered booze.”
Rose wrinkled her nose in disgust, while Jasmine eyed her drink suspiciously. “If I find out I just drank something brewed with spit, you won’t run fast enough for me to not cut your balls.”
“Whoa! It’s not!” Rohan hastily assured, raising his hands. “Well, that kind exists, but it’s only served at weddings. Unless that’s what’s stopping a beauty like you from marrying me—in which case, I might make an exception.”
“I don’t marry men weaker than me.” Jasmine’s smile was ice.
“The tournament will settle that.”
“Stop hitting on my friend and finish your story,” Priam interjected, already irritated by the cat-boy’s antics.
“Right. So, my ancestor was skeptical when Snahert pulled out the bottle. Warriors like us can’t get drunk as easily as crafters. With five hundred points in vitality and constitution combined—way less with [Poison Resistance]—and the strongest standard booze has zero effect. Still, out of courtesy to his rival, he took a sip and... felt intoxicated. That should’ve been impossible. So, he asked Snahert what the trick was.”
Rohan paused, eyes gleaming, waiting for guesses.
“A Concept?” Hyshana suggested.
“Partly, but not entirely.”
“A piercing skill?” Priam tried.
“Nope.”
“A weakening ritual?” Rose asked.
“Clever, but no.” Rohan let the silence stretch before continuing. “As he drank, my ancestor demanded the secret. Snahert revealed that he had infused the liquor with toxic herbs and his own Concept poison. Aelbe left with the bottle under his arm, feigning ignorance that if the poison had worked more effectively, Snahert would have attacked.”
A flicker of disdain crossed Rohan’s face, and Priam understood a bit more about the deep-seated animosities between their tribes.
“Later, after saving his people’s elites, my ancestor tasked his kin with recreating the drink. And so, a tradition was born.”
“So, the Concept poison isn’t necessary?” Blueberry asked, clearly intrigued by the possibilities of toxic cuisine.
“Snahert’s Concept makes superior liquor,” Rohan admitted. “But Gryphe, our Shaman, cultivates her own poisonous berries and fungi, and could outdo them in the next century. By the way, brewing is an art neither tribe monopolizes—even the Sun Shop sells all kinds of alcoholic elixir and toxic spirits.”
Priam glanced at his cup again. “To your ancestor’s health,” he said, downing the rest—his way of paying respect to the story he had just heard. “Damn, it’s even worse the second time.”
He exhaled sharply before turning back to Rohan. “So, the tribes are the descendants of past Champions... And there were eight in total?”
“Six now. One vanished, and the eighth Champion secured a planet for his people by winning the Concepts’ trials.”
“I believe we are encountering a similar situation with Proxima,” Hyshana noted. “What became of those members of your race who did not accompany your ancestor to Elysium?”
Rohan shot her a complicated look. “This world has no mercy for the losers, and we Aelbes are the last ones carrying the torch of our civilization. If there’s an enclave of my race outside Elysium, I’ve never heard of it... and frankly, I doubt it. All our elites migrated here, and without a powerhouse to anchor them, a faction simply can’t survive—even in a sector as young as Hope.”
Priam exchanged a glance with Kazuki who nodded. The System might try to pit them against each other, but in the end, they still had free will. If Prometheus is willing to share Proxima with the hoplites, that’d be ideal. If not...
Louis, sensing the mood darken, raised his cup. “Your speech suggests there are stronger liquors than this one?”
“Of course! But most of them are dangerous unless you’ve got high enough physical attributes, and I didn’t want to poison you. Besides, without the first constitution milestone, there’s no real difference in taste between some of our spirits and liquid fire."
Louis grinned, pouring himself another drink. “This one’s fruity. Made with love.”
“Naturally!” Rohan flashed a sharp-toothed smile, grabbed an entire tankard, and took a deep swig. As he exhaled, a pale white mist escaped his lips. Raising his wrists, he struck two bracelets together, sending a spark through the air. The gas ignited into a swirling emerald flame, a sight reminiscent of a fire-breather’s performance.
“That green hue is a mark of quality. Of respect. If I thought you were weak or wanted to insult you, I’d have uncorked a bottle that burns orange instead.” He gestured toward the campfire they sat around. “Orange means basic alcohol, made by fermenting mundane berries.”
“Actually, when yeast ferments sugar, it produces ethanol, which burns with a pale blue flame,” Priam coughed, briefly entertaining the idea of burning his own lifespan just to soothe his mouth. “It’s the impurities that color the fire orange... and give alcohol its flavor. I learned that the hard way.”
“Oh? That sounds like a story.”
As he saw the assembly turn towards him, the younger ones with stars in their eyes, Priam cleared his throat. “Alright. So, I was a kid, dynamic and adventurous—”
“Reckless,” Alain interjected, setting down a mug filled with sap. Given his age and crafter’s physique, Rohan had advised against the stronger drinks.
“Same thing at that age,” Priam smirked. “Anyway, watching adults drink all the time made me curious. During a wedding, I wanted to try the grown-ups’ drink. I knew my parents would be against it, so I found an indulgent great-uncle, the type who never says no to kids. He let me have a sip of his champagne—some sparkling stuff, as expensive as good. I liked it. So by the end of the meal, when the party started, I slipped away from the babysitter and emptied all the leftover champagne glasses from one of the empty tables.”
“How old were you?” Jasmine asked.
“Four,” Alain answered before his son could.
“One of my oldest memories,” Priam admitted with a grin.
“Were you drunk at the end?”
“Well…”
“He couldn’t walk straight and was so tired he fell asleep in a dog’s basket.”
The raw truth sent the group into laughter.
Priam chuckled. “The adults thought it was hilarious—except one. My mother. The moment she saw me, she slapped me across the face. She was wearing a heavy ring, and it cut me open.” The laughter died down. “When we got home, my dad disinfected the wound with medical alcohol. I must’ve thought it was the same stuff as champagne because the next day, mostly to piss off my mom, I drank some. An hour later, I was in the hospital. The doctor explained to me the difference between champagne and high-proof alcohol. The lesson stuck.”
A brief silence followed before Jasmine smirked. “You haven’t changed.”
“Hmm?”
“That story is about a kid whose curiosity blinds him to danger. Too adventurous to stay ignorant, too free-spirited to listen to his parents, he uses his head to find a workaround. When he succeeds, he’s too excited to be cautious. Caught red-handed, he refuses to accept an unfair punishment, rebels…”
“And ultimately comprehends the lesson upon its rational elucidation,” Kazuki finished. “Jasmine is correct, your essential nature remains unchanged.”
The Juggernaut shook his head with a wry smile. “One thing has changed. These days, no one slaps me anymore.”
*
The next morning, Priam started his day by plunging into the river behind Log-a-Rhythm. Emerging from the icy water, he spotted Louis whistling as he approached.
“Shitty sleep and a killer hangover?”
“Even Micro doesn’t help,” Priam groaned. “Honestly, I’m still not convinced last night wasn’t an assassination attempt. How are you fine?”
“I don’t have your attributes, but I’ve got experience,” the old man chuckled. “If you drank half of what I did, you’d be immune by now.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works, and either way, I refuse to drink excessively,” Priam muttered, heading toward breakfast. Blueberry was already at the stove. The bear loved to sleep, but preferred to eat even more. “I hope the ideal prerequisites the Snaherts promised me for [Poison Resistance] don’t involve drinking. If alcohol is their specialty...”
“That’d be hilarious,” Louis mused. “I’m surprised, though. I’ve seen you endure torture worse than a hangover. And if Alain was right about those machines you asked him to build, you’re not planning to slow down training.”
Priam shrugged. “When I push my body to its limits, it’s… professional. I’m not a masochist, and the dopamine from level-ups doesn’t make me forget the pain I feel.” He clenched his fist. “Suffering reminds me that my training isn't a game. Drinking alcohol to grind resistance is a path as easy as it is dangerous. Not to mention the risk of addiction, I don’t wanna mix recreation and work.”
“Mmm, yet, we don’t always have a choice. Next time you go to the Moon, I'd like to join the trip,” Louis said before walking away to greet Alain.
A few sausages and some vegetarian samosas helped ease Priam’s headache. As he considered his schedule, he decided to postpone his meeting with Rohan. The young master of the Aelbes was here to discuss the conditions for accessing the Regional Market, which could be reached from Ymir’s shop thanks to the Keeper of Secrets’ network. Negotiations with the most powerful of the tribes were important, but they needed Oasis more than Oasis needed them. Making their ambassador wait should drive that point home and make negotiations easier. At least, I hope so...
Because Priam never forgot a crucial truth: for all his power, he was still just a Tier 0, incapable of measuring up to the Aelbes’ leader. Maintaining his independence without making enemies was a delicate balancing act.
“And never-ending, as long as they remain stronger. Guess it’s time to get back to training.”
Priam glanced at his shadow, which remained still. Consulting his add-on, he learned that Jasmine was still asleep.
“Probably still sleeping off the alcohol... As long as I don't die, I suppose I’m meeting the break conditions!”
With a smile on his lips, he made his way to the hoplite dueling ring.
“Hey!”
“Good morning,” Kazuki greeted him, eyes fixed on two of his subordinates locked in combat.
The two opponents exchanged rapid strikes, feinted, blocked, danced, and spun around each other in a deadly ballet. Blood splattered the ground more than once, and Priam soon found himself mesmerized. Neither of the hoplites before him could match Kazuki’s raw talent, yet they were among the top ten fighters of their civilization. Having assimilated the rewards of their Tribulations, their techniques had grown monstrous. Half a step into the legendary rank.
The duel ended in spectacular fashion. Gallad, the sabermaster, fell for a feint and lunged to strike. His opponent stepped back, and the momentum carried Gallad forward. His adversary dodged, letting Gallad step out of the boundaries of the dueling circle.
The hoplite was just as surprised as Priam when Gallad suddenly stopped before placing a foot outside the permitted area, as if frozen by a kinetic ability. In a smooth movement, his saber flew from his hands and positioned itself under his opponent’s throat.
In the end, his mistake wasn’t one.
“Gallad?” Kazuki asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I heard the Name of the Iron.”
“Well done.” The Warrior smiled. “You have until the end of the week to manipulate your blade with your Concept as well as you do with your hands. In a month, your armor should obey you just as well.”
“Yes, sir!”
Kazuki turned to Priam. “Any advice for him?”
The question caught him off guard, but the Juggernaut smiled when realizing it was a sign of respect from Kazuki. The hoplite Champion was asking for the opinion of an equal.
“Iron is a fundamental component of blood because it allows oxygenation of the body,” Priam said. “An anemic enemy will be weak and easily defeated. But to deprive them of their iron, you'll have to overcome their natural aetheric resistance… Still, it's good training. Oh, and keep in mind, it only works on red, green, or purple blood. If they bleed blue, like some arachnids, that’s copper, not iron.”
Gallad gave a sharp nod, thanked both Champions, and walked away. After Kazuki exchanged a few words with the second hoplite, he turned back to Priam.
“I surmise that witnessing my bout against Rohan has rekindled your desire to resume martial training.”
“Your surmise is right.”
It was a weakness Priam intended to correct. He needed to sharpen his spear skills before reforging Promesse by using the formula for the Gold alloy he had obtained as a reward from his last Tribulation. Right now, he wasn’t even sure if his weapon’s current shape and dimensions were optimal for his martial abilities and future build. Once that was settled, his next goal was integrating his spear techniques into his combat style to create effective synergies.
“What were your impressions of the combat between my two men?”
“Honestly? Nothing deep, aside from the obvious. They’re better with their weapons than I am with mine.”
“Do you know why?” Kazuki inquired. His tone had shifted from that of a friend or rival to that of an instructor.
“Because they train sixteen hours a day, whereas I train zero.” This was why most of his spear skills had plateaued at the end of the rare rank. However, Priam was far from idle. “Then again, I’m juggling ten different paths while they focus on one.”
“An hoplite proverb states: ‘It is preferable to ascend a single mountain than to observe ten.’ Do you discern the course of action required to climb ten?”
“...Work ten times harder?”
Priam regretted the words the moment they left his lips.
“Indeed. Then commence with twelve thousand thrusts. You have thirty minutes.'”
“That’s nearly seven strikes per second,” Priam protested.
Kazuki tapped his chin, considering. “Mmh. You are right, I neglected to account for your physique. You have ten minutes.”
“Fuck.”
Sixteen hours later, when Kazuki finally released him, Priam no longer had the strength to curse.
*
Status:
PHYSICAL:
Strength 854
Constitution 1 655 (+2)
Agility 1 266
Vitality 1 712 (+3)
Perception 889
MENTAL:
Vivacity (D) 634
Dexterity 792
Memory 1 028
Willpower 1 238
Charisma 912
META:
Meta-affinity (O) 1 169
Meta-focus 712
Meta-endurance 1 173 (+2)
Meta-perception 667
Meta-chance 1 020
Meta-authority 627
Potential: 34 319 (+2)
Sun points: 670 514
[Tribulation]: Two Tribulations pending.
Future Tribulations delayed until:
Time: 29 days 17 hours 53 minutes 8 seconds.
Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 900 / 6 attributes > 1 200 / 3 attributes > 1 500 / 1 attribute > 1 800
Comments
Justin
“And never-ending, as long as they remain stronger. Guess it’s time to get back to training.” Dont think this was meant to be spoken aloud, its internal thoughts
Geekdumb
“An(A) hoplite proverb states
Stefan Landshut
i think the dragon just wants to be better than everyone around him?
bcd051
To quote the great Ron Swanson, "never half ass two things, whole ass one thing."
Zaim İpek
After that dream being part of The Mercenaries, I would expect Priam to have a much better grasp of training discipline that what we are seeing from him here. There is no way The Mercenaries' have grown such a large and powerful military organization without extremely thorough, rigorous, and finely tuned training programs for all their members.
Malcolm Haynes
Tftc. Question. Why does the dragon in Priam need to be the best technical fighter? He doesn’t feel the need to be the best thief or assassin. As the Juggernaut he should just want to be unstoppable. He doesn’t have to be the best with a weapon to be unstoppable.
Derze
30day milestone should be a day or two more. 👀
Andrew
Thank you!
Custus
Thanks for the chapter!
Prem Chanumalla
The goat dropped another chapter🙏🙏🙏
James Faulkner
Tftc!
