A Novel Concept - A death a day, MC will live anyway! - Chapter 169: Eyes Are the Window of the Soul

Prometheus halted his assault upon reading the announcement. Another Legendary Achievement… He stood still for a moment before sheathing his sword.

“Let’s call it a day,” he declared. Guandi nodded before following his king out of the training room. Two soldiers bowed as they passed, trailing behind. The rest of his close guard was on the field, defending humanity’s territory on Proxima.

The group headed towards the meeting room, traversing rough stone corridors. One of the military engineering specialists had developed a skill for manipulating stone. Thanks to his tireless work and supported by a full team of healers and buffers, he had managed to create a sturdy headquarters in less than a week.

After delving into the depths of the base, they arrived at a double door, modestly adorned with the symbol of the Divine Army. It was the sole decoration in the base, as Prometheus believed his troops had more important tasks than carving bas-reliefs. The symbols lit up upon recognizing the king, and the door swung open.

Inside, a round table inspired by the legend of King Arthur stood. Six people were already seated, leaving four vacant spots. All rose to greet the king. The door closed behind Guandi, leaving the guards outside.

“Thank you for coming so promptly,” Prometheus began, settling into a wooden chair. His connection with his subordinates granted him various abilities, including communicating with them remotely. All the ministers who could attend were present.

“Our Champion has just defeated a Tier 2. Gloria, what reactions should we anticipate?”

A fiery-haired young woman stood. “Our troops are satisfied and reassured by Priam’s strength. Most believe that their King and their Champion are close allies. Of course, those who don’t appreciate Your Majesty will see him as a figurehead. This will help us identify the vermin. By the next Reunion, I’ll have a list of opposition leaders. I suggest Your Majesty gives them the choice between conversion and death.”

Prometheus nodded. His Talent, [King by Divine Right], allowed him to retain eternal loyalty from his subjects. Moreover, he could borrow a portion of their power. Surrounded by his army, Prometheus felt capable of facing a Tier 2. Killing it, however, was another matter. He’s still ahead…

Yet, his power had limits. One of them was that, at Tier 0, his soul was too weak to accommodate more than six hundred loyalty oaths. Unlocking Concepts and Supremacies slightly increased the volume of his soul, but Prometheus calculated that he wouldn’t have more than a thousand connections available at Tier 0.

Most of his commanders were absolutely loyal, but the rest of his army consisted of volunteers whose allegiance was sometimes questionable. However, that wasn’t his primary concern. He signaled his master spy to continue.

“As for our enemies… Arkana will know before long, and the Empyrean Empire’s diviners already know everything. I have reasons to believe that Arkana will continue its slow expansion. They don’t see us as a threat and believe our Champion will burn his wings before becoming a menace.”

“They are mistaken,” commented Prometheus.

“I believe so too, but it’s our luck,” smiled Guandi. “Arkana has Tier 3s, and even our atomic weapons are ineffective against them.”

“The System keeps them in check. They can only defend while we can attack,” Cecilia pointed out. The Mistress of the Arcane delved into the mysteries of magic and the System. “If we play our cards right, we will surpass them sooner or later.”

“The System’s leash will loosen with each Reunion.” The entire assembly turned to Eloise. “Their attackers are Tier 0s for now, but by the end of the next Reunion, we will face Tier 1s.”

Her face seemed too perfect to be human. A halo above her head confirmed her alien origin. She was one of the Empyrean king’s bastards. Prometheus had no trouble converting her to his cause after Gloria kidnapped her.

“Arkana is not the issue; what worries me is the Empyrean Empire,” declared Prometheus.

Their enemy had a mastery of aether built over generations. Moreover, devising strategies and ambushes against masters of divination was a doomed venture. Humanity needed time to adapt.

“They might launch a mass attack to weaken or even eliminate us before the next Reunion,” sighed Gloria. “Their soldiers are better than ours, and rumors are circulating that their outpost in Elysium is on the verge of being wiped out.”

A heavy silence hung over the meeting room. Priam was flourishing in Elysium, but his success fueled the hatred of their enemy.

“We need to find a way to resist until the next Reunion,” said Guandi. “Our racial Talent offers us a better progression curve, but they start from a higher point.”

“We need allies,” stated Eloise.

“Do you have something in mind?” asked Prometheus.

“The odds are not in our favor: Proxima is a vast planet, created to fuel war between rival civilizations. We currently occupy a small continent, our two neighbors are belligerent, and escape is impossible. The internal situation is almost worse: locating humans scattered on this continent and welcoming them into our capital is a logistical nightmare.”

Everyone nodded. Eden, humanity’s capital, resembled a giant shantytown despite all of Prometheus and his ministers’ efforts. Housing millions of people in less than two weeks was simply impossible. Every day, thousands of migrants found their way through the forest and mountains to join them. More than battles, it was the organization that kept Prometheus awake at night.

“But we are doing better than others. Without their electronic surveillance system, Arkana struggles to manage the influx of migrants. Their society is full of indebted people who lie about their identity. Traffickers thrive while the elites ignore the people. Betrayed by their leaders, how many would be willing to work for us?”

Gloria nodded. “I already employ many of them. They have no attachment to their world.”

Eloise continued, “The Empire is worse. Many women refuse to return because of misogyny. The System has allowed them to escape their tormentors, and they intend to take advantage of it. Resistance pockets are popping up all over the continent. Separated, they are insignificant, but if we could federate and then absorb them…”

“If we must lose an open war, let’s engage in guerrilla warfare,” agreed Guandi.

Cecilia grimaced. “It’s going to increase our logistical problems.”

Eloise shook her head. “Not if we decentralize Eden. We go to them, not the other way around. Feeding a million people is a nightmare, but feeding a thousand groups of a thousand individuals is simpler.”

“I’m not sure these rebels will accept our help.”

“They are caught between a rock and a hard place. If we arrive with soldiers, builders, farmers, and artists, they will be welcomed with open arms. It will relieve the pressure on Eden. Today, we forge connections; tomorrow, they will rally under our banner.”

The conversation continued as Prometheus listened. After more than half an hour of brainstorming, a plan emerged.

“Contact the resistance pockets, send military support, and civilians to improve their living conditions. Each group will have at least one commander capable of communicating directly with the King to organize the resistance. We will focus our efforts on the Empyrean Empire to prevent them from launching a massive offensive,” summarized Guandi.

Prometheus stood up, and everyone else hurried to follow suit. “I approve. You know what needs to be done. However, do not forget the most important thing: real power is personal. Priam is the proof of that.”

[Identification]

Stolen story; please report.

[Sumstreh – Tier 4 – Earl] – ?

Priam quivered as he read the identification. A Tier 4? Worse, a Tier 4 capable of hearing his telepathic conversation with Sphinx. Could he be delving into his thoughts at this very moment?

Gotta assume that’s the case.

Oppressed by the Tier 4’s aura, Priam struggled to think. Without considering the resource wastage, he opened the doors of his Potential. Divine fluid bathed his soul, and Priam sighed in relief. His tremors ceased, and [Focus] cleared his mind.

“Excuse me but… I can’t leave?” Priam demanded in a firm voice.

“I don’t recall authorizing you to speak.”

Sumstreh’s aura intensified, and the specter of a gigantic rabhorn materialized. His luminous eyes locked onto Priam, and the world tilted.

“Euw…”

Priam regained consciousness in a pool of his own bile. Before disgust could set in, immense pain split his skull. He summoned Micro to stop it, to no avail. It wasn’t physical pain; the Tier 4’s soul tightly enveloped his. He was at its mercy.

A growl made him look up, and Priam paled as he raised his head.

“Sphinx!”

With a groan, he crawled to aid his friend, who collapsed halfway between him and the skeleton. She had returned to her normal size, bleeding from every orifice. Her breath was raspy, and her heartbeat erratic. She must have tried to defend him, paying the price.

Kneeling beside her, Priam felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. With a trembling hand, he began to gently stroke her head.

“Sphinx…” he whispered.

“I hope the lesson is clear.”

Sumstreh’s voice brought him back to reality. Furious, he turned to the skeleton, only to petrify.

A spear of light had just appeared above his friend, lazily levitating above her temple.

“I rarely grant a third chance. For the sake of your friend, don’t forget it.”

Priam boiled with rage. Despite all the hatred he felt for the specter, he merely gritted his teeth. For Sphinx.

“All right. First off, I want a detailed report of your status – skills, Talents, Titles, Merits, Achievements, Concepts, and Supremacies.”

Priam paled. He had hoped to use his unique gifts to escape. Careful not to meet Sumstreh’s gaze, he thought quickly. Obviously, the specter wouldn’t let him go easily. Should he try to escape now? Priam could teleport to his base with his new Title, but not Sphinx.

“Your Nobility Title won’t allow her to flee with you.”

The little color remaining on Priam’s face vanished. Sumstreh could read his thoughts. [Focus].

“I’ll tell you everything I know,” he promised.

Sumstreh nodded.

“Of course.”

“… and three thousand two hundred thirty-three Potential points.”

Sumstreh remained silent for a moment, processing the information Priam had just given.

“I hoped you would have a System reward,” the specter growled. “This Prometheus, to whom you gave your Tribulation rewards, can’t contact you?”

“Not that I know of,” Priam replied. He had given his rewards to help the Shield of Humanity and had no regrets. Priam put the survival of humanity above his own, and always had. Generosity was in his nature.

“What foolishness… But I expected no less from a fool capable of entering my divine realm to save a child.”

Priam gritted his teeth as he continued to stroke Sphinx. A divine realm? But Béchar had said that was the mark of Tier 5s…

Sumstreh growled. “Watch your thoughts, mortal. I was once a god, and thanks to the Necromoon, I will become one again soon.”

Priam opened his mouth before remembering that speaking without an invitation could be dangerous for Sphinx.

Sumstreh’s specter smiled, revealing sharp teeth.

“Ask your question.”

“Your Divinity… How could I assist you in your endeavor?”

“By becoming devout.”

Priam had a bad feeling. Before he could react, space distorted. A moment later, he stood at the specter’s feet. It placed a hand on his skull.

“Let me convert you.”

Without warning, a consciousness fractured Priam’s. The former god forcefully entered his soul space. The misty sphere that protected him, a fusion of his Domain and his mist concept, shattered. The foreign consciousness bypassed the flame illuminating the space before reaching Priam’s soul.

“Concept – Sumstreh!”

Priam screamed before falling to the ground, convulsing. As he futilely tried to resist, a web of impure light wove around his soul. Like a flame against the storm, Priam’s consciousness flickered, then extinguished.

All went black.

“You’ve slept enough,” declared Ève. After nearly a day of waiting, she was starting to get fed up.

Blinking, Priam rose before bowing toward his god.

“Sumstreh will return,” he prayed as a rabhorn rubbed against him.

Ève bowed quickly before turning away from the skeleton.

“Follow me,” she commanded.

The vacant-eyed follower trailed after her. Without wasting time, she crossed the grove and left the divine realm. Or what was left of it. Despite what he said, Sumstreh was only a fragment of a god that had perished. That’s what the Guardian of Secrets had revealed.

As the heavy door closed behind her, sealing the divine Domain once again, Ève sighed in relief. She could think freely once more.

After a few hundred meters, she stopped to observe her rival. Summoning a sphere of light, she probed his misty gaze. The eyes were the window of the soul.

A few seconds later, she sighed.

“You were supposed to resist the conversion…”

The Guardian had revealed that, of all her rivals, only Priam had a chance of resisting conversion. A possibility was not a certainty, but it was the only option Ève had.

A seed of doubt grew in her mind. Hearing Priam’s detailed status, nothing indicated he could get rid of Sumstreh’s mark. The soul considered the mark as a passive skill; even his pseudo-resurrection shouldn’t have been able to help.

Either I’m missing a synergy, or he hasn’t revealed his method to potentially escape conversion.

Glancing toward the rabhorn realm, Ève whispered.

“Out of his Domain, Sumstreh can’t hear us anymore. If you’re worried about your mark, it records your status, position, actions, and can serve as a kill-switch. It sends information only once a day; otherwise, we would quickly develop resistance. Due to your racial Talent, I’d say you have three days before it activates.”

With glassy eyes, her rival just stared at her. He seemed lobotomized, which wasn’t far from the truth. Ève waited for about ten seconds before sighing. She turned and continued her path, with Priam following closely. As he blinked, his gaze changed.

Confusion gave way to burning rage.

Fake Status: (Average value for a Homo sapiens male before integration: PHY 10 / MEN 10 / META 0)

PHYSICAL:

Strength 420

Constitution 794

…

[He Who Begs Death to Spare him.] charge: PRIMED.

[Tribulation]: Five Tribulations pending.

Future Tribulations delayed until:

Time: 172 days 19 hours 50 minutes 12 seconds.