Priam
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Chapter 404: Error, defeat not found part 1
🕑 Added 2025-08-21 22:27:59 +0000 UTCPS: Priam Character Sheet
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“Ladies, gentlemen, and honored guests, welcome to the penultimate day of this grand tournament!” Zulkar threw up his arms, drinking in the roar of the crowd. “Today begins the Tier 3 duels… but first, the Tier 2 final: Death’s Obsession versus Thick Skin!”
Priam tilted his head back to meet the eyes of his opponent. Literally. On a basketball court, the colossus wouldn’t have needed to jump to dunk.
The Gaesert studied him in silence for a long moment, then inclined his head.
“It is an honor,” he said, his baritone carrying easily over the thunder of thousands.
“Likewise,” Priam replied, eyes tracking the thick veins bulging across his rival’s body. Each one of his arms was thicker than his own thigh. Even the man’s neck looked reinforced, like those of F1 drivers built to withstand crushing g-forces. Forgetting attributes, judging only by physique, Priam would rather fistfight a silverback gorilla over the giant before him.
And yet sheer muscle wasn’t what set his instincts on edge. His gut whispered that he was facing no mere brute, but a true warrior.
The Juggernaut smiled. After being trampled by a Tier 9 and battered by the bizarre Thaal, he hungered for a fight he could actually win.
He activated his Fate Vision and immediately understood this bout wouldn’t be enough to fuel significant growth for the Juggernaut’s Myth. However, as he looked closely at his opponent, he saw something in his heart. A figure of a titan holding up the heavens… like Atlas of Greek myth? The warrior’s Story was still in its infancy, but the simple fact that he had one marked him as worthy.
[Heroic Identification]
[Gaillard Gaesert - Tier 2 - Marquess] - The cunning of a hunter, the muscles of a cyclops, and the bones of a daeodon. Earned the moniker “Thick Skin” after tanking a Tier 2 boar’s charge without spilling a drop of blood.
At the time, he hadn’t even hit puberty.
Measurements:
Height: 2.5 m. Mass: half a ton.
Attributes:
Physical (4 000), Mental (2 000), META (1 000)
Weaknesses:
Orifices
Mind
Reading the guy’s weight, Priam remembered how attributes increased density. He himself was over four hundred kilograms now, packed into two meters of frame. I’m not fat, just dense.
“The eyes of a hero,” Gaillard rumbled.
Priam arched a brow as his Heroic Aura faded, mist reclaiming his pupils. “You’ve seen them before?”
“In his memoirs, my ancestor described a rival who carried a galaxy in his eyes. Behind your mist, I glimpsed stars.”
“Damn,” Priam muttered. “I’ll have to try that line on a girl.”
From the corner of his eye he noticed Rohan stiffening in the Aelbe box. Good instincts, dude.
Gaillard caught the glance and smirked. “Normally I’d take pleasure in rattling a flea-sack, but today I’d rather focus on our fight. Unless the Prince believes he can beat me easily?”
In theory, a Tier 0 Prince and a Tier 2 Marquess were equals. In practice, Priam knew the gulf between royalty and nobility was vast. He felt no fear, but that didn’t mean he underestimated this foe.
Priam inclined his head. “I meant no insult. And I take you seriously. At the very least, you’re tankier than I am. That’s rare these days.”
“This will be a good fight.”
“It’ll be a good fight,” Priam echoed with a grin, though yesterday’s memories tugged at him. There had been more victories than defeats, but the losses were the ones that lingered.
Putting aside high Tiers, Vertex was a foe so far beyond his reach that even chasing her seemed laughable. Not a pleasant thought.
Yet, as Priam reread Gaillard’s attributes, a spark of defiance flared. On paper, he was the weaker man. Still everyone here knew he could still seize victory. By surpassing his limits. By being smarter. By giving everything. It wouldn’t be easy. But then, it never was. And that was how he liked it.
“Let’s give it our all.”
“Sounds good.”
A theatrical sigh rolled across the arena.
“I was hoping for some trash talk,” Zulkar groaned. “Instead I get love confessions.” The elven announcer clapped his hands. “Hey, if you’re going to talk, do it with your fists! The crowd wants blood, damn it!”
The spectators roared. Above them all, the Demiurge raised a hand.
“Begin.”
The colossus lunged forward. Each stride built speed, inertia piling up behind his massive frame until his charge became a natural disaster in motion. Tribal runes flared across his skin like war paint, and he lowered his elbow battering ram style.
With that momentum, he could have smashed through a vault door.
Priam had yet to move. He watched his opponent accelerate with the tranquil assurance of a concrete wall facing down a car.
Ten meters out, the Champion raised a hand. Five meters, his left eye darkened. Bound beneath [Chimera]’s leash, Hecate’s New Moon pulsed monochrome. The Gaesert’s runes fizzled out and he nearly stumbled. Four meters. His mist crown thrummed, overclocking his Domain. Three meters. Supremacies clashed. Two meters. His sphere of authority shredded the other’s, leaving the tribesmen vulnerable. One meter. Priam’s kinetic mastery stole the momentum of the charging giant.
Contact. Priam’s finger brushed the colossus’s elbow. One man, motionless before an onrushing tank. The outcome was inevitable.
[Kinetic Sovereignty].
With a cry, the Gaesert was hurled backwards as if struck by the hand of a god. His body sailed fifty meters before crashing into the arena wall with bone-rattling force. The Colosseum trembled.
Priam lowered his hand. And in that instant, the picture called for a revelation. Understanding struck.
The Juggernaut was not merely an icebreaker, a force of nature bulldozing all before it. He was also immovable, a rock unshaken by any tide.
Smiling, Priam summoned Promesse as Gaillard staggered to his feet. The colossus shoved a dislocated shoulder back into its socket, flesh already knitting. He took off his top, the leather half-torn, revealing a torso crisscrossed with scars.
“Is that all?”
“I’m just getting started,” the Champion smiled, cocking back his arm. Three meters long and glinting with a silvery gleam in the sun, his spear seemed to roar in his hands. Guided by the whispers of his newest skill, he loosed the weapon. [Kinetic Sovereignty].
Lvl Up: [Spear Launcher] lvl 6
STR +3
AGI +4
META (Focus) +2
[Spear Launcher] - The projectile leaves the hand, but the power begins in the legs. Energy born in quads, hamstrings, and glutes transfers through the core, into the torso, and finally the shoulders and arms. Once you can throw, you must learn to aim. Eyes, motor cortex, nerves, every piece must align in harmony to allow perfect coordination.
This skill helps you extract maximum placement and explosiveness from your muscles. It also refines the measurement, processing, and transmission of all data involved in a throw. Finally, it synergizes with [Kinetic Sovereignty], amplifying power and range to skewer prey hiding beyond the horizon.
Do you know the difference between you and an athlete? When they throw a javelin, it’s sport. When you launch a spear, it’s war.
The lance sank into the Gaesert’s arm in a scarlet spray. For a heartbeat, both men froze, staring in equal surprise.
“That was supposed to impale you,” Priam admitted.
“That wasn’t supposed to pierce my skin,” Thick Skin retorted, yanking Promesse free and tossing it aside. “I’ve got three atavisms from the bloodline of a legendary boar, plus my hide is reinforced by two legendary resistances.”
Priam chuckled. “Well then… if we’re both disappointed—”
The two men shrugged in unison before hurling themselves at each other. At the last instant, Priam vaulted, soaring clean over his opponent. Gaillard snatched upward to seize him, but the Mist Sage merged with his Concept, slipping like smoke through the colossus’s fingers. Deep within his soul, the rune of his dodge skill thrummed.
Ending the Unity with his Concept, Priam landed lightly, then dashed toward his spear. A kick launched it skyward; his hand closed on the haft as he spun to face his foe not a second too soon. The Gaesert was already upon him.
Blocking a jab aimed at his stomach, Priam stepped back, buying himself enough space to wield Promesse. A feint to the flank drew Gaillard’s attention wide, and a thrust to the chest spilled blood. Three drops pattered to the sand before the wound knit shut. Priam grinned. From his perspective, the more durable the punching bag, the sharper he could hone his skills.
“My turn.”
The giant suddenly accelerated. In the space of a heartbeat, his speed multiplied tenfold, catching Priam flat-footed.
Shit! I’m not the only one with skills.
An uppercut caught the Champion’s jaw, snapping his head back. Dazed, Priam glimpsed blue sky during his brief flight before landing hard on his backside in a spray of sand. His draconic instincts seized control; he rolled away just in time to avoid the enemy’s crushing dive. Knees first, Gaillard smashed into the earth, gouging a crater and shaking the whole arena.
Priam pushed off the ground with both palms, rose in a smooth flip, reclaimed his spear, and replayed the last few seconds in his mind. When his foe had surged forward, one of Priam’s soul-bound runes had stirred. An ephemeral sensation, but one his eidetic memory had perfectly preserved.
[Battle Flow]?
He had maxed it during his month of training, though he had held back from upgrading. For a skill so central—meant to conduct the rhythm of battle—he wanted nothing but the best. Until now, no path forward had shown itself. But just now, something had changed. An idea was budding, and Priam shifted into a defensive stance. If a flower needed water and sun to bloom, then a revelation demanded genius and a flash of epiphany. His opponent seemed poised to provide the latter.
“Hope your chin doesn’t hurt too much,” Gaillard smirked as he rose.
“A scratch,” Priam replied, touching the swelling the size of a quail’s egg beneath his jaw.
“One of my skills lets me inject my vitality to suppress yours. You’ll find it hard to heal.”
Priam shrugged. “Are we talking, or are we fighting?”
The Gaesert roared with laughter before dashing.
*
Status:
PHYSICAL:
Strength 1 259 (+5)
Constitution 2 295
Agility 1 659 (+6)
Vitality 2 211
Perception 995
MENTAL:
Vivacity (D) 666
Dexterity 985
Memory 1 219
Willpower 1 310
Charisma 974
META:
Meta-affinity (O) 1 459
Meta-focus 902 (+2)
Meta-endurance 1 686
Meta-perception 871
Meta-chance 1 367
Meta-authority 1018
Potential: 43 909 (+3)
Tier 0
[Tribulation]: Five Tribulations pending.
Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 1 200 / 3 attributes > 1 800 / 1 attribute > 2 400
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Praim - fistfight
Comments
Samuel Sever
tftc
PriÀm
Fixed, thanks!
Ultrasum20
Ooo, I'm glad we're seeing someone to match Priam's tankyness! TYFTC
Shadow Korosu
Also, in the same sentence, "facing no mere brute, but a true warrior" it either cut off a smidge early or is just lacking punctuation.
Jadon Castle-Haley
Thanks for the chapter!
Luciaron
Battle Flow is a skill he's had for along time and it's cool to see him progressing it.
Sir Sloth
"His gut whispered whispered that he.." -> loss the extra 'whispered'? Tftc! Love a good fight scene.
Jason Hardman
TYFTC! Think there's a missing word here: The lance sank the Gaesert’s arm in a scarlet spray -> sank into the Gaesert's arm with a scarlet spray
Andrew
Thank you!
Zaim İpek
"That’s rare those days.” That's rare THESE days.
Julia Niles
First?
