A Novel Concept - He Who Eludes Death-Chapter 331: The Nemesis’ Identity

A blind man would have thought the Hoplite base empty. Silence stretched as everyone held their breath. No scientist, no soldier had anticipated the army of the dead would be wiped out so quickly. A captured image of Arkana, taken by a stealth drone, was projected onto the central screen. The hoplites were monitoring the movement of the necromantic horde.

A beep drew Ishaka’s attention, and a researcher bowed before translating. “General Ishaka, the AI has just completed its assessment. The hatching of Priam Azura’s fire cocoon released energy equivalent to that of a small nuke and eliminated eighty-three thousand four hundred necromantic abominations.”

Ishaka suppressed a shudder. He had always known the System would allow mere mortals to brush against divinity, but this was too fast. The Champion of Humanity was a decade ahead of even the most optimistic models. Is Kazuki holding back to lull me into complacency? Or is Priam truly this far ahead?

“The AI is still searching how such a small amount of energy managed to kill so many of these monsters,” the researcher continued.

The doors slid open, and one of the two newcomers spoke. “Unlike a nuke, Priam controls his flames. Almost all the released energy affected the enemies. He must have reached Unity with his Concept.”

“If our own Champion were at the same stage, perhaps the war against the Var Elegis would already be over. Unless the Name of the Wind is inferior to that of Fire?” taunted Ishaka.

“Is General Ishaka volunteering to speak the Name of the Fire?” Hyshana retorted. “Supported by the faith of our people, I have no doubt that it would be trivial for you.”

Ishaka paled. He had yet to awaken a single Concept, and that failure burned at his pride.

“As the defender of our nation on Proxima, I merely wished to reassure our people about our Champion’s ability to engage Priam Azura if he turned against us.”

Reminding the spectators of his role as their protector, Ishaka was pleased to see the gathered Hoplites turn to their Champion, eyes filled with hope. They were a proud race. As its worthy paragon, Kazuki Arashi chose honesty.

“I wouldn’t be able to stop him,” he admitted without shame. “Which should encourage us to respect him during his next visit.”

Ishaka searched for a hidden threat in his rival’s tone but found only sincerity. In the end, he nodded. The Var Elegis were an expansionist civilization, and Priam Azura’s help might be required to push them back.

“There’s still over an hour before our return to Elysium,” Hyshana noted. “Why did you order an early withdrawal?”

Ishaka turned to his second-in-command, who switched the projected video feed. The continent shared by Arkanians, Humans, and Empyreans came into view.

“A priority mission demands our attention. Three hours ago, the majority of necromantic abominations left Arkanian territory for the human capital. If the city falls, the necromantic forces will swell beyond control. We have prepared a rocket to get you to the battlefield before your return to Elysium.”

Kazuki studied the map. “Will they arrive before us?”

“Prometheus will have to buy time,” Ishaka replied simply.

“Very well, we’ll cull as many as possible. Where are they now?”

Ishaka pointed at the map. “See that gray cloud a tenth the size of the continent?”

“Yes?”

“It’s moving against the wind. That’s not a cloud—it’s the necro swarm.”

The elevator ascended smoothly, without the slightest jolt detectable by Priam’s inhuman senses. Despite the district’s power outage, the headquarters of Arkana’s Internal Security was powered by multiple generators. No matter the world, the powerful were rarely inconvenienced, even during an apocalypse.

“Director Abernathy is expecting you, sir,” said one of the eight guards in the cabin. He appeared composed, but thanks to his Domain, Priam could read the tension in his muscles and the rapid activity of his digestive system. The man was tense, fully aware that he stood beside a being he couldn’t afford to offend.

“The video feeds?”

“Ready. Our analysts are tracking the man as we speak.”

“The prey,” Priam corrected before immersing himself in his notifications. During his simulated Tutorial, his System interface had been almost empty. Now, its eight pages were more filled than some books.

[Phoenix Wings] has reached level 40, its maximum level as a rare skill. Depending on your background, three upgrades are available: frёewebηovel.cѳm

[Phoenix Wings - Rare] - The structure of your wings is reinforced by an alien bloodline. High upgrade potential. Potential Cost: 160

[Pyro Wings - Rare]: The fire in your wings possesses a noble quality. High upgrade potential. Potential Cost: 160

[Chimera Wings - Rare]: Terrible forces slumber within you; despite their internecine war, they should reign over the skies. High upgrade potential. Potential Cost: 160

Each high upgrade was an ideal prerequisite. A part of Priam was disappointed he didn’t have direct access to an ideal upgrade, but he had expected as much. It was of little consequence as he knew the path forward.

Previously, his draconic instinct had eclipsed that of the phoenix, preventing him from hearing its whispers. Now, thanks to [Chimera], Priam could separate his two bloodlines. The fire coursing through his veins told him that by unlocking the next Merit of [Hatched Phoenix], he would obtain another prerequisite.

Trees of Merit

[Hatched Phoenix - Gold] - Tier 3: Leaving behind the fragments of a broken eggshell, you near the cliff. The ground is far away, but Pyro is building up in your wings...

10 Unused Merit Points.

Priam considered purchasing it as he had enough points to handle contingencies. Still, a part of him wanted to hoard such a rare resource…

Lvl Up: [Free Will] lvl 31

WILL +6

CHAR +3

Priam’s right eye pulsed, and a wave of clarity flooded his mind. A thin grimace formed as he finally noticed the influence of his draconic bloodline. Dragons were powerful but jealously hoarded their treasures. Damn, I won’t be a slave to a few drops of blood.

[Hatched Phoenix - Gold] - Tier 3: Leaving behind the fragments of a broken eggshell, you near the cliff. The ground is far away, but Pyro is building up in your wings… ACQUIRED

On Priam’s back, the outline of two invisible wings appeared, tattooed in aetheric ink. They represented the physical potential of [Phoenix Wings], proof that it could evolve beyond a mere skill.

When Priam claimed the Merit, the System descended into his soul space to take an ounce of the spark within. Drawing out Pyro as a searing thread, the omnipotent entity began embroidering his back.

Surprise, more than pain, made Priam flinch as eternal flames were woven into his flesh. At Unity with the Concept, his body absorbed every bit of power without resistance. Had even a flicker escaped, the elevator and its occupants would have been reduced to cinders. As it was, none noticed that the eighty plumes inked on Priam’s back were turning gold.

The process took just enough time for the Pyro Champion to appreciate the System’s work. Even at Unity, Priam advanced his understanding of the Concept. Beneath Infinity—the ultimate mastery of a Concept, only achieved by the Seven—there was always more to learn.

As the Concept finished infusing the skill, the System withdrew. For one fleeting moment of grace, the tattoo came to life. The ink of flame burned bright, each golden feather trembling as if caught in an unseen wind. Then, the moment passed, and the skill fell dormant once more.

Forcing himself to ignore the itching of his skin, Priam examined the next Merit.

[Hatched Phoenix - Gold] - Tier 4: Your flames support your flight, but your wings are still weak. Fire draws energy from matter; do the reverse—let Pyro become your flesh. [LOCKED] - Requires [Ideal Phoenix Wings - Epic]. NEW

9 Unused Merit Points.

Woah… At worst, it’s an ideal prerequisite for the legendary rank; at best, my flames will become tangible. Either way, my enemies are going to cry!

The description was cryptic, but Priam didn’t need to fully understand it to know he wanted this Merit. Still, to unlock it, his wings had to become ideal—which was proving to be more complicated than expected…

[Phoenix Wings - Rare] has reached level 40, its maximum level as a rare skill.

Prerequisites met:

- Phoenix bloodline

- Pyro Unity

- Pyro Sage

- [Chimera - Mythic].

- [Hatched Phoenix - Gold] - Merit Tier 3

… Error, [Phoenix Wings] is a series-type skill. As such, its ideal upgrade requires a key prerequisite: ‘Insight into a true phoenix’s wings.’

Alternatively, study of the original rune of [Ideal Phoenix Wings - Epic] may allow the upgrade without any ideal or key prerequisite.

Priam reread the text a second time, ensuring he fully absorbed its meaning. He remembered that [Phoenix Wings] was part of a series—it was stated in its description. However, he hadn't expected it to affect his progression. I guess it would be too easy if the System just handed out the Phoenix’s secrets to everyone.

Cross-referencing this new information with his mentor’s words, the truth emerged. Before it became a skill, [Phoenix Wings] had once been a gift—a crutch, granted by an ancient phoenix to fledglings too weak or wounded to fly on their own. The original blueprint came from another universe, as did the skill’s ideal forms.

The Prince who had taught Priam the skill had never unlocked its epic tier—he had never needed to. That left Priam with only one viable path to obtain the key prerequisite to its ideal state: studying the wings of a true phoenix.

“Luckily, I have one at hand,” Priam murmured with a smirk.

“Excuse me?” asked a nearby guard, who had flinched at the sudden break in silence.

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“Nothing.”

At that moment, the elevator doors opened, revealing a corridor with stark, minimalist décor. Priam stepped out, his gaze sweeping over the brightly lit hallway. Dark-tinted glass and polished metal lined the walls, exuding the kind of soulless corporate efficiency designed to drain people of emotion, fostering detachment and obedience. Perfectly suited for a dystopian police force. You’d think I just walked into a Galactic Empire’s building…

The Arkanians weren’t inherently worse than humans, but this bleak environment gnawed away at kindness the same way a sprawling metropolis corrupts the ambitious.

A door hissed open, granting Priam entry into what looked like an operations room. Dozens of personnel sat at their screens, scrutinizing the city’s surveillance feeds. At least they’re taking it seriously.

“Champion, it’s an honor to meet you,” a woman standing at the center of the room announced. “I am Director Abernathy, head of this division.”

She stepped forward, and Priam immediately noticed a small tattoo in the shape of a ‘B’ beneath her right eye. The design would have been instantly forgotten if [Kinetic Sovereignty] hadn’t detected unusual movement in the ink. Nanobots?

An interesting feature, but hardly his priority.

“Pleasure, Director. I’m Priam—though I assume your quest already told you that.”

Abernathy’s lips curled into a thin smile. [Ciphered Record] blocked most magical identification attempts, but it was powerless against the System itself. Priam was humanity’s Champion and currently stood in enemy territory—every Arkanian in the room had a quest to kill him. For their sake, he hoped none of them would be foolish enough to attempt the stunt.

He continued. “Your men must have informed you that I’m looking for someone?”

“The man who fell from the sky a little over four hours ago. We were looking for him before your request.”

As Priam raised an eyebrow, Abernathy turned to the main screen. “Might as well show you directly. Arthur?”

“Right away, ma’am.”

The primary surveillance feed switched, replaced by a recording timestamped shortly after the start of Priam’s Tribulations. The footage showed a darkened sky, dense with necro titans. Suddenly, a figure tore through the clouds, plummeting a hundred meters before stabilizing mid-air. At such a distance and with the dim lighting, it was hard to make out details, but the individual seemed to be a young man.

“The creatures don’t seem to notice him,” Abernathy pointed out.

Priam simply shrugged. His nemesis might be capable of diverting the Necromoon’s attention. Alternatively, the System was forbidding interference with a neutral Tribulation. If the undead attacked before the nemesis acted, they would be annihilated.

“He remains motionless for nearly ten minutes,” Abernathy continued as the footage sped up. It slowed back to normal speed when the nemesis finally moved.

Under Priam’s astonished gaze, the figure plunged his right hand into his own chest. The next instant, his levitation power deactivated, and his lifeless body began to fall.

“What the—? Did he just commit suicide?” Priam blurted out.

“Correct.”

The fall could have lasted a long time if one of the corrupted titans hadn’t swooped down to intercept the body. Without hesitation, the beast swallowed its prey and vanished into the swarm.

“Fuck,” Priam growled. “He let the Necromoon capture his soul.”

Abernathy nodded. “Unlike the other dead, we believe he managed to secure a position of influence within the horde.”

Priam reached the same conclusion, watching as the swarm’s behavior shifted. A few minutes after his nemesis’s death, the undead went from hunting down every exposed Arkanian to methodically dismantling the city’s defenses—targeting turrets, executing active combatants, and taking down power stations.

The image resolution dropped, and Abernathy explained, “With the main power grid down, most of our cameras are running on solar backup and have switched to low-energy mode.”

“He planned to hide in the city from the start,” Priam muttered.

While his nemesis’s cowardice annoyed Priam, his actions had saved many Arkanians. The intensity of the massacre dropped drastically as the Tribulation took control of the necromantic hordes.

Like Seth, he’s straddling the line with the Necromoon to play both sides. It’s a dangerous game, but his essence as a Tribulation makes his mind inviolable. He’s now far more dangerous than he was back during Back in Time…

Over the next two hours, his nemesis’s actions became more blatant. Still concealed within one of the corrupted birds, he began experimenting. Priam watched the unholy fusion of several changyuraptors, resulting in grotesque chimerae of flesh and bone. Some of these abominations were the size of the largest aircraft humanity had ever built, their power nearing that of a High Earl. As soon as they were created, they ascended into the clouds, slipping beyond sight. An invisible threat is always the most terrifying one. Well, while I was sleeping, he built himself an army.

Priam forced himself to remain expressionless as the chimeras grew stronger with each iteration. The synergy between a Tribulation and the Necromoon was horrifying.

The experiments continued until a chimera reached Duke rank. Rather than hide in the clouds, it soared northeast, and within moments, ninety percent of the undead army followed.

Some of the Arkanians visibly relaxed as the horde left their airspace. Abernathy, however, watched Priam carefully, assessing his reaction. Would humanity’s Champion rush to his people’s aid?

Priam didn’t move. A hundred thousand abominations still loomed over Arkana, and a dozen changyuraptors suddenly dived toward the city. Six vanished into towering skyscrapers, four infiltrated shopping complexes, and the last two slithered into the sewers.

The screen split, showing footage of the monsters opening their jaws, disgorging identical figures who quickly vanished into the cameras’ blind spots.

“We believe he used one of these twelve creatures to smuggle his real body into the city,” said Abernathy. “We’ve identified four of the eleven decoys.”

“Identified?” Priam’s eyes narrowed. “Setting aside my own hostility toward this creature, he’s corrupted by the Necromoon. That makes him your enemy. Surely you understand that the only reason he hasn’t wiped out your population is that he hopes the prospect of collateral damage will prevent me from reducing this city to ashes?”

A heavy silence settled over the operation room. The message was clear: Help me, or Arkanians will become victims of a Tribulation that doesn’t concern them.

Rather than be intimidated, the director shot Priam a piercing look. “We harbor no illusions about his intentions. I sent our best strike team to eliminate one of the decoys.” Her voice darkened. “The massacre lasted less than a minute. According to their final transmission, the clone was identified as a Duke-ranked entity.”

"Ah. You need me to kill it," Priam realized. That explained why the Arkanians were so proactive in their assistance. The revelation reassured him—fear wasn’t the best motivator for Arkanian cooperation. A common enemy guaranteed better teamwork and postponed the inevitable moment of betrayal.

Abernathy nodded. “Our Tier 3s are too… occupied to deal with the clones, and the original is an even bigger problem. The divination department assures me we can’t strike unless he makes the first move.” She locked eyes with Priam. “He’s not human, is he?”

“He’s a Tribulation. I’m honestly surprised the System even allows you to track him.”

“He damaged our city—we have the right to defend ourselves.”

“I suppose,” Priam muttered, watching as changyuraptors trashed a few buildings before being gunned down.

“Twenty meters ahead, the massage parlor on your right, the Happy Endings.”

Priam glanced up, spotting a neon sign depicting a woman in a suggestive pose. “Something tells me the owners are filling their purse in more ways than one.”

“Possible. One of the clones went in twenty minutes ago.”

Wasting no time, Priam approached the door and knocked.

“We’re closed!” a voice called from inside.

Only the apocalypse could put prostitution on pause. And not for long.

Extending his senses, Priam detected four distinct breaths inside—three fast and uneven, one slow and steady. Too steady. He waited a moment, letting his Breath Concept record his nemesis’s patterns. The next hunt would be easier.

Slipping his mist under the door, Priam rode it as soon as possible. He reappeared in a dimly lit room.

Three women, seated around a table with a deck of cards, froze in place, eyes wide. The fourth occupant—a hooded man—continued shuffling the deck, unfazed.

“You should’ve run with your army,” Priam said, flicking a finger toward the door. The lock melted, and the three masseuses bolted into the street.

“A million Viscounts would protect me less from you than the lives of innocents.”

“If you know me that well, then you also know that kind of blackmail will become useless the moment I feel death breathing down my neck. I respect life, but mine comes first.”

“You won’t destroy this city as long as the shadow girl is here.”

Priam raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seriously expect me to believe Jasmine is your hostage.”

His nemesis shook his head. “She’s not. I wish I hadn't underestimated her before she killed five of my clones. Right now, she’s chasing a sixth through the underground tunnels. I’m confident I can stall long enough for my army to reach the human capital.”

Priam studied his opponent’s eyes before responding. “You’re neither a lunatic nor a fanatic. I find it hard to imagine you slaughtering millions just to get to me.”

“It wouldn’t be in vain.”

“I know. If enough humans vanish from Proxima’s surface, I suppose our species will lose its status as a civilization? I can’t be humanity’s Champion if there’s no humanity left. And then you win, right?”

Wang Lin had implied that a civilization’s fate depended on its Champion, Reunions, and a planet like Proxima. Priam trusted Prometheus not to lose this war.

His nemesis smiled. “You always were good at solving puzzles.”

“Yet, something doesn’t add up,” Priam mused, summoning Promesse to lift the enemy’s hood. Priam’s gaze locked onto the man’s face, recognizing some of his facial features as familiar. “During Back in Time, I assumed the System lacked inspiration and conjured up some kind of clone.” [He Who Eludes Gods], which ensured Priam’s soul was unique, contradicted that theory but there were always ways to bend the rules. “I was wrong—I wouldn’t have given a single clue to an opponent as you did. So… who are you?”

The nemesis raised hazel eyes that Priam recognized. They were his own.

“I’m your son.”

Status:

PHYSICAL:

Strength 915

Constitution 1 582

Agility 1 256

Vitality 1 468

Perception 877

MENTAL:

Vivacity (D) 631

Dexterity 784

Memory 961

Willpower 1 208 (+8)

Charisma 888 (+6)

META:

Meta-affinity (O) 1 095

Meta-focus 633

Meta-endurance 1 094

Meta-perception 558

Meta-chance 667

Meta-authority 494

Potential: 27 202 (+3)

Tier 0

Sun points: 1 143 444

[He Who Eludes Death] charge: PRIMED.

Concepts:

Breath (T0): 100% / HarmonyFire (T0): 100% / UnityPyro (T1): 100% / UnityMist (T1): 100% / SymphonyBloodlines:

Phoenix: 3%Dragon: 2%Rewards standing:

Fusion Token - Skill (Epic) Evolution Token - Skill (Legendary)Affinity Token - Tier 1 (30%)Alien Concept fragment (7th Terror)Talent Token - Upgrade (Seraph)Revelation Token - Ideal Prerequisites (Epic)Colosseum VIP TokenReborn Token - Reset biological lifespan (Legendary) Minor skill EpiphanySeed of PotentialTrophy Compass[Tribulation]: Two Tribulations pending.

Future Tribulations delayed until:

Time: 29 days 22 hours 50 minutes 55 seconds.

Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 900 / 6 attributes > 1 200 / 1 attribute > 1 800

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