Perched on a branch of Log-a-Rhythm, Priam gazed out over Oasis, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. The hoplites were defending the periter while the bio traps devoured wave after wave of corrupted.
In the battle zone between the rampart and the barrier, a streak of white lightning darted after Sphinx. The kid laughed, using the undead like springboards, leaving behind splatters of gore. Behind her, the juvenile moon wyrm, blessed with Holy Guardian properties, pierced through her enemies with ease. For now, she was adorable—looking a lot like Dratini from Pokémon—but Priam knew she would grow terrifying in adulthood.
“She stole another kill from Moonie?” Jasmine asked lazily, sprawled out on a nearby branch.
“Almost certainly. She’s been gunning for a na change, too.”
“Moonie?”
“Yep.”
“Because of Sphinx?”
“Yep.”
The young sphinx had been deeply moved when Priam told her about her death in the erased tiline. To honor the sacrifice of her alternate self, she vowed to give up her na after her first High Tribulation. If the dead had only their nas left, they deserved to own them fully.
That had surprised Priam, until the phoenix prince told him Sphinx was following an ancient tradition.
“Still seems kinda weird,” Jasmine mused.
“Surviving a High Tribulation baptizes the soul and ego with aether. Many creatures gain sapience during that ti and choose a new na,” Priam explained, repeating what he had been taught.
“So that’s why they call it a ‘baptism,’ huh?”
“... I suppose? In any case, that’s what happened to the first sphinx—who nad herself Sphinx—long before she founded her bloodline.”
When Priam had asked if the first phoenix called itself Phoenix, his ntor had shot him a look of pure disdain.
“Our young friend is following in her ancestor’s footsteps,” summarized Kazuki. The hoplite hovered, held aloft by a powerful updraft. Since completing his Tribulations, he had embraced the Wind Concept—“The Na of the Wind,” as he liked to call it. “Since she is an orphan, it’s not surprising. She was never going to keep this baby na forever.”
“Orphan or not, it doesn’t change a thing. According to the prince, mythical beasts’ parents pick a na at birth. It’s expected they’ll rena themselves at Tier 1.”
Priam found the tradition fascinating. Most beast clans had achieved or surpassed the level of civilization found in sapient races, yet they still honored their primal roots.
“Have those two picked nas yet?” Jasmine asked.
“Sphinx is torn between Rhia and Aida. Moonie’s still too young to choose… though she’ll hit her High Tribulation first.”
Moonie’s artificial nature gave her a rapid growth rate. She was originally supposed to spend six months at Tier 0, but Holy Guardian IV cut that ti to a quarter.
“How long until she Tiers up?” Jasmine asked.
“Twenty-nine days,” Priam calculated. “I just hope she doesn’t grow up too fast. She’s really adorable right now…”
“Hard to believe you almost sacrificed her as a trophy to temper one of your resistances,” Jasmine said with dramatic flair.
“Shhh!” Priam glanced quickly at Moonie, relieved she hadn’t overheard. The little moon wyrm had just caught up with Sphinx, and the two were rolling around in the mud, occasionally vaporizing a corrupted too dense to sense the danger. “I was young and dumb.”
“That was sixteen days ago,” Kazuki pointed out.
Jasmine delivered the finishing blow. “Still dumb, though.”
Priam clutched his chest, feigning a mortal wound. “Betrayal…”
Kazuki ignored his theatrics. “To be fair, a wyrm core would have been perfect for Heavenly Dragon.”
“Speaking of dragons, what about that arrogant prince, Esmée’s brother? He’s got a Sun Wyrm, right? Bet its core would do wonders for your [Fire Champion Physique],” Jasmine remarked, as a shadow brought her a blueberry granita.
Lamnas had managed to graft several different types of berries, one of which tasted remarkably like blackcurrant. When Rose discovered a rune that absorbed ambient heat, she quickly created ice. From there, Priam had the bright idea of mixing the ice with sugar and fruit juice to create an Italian classic.
The result would have made a Sicilian cry.
Fortunately for Oasis’ residents, Blueberry had taken charge and perfected the recipe. Now, Jasmine was downing five kilos of the stuff daily.
“Not gonna lie, I’ve thought about it,” Priam admitted, salivating at the thought of a Sun Wyrm core. “But he hasn’t attacked us yet. I’m not about to beco the kind of guy who takes out anyone just because they’ve got sothing I want.”
If he started doing that, what was the difference between him and Arnold or Anatole? Haven’t thought about him in a while…
“Say that to Myuri!” the assassin protested. The young empyrean had been sexually assaulted by the prince for years. She never spoke about it, but the way she flinched whenever she heard a man’s voice made it clear her past still haunted her.
Priam winced. “Fair point. Guess I’ve got one reason to crack his skull open…”
“Don’t make any hasty decisions,” Kazuki warned. “He’s the crown prince of the Empyreans, a rival civilization. His father is king and resides on Proxima, the sa planet as the Earth elites. If he learns you killed his heir and seeks revenge, you’ll have to live knowing that thousands, if not millions, of your kind died because of your decision.”
“So, because he’s powerful, he deserves to live?” Priam fud.
“They all deserve to die—that’s not the point.” Kazuki’s gaze hardened. “As Champions, our actions have consequences. Don’t forget that it won’t be you who pays the price of a war between your two civilizations: it’ll be your people.”
Kazuki’s words hit Priam like a cold shower. He was right, of course—his age and experience gave him a clearer view of the situation. I may not be a hero, but I’ll be damned if I let others die because of my choices.
It was the lesson he drew from his previous Tribulations.
“Justice and my tempering demand Aydan’s death… but no one can know it was ,” Priam summarized. “Maybe I can help Esmée finish him off.”
Kazuki’s smile turned wicked. “Now you are thinking.”
“Unless she’s already taken care of it,” Priam continued. “It’s been two weeks since anyone’s seen her.”
“Speak of the devil,” Jasmine said, pointing toward the horizon. Esmée was erging from the forest.
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