Starting at a trot before accelerating to leap onto the first platform, Priam controlled his body—or rather his shadow—with a mastery that would be impossible for anyone but an Olympic athlete. He landed on the first platform with a captivating grace before racing forward, weaving through the course toward the corner platform, slowing just enough to avoid twisting an ankle.
Pivoting a quarter turn, Priam faced the next part of the course while stepping backward. When his shoulders t the wall behind him, he planted a foot against it. Inspired by swimrs kicking off pool walls for speed, he pushed off, gaining the impetus needed to clear the next jump.
“Yes!” he shouted as his feet touched the eleventh base.
The race continued, but the increasing height of the platforms sapped his montum. Three leaps later, Priam ca up short, missing the fifteenth platform by re centiters. The ink-black floor beneath him yawned open, swallowing him whole.
“Current record: Test Number One. Fourteenth base. Ti: Twenty-nine seconds. Evaluation: Subpar performance,” echoed a chanical voice as Priam’s eyes fluttered open.
“Who gives a damn?” Priam muttered, a crooked grin playing on his lips. He could almost feel the runes within his soul quivering with excitent. Each failure was a spotlight on his weaknesses, and if anyone was willing to embrace failure to learn and improve, it was him.
It was, after all, the reason he had been granted [He Who Eludes Death].
“That said, there’s no point in rushing. Repeating the sa mistake a hundred tis and expecting different results is just plain stupidity.” Priam shut his eyes, visualizing the course. “This challenge looks like a giant spiral staircase, except there’s nothing but air between the two hundred steps. The problem isn’t just the distance between two platforms; I must also jump upward to reach the next one. Then, when I land, most of my montum is spent in the vertical vector. The platforms’ tiny size prevents from accelerating again, so my next jump falls short.…”
Opening his eyes, Priam frowned. How do I fix this?
“I’ll start with the obvious variable: raw physical strength.”
The System limited his attributes, not his Supremacies.
“Again,” he asked, surrendering himself to the shadows.
The run began as usual: nine platforms to the corner of the room, then a soft landing on the tenth. Priam used the wall behind him to gain additional impetus despite the limited space. The added burst of speed propelled him to the fifteenth platform.
From there, the gaps widened to over five ters. Without sufficient montum, any amateur would have plumted, but Priam relied on Micro. Overclocking his leg muscles, he launched himself into the air with a force beyond human limits.
It had been a long ti since Priam was just an ordinary man.
The nineteenth platform marked another corner. Priam cushioned the impact carefully, preserving his body, and used the wall to gain speed once more. If it ain't broke, don't fix it!
Too bad the formula wasn’t winning anymore. The next gap stretched seven ters, and with barely a ter of runway, the jump was impossible, even for an Olympic athlete.
Without hope, Priam leapt toward the next platform... and missed. As he plumted into the void, his mind churned with ideas for improvent.
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