A Novel Concept - A death a day, MC will live anyway!-Chapter 332: Stupor, Denial and Hesitation

“I'm your son.”

“...”

Like any guy who had seen Star Wars, Priam had whispered ‘I am your father’ in a raspy voice before. It was a lot less funny when you were on the receiving end. His eyes widened like those of a one-night stand getting a call from the maternity ward. He studied the clone's features: those piercing hazel eyes, that dimple at the corner of his mouth, the V-shaped jawline, those light eyebrows... The resemblance was undeniable. A wave of vertigo washed over Priam.

Could the System really be that cruel? Had it used his DNA to conjure a son out of thin air?

It was certainly possible, but there was a simpler explanation. His nemesis was using their resemblance to sow doubt in Priam’s mind. Altering one’s appearance couldn’t be that hard for someone capable of crafting chimeras. Every second he gains, his army tightens its grip on humanity and the blade of the Fifth Tribulation inches closer to my throat.

Stupor gave way to denial and Priam raised Promesse in a brutal motion.

“Liar.”

“As a baby you used to bash your head against the floor whenever Grandpa refused you something. He’d always cave in, afraid you’d hurt yourself. It was Grandma’s indifference that made you stop.”

Priam staggered back as if struck. He had been a turbulent baby, but only his parents knew that particular anecdote. His mouth might have kept denying it, but his mind was already convinced—his nemesis was truly his son. As the realization settled in, denial gave way to curiosity.

“Your mother…” Not a monk, nor a Casanova, Priam had had a few flings, which he quickly reviewed. Even at drunken parties, he had always taken precautions. The only exception had been with his trusted last girlfriend.“Victoire?”

His son nodded. “Humanity’s racial Talent, [Humanity Adapts], weakens the effects of hormonal contraceptives. We think Mom’s implant failed when you were with the Mercenaries.”

Priam connected the dots in an instant. “You’re the son I would’ve had if I had stayed in that dream!”

“A dream?” The clone studied his hands. “I remember Mom’s smile as she told me about Dad’s adventures. My pride when one of his Achievements interrupted class. My fear when half of Sector Hope was swallowed by the Depths, then my awe when our family fled to Elysium… When reality and illusion blur beyond recognition, does the truth even matter?"

“He's stalling,” said an unwelcome voice in Priam’s earpiece. He switched it off, focusing on the situation.

Not content with just a blood tie, the System had given his son memories. In their omnipotence, the Concepts might have even continued the dream after Priam’s departure, granting the nemesis a true life.

“You don’t seem shocked,” the nemesis observed.

“I'm fucking floored,” Priam admitted. “I’m just thinking about something else to buy myself time to process this shit. I’m barely mature enough to take care of a baby, and now I have a full-grown adult!”

“Well, look on the bright side.”

“Like what?”

“At least you don’t have to change my diapers.”

The joke ripped a laugh from Priam.

“Alright, tell me—what the hell did I do to deserve a son with patricide on his mind?”

The clone raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. “I don’t wish you harm. Well, Dad wasn’t as present as I’d have liked—too obsessed with magic and adventure. But every free moment he had, he gave to us. Most importantly, he always supported my choices and never imposed his own. I had a happy childhood.”

Priam gazed at the son he had never fathered and felt a wave of relief. His own childhood with his mother had been complicated, and he had always feared he would repeat the cycle. But in at least one reality, he had been a good father. Nothing is set in stone. Our choices matter.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Priam said, glancing at the countdown to his return to Elysium. “If you’re not here for revenge, what do you want?”

The words of Jasmine’s clone and Taishi indicated that sapient Tribulations had their own agendas.

“To validate my reality. If I win, I’ll become a cluster of cells in my mother’s womb again, and you’ll remain humanity’s second Champion. I would have liked to reclaim my entire life, but that’s impossible as you are the focus of the Tribulations. I just hope my sisters remain the same.”

“Vic and I had more kids?!”

“Six. You and Mom were like rabbits whenever you got back from Elysium. I think pregnancies helped her cope with your absences.”

“...Fuck.”

“That’s the word.”

Overwhelmed, Priam shifted his focus to the world his son longed for—a reality where Anatole’s madness had spared most of the Revenants’ victims. With Wang Lin and Lasha training him, Priam likely wouldn’t have needed to draw his first Tribulations into a Dome, sparing hundreds of lives. In that dream, humanity was less scared.

“You could give us this win…” the clone murmured, reading the regret in Priam’s eyes.

The sentence made the Juggernaut smile. “After Back in Time, I know the System and the Concepts have no trouble affecting the entire universe. But the change you propose would alter people’s lives without giving them a choice.” His brow furrowed. “If the Seven hate anything, it’s determinism. So, the most obvious reward would be to create a parallel universe centered around you.”

“A reality where they’d inject your soul. You wouldn’t die,” the nemesis pressed.

“I’d lose my friends. Everything I’ve built.”

“And gain a wife and seven kids!”

The outburst caught Priam off guard. He noted the edge of resentment in his son’s voice.

“Love or magic, huh?” Priam exhaled. “I’m sorry if my other self neglected you. But accepting your proposal would erase my past few weeks. Those experiences made me who I am. You’re asking me to commit suicide.”

Priam’s very soul recoiled at the thought.

The clone shrugged. “I won’t lie—I barely had any hope of convincing you. Your pragmatism and aversion to death are legendary.” He locked eyes with his father. “I suppose we’re done, then. Are you going to kill me?”

Priam tightened his grip on Promesse. “I’ll do what’s necessary to survive.”

“You’d kill your own son?”

Priam didn’t answer. Despite all the evidence, he didn’t see his nemesis as his child. He hadn’t witnessed his first steps or heard his first words. Those moments matter more than blood.

There was no need to voice that, no point in insulting the clone by saying it out loud.

For a few seconds, both men stared at each other before the nemesis smirked. “Your hand is trembling. The Tribulations haven’t erased all the weakness in your hearts yet.”

That’s why you’re here, right?

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant echoes of battle. Priam clenched his jaw, willing his lance to move. But faced with a son who had surrendered his weapons, he faltered. Of course, he had no choice—inaction would lead straight to his death. But knowing what to do and doing it were two different things.

Somewhere in the distance, the ticking of a clock echoed—a quiet metronome to Priam’s velleity. He wished he had the resolve to act, but he found himself incapable of striking down his own blood. More than their shared features, the fact that he respected his son’s choices and convictions forged a bond between them. The nemesis had chosen to strike at humanity rather than his father, and if their roles had been reversed, Priam would have made the same decision.

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The standoff dragged on, broken only by the occasional distant scream. Neither moved. A part of Priam almost hoped his son would attack first, forcing his hand in self-defense—but the nemesis was too clever for that.

After nearly ten minutes of deadlock, Priam had to admit the truth: he could not bring himself to execute his son’s clone on his own.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, looking away. “I hope I’ll have the courage to stand by my decisions when I meet your original.”

[In the Zone].

As confusion flickered across the clone’s face, Priam let the Juggernaut take over. The warrior straightened and his hand no longer trembled.

“What—”

Promesse struck.

Jasmine knew the sewers better than she would have liked. Too much of her childhood had been spent in these tunnels—long enough that the stench of shit and filth had become familiar rather than repulsive.

When the clone’s trail veered right into a narrow conduit, she smirked and kept moving straight ahead. A hundred meters later, she reached an underground checkpoint, slipping through the shadows to perch behind the blades of a massive alternator. A service door, a short corridor, and then she was overlooking a retention basin.

A few minutes later, a young man broke the surface five meters below, hacking up something unidentifiable before glancing upward.

“Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Jasmine echoed, grinning.

Both knew the truth—at this distance, she could step into his shadow and sever his head before he even blinked.

“I don’t get how you keep finding me,” the clone grumbled.

Jasmine merely smiled. Her method was simple: she relied on [Threat Killer], a Title she had earned by helping eliminate the menace that had once threatened her civilization. Its effect was invaluable—it allowed her to perceive threats to her race. For attacking Arkana, Priam’s nemesis and his clones were practically beacons to her senses.

“Any last words?” she asked, idly juggling two daggers.

“This is pointless,” the clone muttered. “You can hunt every copy down, but the System won’t let you harm the original.”

“Priam will handle it.”

“He’s too soft.”

“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”

“Dad values his life above all else, but he won’t kill his own family with his own hands. Not unless he’s betrayed. He’s still young.”

“Dad?”

“I’m Priam and Victoire’s son.”

Jasmine dropped one of her daggers in shock. When she recovered, her smirk had vanished.

“The System created you to kill the kindness in him. I won’t let that happen,” she vowed as a blade bloomed in the clone’s eye.

As she stepped into the shadow, hunting her next target, one question burned in her mind.

Who the hell is this Victoire bitch?!

Prometheus dismounted, scowling at the darkened horizon. Behind him, the rhythmic clang of construction filled the air. Ballistae, onagers, catapults, and trebuchets were being assembled by the hundreds, reinforced with enchantments and skills to bring down the airborne horde closing in.

Before battle, the soldiers helped the military engineers work. Fortifications rose, moats were dug, and geomancers carved runes into compacted earth platforms. Twenty were set to activate protective domes over the encampment.

“In an hour, we’ll have a hundred of them,” Guandi remarked as he approached. “Layered like an onion, these barriers will save a lot of lives.”

“We don’t have an hour,” Prometheus replied, not taking his eyes off the sky. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“More like eight,” Guandi corrected. “They’ll speed up once they spot us. Thirty thousand men against a million abominations... it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet for them.”

“Then we’ll give them indigestion.”

“We’d give them food poisoning if we fought behind our capital’s defenses instead of out here,” the general pointed out.

Prometheus exhaled slowly. “Each of those things is a blight. Their corpses will curse the ground they fall on, and the gases from their cremation are more toxic than—”

“My mother-in-law?” Guandi suggested.

“Maybe not that bad,” Prometheus chuckled. “But close enough. I won’t have that filth near our city.”

“Mmh. Do we have a chance?”

Prometheus ran his fingers over the twin chains tattooed on his wrists. “With our knights, I have faith. Well, here comes one of our trump cards.”

A rider galloped toward them at breakneck speed. Dismounting in one fluid motion, the newcomer bowed.

“My king! General!”

“Feng, glad to see you made it in time.”

“I would never fail to answer your call! I only hope my fishing skill won’t be a waste of your time.”

With his team, Feng Kai caught half the fish humanity consumed on Proxima. His Epic skill, [Lure], bewitched the instincts of his prey, drawing them wherever he wished.

“Your talents will be invaluable against the mindless spawn of the Necromoon,” the king assured him.

“I’m glad to hear it. Unfortunately, my aether reserves are limited.”

“Don’t worry about that. As soon as you’re exhausted, I’ll borrow your skill. You may go.” freewebnøvel.com

Feng bowed and withdrew with Guandi.

Prometheus closed his eyes, focusing on the constellation etched into his heart. The lights grew brighter with every second—proof that more knights were drawing near. For a fleeting moment, the king wondered just how powerful he would become, wielding dozens of Epic and Legendary skills at once.

A tremor rippled through the air, and his eyes snapped open.

He would have his answer soon enough.

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

Charisma 888

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

Tier 0

Sun points: 1 143 444

[He Who Eludes Death] charge: PRIMED.

Concepts:

Bloodlines:

Rewards standing:

[Tribulation]: Two Tribulations pending.

Future Tribulations delayed until:

Time: 29 days 22 hours 45 minutes 37 seconds.

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

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