Chapter 47: Problems, Solutions, and Revelations
The craftsman's words stopped Priam in his tracks. They can raise the dead?! If that were true, it would change everything. Maybe I can sell them my own head? If they can resurrect people and I can revive every day at midnight, perhaps I've just discovered a glitch!
Priam became serious again. He was ready to make peace with the Revenants if they could resurrect certain members of his family. Perhaps he'd even shake Claire's hand. Shake her hand very hard.
Soon, all the implications of the news became clear. Priam massaged his temples as he insulted them. Resurrecting humans wasn't impossible - he was living proof of that - but it couldn't be easy.
However, whether this was true or false was of no consequence. The Cult had given hope to all humans who had lost a loved one.
All it took was for one person in a hundred to believe in it and be desperate enough to try, and millions would seek to kill him. Priam wasn't worried about his health; he was far beyond the power of the average man. Even if a few people still had guns, no small-caliber bullet could hurt him - his Constitution and [Kinetic Control] would stop them.
What worried Priam was his public image. Most attackers would be desperate, but Priam couldn't spare them all. He would have no choice but to fight for his freedom. If he had to slaughter thousands of idiots fighting for their families, it would affect him and his relationship with humanity.
Maya or Mercury would understand that he had to kill thousands of people. And he would do it to survive. But his family would be shocked by the news.
Priam raised his head sharply, clenching his fists. Some people will realize that they don't stand a chance against me. But I've got a weak point, my family...
Suddenly, Priam panicked. It wasn't impossible that the Revenants would resurrect members of his family who had already died. After all, if Mercury hadn't found any members of his family yet, they might have already died. The idea knotted Priam's stomach, but he didn't want to lie to himself. If that were the case, he'd have to ignore what they'd done if he didn't want his family tortured. But I'll never work for them, even if they hold my family...
"Sons of bitches..." he swore. He looked at Boss again. "Do you believe in this resurrection power?" he asked.
"It's a fact. They've resurrected enough people to believe in it. Even someone I know. Unfortunately for them, I don't love anyone but my wife, and she's safe in another world ruled by the Lotus Sect," the craftsman explained with a laugh. Priam sighed: if Boss believed it, so would others, and it wouldn't be one in a hundred, but one in ten.
The tailor understood Priam's thoughts and continued. "I know the others believe in it too. At least, they want to. Despite the Tutorial and [Humanity adapts], it's hard for most people to deal with this apocalypse. Many were unhappy with their lives and now want to become men and women of exception. For them, this apocalypse is a second chance. But for those who cherish their families... The Revenants' offer gives them hope."
"And when even death can't stop hope... "
The craftsman nodded. He approached a cabinet, took out a bottle and poured himself a glass.
"The Cult won't hurt me. There's a big difference between forcing an artisan to work and killing him. Anatole is an intelligent man, and he won't take any risks. He provides me with free resources, so it's not such a bad deal for me," Boss said, pointing to the workshop around them.
Priam sighed, "Good for you, I suppose. I don't have much time if what you say is true. Will you agree to work on my outfit?"
"I'm not planning to report you, but why would I help you?" the craftsman asked, raising his glass. The amber liquor was mesmerizing. "I'd have to make your tunic outside my working hours if I didn't want the Cult to notice."
Priam remained silent for a few moments. He could threaten the craftsman, but there was nothing to stop Boss from agreeing and escaping with the spider glands. Sphinx sensed Priam's indecision and jumped onto a work table.
She glared at Boss, who cowered. Despite her small size, she exuded a majestic aura. Sphinx came from a mythical race and the craftsman instinctively knew he was outmatched.
"You will help Priam to accumulate positive Karma," she declared. "You didn't resist when asked to work for the Revenants. They commit their misdeeds wearing your clothes, and the blood they spill taints your karma. Help Priam defeat their master and atone for your crimes. All other choices lead to your death."
When the last word was spoken, Sphinx emitted an aether wave, like a divine judgment. The wave struck the three humans present in the workshop, and instinctively, Priam shivered. Sphinx's words were imbued with a magic that Priam knew well. The sentence was final: Boss would obey or die.
The difference in power and the craftsman's negative karma enabled Sphinx to activate her power without posing a riddle. Priam clenched his fists. Sphinx was on his side, but how many monsters in this Universe could kill him with a simple thought? I've got to get stronger...
The craftsman remained petrified for a few seconds as he pondered the situation's stakes. One of the qualities of those who work with psychopaths is that they are quick to make sensible decisions. An essential quality for staying alive.
"I'll help. As much as I don't care about strangers, knowing that monsters are wearing my creations bothers me," he admitted before turning to Priam. "I'll make your tunic."
The assistant chose this moment to cough. Priam and Sphinx turned to her.
"I overheard some Revenant officers complaining this morning - when I was helping them change their wardrobe," she said as the attention turned to her. Priam smiled as she saw that the assistant also wanted to get rid of her negative karma. "Beneath Viracocha lies an area guarded by a terrifying spider. The Cult is planning a full-scale attack in a few hours to defeat it..."
"Its gland could strengthen my tunic," Priam guessed.
"Indeed," replied Boss. "But it's a Viscount. Handling Tier 1 material is too hard right now. I won't be able to get the best out of it. On the other hand, while those idiots are fighting the spider, you could break into their vault," Boss offered.
"There are quite a few materials I'm interested in for your tunic and myself. I'll make you a list. They've stolen from almost every faction in Viracocha, so there's quite a lot of interesting stuff." The craftsman's eyes sparkled and Priam laughed. The last twenty-four hours had taught him that he loved stealing valuables.
"Let's make a contract then," said Priam, winking at Sphinx.
The tailor took half an hour to get Priam's measurements and expectations. Strangely enough, the craftsman was highly qualified in the field of wardress. He informed Priam of some of the young man's preconceptions and guided him towards the perfect outfit.
Apparently, the silk was supple and resistant to both physical and magical damage. The artisan explained that the System would evaluate the final product to improve his skills and that he intended to make it his masterpiece. Trusting the tailor to defend his own interests, Priam let himself be guided.
"Well, the outfit will be as light as it is strong and won't hinder your movements. The pockets will be large and secret, and the hood will protect you from the elements." Priam had insisted on a hood. He sensed that the rain in Elysium would be dangerous and insisted on his anonymity.
"Finally, I plan to entrust the inscription of the outfit to another craftsman. He's not a friend, but he'll accept to increase his skills, he's also very qualified. These inscriptions are not just stylistic; the runes formed interact with the surrounding aether to increase the silk's resistance. I know that some grandmasters can inscribe runes so powerful that the garment repairs itself and increases the wearer's power, but we've only been using the System for a few days. I will have an alchemist treat the silk to strengthen it. It will be a masterpiece of humanity," Boss declared.
Priam had to admit that, while the craftsman had neither scruples nor empathy, he was very competent. He hoped his equipment would finally be up to the task of his enemies. Arnold, the hoplite champion and all his future rivals were certainly over-equipped. He couldn't afford to fall behind.
"How soon will the outfit be ready?" he asked.
"It's hard to say. I've never worked with such impressive materials. I'd say three days," replied the craftsman.
Priam frowned. He was facing a Tribulation in less than a day. Even with two lives, he wanted to put all the odds on his side.
"Can't we go any faster ?" he asked.
Master Boss laughed dryly. "I'm not teaching you how to kill monsters, so don't teach me my job. It's three days of spending all my time on it and betting that you'll kill Anatole. I'll give up all my other projects for that. Without my skills, it would be at least two weeks. If you want the best equipment, you'll have to wait a while."
Priam nodded. His paternal great-grandparents had been tailors, and he knew this kind of work took time.
"Three days then." He turned to the assistant. "Do you know where this treasure room is?"
Lvl Up : [Climb] lvl 6,7,8
AGI +3
Priam was perched on a cathedral roof. Not the highest, but at a hundred meters or so, he knew he had little chance of being seen. If I'm going to imitate an assassin, I might as well do it all the way! Too bad there's no straw on the ground for an angel's leap...
Dressed in an assassin's outfit chosen from the tailor - it was more resistant than the one lent by Sphinx - he observed the procession below him. Orphans, widows and lonely men followed a priest chanting litanies.
The Tutorial had wiped out a sizable portion of humanity. With no effective communication means, knowing the exact death toll was impossible. Perhaps a quarter of humanity was dead. What was certain was that everyone had a relative, friend or child who had died.
Boss's assistant had filled him in. The Revenants sect claimed that those who had disappeared from the Tutorial had simply been transported to another world, the Revenants world. Praying to the god Viracocha meant accumulating points. With enough points, reaching this world and reuniting with loved ones was possible. It sounds more like a capitalist marketing strategy than a religion
Too good to be true? Indeed. However, in a world where Concepts were more or less omnipotent, who could sort the possible from the impossible? This possibility gave hope to the inhabitants. The cult of the Revenants transformed this hope into belief and thus gained followers.
One of the strengths of the Revenants cult was that it had managed to resurrect some people. Master Boss had assured Priam that one of his acquaintances, who had suffered a heart attack two days before the Tutorial, had come back from death.
The man wasn't undead. According to his wife, he was alive, eating, moving, and more This elder wasn't the only one in this case, which lent credibility to the cult. Too bad a psychopath leads this cult... When the head is sick, the body often goes wrong too. What's the purpose of this cult?
Priam was surprised. Not by the resurrections: that was his specialty, after all. However, he had had to be the first of many worlds to obtain this power - and he had benefited from unique circumstances. Priam shivered as he thought about the proposal he had accepted.
He sighed and wondered. A cult that could resurrect several people? Even those who had died before the Tutorial? It was strange, but he'd worry about it later.
Priam was perched on that roof, his buttocks resting on an uncomfortable statue to rob the Cult. But before that...
Priam took out the crystal Albin had given him. The revenant had been forced to inscribe information about the threat that would be decoded two days later. This time lapsed, and Priam was eager to advance his quest.
As he prepared to crush the crystal in his hand, Priam thought better of it. There had to be a less barbaric way to access the crystal's information.
"Sphinx?"
"Hmm?" muttered Sphinx. She opened her eyes slowly, and Priam smiled. He had noticed that she spent a significant part of her time sleeping. Children sleep a lot, and cats too. So a baby Sphinx...
Priam gently scratched his friend's fur to apologize for waking her.
"Do you know if it's possible to access a crystal's information without breaking it?" he asked.
Sphinx opened her eyes and looked as if he were a fool. "A crystal is like a chest. You can break it to access its contents, but that's a brutal solution," she replied. "Or you can open it. Unless, of course, it's locked, in which case you'll need a key."
Priam coughed. He had a lot to learn. "How can I open it?" he asked. Not knowing wasn't a crime. But remaining ignorant was.