A Novel Concept - A death a day, MC will live anyway!-Chapter 311: Humanity’s Whetstone

"Tell me, what do you think humanity needs to survive the next few years?" asked Prometheus.

Priam took a moment to consider the question before answering. “Cohesion. We’re scattered across a sector larger than a galaxy. Most people are left to fend for themselves, selling their freedom just to survive.”

Prometheus and his advisors winced. “True, but we have no way to change that. The System entrusted us with a few million humans to carry the torch of our civilization, and I plan to focus on Proxima. For now.”

‘Entrusted us?’This guy thinks he’s the protagonist—or a king.

Priam decided to keep his thoughts to himself. If Prometheus had the charisma, the vision, and the shoulders broad enough to bear humanity’s burden, Priam was content to let him carry it.

“If we’re talking about Proxima alone, then you need to give people a chance to thrive. Humanity can adapt to anything, but it needs resources—and time.” His brow furrowed. “To survive the next few years, they need time. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“Exactly!” Prometheus slammed his palm against the table, sending a tremor through the stone slab. From that, Priam estimated the king’s strength to be between five and six hundred. “The System provides resources, but humanity needs time to turn them into weapons and knowledge. The Industrial and Digital Revolutions may have been quick by historical standards, but they still took decades. Arkanians and Empyreans won’t wait for us to initiate a Magical Revolution.”

“So far, I agree. I assume you’re telling me this because you have an idea to ensure humanity’s survival?”

“I don’t have a silver bullet,” Prometheus admitted, “only two partial—and complementary—solutions. The first is to cultivate an elite group here on Proxima, then scatter them across the sector. A few hundred humans to keep our flame alive.” Despite the myth tied to his name, Prometheus didn’t seem satisfied. “It only takes one of them reaching Tier 5 to create a secure inner world. From there, humanity would survive through their descendants. Who knows? You might end up as the ancestor of the next generation.”

Priam grimaced. For the first time, he truly understood what it meant to live thousands of years. Over time, his direct family would inevitably grow too large for him to know everyone. The thought pained him. If the death of one of my descendants ever leaves me indifferent, I’ll know I’ve turned into a heartless bastard.

“With a birthrate above three children per woman and monogamous couples, thirty generations could be enough to exceed a million people,” Eloïse interjected.

“So humanity’s survivors would split into clans, each backed by a mid-Tier,” Priam analyzed. “Rivalries between patriarchs and matriarchs would lead to tensions, then schisms. It wouldn’t be our civilization anymore.” He frowned. “And that’s ignoring the issue of genetic diversity.”

Markus nodded in agreement. “Even if the System or technology mitigates the dangers of inbreeding, we’d lose most of humanity’s genetic material.”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Cecilia added. “Millions of traditions, works, oeuvres, and dreams would vanish without a functioning society.”

“Social and societal progress, technological advancements, the history of our civilization—everything humanity has built would be lost,” Prometheus said, his voice intense enough to surprise Priam.

Either he’s the best actor in the universe, or he genuinely believes it’s a tragedy.

“A solution that preserves embers but fails to ignite a new fire. Humanity would survive in name only, its identity irreparably altered,” Priam summarized. “I hope the second solution is more palatable.”

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.

Prometheus nodded. “It involves elevating all humans on Proxima at once… even if it means reforging them in fire.”

Priam narrowed his eyes. “The phrasing is poetic, but I’m afraid I understand your intent.”

The king remained silent for a few seconds before explaining. “I won’t settle for a handful of humans tending the grave of our civilization. I want a united civilization, proud of its history and ready to fight for its future!” His gaze locked onto Priam’s, his voice vibrating with conviction. “Tutorial, Reunions, Proxima… The System is preparing terrible events, but there’s a chance to use them as catalysts to evolve, to withstand the test of time, and spread our wings.

Priam felt a chill run through him as he realized the truth. “You don’t want to avoid conflict with the Arkanians. That’s why you’re against me using my Tribulations to cripple their army. You want a war,” he accused.

“Don’t tell me you became who you are today by avoiding your enemies,” the king countered.

“Conflict has accelerated my growth, sure, but—” Priam hesitated. He could dodge death once a day. Most people didn’t have that luxury. “There will be casualties,” he finished.

Prometheus let the silence hang before responding. “There are always casualties. I see no other path.”

The three advisors looked down at the table under the Champion’s scrutiny, but the king didn’t avert his gaze. He’s serious.

Priam swallowed hard. What could he say? He had chosen not to meddle in humanity’s politics. Some called him crazy for being willing to mutilate himself for progress, but that was a personal choice. Deciding the fate of humanity, of millions of lives, was infinitely harder—at least for someone with a shred of empathy.

“Do your army and the inhabitants of this city share your vision?” he asked after nearly a minute of silence. “Are they ready to use the Arkanians as a whetstone, knowing death will always loom?”

“The majority of them do.” Prometheus’s gaze was steady. Priam resolved to visit the city and verify, but for now, he would give the king the benefit of the doubt. “With the exception of criminals, no one here was conscripted. Every soldier knows what they’ve signed up for. Remember, everyone here chose at least a Hard Tutorial. They are humanity’s elite, determined to take their destiny into their own hands. On Proxima, no one needs a savior. You can be a figurehead—like me—but you must let them climb the mountain themselves. If you carry them now, they’ll crumble once you’re gone.”

Prometheus’s words gave Priam pause. Was he right? If his help wasn’t wanted, was it worth forcing? Since the Tutorial began, I’ve taken countless reckless risks. If someone had tried to stop me, thinking they knew better, I’d have been furious. On the other hand, rival civilizations won’t play nice. If I stand by and humanity’s elite falls, the rest is doomed.

Despite his Champion Title, Priam didn’t see himself as humanity’s savior. That didn’t mean he was ready to ignore its demise.

“You’re hesitating,” Markus observed.

“I don’t want to undermine the free will of the men and women here, but this concerns all of humanity. I’m questioning whether war is truly the answer.”

The doctor sighed. “I swore the Hippocratic Oath. I will never take a life willingly, nor do I encourage it. However, I wouldn’t counsel Prometheus if I thought he was a monster. The Arkanians have chosen to exterminate us. If we don’t respond today, if we rely on your help, then you’ll have to help us tomorrow and the day after. The day will come when you’re absent, and humanity will perish. I hate this violence, but I recognize it as inevitable.”

“It’s necessary for our civilization’s growth,” Cecilia added. “Even without the System rewarding risk and territorial wars, history shows conflict drives progress. Many everyday items have military origins: microwaves, freeze-dried products, canned goods, GPS… Other discoveries were accelerated by war, such as advancements in surgery, radiology, the space program, and atomic energy.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“War may be fertile ground,” Priam acknowledged, “but it’s watered with blood.”

“No one’s saying otherwise,” Prometheus said with a heavy sigh. “But we can’t avoid it. Hard times are coming, and only those hardened by them will survive. Before we face the rest of this universe, humanity must adapt. My army includes engineers, doctors, drivers, workers, merchants, and students. To become warriors, they need the Arkanians. Ending this war for them would steal their chance to adapt to this new reality.”

There were still a little over four months left before the second Reunion, and Priam decided to postpone his decision. If Prometheus and his army started losing the war, he could always return to Proxima to tip the scales with Breaths and orbital bombardment.

“You're going to have to find a place to trigger your Tribulations.”

“I know. That’s hard as I’d like to kill two birds with this stone…”

“Are you still planning to visit the Arkanians?” Jasmine’s voice trembled, but Priam couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or fear.

“Yeah. I want the reward tied to the quest for executing a leader.”

“Perfect,” replied the assassin, slipping back into his shadow while transmitting the complete inventory of the king’s vault.

Rather than stay cooped up in the royal palace, Priam asked the king to show him around his city. The Champion wanted to ensure he hadn’t been deceived about the sincerity of Prometheus’s intentions.

Thus, in the dead of night, Prometheus and his advisors found themselves accompanying Priam and his shadow.

“Cecilia mentioned the System rewards these territorial wars,” said Priam, absorbing the sound waves of the conversation with [Kinetic Control]. He didn’t want to wake the residents.

“Indeed. When enemies attack, the System triggers a special event: a Wave. Defenders are often rewarded with Potential when they repel invaders. It allows them to get a high upgrade for their skills.”

“Not ideal?”

The king rolled his eyes. “Even my knights don’t have ideal skills. Only a few scientists and paladins possess one.”

“What about you?”

“Not telling.”

“I bet you have less than me.”

“...”

Smiling, Priam turned his attention to his surroundings. The buildings closest to the palace were made of stone or metal, while those farther out were crafted from wood. Each district bore distinct influences—Western-style quarters gave way to Oriental or Oceanian blocks. Altogether, it created an exotic cityscape full of diversity and wonder.

Clearly, the city had been built with the help of multiple skills and in record time. Priam was particularly impressed by the architect's overall vision behind the project. The streets were clean, wide, tree-lined, and perpendicular, while the districts were easily recognizable. Merchants lined the main road, artisans worked just behind them, followed by residential zones, then fields, vegetable gardens, and orchards. Multiple defensive walls encircled the city, though Priam suspected they served more to reassure the populace than to hold off an invasion. If an army reached this far, all would be lost.

“Well-designed,” Priam admitted as they passed a small park.

“I can’t take the credit,” Prometheus said. “Some of humanity’s best architects are here. They drew inspiration from modern cities to plan the infrastructure and public spaces. Cecilia and Eloïse oversaw it all.”

“Still, building all this in two months is impressive,” Priam said. “It’s a lot less chaotic than Paris.”

Prometheus burst out laughing. “You can’t compare a centuries-old city where people built whatever they wanted—sometimes without permits—to a place where everything was planned from the start.”

“There are Parisian influences, though,” Cecilia interjected. “The stone buildings have Haussmannian facades—named after the man who transformed the City of Light into the Paris everyone knew. Moreover, our fortifications are inspired by Vauban, one of history’s most influential military architects.”

Priam nodded. He remembered learning about Vauban, the 17th-century engineer who had perfected French defenses in his time.

“I know he designed star-shaped fortifications, but isn’t that... a little outdated?”

Cecilia shook her head. “Modern wars relied on explosives too powerful for most fortifications to matter—hence their abandonment. Magic, however, changes the game. With enchanted materials, reinforced by skills and supported by runic formations, defense becomes viable again. As a history professor, I collaborated with engineers and architects to recreate impenetrable strongholds.”

The pride gleaming in Cecilia’s eyes made Priam itch to test those defenses. I wonder if they could withstand a Conquest Pyro Breath...

“No,” Prometheus said flatly.

“What?”

“I recognize that look, and the answer is no. Either you’ll fail, and enemy spies will report it to their masters, or you’ll succeed, and my workers will spend sleepless nights rebuilding whatever you destroyed.”

Priam shrugged but pricked his ears at the faint sound of music in the distance. Curious, he decided to investigate. “Speaking of spies, are there really people willing to betray humanity by siding with the Arkanians or the Empyreans?”

“They’re rare,” Prometheus said, his tone hardening, “but a few warlords refuse to submit to my authority.”

“I thought you’d united humanity on Proxima.”

“Almost,” the king replied, his voice carrying a warning for his rivals. “The holdouts are funded by our enemies to maintain their independence. Their days are numbered.”

Nodding absentmindedly, Priam followed the music to its source. Between a tattoo parlor and a place of worship stood a lively bar.

"People tattoo runes onto their skin," explained Prometheus. "It’s far from matching the System and its soul runes, but any edge is worth taking."

Priam nodded again. Jasmine did something similar, covering her skin with shifting shadows. The advantage was that her tattoos were temporary and could change instantly. Most importantly, a scar wouldn’t ruin everything.

“I’m surprised to see a place of worship here.”

“We have temples for every religion,” replied Prometheus. “The existence of genocidal aliens makes it easier for people to set aside old quarrels.”

“Doesn’t that clash with the whole myth surrounding you? I mean, you are the ‘King by Divine Right,’ aren’t you?”

“That’s the name of my Talent,” Prometheus admitted, “but you’ve got it wrong. For many, the integration by the Seven Concepts represents the end of the world foretold in their scriptures. My mission doesn’t contradict their eschatology or beliefs; some even see me as a prophet after using [Identification] on me.”

[Identification]

[Prometheus - Tier 0 - Marquess] - A man who swore to protect humanity above all else. His desire was so pure that he received a blessing to aid his mission.

In this ruthless world, the King by Divine Right stands as a beacon for those willing to fight.

“... Who gave you that Talent?” Priam asked. “I know very well who sponsored Earth’s Tutorial, and this blessing doesn’t match their Concept.”

Priam’s patron governed death—or at least an adjacent Concept. If Prometheus had survived an Impossible Tutorial, as he claimed, his reward should have been related to [He Who Eludes Death]. The minor wish made in the Colosseum confirmed that the king and the Champion did not share the same patron.

“I don’t know,” smiled the man who had renamed himself Prometheus. “Maybe God took pity on us? Or perhaps the System simply wanted to restore balance after the Depths cheated by saving Anatole? The Impossible Tutorial isn’t supposed to have more than one victor. Your triumph should’ve been our death.”

“...” Priam didn’t know what to say. It seemed obvious he was far from qualified to obtain certain answers.

“You wanted to see how I treat my subjects, right? Let’s not waste more time,” Prometheus said, pushing the bar door open. With Eloïse on his arm, the king mingled with the crowd.

Smoke, swing music, and joyful shouts filled the air. Priam grabbed a drink at the bar, chatted with a few groups of young people, and was eventually pulled onto the dance floor by a young woman wearing a shadow mask. He forgot about the terror of the Tribulations, the existence of his rivals, humanity’s plight, and the Zenith road.

For a fleeting instant, Priam was just a young man in his twenties, swept away by the rhythm of the party.

[He Who Eludes Death] charge: OFF. Reloaded in 4 hours 47 minutes 12 seconds.

Next arc already complete on Patreon if you want to find out what happens next!

/ANovelConcept