R-a - Volume 4 - Chapter 67 (Patreon)

R-a - Volume 4 - Chapter 67

In a world frozen in time, Director Prime sat calmly on a short, wooden chair and examined the scene before him.

“He’s caught on.” Prime frowned.

Prime’s voice echoed in the still air as he talked to himself, a habit he had picked up over the countless years he had spent alone.

Around 35 meters away from Prime stood Orion, his eyes piercing towards Prime.

The powerful Dark Wraith had just now begun to move, his legs smashing down upon the earth with a tremendous amount of force.

Prime stood up from his chair and walked over towards where the First Lord was standing. After reaching him, he crouched down, pushing aside a few bits of floating rock that had flown up after Orion began kicking off the ground.

“There’s no visible indicator of energy.”

After a few seconds' consideration, Prime pulled out a large, glowing red notebook, a black pen, and a low desk.

He then sat down on the ground and placed the notebook on the desk, opening it to the 108th page.

“Observations Log: Orion’s Movement Technique #17b.”

Prime rapidly began to note down everything he could see about this movement technique, marking his observations down in great detail. From the way Orion had shifted his weight, to the method in which the First Lord positioned his limbs.

He made meticulous notes of everything, even going so far as to draw accurate sketches of the warrior’s stance.

Prime had adapted to living inside a world frozen in time. While it wasn’t possible to take a picture, writing down everything he observed was a good enough substitute.

The notebooks Prime used weren’t normal notebooks. They were Artifacts he had purchased from the Shop, known as ‘Memory Journals.’

Normal notebooks would revert any changes he made to them after he released his World Matrix Type Ability. Memory Journals, on the other hand, were a special type of Artifact that were intricately linked to his memory. Everything he wrote down in those Artifacts was imprinted upon his mind, permanently saved in a copy that was linked to his memories.

These were the sole Artifacts Prime had found, throughout the entire Shop, that allowed him to actually do something here inside this world frozen in time.

“Hmm.” Prime muttered after a few seconds, putting down his pen.

After a moment’s thought, Prime tapped on his Spatial Ring. In it, he brought out 7 more notebooks that he carefully categorized on his small, wooden desk.

“I see. It’s mostly an internal technique.”

Prime read through his notebooks, refreshing his memory on everything he had observed before. He compared Orion’s current movement technique to those he had already witnessed, noting down any visible differences.

After several minutes, Prime set down his notebooks and looked up. His eyes narrowed as he took a deep breath before slowly exhaling.

Prime then tapped on his Spatial Ring, bringing out a set of large and small surgical knives.

And then…

Prime stabbed the knife into the flesh of Orion’s leg.

Gradually, bit by bit, Prime worked the knife forward as he cut through the warrior’s leg, separating muscles, tendons, and ligaments from each other. His precise, surgical incisions unveiled a scene of tightly condensed energy, overlapping in a repeating cylindrical pattern, inscribed internally.

Drops of blood flew out from the injuries, floating in the air in front of Prime and obscuring his vision. Prime tapped on his Spatial Ring in response, bringing out a large white towel, wiping up the blood so it didn’t hover mid-air.

Nothing he did inside this world frozen in time was permanent; even the blood-soaked towel he set on the ground would revert to normal as soon as he released his World Matrix Type Ability.

Minutes slipped into hours as Prime dissected Orion’s entire body, tracing changes in musculature, energy concentration, and body positioning.

It was tedious.

It was draining.

It was incredibly boring.

And…

This was how Prime fought.

“It’s still remarkable, every time I see it.” Prime muttered, staring at Orion.

“The body of a Toren.”

It was a statement that would have shocked Micheal to hear; Prime had recognized the body that Orion had occupied.

One of the first things Prime had done, after arriving on the Second Layer, was seek out power.

Prime’s defeat against Micheal on the First Layer had left the man in a state of loss and confusion. It had been a crushing blow to Prime’s self-esteem and confidence, one that a lesser man would’ve failed to overcome.

But not Prime.

Instead, to him, it was a wake-up call.

A lesson learned in the agony of defeat and the misery of failure.

‘I lost because I was weak.’

He acknowledged his defeat, coming to terms with the reasons for his failure.

Prime was not a careless man. If anything, Prime considered himself to be a bit too paranoid, always checking, double checking, and triple checking every action he took.

It was something he forced himself to do, because he knew he was not the genius others thought he was.

What he couldn’t make up for in natural talent, he matched with his willingness to spend inordinate amounts of time to achieve an equal, or greater, result.

If he had been just a little bit faster… just a little bit stronger… a little bit more prepared…

These thoughts had plagued Prime after his fight with Micheal, and, as a result, he set about ensuring they wouldn’t happen again.

In the Ancient World, there existed a series of mysterious Inheritances called the Twelve Tombs. They were the sole surviving Blue Drake Inheritances, at least among those known to exist in the public eye.

Prime had sought out these Inheritances, passing a series of incredibly dangerous trials and proving his merit. He had been justly rewarded, gaining greater strength and power, his blood imbued with several drops of Draconic Energy, normally something only a Dragon could possess.

It was here, inside the depths of the Twelve Tombs, that Prime first discovered records of an ancient war from long ago. A war between three powerful races.

The Dark Wraiths.

The Blue Drakes.

And…

The Torens.

“Why is a Toren serving as the First Lord of the Byrens?” Prime muttered as he stared at Orion’s fearsome visage, a frown marring his appearance.

It was a question he couldn’t answer, no matter how hard he thought.

“A Toren that channels Elemental Lightning, like a Dark Wraith, but possesses tremendous Ki stores and incredible Martial Mastery, like a Byren.” Prime continued, shaking his head.

After a few seconds, he sighed quietly to himself.

“I feel as if there’s a much greater story hidden here… but I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

Prime’s gaze grew cold as he focused back on Orion.

As he stared at him, his mind flowed backwards, to his memories of when the fight had just begun.

At that time, Prime remembered his first impression as he saw Orion jump into battle.

“Beautiful.”

It was the only way Prime could think to describe it as he sat and watched the greatest Martial Artist he had ever witnessed go to war.

Every movement Orion made, every attack he unleashed, every step he took, was full of an incredible, calculated grace that was inhumanly precise.

What was even more absurd, in Prime’s eyes, was that Orion was visibly improving as the battle went on.

‘No, perhaps improving is the wrong word.’ Prime had realized at some point.

‘It’s almost as if he’s adjusting his skills to match his body.’ It was a casual observation Prime made, unaware how close to the truth he truly was.

Orion was an incredible warrior… but it wasn’t until Prime watched Orion face off against Gregor Mantorel that he truly realized the full extent of the First Lord’s prowess.

The Lord Justiciar.

Prime had heard countless tales of the most famed Farian warrior, stories that reached even the ears of humans far to the south of the Dragon Mountains.

The strongest Farian in history.

The descendant of a Primordial Giant.

A Swordmaster of unmatched skill.

So, when the two warriors faced off, the World’s Strongest versus the Lord Justiciar, Prime had thought he was prepared for what it would look like.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was a display of raw martial skill that Prime had never witnessed before in his life, more akin to a scene from an action movie than an actual, real fight.

Memories rose to the forefront of Prime’s mind as he recalled their first clash.

Orion had just finished rebuffing the others when he and Gregor began to duel.

‘Incredible.’

When Orion attacked Fortuna and the Nirvana Saint, when he defended against the Knight Commanders and Shahsta, the battle was rough and ugly, full of Magic and Abilities, scarring the air with light and color.

When Orion dueled with Gregor… it was different.

The fight began with Orion’s right fist rushing for Gregor’s head, covered in a layer of crackling white energy. The Lord Justiciar reacted by stabbing his sword forward towards Orion’s heart, with Master Tier Sword Energy coating his blade in a deadly edge.

Orion responded to that by raising his left fist to redirect the force from Gregor’s stab into the Lord Justiciar’s right hand, who in return dodged Orion’s fist by kicking the ground and causing it to jut forward several inches, throwing Orion off balance.

Orion returned by twisting his body to the left and bringing his right elbow down, aiming to crush Gregor’s skull while regaining his balance. The Lord Justicar responded by kicking out with his left knee, slamming it into Orion’s back, to which the First Lord reacted by twisting his entire body in one smooth, spinning motion, leading with his own returning kick, slamming into Gregor’s left knee.

It was a battle of a thousand steps, each taking place over the course of a tiny fraction of a second, all within arms reach.

Every minute move each warrior made had its own response, and then a response to that response, and a response to that response’s response.

It was an incredibly intricate display of skill.

And…

It was brutal.

Orion and Gregor traded dozens of blows with each other, each attack containing enough force to obliterate a boulder with ease, like it was nothing.

It wasn’t flashy or ostentatious, nor was it delicate and graceful.

It was raw, unadulterated violence that held back nothing at all.

And it was here that Prime realized how dangerous this situation was.

‘I need to act. Right now.’

Orion was a monster.

Gregor was a monster too, he had to be if he was capable of trading blows evenly with the First Lord…

But Orion was doing all of that, while fighting everyone at the same time…

And he was holding back.

In the records of the ancient war between the Torens, the Dark Wraiths, and the Blue Drakes, there lay stories of a being who possessed powers surpassing all others.

A Toren by the name of Sion Swordsoul.

A Titled Deity.

At the start of the battle, Prime had noticed the small, blue screen that had appeared, floating in the air briefly in front of Orion.

A screen that proclaimed that the First Lord had obtained a Title.

The historical records Prime had sifted through in the Twelve Tombs had been expansive. They had outlined many parts of the ancient war, highlighting how it took place after the Torens ‘Ascended’ and became ‘Deities.’

And… those records, in particular, focused on the horror that was a ‘Titled’ Deity.

Prime didn’t know for sure why Orion had elected to not use his Title. He assumed it was due to a mix of pride, confidence, and arrogance, but couldn’t confirm either way.

What he did know was that he could not afford to let the First Lord grow any stronger than he already was.

And so…

He began to interfere.

‘Telekinetic Push.’

It was the name of a new Ability Prime had purchased, a power he chose after his fight with Mantis and the Beasts of Providence.

Prime’s greatest strength was his ability to stop time, allowing him to plan out his each and every action in excruciating detail.

His greatest weakness, on the other hand, was that his body could not keep up with his mind.

And so, Prime purchased an Ability that made up for that failing.

Telekinetic Push. It was an Ability that cost 408,556 Points, an astonishingly high amount for its rather simplistic name.

It did exactly what its namesake implied: granted Prime telekinetic powers, growing in scale based on his Soul stat.

Throughout the past 48 minutes, Prime had constantly interfered with the fight at hand. He kept his actions to a minimum, concealing his movements and striking as subtly as possible, all the while preventing Orion from attacking freely.

‘Preemptive strikes are key.’

Orion was a genius.

Prime acknowledged that, and planned his actions accordingly.

If Prime used his powers directly on the First Lord, Orion would have noticed early on. No matter how subtle his touch, the First Lord’s remarkable senses would doubtlessly pick up on Prime’s interference.

So, instead, Prime used his powers on his allies.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t weaken Orion’s attacks if he could make his teammates' movements perfect.

A slight push here, a minor repositioning there. A quiet shifting of the center of gravity for Fortuna’s attack in this moment, a millisecond preemptive dodge for Gregor in that moment.

Like a conductor directing a grand orchestra, Prime put on a magnificent play that cut off every opportunity Orion attempted to create. It was mind-numbingly excruciating and an extreme test of Prime’s patience…

But he had nothing but time on his hands.

And… it worked.

For 48 minutes straight, Prime prevented Orion from landing even a single fatal blow on his allies.

In that time, he wore down the First Lord’s stamina. Orion might be the World’s Strongest, but the enemies he faced here were some of the greatest elites on the planet. The First Lord’s injuries might not appear significant compared to the damage he dealt, but every blow counted.

Alas, all good things must come to an end.

Orion’s instincts verged on the supernatural.

Despite not showing even the slightest physical indication of interference, the First Lord had somehow managed to pick up on Prime’s actions. Even Prime wasn’t sure how he had been caught. Nevertheless, that was the reality he faced.

Prime’s mind snapped back to the present as he stood up, closing his Memory Journals and storing them in his Spatial Ring, alongside everything else he had taken out.

If he had been alone, Prime thought he probably would have retreated.

No matter how much he interfered, there was only so much he could do about Orion. The preparations he had made for this fight were woefully insufficient, based off faulty, incomplete knowledge.

However…

Prime smiled.

He was not alone.

Time returned to normal.

And…

Just moments before Orion arrived in front of Prime, ready to tear the human apart, limb from limb…

“I’ll kill you, Toren.”

Yvvtal the Destroyer entered the fray.

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