The Primal Hunter

”When you say that you didn’t cut the feed off… what exactly do you mean? Did the system interfere directly, or was it something else?” Vilastromoz asked. If it was the first, then he would have many more questions, but if it was the latter… well, he would still have a lot of questions.

”Certain… concessions had to be made in order to gather all the images I wanted. When the system assists in extracting an image and downgrading it to F-grade, the targeted entity will have the ability to interfere with the aim of vetting what the left image will be capable of,” the Wyrmgod explained. ”This was primarily made with the intent for the god to filter out certain hidden abilities they wished to keep hidden, but it has also been used to implement certain things that didn’t necessarily need to be there. I have actively chosen not to attempt to moderate this, as I do not see any tangible downsides, and overall see the benefits outweighing the losses.”

Vilastromoz frowned at the explanation. He had already been aware that these images weren’t actually copies of people at F or G-grade. No, if that was the case, Jake would have been able to simply kill every single one easily. While someone like the Soulfist had been powerful in F-grade for sure, he simply didn’t have the time to gain insights anywhere near the level of even a weak C-grade.

No, the images were instead created directly from living gods with the assistance of the system. The image would then be downgraded to have insights roughly to the level the gods had in early or mid-tier C-grade before making them level 0 - all done with direct assistance and management from the system to ensure balance.

For certain gods to not just accept having such an image made without any input was understandable. Vilastromoz would not have accepted to have an image made without controlling how it would turn out. However, as the Wyrmgod said, this method did make it possible for images to have things implemented by the gods who made them… or even someone close to these gods.

”So what you are saying is that the Daolord implemented something that would trigger an opportunity for him to deliver a personal message to a combatant winning the fight? Naturally, with this trigger also including a blackout for any observers, something that you agreed to?” Vilastromoz asked. ”And I assume that means you know what was said?”

”A part of the agreement was that I would not be listening either, so no,” the Wyrmgod shook his head.

”The Daofather is behind it, huh?” the Viper nodded. ”Wonder what he is up to these days to want to deliver messages directly to random powerful Nevermore attendees. Is he desperate for new monks or something?”

Concluding that the Daofather was involved wasn’t difficult. While every one of the Daolords was a respectable figure in their own right, for the Wyrmgod to agree to not even listen in on a conversation within his own dungeon wasn’t something he would do for any of them. The Daofather was different.

Vilastromoz had to admit that out of every Primordial, the Daofather was the one he had the least interactions with throughout the eras. The Daofather wasn’t a very active participant in the happenings of the multiverse, so it wasn’t overly surprising, and the Viper barely heard anything about what he was doing. When it came to fights he joined, information was even more scarce.

In conclusion, he was an enigmatic figure that no one knew much about, not even his fellow Primordials. Vilastromoz had heard that he and Eversmile had interacted quite a bit throughout the eras, but that was about it. He tended to do his own things, and if the Dao Sect ever got involved, he would simply send one or more of the ten Daolords. Each of them was considered a pinnacle existence in their own right, and together, they could even stand up to Primordials. No need for him to ever get personally involved when that was the case.

”I believe there is a misunderstanding,” the Wyrmgod corrected Vilas after a slight pause, making him frown.

”What did I get wrong?”

”The message was not left for random participants but for a select few only. Your Chosen among them. Also, while I cannot tell you what was said, I am sure you can simply ask your Chosen once he leaves Nevermore.”

The Viper’s frown deepened upon hearing these messages were targeted. What was the Daofather up to? It wasn’t like this was a unique case, as he was used to the Dao Sect doing things he couldn’t fully comprehend, but it was rare that it ever involved people like the Chosen of another Primordial.

Moreover, was this a good or a bad development for Jake? Was it even something meaningful he left behind… or was he just planting a seed?

Only time would tell.

Jake walked out of the arena after giving the corpse of the Benevolent Monk one final bow. The referee had promptly announced his win after the monk had died, the announcer and audience all going wild. He even saw Polly and Owen both look incredibly relieved through his sphere, with several more individuals in the arena standing also keeping a close eye on him. It was not the kind of looks that a bunch of casual viewers would have, but the kind of looks people studying a potential future opponent would.

I guess I am a person of interest by now, huh?

He did have nine more opponents to go before he would be able to do his promotion match and become a Champion, and based on the auras he felt, the matches should, at the very least, be entertaining.

Fully exiting the arena, Jake first went to the Battlemaster, who looked happy as a clam.

Lives remaining: 10

When it came to points, every win in Paragon seemed to have taken quite a jump. His victory had earned him a total of 25,000 points, up from the 6,000 his final win as a Warlord had granted him. It was a good jump, but more than the jump for his gladiator matches, Jake wanted to see how much more the Show Matches now gave.

He was still 1,000 points short on points compared to when he got promoted due to buying his bow, which honestly did put into perspective just how many more points fights gave now than when he was in lower ranks. This single match had earned him more than all the ranks below Gladiator combined… the two months spent in the Gladiator rank itself included.

After reflecting on his point gains, cleaning himself up, and tending to his wounds, Jake rested for the rest of the day. The next day, he did some light practice, and on the third, he went back to the Colosseum fully recovered and ready for his Show Match.

Seeing as he was also limited to one a week of those, he definitely expected a spike in both rewards and difficulty. In all honesty, the Show Matches had all been far too easy thus far. Again, Jake was pretty damn good in fights against monsters or multiple opponents, so his standards were definitely above the regular fighter, but he still hoped for appropriately challenging fights. Maybe not Benevolent Monk-level fights, but at least ones that could get him excited.

So, with great hope, he opened the menu and saw the options available… and damn, did the rewards get a bump.

Show Match Opponents Available:

1. Minotaur Brutes (2x opponents) – 30,000 Colosseum Points

2. Luxwolf Pack (7x opponents) – 27,500 Colosseum Points

3. Dwarven Punisher – 25,000 Colosseum Points

4. Vicious Fire Salamander – 20,000 Colosseum Points

5. Scalekin Prisoners (3x) – 15,000 Colosseum Points

30,000 Colosseum Points for one win was definitely damn sweet. However, one had to remember that as he could now only do one Show Match a week rather than day, it would need to give at least six times as much to average out to the same amount weekly. He had earned 4,500 per win before his promotion per match, so that was 27,000 weekly… meaning it was actually only a jump of 3,000 points every week.

At least the fights would get hard now, though, right?

An hour later – fifty minutes of which had been spent waiting for the fight to start – Jake stood in the arena with a slightly disappointed expression on his face and the head of a minotaur on the ground in front of him, its headless body lying not far away. Another minotaur could be found around fifteen meters away, filled with wounds from head to toe and a big hole where its heart had once been. As for Jake? Well, his armor had gotten ripped a bit here and there, but that was it.

So, yeah, it was pretty disappointing. The damn announcer didn’t make things better either.

”Doomfoot! Katar King! The Purple Poker of Death! So many names, so many talents, all to describe one man: a true Paragon! Who knows, maybe even a coming Champion? I guess we will find out! Now go! Leave the arena and rest. You’ve earned it!”

He didn’t need to be told that twice as Jake headed straight out and, after visiting the Battlemaster, went to his practice room… because, disappointingly so, he still had the resources to get in a good practice session.

Jake had grown stronger, and while he was still practicing and still had the trump card in his hidden archery, he had just about reached how strong he would get within the Challenge Dungeon. That meant he was only waiting to hit his limit and meet an opponent that was either truly equal or superior. The Benevolent Monk had been close, really close, but he had some too easily exploitable weaknesses.

Now the only question was… would Jake be forced to pull out his bow before or after he became the Champion? His reason for keeping it hidden was still partly so he could catch an opponent by surprise, but also for one more major reason:

He really wanted to avoid getting another stupid fucking nickname.

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