Hell Difficulty Tutorial Chapter 789 - The new guild master of the Primordial Knights

"I know it's you spreading those false rumors about me throughout Beyond."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I want a 5 active skills combination token in exchange for the hand."

"No."

"Where is Ruby? I want to negotiate with her."

"The Ruler of Greed won't be present, and neither will the Ruler of Kindness. You’re lucky the Ruler of Wrath didn't show up instead. I offer an upper arcane passive and 5 million shards."

"What a joke. Mid pristine."

"No way in hell."

"Low pristine passive and 5 million shards."

"No. Did you just use your trait strengthening token to strengthen your eyes to the second stage as we speak?"

"They might be useful soon, so there’s no need to waste time. I can endure this much pain for the sake of our negotiations."

"You look like you're about to pass out and die. And I bet the pain is worse than you expected. That hand you were so lucky to get was about to kill you and a great many people in Beyond. You only survived because I stepped in, something you expected your Handler to do. The hand isn't as valuable as the Fragment from last time. Do not expect a similar value."

"Bullshit. To all of that."

"How rude. I offer a 3rd stage trait strengthening token. Plus a million and a half shards for each member of your group other than yourself. Any further offers will not include your people."

"You sneaky little... I want one finger to be cut off the hand and stored by the Ruler of Greed until my group reaches the 13th floor. It gets handed back to me then. Only then do I accept."

The Black Ant pauses briefly before replying, "One knuckle from a finger. Then it will be acceptable."

No farewell is uttered. I disappear from the void and rematerialize inside my quarters at the Primordial Knights' headquarters.

POV Talon

Rarely does one witness the ascension of a new guild master for Beyond's overwhelmingly dominant guild. And I personally know the individual. If that doesn't boost my future, nothing will—except perhaps my charisma, striking features, or elite primordial energy. Stellar Wind still carries an epic vibe. Positioned as I am now, I always sensed my ordeals among these maniacs would pay off handsomely.

Both the Null King Weslin and the terrifying Morwag are present already, along with every demon granted access to the 4th floor and Megacity. Whispers even suggest some ascended from the 5th floor solely for this spectacle.

Nyssa Volare ranks among the mightiest entrants to Beyond in the last millennium. She single-handedly slew a Champion, after all. No doubts linger about her superiority over Lyraen. Thus, curiosity swirls around her chosen heir.

The ritual commences straightforwardly.

Drums echo from every direction, their profound throbs vibrating through every inch of the body. The atmosphere trembles, panes shudder, and the rhythm persists. Initial beats crawl slowly yet accelerate and intensify progressively. Numerous demons start chanting in harmony with the drums, their pulses aligning to the cadence—starting languid, then surging faster over time.

This entire display aims to ignite the crowd. It accelerates the madmen's heartbeats, stirring the primal fury buried deep within each one.

As drumming approaches its crescendo, the gathered hundreds of demons part to form a narrow pathway. That passage spans merely a half-pace or an outstretched arm's width between figures on opposing sides.

Drums thunder even louder once more, blurring whether it's heartbeats or percussion dominating. Then the gates swing wide, and Nyssa's successor strides in, advancing along the channel.

Demons press so near his shoulders sometimes graze theirs, while others extend hands to graze him. Every crimson-eyed demon gazes with bulging eyes and frenzied pulses. I can't escape the infectious fervor; scanning around, all non-demons share the thrill.

Nathaniel appears utterly unfazed. His vacant left sleeve dangles loosely as he forges ahead through the throng. He disregards the suffocating proximity and the path sealing behind. His pace remains steady—neither rushed nor dawdling—and unlike the demons, no heartbeat or primordial energy emanates from him.

He halts before the five ascending stairs to the platform. Demons crowd from behind, drums roaring deafeningly.

His first step unleashes a kinetic surge, hurling rear demons backward.

Drums pound on; second step shakes the air surrounding him. Ornate stained-glass panes in nearby structures shatter spectacularly. Vivid glass fragments plummet, freeze suspended, as radiance from the artificial sky pierces through, casting dazzling prismatic beams across the scene below.

Third step clatters my teeth. Both his hearts synchronize with drums and demon pulses. It feels like deliberate provocation above all.

Fourth and fifth steps conquered in a single heartbeat's span; atop the podium, he pivots.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Shadows engulf all else, spotlighting his eyes' glow. Fierce, otherworldly gold blazes like a supernova's death throes, straining against his pupils' shroud—yet his steely, unyielding poise quells it utterly, subjugating it completely.

Drums halt abruptly, filling the void with hundreds of pounding hearts as he stands poised for any challenger. Anyone daring to dispute his supremacy in the guild—and thus his guild master claim.

A handful of demons advance to the initial stair; Nathaniel's primordial energy surges at an unmatched, horrifying rate. Thermal and kinetic forces emanate, suppressing them. A golden flame ring ignites behind, its borders quivering from infused kinetic power.

Those advancing demons reel backward, yet Nathaniel presses on. Output escalates relentlessly until his heartbeat overshadows all others.

His stoic face endures unchanged, that impassive mask paired with his gaze radiating supreme haughtiness. He dares all present to confront it, to shatter its supposed fragility.

Yet none do. Demons lock eyes, feel the gauntlet thrown, meet his resolve—but none advance.

As swiftly as it erupted, his primordial aura retracts into him effortlessly, volumes so vast it sends shivers through me. Mana then surges in its stead: savage as a raging ocean, relentless flows whirl around him, ascending skyward and slamming like breakers on cliffs.

Control never wavers amid the buildup. Density mounts until visible; it seems tangible, almost aromatic if I reached out.

Nathaniel advances, directly confronting Morwag and Weslin in blatant defiance—yet both decline today. They incline heads faintly, yielding to the Mana Tyrant's renowned might.

Hundreds of demons echo the bow as his gaze sweeps them.

From behind, the vice guild master emerges leisurely, halts at his side, and drapes a mantle over his shoulders: deep crimson cloth topped with fur trim—brown above, white beneath. A sacred demon relic, one of Beyond's scant mid pristine treasures.

Nathaniel extends his hand; the garden's array-bound tree quakes and contracts. It dissolves into a tiny crystal shard that hurtles to him, fusing with the one on his hand's dorsum.

Mantle settled, he pauses precisely ten heartbeats for challenges.

None arise.

The Primordial Knights' new guild master stands officially affirmed.

POV Nathaniel

I've visited Beyond's 5th floor more than virtually any other participant. That fact alone sounds badass. No need detailing why, though deploying it to slash my constitution carries its own epic flair.

Standing here anew, reality sinks deeper. We aim to battle a true Champion while far shy of level 450—against a four-question-mark behemoth, probably 450-599 range. Being here shifts it from mere chatter. Previously, it was hypothetical pastime.

Christoph and Nyssa now occupy explorer ranking spots, underscoring it further. That demoness proved a true beast.

Such thoughts race as gusts buffet me atop the 5th floor plains. Never have I viewed this level other than perpetual cloudy desolation, clouds lofty in the simulated sky. Like all Beyond layers, it's a colossal cavern, crystals mimicking sun on the vaulted roof.

Light's source remains mystery here; tales warn even S-ranks perish penetrating those clouds.

Sparse flora yields mostly stone, laced with premium metals. Word is, Beyond's richest ores abound here. Absent the 15 stat sacrifice and perils, mining could rake shards aplenty.

One exception: the Fragment of the Nameless Tree I planted upon arrival two days back. I've nurtured its rapid growth. My array links to it, leveraging its innate nodal bond.

Crystalline formations complete the vista: knee-high specks to edifice-scale clusters mimicking eerie woodlands. Blues, whites, greens abound—valueless materially, yet they speckle the drabness. Gusts over these groves sometimes yield eerie moans.

Within a pitched tent, I heed Weslin outline the strategy as Morwag lounges idly nearby. His low pristine armor and Obsidian Spine Chain rest beside; 14 elite A-ranks accompany—mostly demons, plus one lynthari, two velnar, two humans.

Weslin reiterates familiar details, but repetition soothes now. Solid intel and blueprint liberate the mind.

I tune out remainder, step forth from tent. Gazing afar, I sense a newfound acquaintance's aura. Multiple Wraith Dances convey me to a purple crystal stabbing ground at 45 degrees against a boulder.

A lumoran male lingers by the rock: ebony skin scarce of his race's typical crystals, save diadem-like ridges crowning his brow with a central forehead gem. His right hand gleams fully transparent white crystal, bones and swirling mana visible inside.

"I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to observe the mark she left on you," the lumoran grins, his aura inadvertently suffocating me despite restraint.

"And how do you like the mark?" I rasp out with effort.

"It is indeed as ancient and impressive as I’d heard," he beams again. "While still surprising, it’s beginning to make sense how she was able to kill Master Tyven, even as a mere shadow. But for now, good luck on your adventure. I won't stay, I worry my presence might harm you, despite my best efforts to restrain it."

Gracefully playful, he departs, pausing for a final look. "I considered killing that Champion you’ve been eyeing, but... that would be dreadfully childish of me. Still, I might have provoked it just a touch. If I were you, I’d hurry. It likely knows you’re coming."

A brief chuckle fades him; the fresh Ruler of Envy vanishes in unt traceable blur, exercising Ruler-granted floor traversal.

I whirl and sprint maximally back to the group, praying timeliness. Crown mana condenses—hoarded power blackens—as I activate arrays tied to my planted Mana Tree.