Chapter 54 - The Calamity Of Pride (Patreon)

I appear to have obtained another highly concerning sounding Trait.

Pride was both expected and acquired far too late, as if the System required formal confirmation of what was already painfully obvious.

Living Calamity, however, is… interesting.

But I am certain nothing unfortunate will come from possessing a trait that explicitly labels me a literal calamity.

…

Probably.

I am also not particularly fond of the wording of the notification.

“You have embraced what you are.”

As if that had not been obvious from the very beginning.

Annoying.

A low chuckle pulls my attention away from the System window.

The Lich stands across from me, the hollow glow in his sockets dimmer now.

“Unbelievable,” he says quietly. “Of all the things I could possibly witness, this ranks near the top. Soul Recollection was meant to destabilize your sense of self and render your soul claimable. Instead, it triggered something that should not be touched…”

Ah.

It would appear I became lost in my thoughts again.

“Destabilize my sense of self.”

As if I could be anything other than myself.

My tail gives an irritated flick.

I turn my attention back to him.

Then narrow my eyes slightly.

He feels… different.

Not weaker or stronger.

Just... different.

Something surrounds him now. A pressure that does not truly exist, yet bends the space around him regardless. Like a wrinkle in the fabric of reality, subtle but impossible to ignore.

Naturally, I choose the most direct approach.

“You feel different,” I say calmly. “Would you mind explaining why?”

He answers without hesitation.

“If the concept functions here as it did in my previous world, those classified as Calamities possess an instinctive awareness of one another. When I look upon you, my survival instincts begin to protest rather loudly.”

His hollow gaze lingers on me.

“I receive the distinct impression that you exist on a scale entirely beyond my reach.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “I believe I understand what has occurred, but I would prefer confirmation. Would you indulge me by sharing your classification?”

I incline my head slightly.

Then I summon my status window and inspect the trait in question.

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[Living Calamity]

You are no longer merely a participant in the System.

Your presence alone is capable of reshaping events, environments, and the fate of those around you. Wherever you walk, destruction, upheaval, and irreversible change are likely to follow.

This trait cannot be removed.

This trait cannot be downgraded.

This trait can be disabled.

No direct effects.

Calamity Classification: Epochal

The tides of fate bend in your wake. Your path will carve the shape of the future.

This classification is granted exclusively to those who embody Sin.

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…Charming.

As if the name itself were not ominous enough, the description specifies “No direct effects,” rather than Atrocity’s more straightforward “No effects.”

A subtle distinction.

Which means it is almost certainly important.

It would appear that acquiring Pride served as the trigger.

Although I do find myself curious about the option to disable it. A curious feature for something that supposedly has no direct effects.

Naturally, I test the function immediately, disabling the trait in the same manner that I suppress my Slayer’s Presence.

…

Nothing changes.

At least, nothing noticeable on my end.

However, the subtle tension in the Lich’s posture disappears the moment the trait deactivates.

Ah.

I see.

Disabling it removes me from whatever instinctive sensing he described.

Convenient.

I return my attention to him.

“It appears my classification is Epochal.”

He exhales slowly. Which is impressive, considering I am at least ninety-eight percent certain he does not possess lungs.

“I suspected as much,” he says, the faint light in his sockets brightening with unmistakable fascination. “Remarkable. Truly remarkable.”

He studies me as though I am a particularly interesting fossil.

“May I ask, do you possess a Sin trait?”

“I do.”

That was apparently the correct answer. The excitement radiating off him is borderline embarrassing.

Incredible. I have discovered a lich who gets giddy about calamitous documentation.

Truly terrifying.

“Fascinating,” he murmurs, almost reverently. “I never imagined I would have the opportunity to witness such a development firsthand.”

His tone has shifted completely now. Less defeated necromancer, more professor who just found a live specimen for his thesis.

Naturally, I take advantage of the situation.

“You appear to possess a certain familiarity with the subject,” I reply evenly. “Might I request an explanation?”

That was apparently the correct string of words.

If this man still had a heart it would have exploded from happiness.

“I would caution against attributing too much expertise to me,” he says, collecting himself with visible effort. “I have not personally lived through such an era. My understanding is drawn entirely from the historical accounts of my former world.”

Era.

An interesting way of describing it.

He continues regardless.

“The phenomenon itself is poorly understood. No scholar has ever identified a definitive cause. Some propose it is a natural corrective mechanism within reality itself. Others argue for divine interference, an act of judgment from entities beyond mortal comprehension. A smaller but persistent faction suggests the System is responsible.”

He gestures faintly with one skeletal hand.

“All we truly know is the pattern.”

His tone grows quieter.

“Throughout recorded history, during periods of prolonged stagnation, seven individuals will inevitably emerge. Each bears a mark corresponding to one of the classical Sins.”

So the universe has a built-in ‘shake the snow globe’ function.

That seems reasonable.

He continues with the careful diction of someone quoting an academic paper.

“In my world, the event was recorded under the name the Era of Fracture. The seven individuals who appeared during that age reshaped the entire course of history. Kingdoms fell. Civilizations collapsed. Entire continents were altered beyond recognition.”

His gaze settles back on me.

“They did not merely cause turmoil,” he says thoughtfully. “They permanently redefined the trajectory of the world itself. Even millennia later, their actions remained visible in the political structures, cultures, and scars of the land.”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

“You are one of those individuals.”

Well that sounds mildly inconvenient.

“The highest classification of Calamity,” he continues. “An Epochal presence. One whose existence bends the trajectory of a worlds fate.”

The faint glow in his sockets sharpens slightly.

“If my interpretation is correct,” he finishes, voice quiet with scholarly satisfaction. “Then you are the Calamity of Pride.”

I nod.

“Correct.”

Obviously.

I am the most beautiful, talented prodigy in the universe, after all. Expecting anything other than Pride would frankly be an insult to my dignity, and I will not be tolerating such slander today.

The Lich gives a wry, skeletal smile.

“To have such a valuable experience right before my death… I cannot decide whether the world is cruel or kind.”

I tap a finger lightly against my chin.

“You mentioned earlier that you died once before in your greater world. In that case, I would argue the situation leans more toward the latter than the former.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle.

“True enough.”

The faint glow in his eye sockets steadies.

“I have no regrets,” he says calmly. “So let us conclude this.”

I incline my head.

Then I lift my sword and point the tip toward him.

“What is your name?”

He pauses.

Just for a moment, but it is clear the question was unexpected.

“I do not have one,” he replies after a moment. “One of the conditions for my relocation to this world was that I abandon my name and past. I became simply The Lich.”

I freeze.

Completely.

“I see…” The words come out quieter than before. "So the System weakened you that heavily.”

He tilts his skull slightly in confusion.

Rude.

That is my gesture.

“That is not an issue, child,” he says calmly. “Identity is mutable. What matters is experience and—”

I cut him off immediately.

“That’s wrong.”

The words leave my mouth before I even think about them.

I have never felt so strongly about something before.

That statement is simply wrong. The feeling arrives instantly, sharp, instinctive, and utterly absolute.

The idea itself is completely revolting.

“Identity is far more important than you think,” I say, my voice suddenly colder. “My Arcana exists because I am Lyn. I became Pride because I am Lyn. I connect to the stars and wield their power because I am Lyn.”

I meet the hollow glow of his eye sockets directly.

“There is no other reason needed.”

A System stripping away someone’s name.

Their identity.

Utterly ridiculous.

Zero out of ten.

The Lich stands silent for several seconds, the faint glow in his eye sockets flickering as he processes my words.

Then—

He doubles over laughing.

Not the hollow chuckle of an undead creature attempting humor.

A real laugh. Loud, raw, and rising from somewhere deep inside a body that should not possess such things anymore. It carries genuine amusement, tinged with something faintly unhinged.

“I see,” he says between breaths. “I see.”

He straightens slowly.

“The System informed me earlier that I was not meant to survive this tutorial. I had assumed it was simply narrative flair.” A skeletal head lifts slightly. “It appears the statement was quite literal.”

He studies me for a moment longer.

Then he speaks again.

“Aurelion.”

The name hangs in the air between us.

“That was the name I bore in my previous world,” he says calmly. “A name I discarded willingly in exchange for the opportunity to exist once more.”

The fire behind his eyes brightens.

“I will not make that mistake again.”

Good.

Now he’s thinking properly.

I nod once.

A genuine smile spreads across my face.

“That,” I say lightly, “is what it means to have Pride.”

My sword lowers.

Then I move.

A Dash.

Distance collapses in an instant.

“I wish you luck in your next life.”

His posture relaxes.

Almost relieved.

“Horizon Slash.”

The blade passes through cleanly.

For a brief moment nothing happens.

Then the skeletal head separates and collapses to the stone floor with a quiet clatter.

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You have slain Lich (Level 55 | Tier 2).

An experience bonus has been awarded for slaying a being 5 levels above you.

You have gained 65 Tutorial Points.

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Tutorial Boss: The Lich has been defeated.

Awarding 10000 Tutorial Points

A treasure chest has spawned.

Bonus Achievements Activated:

Slayed Tutorial Boss under recommended tier → +10000 Tutorial Points

Slayed Tutorial Boss alone → +20000 Tutorial Points

Slayed Tutorial Boss the day it spawned→ +12000 Tutorial Points

Treasure chest contents have been upgraded.

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I deliberately avoid using Starfire for the final strike.

No soul burning. No cosmic annihilation.

Just a clean cut.

His soul remains intact, meaning it will likely be recycled or reborn by the System.

He earned at least that much.

Honestly, the odds were stacked against him from the start.

He was heavily nerfed by this deeply questionable tutorial design. His summon count was capped, his power throttled down to something appropriate for normal participants, and his skill lineup was something I managed to roughly match three days after integration.

Tragic.

Under normal circumstances he probably would have been terrifying.

Yet despite the System kneecapping him this hard, he still managed to entertain me properly.

His Duelist was genuinely fun to fight, for a little while.

His summons were interesting and varied, although they unfortunately exploded before getting the chance to show off properly.

And that Soul Recollection ability?

That one was actually impressive.

Forcing the System to acknowledge the obvious and awaken Pride early is a pretty solid contribution for a tutorial boss.

Not to mention the extremely useful lecture on potentially world-ending calamities.

Very informative.

Overall evaluation:

Seven out of ten final boss.

Points deducted for being designed for normal people instead of hyper-competent gremlins like myself.

Frankly, a tutorial containing someone as incredible as me should have scaled accordingly.

I turn back toward the corpse.

The faint glow inside Aurelion’s bones is already fading as the System processes his defeat.

The odds really were stacked against him.

Yet he never panicked.

Never begged.

Never even seemed particularly upset about dying.

He just… kept talking. Asking questions, and giving answers.

Right up until the end.

I smirk slightly.

In the end, the System failed to actually take his identity away from him.

A man worthy of respect.

Worthy of Pride.

“Aurelion,” I murmur quietly.

I will remember that name.