The Primal Hunter Chapter 1263 - How To Train A Generation

The drive toward B-grade dominated conversations across the ninety-third universe in the months and years lately. As increasing numbers neared evolution or actually transformed, their Records reverberated through the multiverse, simplifying the path for fellow members of their generation to follow suit.

Historians and scholars across time have long puzzled over why competitors from D-grade often reached comparable levels by A-grade, regardless of starting points. The clear reason lies in the mechanics of Records and their influence on the multiverse's overall direction and evolution. Eras bursting with Records accelerate advancement for all, whereas stagnant phases slow it down universally.

This dynamic explains why leveling feels so rapid during times like the fresh integration of a new universe. Progressing from D to C-grade in a few centuries counts as solid under normal conditions, yet in such dynamic periods, nearly everyone nails it in under a hundred years without breaking a sweat. Factoring in that half this timeframe unfolds in Nevermore, it's a tempo unmatched in ordinary eras... though not entirely.

Amid quieter stretches, exceptional talents still surge ahead at astonishing rates. Without the surge of multiversal Records to fuel their ascent, these prodigies match the velocity of Record-rich times through sheer personal prowess. Scholars scratching their heads over multiverse progression strategies found the answer simple once more, rooted again in Records.

Geniuses possess inherent Records that propel swift advancement independently. They require no external multiversal boost for growth, carrying ample internal fuel to optimize leveling and rocket through tiers and grades en route to dominance.

Still, these multiversal Records aid even prodigies during growth spurts like the current one gripping the multiverse. The assistance varies subtly, though. Instead of capping velocity, it acts like an elastic tether, tweaking only experience acquisition.

Once a sufficient crowd pulls ahead, this elastic pull yanks the stragglers along by modestly boosting their experience intake, naturally. Yet, if someone lags too far, they snap free of the tether and forfeit the perk.

Figures like Jake seldom gain from such mechanics, since mere level gaps rarely widen enough for the effect to kick in between him and the pack. But a full grade divide ensures even Jake senses a minor uptick in experience, thanks to the pioneers who've already evolved.

The system's rationale for including this mechanic holds few secrets. Rivalry and competition fuel evolution's core, so the system favors keeping potential challengers neck-and-neck. This whole era-spanning Record torrent merely amplifies the relational Records that bind close-knit groups. Unlike ties among allies, kin, foes, or friends, it spans an entire cohort, united by their overlapping lifespans.

Such high-velocity phases recur frequently per epoch, but they turn truly multiversal mainly around new universe integrations. Elsewhere, effects stay localized, sparking on narrower scopes. Galactic conflicts, system-wide events, or major gatherings that unite crowds generate parallel boosts, elevating collective Records for participants. Indeed, this fuels why major multiverse alliances relish sparking occasional grand wars... the gains for advancement prove irresistible.

Despite widespread awareness of these multiversal boosts' potency, shock rippled through many at their sheer intensity this cycle. Generations define themselves by peak achievers, and the ninety-second universe's integration unleashed a massive Record wave, propelled by Yip of Yore and Altius the Blade's rise.

Yet this cohort outshines. Its Record surge hits harder. Two titans led this era—Ell’Hakan and Jake Thayne—until the latter felled the former. That victory cements the Malefic Viper's Chosen as this generation's unchallenged apex, though he doesn't reign in isolation.

Right below him cluster other elite standouts. Valdemar's latest Runemaiden in ages, hailing from a freshly integrated universe after eons. Twin Ghost Kings from one cohort, both Nevermore alumni. Wintermaul, the frost essence incarnate. The enigmatic Eastbound Monk, who dazzled in the Prima Guardian trials. Lopas, shrouded in equal intrigue post-Nevermore feats. A fresh True Royal emerges from the Endless Empire, soon followed by the Cerulean Demon Prince, who devoured a god's full Records, stirring whispers of the Cerulean Devil's revival. The Prince trailed Ell’Hakan and Jake by a hair in Nevermore, and his post-evolution surge sparks talk of parity now.

These represent only the most spotlighted names. Divine rankings don't always mirror battlefield exploits, weighing future promise heavily. For some, only select gods grasp their latent heights, even as they gain recognition in their spheres.

Eron the Sword Saint, Sylphie, Arnold, Sandy, Jasper, plus scores of lesser-known talents drawing godly eyes. Though Jake leads this generation presently, eternity stretches ahead. Topping C-grade impresses, but pales cosmically. Pioneering B-grade evolution rates as a footnote.

No, true stakes hinge on godhood potential, and while the Malefic Viper's Chosen races toward divinity without question, not all gods peg him as the prime candidate for successful ascension.

Not even among Earth's humans... but events unfold in sequence. Presently, the priority stays nailing B-grade evolution without faltering, since lost drive renders raw potential moot.

--

As the younger generation hustled toward B-grade, veterans pursued their agendas. The trap had been set some time back, and at last... a bite.

“I got it,” Eversmile confirmed with a nod.

“Quicker than anticipated, suggesting the deity pulling strings lacks real clout,” Vilas grinned, eyeing the immobilized D-grade.

Time halted in their vicinity as the duo scrutinized the young woman from Jake’s earlier class. She’d blended seamlessly into the audience, utterly unremarkable.

“Any clue on her origins?” Eversmile inquired. “Her karmic ties seem standard, if a tad sparse for D-grade. Nothing stands out as potent.”

“Entered as a typical wanderer, aced the trials with average marks, and sparked mild interest only after joining my Order. Enough to register, but not to spotlight her,” Vilas replied.

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Eversmile nodded. “Prime pick for an obscure group's espionage.”

“Appears that way,” the Viper concurred.

Prior probes into Jake’s void ambush culprits yielded zilch. Informed factions, alongside this shadowy one, compiled rosters of vanished gods sans corpses, but suspects overflowed. The Holy Church unmasked two faction-linked spies, yet only after their demise.

This marked their first live lead, and the Viper refused to squander it. With a gesture, green crystal encased the D-grade's form before he shunted her into his realm for deeper scrutiny. Urgent tasks awaited next.

“Onward,” Vilas urged, earning Eversmile's agreement as the Karma Primordial conjured a gateway to their mark.

Stepping through, they materialized in a barren void pocket of the fifty-second universe. A nondescript void, distant from relevance, ideal for a lone god's seclusion... or a faction operative's bolt-hole.

They'd traced there via the D-grade's contacts. Her ritual looked basic, but under the Viper's watch, anomalies surfaced. It radiated no detectable energy, and Eversmile deemed it peculiar too. Built on unfamiliar concepts or spells, it screamed faction ties.

Confirmation hit when the ritual closed, message dispatched cleanly. No energy echoes or karmic residues lingered, baffling the pair anew. Luck struck as Eversmile, witnessing the full exchange, latched onto the subtle karmic thread sparked by her recipient intent.

Guided by that, and with time paused in her quarters, Eversmile pinpointed the dispatch to this desolate expanse.

“Tucked in a spacetime crease,” Vilas noted post-scan.

Eversmile ripped the veil without pause, ushering them into the breach. Rudimentary camouflage, effective unless scoured meticulously.

Emerging inside, the Primordials faced a compact domain with one silhouette perched on a levitating rock amid the void. Vilas clocked the figure instantly.

Target in plain sight, yet neither stirred, both sensing the truth immediately.

“He’s fading, or put better, he's gone already,” the Viper exhaled, teleporting beside Eversmile to flank the slumped form.

Vilas's gaze flared dark green, peeling back the elf's soul bare. It lay in ruins—shattered beyond repair. As if chunks of soul and Soulshape had been ripped free mere moments prior.

“Nada,” Eversmile scowled. “Zero karmic links... not even forming passively with us right here.”

“Meaning?” Villy pressed with a sigh.

“Body lingers in mock vitality, but he's deceased,” Eversmile denied with a headshake.

“Hm,” the Viper cocked his head, eyeing the elf's soul crumble toward oblivion. “Worth a shot.”

Hand aloft, the Viper unleashed a dark green aura, invoking Touch. He targeted the god's flickering soul, bypassing repair—too late for that—and instead surging the dregs of awareness.

Forcing forth the final wisps of cognition from the wrecked shell, the Viper thrust them dominant. The elf jerked, arching back in a muted wail before freezing rigid.

Then, words escaped.

“This... no... what is this place? Why am I here? Wait... oh...” the elven god muttered, eyes flicking wildly despite immobility. He gazed straight at the Viper and Eversmile yet registered nothing, lost in soliloquy.

Vilas funneled energy steadily, sifting for surviving notions in the fracturing soul ere total dissolution. At last, he seized a potent fragment and propelled it.

The elf's lips curved. “I see... we are one.”

Those uttered, the elven god's soul wisps scattered, but both detected an oddity in the dispersal... an anomaly prompting mutual puzzled glances.

No Truesoul reverted to the system upon the elf's “demise”—an impossibility barring non-creature entities like summons, Guardians, clones, or kin. Maybe some unheard-of analog.

Vilas scowled as he and Eversmile locked stares.

“Fingers crossed that D-grade spills more details,” Eversmile ventured, grin broadening amid the enigma's thrill. The Viper loathed such riddles, but the Karma Primordial thrived on them, savoring this utter unknown as supreme delight.

“Yeah... let’s,” the Viper grumbled, vanishing into his divine realm to interrogate their captive D-grade for clarity.

--

“You brought more?” Miranda queried in weary defeat.

Lillian affirmed, retrieving the bag housing its spatial trove. The type unbound to souls, tailored for such deliveries.

“Count this batch?” the beleaguered witch probed, dreading the reply.

“Exceeds the prior haul,” Lillian lamented, shaking her head. “Stash them in storage for now? Given the backlash already, rolling these out...”

“Blame him if gripes arise,” Miranda dismissed with a wave. “Distribute to Council explorers and adventurers mapping uncharted territories. Complaints will fly, but knowing the origin, will they push hard?”

“Merchants,” Lillian deadpanned.

“Fair, they'll whine regardless,” Miranda braced for the onslaught of market meddling and rivalry cries.

Lillian had swung by Jake’s earlier, claiming his newest potion stockpile—over a thousand vials strong. Far from her debut run, and Jake’s output terrified, poised to warp commerce outright.

His brews outclassed rivals', and he supplied them gratis. Alchemical wares dominate multiverse trade, bolstering the Order of the Malefic Viper's neutrality and alliances via its elixir mastery.

On Earth, the Noboru Clan spearheads potion and reagent production, thanks partly to alchemists Jake ferried to the Order. Reika, Sword Saint's great-granddaughter, helms their works and excels by Miranda's gauge, yet trails Jake predictably.

Merchants manage the dealings, with endless thirst ensuring no one skimps on pocket potions, cementing a steady sector. Thus, vendors bristled when elite buyers ghosted, Jake's deluge coinciding with his pre-B-grade grind.

Miranda found one man's market sway bizarre, but digging revealed the cause: Jake's alchemy blended reliability and yield unmatched.

Standard alchemists botch frequently, even on routine recipes. Top crafters flop basic health batches if a slip occurs, dooming the lot.

Batch sizes fluctuate wildly too. Vast concoctions tempt theoretically, but added volume spikes failure odds. Plus, botches trash all materials, nudging alchemists toward modest cauldrons.

Jake... upended norms, par for his course.

“Still wielding that monster setup?” Miranda double-checked.

“Else how?” Lillian countered, headshake underscoring the absurdity.

“No... impossible,” Miranda sighed anew, staring at Jake's latest desk-dump largesse. Thousands gleamed, and she braced for weekly repeats—likely amplified, per his escalating year-long potion frenzy.

Initial four months yielded solid but balanced hauls. Then...

Miranda reclined, gaze drifting ceilingward. “It all started when h