Getting a Technology System in Modern Day

Chapter 779  Pride-

Having defeated the Symmetra fighter—who, if not for a limited reserve of void energy, could have posed a significant challenge—Aron now faced the final five, each among the Conclave's top-ranking Civilizations. If the Symmetra’s abilities were any indication, these upcoming battles would be the most difficult yet. Each of the remaining civilizations possessed unique racial abilities that made them particularly formidable and fearsome opponents.

Aron chose to forgo his rest period, calling forth the next challenger without delay. This time, it was Vaxerion, the Valthroin warrior, stepping into the arena. Clad in his standard-issue military uniform, he presented a disciplined and imposing figure—a sight the Conclave viewers were well accustomed to, signaling the Valthroins' fierce pride in their abilities.

For the viewers from the Terran Empire, however, Vaxerion’s appearance was unexpected. Every fighter so far had arrived in armor, even if it was mostly symbolic for some, providing at least a thin layer of protection. Yet here stood Vaxerion, without even the slightest hint of armor—only his military uniform, as if to declare that he required no additional defense.

Their surprise, however, would have faded if they understood the power behind Vaxerion's choice—a racial ability deeply rooted in the Valthroin's renowned pride. For the Valthroins, pride wasn’t simply an attitude; it was a source of strength. The prouder they were, the stronger their ability became, granting them a protective shield that could resist any attack—so long as the fighter held an unwavering belief in their ability to withstand it. This pride had to be genuine, fueled by absolute self-assurance, or the shield would falter. If not for this requirement, the Valthroins might very well dominate the Conclave entirely.

While it might seem straightforward to defeat a Valthroin by causing a momentary lapse in their self-confidence, in reality, this was nearly impossible. From early childhood, they are rigorously trained to embrace unwavering pride in their abilities, instilling a deep, unshakeable belief that their strength can overcome any foe.

During this formative period, they are shielded from external influences; access to the wider network is strictly limited to prevent any interference with their development. By the time they reach adulthood, emerging after a coming-of-age ceremony, they are fortified in both pride and trust in their abilities, making it almost impossible to penetrate their mental defenses. As long as their shield endures, they remain virtually untouchable in battle.

However, this doesn’t mean they are invincible—there are ways to defeat them, though only a rare few can achieve it. Their racial ability grants them near-impenetrable protection, but it also imposes a unique limitation: Valthroins are conditioned to hold only as much pride as they can genuinely support. Their rational minds automatically limit their pride to the extent they can confidently back with their abilities. This safeguard is crucial because if a Valthroin overestimates their strength and faces defeat by another Valthroin or anyone else, the backlash is severe.

The magnitude of the backlash is directly proportional to the pride they couldn't uphold, making recovery to their former strength exceedingly difficult. Furthermore, they lose their standing in the Valthroin hierarchy—a setback from which most who fall never fully recover.

…………..

Aron watched the Valthorin fighter, noting his unbothered demeanor as the minutes of preparation ticked by. His hands were proudly clasped over his chest, his Honor Blade hovering around him without any sign of control, floating on its own as though it were an extension of the fighter's confidence. The lack of preparation on his part, or even the slightest indication of concern, made it clear that he was fully confident of his own strength—and his pride.

"I wonder how much pride he has in himself?" Aron murmured, analyzing the fighter’s posture. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

{Since they sent him here, then he must be the strongest fighter remaining among those who survived the blackhole attack. He must be the most prideful among them, too. He likely has the most combat experience, thanks to the knowledge granted by the Pride Nexus. That’s probably why he trusts so much in his own abilities to face you, or he might even be receiving direct help through the Nexus—if his pride allows him, of course, since it's not prohibited.} Nova responded, observing the Valthorin standing there so casually.

{You’ll need to be careful with his Honor Blade, though. We don’t know its full capabilities.} Nova added, knowing that Aron was aware of the blade’s versatility but still needing to caution him. The Honor Blade’s power was unique to each user, and without knowing its specific ability in advance, it was like facing a roulette of unknowns.

"Mm…" Aron nodded thoughtfully, his expression remaining stoic. Right now, it didn't matter what his opponent was doing—he had one goal: end the fight as quickly as possible, all while staying alert enough to avoid being caught off guard by any surprises the Valthorin might throw at him.

………..

The countdown to the fight was nearing its end, yet the Valthorin fighter showed no signs of readiness. His stance remained unchanged, his chest puffed out, and his posture relaxed, giving no indication of worry. He stood there as though the fight was nothing more than a mere formality, a test for Aron to prove himself worthy of his pride.

{You may begin.} The AI referee's voice cut through the silence.

Without hesitation, the Valthorin raised a single hand and pointed a finger directly at Aron. His expression was serene, almost detached, as if the outcome was already decided in his mind.

"Due to defeating those weaklings so easily," the fighter proclaimed, his voice rich with pride, "I will give you the honor of having the first attack."

The audacity of his words struck everyone, leaving even the Terran Empire's viewers stunned. No one had expected such a blatant display of arrogance, especially when the fight held the weight of the Conclave's prideful civilizations on the line. If he lost, it would not only be a personal defeat but also a loss of his civilization’s technology making such a declaration quite a careless one.

"Attack me with your strongest attack and do not disappoint me," he added with a flourish, his voice laced with challenge. Then, with a dramatic gesture, he opened his arms wide, completely exposing himself. He gave no indication that he planned to defend, offering Aron an opportunity for any attack he saw fit.