The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

The world blurred as the portal snapped shut, and an instant later, Aodhán found himself right in the center of a busy freeway about a mile away from the academy. Vehicles zipped past him in a blur, and only a timely dodge saved him from being slammed in the face by a shuttle.

"Watch where you're fucking teleporting, dude!" The driver shouted.

"It's not my fault!" Aodhán shouted back angrily. "Blame Artemis."

"Fuck you." The driver flipped him a bird, clearly not buying it. Aodhán couldn't blame him. After watching Artemis be pummeled nearly to death by Warp only a few hours ago, it was hard to believe he was in any shape to teleport a person across two sectors, let alone without any spatial turbulence. It didn't seem like much, but Aodhán knew how much work it was to make anything seem seamless, and that ride had been seamless, even though it had practically set him up for a terrible accident.

Hastily crossing the street, Aodhán cursed Artemis's name under his breath, the memory of the Mega shuttle accident back in sector 3 still fresh in his mind.

When he finally reached safety, he slowed and glanced around.

The academy district stood in stark contrast to the chaos he'd just left behind—pristine, untouched. No shattered glass, no wreckage, no signs of destruction. The only hint that something might be wrong was the heightened presence of security officials.

They lingered at key intersections, scanning people with sharp, assessing gazes. A careful glance at their uniforms revealed that these officers weren't the usual security officers he was used to. Their uniforms were slightly darker, and their average tier was far above the usual. These officers were the real deal, a force of awakeneds entirely different from soldiers, yet just as deadly.

Exhaling sharply, he rolled his shoulders to shake off a bit of tension and created a platform for himself, zipping towards the academy walls with speed.

The academy itself stood tall in the distance, defying any need for fear by its mere presence. People went about their day as usual, their steps unhurried or even concerned that only two cities away, champions had fought mercilessly and creatures had rampaged with abandon.

It was a peaceful sight to witness, and Aodhán smiled, glad that despite the extent of Sunstone's retaliation, some places had been left untouched. Had Synové been more open to relocating, he would have found a way to bring his family even closer to the academy, but from his conversations with Daruk, it seemed Synové had groomed herself into a sort of lady or woman leader within Menton, and according to his brother, she would be very displeased to be asked to uproot her life one more time after she had just hit her stride.

Aodhán, however, hadn't given up on the idea and was hoping that by the time he got home, he might be able to convince her to move. He doubted he would have any more luck than Aldric and Daruk combined in persuading her, but it never hurt to try.

He arrived at the academy gate two minutes later and waved to the guard stationed there, fishing out his ID before the man even asked. With a polite nod, the man simply glanced at the ID card and waved him in, his aquamarine-colored irises flashing for a moment as he pushed the single entrance gate open.

"Thank you," Aodhán said perfunctorily as he stepped into the entrance, but the guard shook his head and said.

"No, thank you, Aodhán Brystion. News about the battle at the Steppin' Plains has begun circulating, and… It's just amazing what you did. My son is a sergeant in the army, and he just texted me about it. I cannot thank you enough."

"You don't have to thank me at all. I simply did what I could to help." Aodhán smiled.

"And I'm sure Raol will bless you greatly for it." The man replied and smiled. "You're a true champion, Aodhán. I bet it's only a matter of time before the Awakened council realizes that too."

Aodhán chuckled. "Oh, I hope that won't be anytime soon. I still have to reach Tier 75 first; if not, I'll be dead meat."

The guard laughed, acknowledging his words. "That may be true, but you never know. Times are changing."

"Well, let's hope they don't change too quickly." Aodhán replied, and with a final wave at the friendly guard, he finally stepped through the gate and into the academy.

Aodhán wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but the sight that greeted him was a little surprising. Despite the holidays, students moved about freely, some training while others simply sat around the huge lawn, chatting, reading, and laughing with each other.

Nearly all of them were fourth-year students, but a few third years were scattered among them. None of them wore uniforms, but their faces were so familiar to Aodhán that he recognized each one without trouble. A quick headcount put their number at 47—all of whom turned to glance at him the moment he walked in.

Their expressions ranged from polite curiosity to an eerie sort of fascination—an interest in him that also made it clear they hadn't heard anything about the Steppin' plains yet. If they had, it meant all 47 of them were completely unfazed about what he had done there. Aodhán doubted that was the case.

He waved to a few of them he was more familiar with, and they waved back, some even nodding politely as he walked by them. When he neared Valerie's circle, she greeted him with a wave and asked how his holiday was going. Aodhán answered politely, his steps only slightly hurried as he continued towards the admin building.

Aodhán wouldn't say he was scared of the 4th years, but there was something undeniably unsettling about a congregation of people, more than thirty tiers above him. Any one of them could kill him with a sneeze—or a careless snap of their fingers. How could that not be concerning?

He reached principal Zatya's office a few moments later and pushed the door open, feeling distinctly awkward as he peeked in. He found her at the desk, a frown etched on her face as she sorted through a mountain of documents, an open letter still dangling from her fingers.

She looked up at him, and the frown on her face suddenly morphed into a glare so sharp that Aodhán shrank back instinctively. She slammed her fist against the table and gritted out. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Rebellious himself."

"I'm sorry—" Aodhán began, but principal Zatya cut him off with a scowl.

"What was the last thing I said to you before you left my office two weeks ago?"

Aodhán cringed. "Uhm…That's just the thing. I—"

"It seems you don't remember." She cut him off again and pushed herself to her feet. "Let me remind you. I told you to stay indoors for the duration of the break. I told you not to do anything at all until I could sort out the mess of your 'inheritor' status and the blasted miracle rain, and you promised to stay in. Do you realize just how many people are willing to cross me and Ascendant candidate Lightus just to get access to your 'miracle rain?"

"Right. But Champion Ryntharion—

"I thought you were finally seeing the importance of our plans and all the blasted work I'm doing to keep you alive, but what did you do? You went cultist hunting with the Witch of Selia without even consulting me—

"I knew you wouldn't—

"—And as if that wasn't enough, you joined the war without my permission! And now you come back unescorted! Waiting for the most daring thug to pluck you off the street and take you to an underground factory where you can pump out 'miracle water' for the rest of your life."

Aodhán winced, eyes narrowing as the lights within the room flickered and sparked in response to Principal Zatya's emotions. She glared at him, radiating more frustration than anger, and Aodhán realized that this time, he was truly in the wrong.

He tried to apologize, but before he could even utter more than a couple of words, Principal Zatya pointed an accusing finger at him and snapped. "You not only joined the war without my permission; you did it in such a way that your participation and actions will go down in history forever. It's only been an hour since the private report went out, and I've had hundreds of calls and requests from nobles asking to meet you for a 'brief' session, prominent business sharks wanting to do 'business,' and even a commendation letter from the supreme himself. Everything you have done during this break has been a direct violation of that one instruction—stay indoors." She waved to the pile of documents on her table. "This is all your fault."

Aodhán eyed the huge pile of missives stacked on the table, then shifted his gaze back to Principal Zatya, whose frustration radiated off her in palpable waves. A small part of him found satisfaction in the fact that he was troubling her so much that her temples were creased with deep-set wrinkles. But the more rational part of him understood that despite only trying to protect him for her own selfish reasons, Principal Zatya was still trying to protect him.

He wouldn't fulfill her dreams—nor his own—by dying or getting snatched up by business sharks or cultists. And just like he'd so very recently come to realize, he was far from invincible.

Taking a steady breath, he raised both of his hands to placate her and said. "I'm sorry, but Champion Ryntharion's offer was too good for me to resist, and I knew you wouldn't approve of it. And the war thing, I…I should have consulted you, but I knew you wouldn't agree either, and I wanted to help."

"So, you did it on purpose!" Principal Zatya shouted gleefully as if she'd just caught him red-handed. "You purposefully rebelled."

"I didn't rebel. I wanted to help the soldiers! Surely, you don't expect me to just sit on the sidelines and watch while people I know are slaughtered to pieces when I can help."

"That is exactly what I expect you to do! Don't you see? Revealing your abilities to the world like this paints a target on your back! What do you think Sunstone will do now that they've realized you're the greatest threat to their victory in the Sigma 15-25 bracket?"

"I don't care what they will do." Aodhán replied calmly, having thought of the matter thoroughly before now. "As long as it's within the Sigma 15-25 bracket, I can handle it."

"Cocky!" Principal Zatya very nearly spat. "Do you think yourself indestructible? Invincible?"

"No, I don't. I just know my capabilities."

A terse silence descended as principal Zatya glared daggers at him, but after a moment, she huffed and said. "Capabilities or not, stunts like this only paint a target on your back, and we cannot afford that. Even with your strength, we must be cautious."

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

Aodhán sighed. Principal Zatya was right about him placing a target on his back, but there was just one problem. The soldiers weren't just numbers to him anymore or statistics in the newspapers. They were people he knew. People he had eaten and drunk with. He wouldn't exactly call them brothers, but he could definitely call them friends, and he wasn't going to watch them be slaughtered when he could do something to stop it.

Letting out a deep breath, he replied. "I'm sorry that I've let you down and am making things hard for you and your plans, but I can't sit by and watch when I can help."

"I forbid—

"No." Aodhán's response was resounding. "Maybe I'm a fool, but I won't sit by and watch when I can help. That's not who I am, and it's certainly not who I want to be. I'm no hero, but what's the point of all this power if I can't help the people that matter to me?"

Aodhán's question echoed within the office, a symphony of conviction and insight that sent the essence around him swirling in excitement. Aodhán himself didn't notice the subtle resonance, but Principal Zatya did, and her anger subsided instantly. She frowned, watching Aodhán curiously as the resonance increased, reached a crescendo, and then slowly died down, vanishing as if she hadn't just witnessed one of the most peculiar ideal resonances of her life.

For a brief moment, Aodhán had touched upon his core ideal—the very foundation for his future advancements—but she doubted he had recognized it, let alone understood its significance. An ideal was integral for advancement, and if Aodhán's unfortunately had something to do with helping weaklings, then how could she possibly oppose it?

Suppressing a grimace, but failing, Principal Zatya muttered to herself, "Why does it have to be this? A few weeks ago he didn't even care about the war."

"I've had a change of heart." Aodhán responded, despite the fact that he shouldn't have been able to hear her. He kept speaking, unaware of the significance of what he had just done, while Zatya narrowed her eyes, studying him closely. She hung on his every word, as if searching for clues about what else had changed in him during his time away from her sight.

Aodhán continued. "It started after the changeling incident, but after today, there's no turning back for me. I see these soldiers differently now—not just as cogs in a war machine, but as people. They have wives, families, children—"

Principal Zatya cut him off with a wave of her palms. "I don't need a lecture on the nature of soldiers. I've never thought of them as cogs in a machine."

Aodhán glared at her and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I did. They were fighting a war they knew nothing about; they seemed more like machines to me."

"And yet here you are."

"My case is different. I don't care about the war itself—I care about the soldiers fighting it. I want to help them however I can. Today, I had that chance, and nothing has ever felt so right."

Principal Zatya scowled, silently cursing this ideal of his that had revealed itself at the worst possible time. It had barely surfaced, and it was already giving her a headache.

"Let me get this straight." She began, her tone sharp. "You want to fight in the war, kill Sunstonian soldier and march on their lands—but not for the kingdom. You'll be doing it to protect and 'help' the soldiers instead."

"I…yes." Aodhán replied, his conviction battling against the reality of her words.

Principal Zatya didn't blame him. Aodhán was obviously confused, but it wasn't his fault. It was his nascent ideal. It wasn't fully formed yet, or perhaps even fully acknowledged, and although he seemed to have subconsciously grasped the basics of it, he had yet to truly understand it. His mind was grasping at straws, trying to construct a mansion from scraps, but until he fully realized his icon phrase and brought it into existence, he would be like a horny teenager stumbling through the streets of puberty with his eyes blindfolded. Perhaps, in a way, he already was.

Chuckling, Zatya shook her head. Not many people understood themselves or their core ideals this early in life, and there was nothing wrong with that. If anything, those who actually reached such an understanding were the outliers—people whose circumstances and experiences had forced them into deep introspection. It put into perspective the saying: It is in the crucible of pain and trauma that we meet our truest selves.

It was a quote one of her mentors had loved during her time In the military, and Zatya couldn't have agreed more. True self-awareness didn't emerge in times of comfort or peace but in the trials that stripped a person bare, revealing an identity even they had yet to recognize.

For too long, Aodhán had been sheltered within the academy, but his hunt with the Witch of Selia and now this war had unearthed something within him—a fragment of his true self that he couldn't yet see. Still, the mere fact that some part of him was aware was enough to change him, pushing him toward decisions even he couldn't fully explain.

Not wanting to push him too fast, Zatya accepted that she would have to find another way to protect Aodhán from his own foolishness. And what better way to do that than to let him deal with the consequences of his actions himself?

Waving him forward, she gestured to the pile of telegrams and missives on her desk. "Sort through these and arrange them in order of importance. We need to know which ones we're replying to and which ones we're discarding."

Aodhán frowned, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation, but when Zatya raised an eyebrow, he got moving. Taking the seat opposite her, he waited as she continued. "Any business ventures go in the trash. Any personal calls for help, prayers, or religious meetings—trash. Any missive from the Awakened Council—also trash."

"The Awakened Council too?" Aodhán frowned again. "Aren't they, like… important?"

"Not to me. Or you, for that matter. As long as we don't break the law, they have almost no power over us." She glanced at him. "Speaking of the Council, have you gotten the money to pay off your fine yet?"

"Not yet." Aodhán shook his head. "We raided a lot of cultist outposts, though, and I'm supposed to get my share of the confiscated items—or at least their monetary equivalent—soon."

"That seems like a lot." Zatya muttered as she drafted a quick response to the letter she had been reading earlier. Sealing and stamping it, she tossed it into a small transparent box labeled Post Office.

"Hopefully, it is." Aodhán replied. "I want to pay the fine as soon as possible. I can't help but feel like if I don't, the Council will pull something manipulative to keep me in their debt forever."

Zatya chuckled and shook her head. "Your innocence troubles me sometimes. Of course they're going to try something if you don't pay soon."

Aodhán frowned, but before he could dwell too much on it, Zatya changed the subject. "So, tell me more about your mission with the Witch of Selia. You seem to have gained a lot of experience and insight from it."

"I have." Aodhán smiled as he discarded yet another proposal to sell his miracle water to the world. It wasn't a bad idea, but he wasn't sure he wanted to go that route. Maybe if he needed money one day—but for now, it was a firm no. Especially since the effects of infused rain were only temporary.

If it were permanent, then…

Pushing the thought aside for now, Aodhán launched into a narrative of the last two weeks of his life. He began with their trip to sector 11 and how they had flushed out half a dozen cultist outposts from the sector. He described Geneva's ruthlessly efficient killing method—how she simply eradicated the cultist with runes, leaving neither blood nor body parts to litter the ground. It was almost as if she attached a self-cleaning rune to every attack she unleashed, making everything seem unnervingly pristine, clean, and clinical.

After that, he recounted what he had learned about the children and how, over time, he had gone from mere dislike and even a touch of fear to outright hatred. The last battle at Sector 6 had been the final straw, the moment that cemented his feelings beyond any doubt.

Speaking about the event was a little difficult for him—not because he feared that principal Zatya wouldn't approve, but rather because he knew she would. When he finally forced the words out, he watched as her eyes widened with fascination. Already, he could almost see the ideas dancing in her mind, conjuring up ways to use this new information to her advantage.

Aodhán wasn't too bothered though, not about the killing nor about whatever plans Principal Zatya might concoct with the information he had just provided. His aversion to killing had diminished significantly ever since he gained his first seal, and now even after following through with it, he felt no regret. Was he eager to do it again? No, but it certainly wasn't because he was being hesitant or squeamish about it.

The cultists had murdered children, carelessly spilling their blood to further their nefarious experiments. For some reason, seeing the broken and emaciated bodies of those children had snapped something inside him. It had also dredged up the last memory he had of his real parents—a memory that, despite lacking any emotional attachment, had done nothing to help matters.

When he finished speaking, Principal Zatya leaned forward and asked. "You just wanted to help the children, didn't you?"

Aodhán nodded, and she did the same, leaning back in her chair to observe him intently. "Would you do it again?"

Aodhán nodded somberly. "I will. If people are in danger, I will do it in a heartbeat."

Zatya suppressed a surge of pleasure and asked. "Do you regret it?"

"I don't." Aodhán replied, and principal Zatya allowed herself to smile, comforted that her plans were still on track despite all of Aodhán's subconscious meddling. She watched him for a moment, feeling a bit melancholic about her own first kill. It had been in much the same manner as Aodhán's, except she hadn't killed to protect people but to avenge them.

Leaning forward to emphasize her words, Zatya said. "Let me tell you something, Aodhán, killing in itself isn't inherently wrong, though I'm sure many will argue that point with me."

Aodhán smiled, and she continued. "Killing is an integral part of advancement. The path to ascension is a bloody road after all, but what determines the nature of killing is the intent behind it. Heroes kill to protect, while villains kill to destroy. Vigilantes kill to avenge while others do it simply for the thrill."

"This may be the first time you've killed with the intent to do so, but it certainly won't be the last, and the only way to face that reality with an unwavering heart is to know exactly why you kill. Will you do it to protect? To destroy? To avenge? Or simply for the fun of it? Once you answer that question in your heart, the task will become easier."

"It should be a last resort, though." Aodhán stated, and principal Zatya's smile froze for the briefest moment before she nodded.

"Of course. If that's what you think is best."

Aodhán shook his head in resignation, wondering why he'd expected anything different just because she was acting much more human than usual. They lapsed into a comfortable silence after that until Aodhán remembered what had brought him to the academy in the first place.

Watching principal Zatya's expression closely, he said. "I got a proposal from the commander Lunarshard this afternoon. He wants to grant me an honorary rank in the army and integrate me in as a reservist. Basically, it allows me to contribute to war efforts without giving up my civilian or academic rights."

Principal Zatya looked at him and sighed again. Normally, she would have rejected the proposal outright, but with Aodhán still struggling with his ideal in such a manner, she couldn't afford to do that lest she stunt his advancement. Besides, she had no major reason to say no, other than the sheer pleasure of irritating the supreme whose influence she could practically smell all over this so-called 'proposal.'.

From Aodhán's explanation, the rank was simply ceremonial, granting him full autonomy over his decision to participate in the war or abstain without consequence. It seemed harmless on the surface, but until she had thoroughly reviewed the proposal documents, she wouldn't trust it.

Rather than rejecting the offer outright, she asked. "Would you like to accept it?"

"I would." Aodhán replied thoughtfully. "It wouldn't hurt to have gained some real military experience before I graduate and eventually have to join the military. Besides, this way I could help them anytime without having to simply be a passive participator. Varéc alone would be an asset."

"That's exactly why they are trying to recruit you." Zatya scowled. "They are not thinking about your safety."

"Then I'll make them." Aodhán replied.

Zatya studied him for a long moment, weighing the consequences of each decision. Finally, after giving it sufficient thought, she sighed. "Fine. As long as you're kept safe, you're free to go on your merry, helpful ways."

Aodhán blinked in surprise, all the arguments he had prepared evaporating in the face of unexpected victory. Still, he needed to be sure. "Are you sure you're fine with this?"

Zatya scowled. "If you want me to be against it, all you have to do is say so."

"No, no. I'm glad you approve."

"Good. I'll inform Rahim to introduce you to the other military reservists within the school."

Aodhán's eyes widened in surprise, and Zatya chuckled. "Surely, you didn't think you were the first person to be given this honor?"

"I actually did," Aodhán admitted with a shake of his head. "But I'm more surprised at how easily you agreed to this."

"Well, we have our own agenda, of course." She smiled, and Aodhán's expression crumpled into a scowl. He sighed, shaking his head in resignation before raising his chip to convey his acceptance to the commander.

Commander Lunarshard's reply came almost immediately. After Principal Zatya scanned through the honorary appointment commission several times, Aodhán finally agreed.

A few minutes later, he received a formal decree.

--- Decree of Honorary Rank ---

By the Authority of Commander Kyros Lunarshard

Camp Conquestia

In recognition of his extraordinary contributions to the success of the Steppin' Plains campaign, I hereby confer upon Aodhán Ashoka-Brystion the honorary rank of Lieutenant, with all ceremonial privileges and respect accorded thereto…

Aodhán read the rest of the decree with a small smile.

Lieutenant Aodhán Brystion.

That didn't sound too bad. In fact, it didn't sound bad at all.