The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

The second half of the mini-tournament began without much fanfare. Ayisha and Andrew stepped into the dueling ring—the former unfazed even as the arena's theme shifted and vines sprouted all around her.

Aodhán observed them carefully. As much as this 'tournament' was a fun game, it was also an opportunity to assess each other—to learn, scrutinize, and devise countermeasures. He took that last part very seriously.

While Daruk began the countdown, Aodhán's eyes narrowed in focus, trying to predict the duel's outcome based on what he knew about them.

The unfortunate truth, however, was that he knew very little. Ayisha was a master at concealing the full extent of her abilities, and Andrew had undergone such a drastic transformation—both in personality and skill—that it was nearly impossible to anticipate his moves.

With three seals and an icon, Andrew had the clear advantage. Even though he wouldn't be using them, their influence on his spirit couldn't be ignored. Ayisha, on the other hand, only had two seals—an opening and a bloodline. On paper, the odds were stacked against her. But Aodhán doubted that was the case.

Ayisha could manipulate time and perhaps even stop it within a localized area for a brief moment. She was insanely powerful, and without access to his seals or icons, Aodhán wondered if Andrew might be the one at a disadvantage after all.

Andrew's fist tightened as the countdown neared its end—a sign he was planning something. But whatever it was, would he have time to execute it? Would Ayisha even give him the chance?

The duel began the instant Daruk called out, "Fight!"

Andrew struck first, sending a host of bladed vines lashing forward in his usual opening move. They tore through the air with deadly precision, yet Ayisha remained unfazed. She simply raised a hand and activated {Time Manipulation—Decelerate}, slowing the vines to a crawl as their momentum drained away.

It was the same move she had used against Scarlett. Despite having seen it in action multiple times, Aodhán still hadn't found a suitable counter, save for his willpower. If Ayisha won this match and he ended up facing her, he would most likely lose—and the realization stung.

Ayisha moved forward with confidence, weaving through the sluggish tangle of vines as she closed the distance between them. Andrew, meanwhile, struggled. He was caught within Ayisha's time bubble with no counter-skill. But unlike Aodhán, he wasn't entirely without options.

Leveraging his superior advancement and spiritual cultivation, Andrew pushed past the constraints of time, narrowing his focus to a single vine rather than the multitude he had been controlling.

The vine twitched subtly—once, twice, then again.

On the fifth twitch, it broke free from the confines of Ayisha's time bubble and lashed out, its bladed edge curving toward her like a whip. Ayisha ducked at the last moment, her eyes widening as the vine arced and struck again.

Stumbling backward, her control over the decelerated time wavered, and more vines tore free, striking out like ravenous serpents, eager to overwhelm her before she could regain focus. Had it been a weaker student, Andrew's plan most likely would have worked. But Ayisha was no ordinary student.

Eyes wide in shock and panic, she raised a hand, activating a skill she had never activated before, the yellow glow of time essence swirling erratically around her palms.

The skill functioned much like {Time Manipulation—Decelerate}, but instead of merely slowing time within a localized bubble, it brought the movement to an utter standstill, locking the entire ring in a suffocating stillness.

In an instant, Andrew froze, his vines suspended mid-strike, hanging like a poorly designed statue. The rustling vegetation of the forest theme quieted, and even the air itself was frozen, seemingly carved out of stone.

Watching from outside the ring, Aodhán and Daruk observed the duel intently, mentally noting this new skill while considering possible ways to either overcome or counter it. The others did the same, scanning their status screen in search of a possible counter to a skill so overwhelmingly absolute.

Meanwhile, within the dueling ring, Ayisha stood in stunned silence, eyes wide as she stared at the dozens of bladed vines halted mere inches away from her body. This shouldn't have been possible— especially not from a mere plant mage.

"I—" she faltered, struggling to grasp what had just happened. How had Andrew broken free from her bubble of decelerated time while still inside it?

It made no sense. But what Ayisha failed to understand was the fact that spiritual cultivation wasn't just a fancy word used to encapsulate powerful spiritual buffs such as seals, openings, icons, familiars, and all that. It was something far deeper. It was exactly as the words implied—the cultivation of one's very spirit.

Spiritual cultivation was a path to transcendence, the sharpening of the soul so that it evolved alongside one's core to forge the perfect Calamity. The further one progressed, the more resilient their spirit became, granting them an increased resistance to the abstract and immaterial.

To cultivate one's spirit was to continuously breathe power into it, fortifying it with every step, and of everyone within the training room, the only person higher than Andrew in this regard was Aodhán due to his status as a transmigrant, his immense pool of willpower, his seals, and his familiar.

Daruk, however, stood at nearly the same level as Andrew. His immense willpower, his seals, and his status as an inheritor, when measured against Andrew's icon, seals, and everything he had gained after activating the {Mycelium Network}, placed their spiritual strength on equal footing.

A crack formed—just a hairline fracture in Ayisha's enforced stillness, but that was all he needed. Time surged through the gap like a raging current, eager to reclaim its flow. And with all his will, Andrew echoed the phrase of his icon in his thoughts.

I am inexorable. Nature cannot be halted.

The bubble of frozen time trembled, then fractured. A breath later, it shattered, sending ripples of time essence spiraling through the air.

Ayisha staggered back, eyes widening in shock. "You can't… you shouldn't be able to—"

Andrew smiled. "You forget, Ayisha. Time cannot stop what was never meant to halt."

And with that, he struck. Dozens of vines surged forward in a tangled rush of blades and poison, coiling and lashing like living weapons.

Even without activating his icon, Andrew's Vines of Inexorability embodied a fundamental truth—nature's relentless march. The cycle of growth and decay was not rigidly bound by time. Time might alter its perception, but nature was eternal. It grew in stillness and chaos, a relentless cycle of growth, decay, and rebirth.

The vines surged forward, but Ayisha dodged, weaving through the onslaught as twin blades of time essence materialized in her hands. With each precise strike, she sliced through the advancing vines, her earlier hesitance to follow her father's instructions all but forgotten as she dodged, weaved, and slashed the vines to pieces.

However, Andrew wasn't just chanting the word "inexorable"—he had aligned his entire battle style to embody it fully. Vines erupted out of the ground in waves, every dozen surging forward to replace the half-dozen Ayisha destroyed. They slithered forward with eerie speed, their bladed tips glistening with poison. And as if that wasn't enough, Andrew activated {Spore Cloud}, releasing a dense mist of hallucinogenic spores into the air.

For the first time in a long while, Ayisha hesitated. She had no immediate counter. Andrew's vines were too much. They regenerated too fast, and with a cloud of mind-warping spores encroaching, she found herself at a loss.

Desperate, she swept out a hand, forging a dome of solidified time essence around herself, but it cracked almost as soon as it was formed as vines crashed into it with the force of a hundred hammers. Unwilling to let the construct simply disintegrate, she activated {Epoch Forge} and converted the fractured dome into a spinning chassis of whirring blades that shredded the vines to pieces.

Andrew remained unfazed by the death of his vines. If anything, he seemed to welcome the destruction, churning out more vines with effortless persistence, as though he had access to limitless willpower.

Sensing something amiss, Ayisha's eyes narrowed as she focused on the vines—and that was when she saw it. Beneath the tangle of fibrous growth lurked something far more dangerous. Her suspicions were confirmed a second later when, instead of slicing a vine to pieces, her spinning blades clashed against the vine with an audible clink.

Metal!

She barely had time to react before the silver-render vines closed in around her. Their jagged, gleaming tips glistened with poison as they struck in unison. Foresight flared, filling her mind with a flood of possible futures, each one ending with her nearly impaled or defeated. None left her unscathed.

Determined not to go out so easily, Ayisha activated {Time lock} again, trying to buy herself a moment to breathe, to think. The time bubble expanded outwards, but before it could trap Andrew, his icon glowed, and the bubble simply cracked, then shattered, exploding into a cascade of fragmented timelines.

The vines continued towards her, their intent clear.

With no other choice, Ayisha moved with the least harmful future foresight had revealed. Shifting slightly to the left, she narrowly evaded the densest cluster of the metallic vines. Still, she didn't escape unharmed.

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Pain lanced through Ayisha's side as several jagged, blackened vines grazed her skin, their curved tips veering away at the last moment to avoid impaling her. Had this been a real battle, she would have been skewered a dozen times over. Yet, despite Andrew's careful restraint, two vines still punctured her flesh—not deep enough to warrant immediate attention, but deep enough to ooze poison into her veins.

Hissing through clenched teeth, Ayisha yanked the vines out before they could dig further and twisted away, forming another dome construct around herself. But the vines were not so easily evaded.

They struck the barrier like a battering ram, shattering it in an instant. Time essence ruptured outward in another chaotic burst, distorting reality itself—some vines flickering in and out of existence. But even that wasn't enough to stop them. And that was when Ayisha realized there was no way she was winning this duel.

Still, she fought. She cycled through one skill after another, each one a tactic that should have worked. But Andrew's icon was an unyielding opposition to her every move. More vines stabbed into her despite Andrew's efforts to avoid injuries, and slowly, her vision began to dim from all the poison oozing into her bloodstream.

Her vision swam, her limbs grew sluggish, and it was all she could do not to fall on the dozens of arrow-tipped vines that surrounded her like a choker of needles.

"It's not poison." Andrew's voice reached her ears as if from far, far away. "It's just a very strong sedative. You'll wake up in an hour—at most."

Relief settled in her chest, dulling the last threads of resistance. She let herself fall, her pride intact.

She hadn't surrendered. She had simply… fallen asleep.

***

Needless to say, Ayisha and Andrew's battle hadn't gone as Aodhán had envisioned. He had predicted the entire battle lasting all of two minutes. Instead, it had dragged on for almost ten minutes, and in all that time, Aodhán had learned two major things.

The first was the surprisingly large amount of vines Andrew could now control. Hundreds of them, all swarming a single person at once. Even for Aodhán, that level of control and manipulation was absurd. And since Andrew's control was nowhere near his own, it was a testament to the power of {Mycelium Network} that Andrew was so effective.

The second thing he had learned was that Ayisha wasn't quite as invincible as he had imagined her to be. She was exceedingly strong, of that there was no doubt, but it seemed to Aodhán that aside from her abilities to freeze, accelerate, and decelerate time, she was just as ordinary as the rest of them. Those three skills were her strongest skills, or at least, the skills she seemed to use the most coupled with her time blade skill; however, if one was able to shrug off the restricting effects of her time bubbles, she was relatively easy to get rid of.

For Aodhán, that meant one thing. Without an icon, he would have to rely on sheer willpower to overpower her time manipulation. Fighting against time itself would be a grueling, willpower-intensive battle… but he had more than enough to manage it.

Daruk and Scarlett worked on changing the theme of the dueling ring, while Lupin and Gwendolyn carried Ayisha off the stage, followed closely by Andrew, who looked a little guilty for putting Ayisha to sleep.

Aodhán clapped him on the back. "Well fought."

Andrew nodded, though his gaze lingered on Ayisha for a moment before shifting back to Aodhán. "Are you ready?"

Aodhán rolled his shoulders. "I burned a lot of energy against Daruk, but not enough to slow me down."

Andrew hummed. "Yurin is fast."

"But he's also predictable. He moves in straight lines and will never willingly surrender. He's not going to be easy to take out."

"As long as you take him out," Andrew murmured conspiratorially.

Aodhán shook his head in amusement. "Aren't friends supposed to stick up for each other?"

"There's no sticking up for anyone in a game like this. Besides, I want to face off against you in the final round, not Yurin."

Aodhán smiled, his competitive spirit rearing up at Andrew's words. "Do you intend to face me or defeat me?"

"Both," Andrew replied simply.

Aodhán nodded. "Then I'll bring my A-game, just as soon as I defeat Yurin."

Andrew chuckled and patted him on the back. "Good luck."

"Save it for yourself." Aodhán winked as he walked towards the ring. "You'll need it."

Andrew laughed, and Aodhán stepped into the ring alongside Yurin. Cracking his knuckles, Yurin asked, "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Daruk began the countdown, and the instant he shouted, "Fight!", Yurin attacked, flashing forward so fast that all anyone could see was a blur. Anyone except Aodhán.

As a Light Awakened, Yurin naturally grew faster with every advancement—a subtle yet undeniable edge that had become increasingly apparent. Aodhán might not match his physical speed but had more than enough perception to track his movements.

Dodging aside to evade the searing arc of Yurin's blade, Aodhán retaliated with a vicious swipe of his claws, their black edges tearing through the air with a crackling whoosh.

The attack surprised Yurin, who had been expecting a beam of lightning or something of the sort, but Aodhán didn't plan to utilize his energy in this duel at all, and in the case that he was forced to, it would be very minimal.

He had made this decision because, unlike his willpower, his energy was still recovering from his duel against Daruk, and if he used even more of it now, his duel against Andrew would be just as swift as it was embarrassing. Still, Yurin wasn't an easy opponent, which was why Aodhán had activated {Merge} as soon as the duel began.

Yurin dodged his claws narrowly, spinning around to unleash a vortex of whirring blades—but by then, Aodhán's bestial transformation was complete. His skin was completely covered in hard, yet flexible scales, and the added power that came from merging himself with Varéc filled him nearly to bursting. It didn't quite double his strength, but he felt twice as powerful nonetheless. That sensation only intensified when he bathed himself in a regalia of willpower, layering it over his skin like a second armor.

Yurin grimaced at the sheer amount of willpower he had so casually burned, most likely cursing his overarching advantage. Aodhán laughed, twisting sideways to avoid a whirring disc of light blades.

Yurin attacked again, and this time, Aodhán met him head-on, sending a shockwave through the hall as an explosion of concrete erupted from behind him as he surged forward. Searing light clashed against storm-forged claws, and Aodhán's expression tightened in pain as the claws were nearly severed despite the extra coating of willpower. That was when he noticed it.

Yurin's blade was different than usual.

"Another new skill?" Aodhán asked, surprised.

Yurin smirked. "Unlike you, I didn't spend my break gallivanting from sector to sector in the arms of little Miss Witch."

"You're just jealous."

"And you're about to lose."

With that, Yurin attacked again. His entire body flared with an explosion of light—so blinding that everyone had to shield their gazes from the intensity. Then, just as suddenly, the light vanished, plunging the hall into darkness.

Aodhán's vision swam as his retina was momentarily overwhelmed. But even in temporary blindness, he moved with precision, tracking Yurin's every shift with his core sense. Dodging a blade swipe, he spun and lashed out, his claws tearing clean through the edge of Yurin's uniform.

Yurin hissed as his claws raked against his skin, deep enough to draw blood but not quite enough to be lethal.

Wings arched behind him, Aodhán refused to let Yurin direct this fight, and with a flare of willpower, he dashed forward once again, waiting until Yurin was within reach before unleashing his aura.

With the sheer volume of willpower flowing through his spirit, his aura exploded out of him, slamming into Yurin like a crushing force. He staggered, knees buckling beneath the pressure. But a desperate flare of his own aura had him back on his feet in an instant, swaying just in time to dodge the vicious punch Aodhán had aimed at his gut.

But Aodhán refused to be evaded so easily. With a quick snap of his wings for added momentum, he jerked his knee upward into Yurin's stomach. The impact was bone-jarring, forcing the air from Yurin's lungs as he was sent hurtling backward.

Yurin wheezed, barely managing to anchor himself to the edge of the ring. Before he could get back up, Aodhán was already on him, claws poised to strike. Yurin, however, exploded with light again, but this time it wasn't just light but heat too.

The searing waves of energy engulfed Aodhán, forcing him to retreat before he was cooked alive. Still, if he couldn't attack in melee anymore, he would attack at range. A quick activation of {Lightning Beam—Red} sent a crackling stream of red electricity barreling toward Yurin.

The beam struck with explosive force, shattering his anchor, but Aodhán knew not to underestimate Yurin. Yurin would never give up willingly until he had no choice, and as long as he had a choice, he was going to fight.

It was an impressive yet maddening ideal, stretching battles far longer than they had any right to be.

Sure enough, Yurin erupted from the explosion, his body scorched with welts and burns, but one look at his expression and Aodhán knew this fight was going to drag a while. Had this been a random duel with someone he didn't know, Aodhán would have ended it all immediately with a seal or chaos-infused beam or perhaps by unleashing a punch fueled both by his {Berserk} perks and {Surging Momentum}.

But this was Yurin, and they were trying not to cripple each other. That meant a longer, safer method of battle. Even so, Aodhán needed to end this duel soon if he was to have any hope against Andrew, and so he decided to take drastic measures.

Tapping into the howling storm of rage swirling in his mind, Aodhán clashed with Yurin as his vision turned red. It had been a while since he'd drawn on this berserk-like ability, and he had almost forgotten what it felt like—the blinding rage, the intoxicating surge of power, the explosion of bloodlust.

But this time, there was a difference. His mind remained clear. He wasn't drowning in the storm of emotions. {Eye of the Storm} kept his thoughts sharp, his focus unshaken even as raw fury coursed through his veins.

Growling, he launched himself at Yurin once more, and the moment they clashed, Yurin was sent flying backward, his body twisting midair before he crashed against the ring's edge.

Still, Yurin refused to go down.

Aodhán could see it—the sheer defiance burning in his eyes. Even now, when every breath he took was labored, when his arms trembled from the force of their exchanges, he was already trying to push himself upright.

Staggering, gasping, his body flickered with light as he tried to muster another attack, but Aodhán was already there. Before Yurin could blink, Aodhán grabbed him by the front of his uniform, hoisted him clean off his feet, and with a single powerful motion—hurled him out of the ring, effectively bringing the duel to an abrupt end.

Yurin hit the ground hard, rolling across the floor before skidding to a stop only a few feet away from Daruk and Andrew. They rushed to help him up, but he brushed them off, shouting. "We are not done."

Aodhán replied calmly. "We are, Yurin. I threw you out of the ring. That means you're disqualified."

Yurin shook his head, but before he could respond, Andrew grasped his shoulders and said. "You didn't give up, Yurin. You lost."

"It feels like giving up." Yurin snapped, scratching his head in agitation, indicating that there was more going on than Aodhán understood.

"Is he alright?" Gwendolyn asked as she, Scarlett, and Lupin edged closer.

"He is fine," Daruk responded calmly. "He's just experiencing a misalignment with his icon phrase." In a quieter tone, he added. "It's getting worse."

Aodhán was aware of how Yurin's icon phrase usually affected him, but Daruk was right. The situation had worsened.

Yurin's phrase was 'I will never give up.' Normally, Yurin hated giving up. His phrase, however, pushed that to a whole new level. It fueled his need to push forward, driving him to perfect his icon—but it was impossible to never give up, not when he wasn't the strongest being on the planet.

Yurin scratched his head and cursed. "It's a constant struggle to give up at all, especially when I know I'm losing. I don't want to do it either, but this isn't a do-or-die affair, and I have common sense. My Icon phrase is trying to erase my self-preservation."

Andrew nodded in understanding. "That's why it's called a core ideal. Your common sense and self-preservation are obstacles to full embodiment, and your phrase is trying to eliminate them."

"Why?" Aodhán asked.

"Because the phrase is incomplete without the icon itself. It seeks completion and balance. Until that happens, the phrase alone can't act as your core ideal."

"And how do I do that?" Yurin asked, nodding in agreement to something Andrew had said. "How do I get this balance?"

Andrew shrugged. "I don't know. I got my entire Icon all at once."

"Maybe you should ask Rahim," Aodhán suggested, and Yurin sighed. "Maybe I'll ask him."

They talked a while longer, discussing the intricacies of an Icon phrase. Meanwhile, Scarlett, Gwendolyn, and Lupin watched in astonishment, baffled by how casually they discussed something as profound as an Icon—as if it were just another skill or item.

Finally, they gathered around the ring once more. It was time for the final round of their mini-tournament.

Andrew versus Aodhán. Nature versus Storm. Was Aodhán ready?