The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

Aodhán sat in a meditative pose in one corner of his training room the next morning, eyes closed and face serene as he worked on expanding his essence threads. Outwardly, he was the picture of calm and collectedness—but inside, his mind was a mess. Ideas swirled in an endless loop, items of different shapes and functions rising to the surface now and then.

With little effort, he analyzed each one before discarding them—unsatisfied either with their functionality or their aesthetics. And yes, aesthetics played a major role in the decision. There was no way he was dropping thousands of gold coins on a single item unless he loved how it looked.

Another item surfaced—a spear this time, with lightning-enhancing abilities—but Aodhán didn't even bother analyzing it. He already had enough lightning power. What he needed was an edge. Something no one would ever see coming.

With a sigh, he refocused on his essence threads. His search for inspiration in the library yesterday had only made things worse. He'd gained a ton of ideas flipping through the codex—some he'd even liked and jotted down—but there was just one problem: the Tempest Codex wasn't just a collection of storm-based items. It was the collection. And when faced with such a vast array, Aodhán found himself paralyzed by choice.

He'd spent more than two hours in the library, rifling through the codex in search of something that called to him—hammers, swords, spears, necklaces, even daggers. But none had spoken to him. Just weak pulls here and there, suggesting the items might suit him somehow. But Aodhán wasn't looking for "somehow." He wanted something original. Something that aligned so perfectly with his path, it felt like an extension of his very essence. He hadn't found it yet, but he wasn't giving up.

Item creation wasn't the only thing clouding his thoughts, though.

Ever since his brutal battle against the Medusozoa yesterday, one skill had stuck in his mind, and Aodhán had been unable and unwilling to remove it. The skill was based on the Medusozoa's tentacles, but in a way that they erupted from his back, hands, or wherever he decided.

There were a few problems with it, though. For one, he didn't yet have access to spectral lightning. He had no idea what new colors {Elemental Lightning} might grant him once he advanced, but he couldn't afford to gamble everything on the hope of gaining phasing abilities in the future.

Still, the mere thought of it made him feel giddy, and he had to quickly suppress his excitement before it threw off his control over the threads. Regaining stability a moment later, he returned his focus to the skill concept, picking up the train of thought right where he'd left off.

The tentacle skill was perfect and would grant him a lot more versatility than he currently possessed. Even without spectral lightning, it remained a solid skill. Just... less deadly. Perhaps, if it was—

His eyes snapped open as a new realization struck him.

It could actually be an item.

All he needed was a stockpile of spectral cores—and fresh pieces of the Medusozoa's brain or tentacles. The idea gleamed in his mind, full of promise, until the complications began to surface.

For one, he wouldn't be able to activate the item without spectral cores, and even if he had those, manipulating it without spectral lightning would be impossible. That alone disqualified it, especially since he needed a working item for the tournament.

Other issues popped up too, but after the first one, Aodhán didn't bother with the item anymore. If he gained spectral lightning in the advanced class, then he could simply create the skill himself instead of relying on an item to do it for him.

Sighing, he closed his eyes again and refocused on the essence threads he was expanding. Over the past few weeks, his proficiency with the essence threads had grown drastically. He was faster and cleaner, and the task required less mental energy from him. His control of energy had also increased, a welcome side effect of channeling huge amounts of energy and willpower into the essence threads.

He had expanded nearly all of the essence threads in his head, except for the truly complex mesh of threads connected to his brain. That would be the last thing he tackled if he ever finished with this technique, just from the sheer quantity of it.

Pushing all thoughts of skills and items to the back of his mind, Aodhán expanded the bundle of essence threads leading to his neck and voice box. There were tons of them, too, but they were still far less than the ones headed for his brain.

Aodhán wondered just what effect completely expanding the essence threads leading to the brain would achieve. Would it make him smarter, or would it fortify his mind? He could most definitely wait to know. Until his proficiency with the technique had reached its peak, he wasn't touching his brain.

Minutes passed as he continued the arduous task, and before he knew it, it was dawn. Small rays of sunlight filtered into the room through the window, painting the wooden floors in the fiery orange of sunrise.

Letting out a breath of contentment, Aodhán opened his eyes and stood to his feet, feeling refreshed and ready for the day. Calling to Varéc, who had curled up on himself at the opposite corner of the hall, Aodhán made his way out of the training room. Varéc trudged along, his sinuous body tearing furrows into the ceiling and wooden floor as he moved.

After Varéc's nightly hunt, which had stretched even farther into the night than usual, Varéc was still feeling tired, but Aodhán didn't sympathize with him at all. He simply accepted his bribe—a tier 24 gravity core—and chucked it into his spatial storage without question.

When he reached his bedroom, he checked his messages, hoping to have missed a text from Aldric, but there was still nothing yet. He was worried, but he figured he had to give it a few more hours before alerting Daruk to what had happened.

Sighing, he made his way to the bathroom, and ten minutes later, he was dressed and ready to go. A text from Daruk informed him that he and the boys were already waiting for him, so, after cajoling Varéc back into his spirit, he jumped out of his window, landed on a storm platform, and flew towards house one.

He arrived in less than a minute, smiling, but his expression soured when he saw Andrew stretch out his palms to Daruk and Yurin, tittering as they grudgingly placed gold coins in his palms.

"You guys really need to stop doing this," Aodhán scowled. "I was only a few seconds late."

"True," Andrew nodded sagely. "Very unlike you. I was almost certain I'd lose."

"And I was almost certain I'd win," Daruk grumbled. "If only you'd been a minute later."

"Or ten," Yurin muttered darkly. He eyed the coins still jingling in Andrew's hands and scowled. "You know what? Aodhán's right. I'm not rich enough to keep playing these expensive games. A single gold coin could feed me for a whole week back in Sector 7."

"Two weeks in Sector 12," Daruk added, then frowned thoughtfully. "Funny how tossing around gold coins has become normal. Five months ago, I hadn't even seen one." He smiled and shrugged. "Anyway, we'll stop betting when you start showing up early. Until then, three free gold coins are too tempting to pass up."

Aodhán sniffed, lifting himself into the air. "Well then, since you all love this game so much, you can transport yourselves to the gymnasium."

"Fine by me." Daruk shrugged playfully. Yurin nodded in agreement. Together, they turned their eyes to Andrew, who glanced at them, then scowled.

"A month ago, that might've worked," he muttered. "But not anymore. I may not be able to zip through the air on platform constructs like you guys, but I've come up with my own method of movement—and it's in no way inferior."

Aodhán raised an eyebrow. "Well, why don't we test out this new 'method' of yours right now? In fact, how about a race to the gymnasium?"

"Heck yeah!" Yurin whooped, then turned to Andrew. "No offense, dude, but you're going to eat dust. Like, actual dust—not the metaphorical kind."

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"We'll just have to see, won't we?" Andrew said, taking up a stance. The others followed suit, with Aodhán lowering himself to the ground so he wouldn't have a head start. After a quick beat, Andrew called it. "Three, two, one... go!"

Aodhán blasted forward, his mind sinking deeply into {Eye of the Storm} for that extra surge of speed and perception. Even so, Yurin blazed past him like a bolt of living lightning. Daruk trailed behind, his willpower pouring out as he pushed himself to keep pace. And Andrew? Andrew zipped along the streets in what looked like a rolling bush of tumbleweed. It barreled forward, weaving through alleys and cutting corners with surprising agility.

The tumbleweed contraption was fast—shockingly so—but it still couldn't compete with platforms. A few minutes later, they arrived at the gymnasium in a flurry of wind and laughter, watching as Andrew untangled himself from the mess and smoothed his vivid green hair back into something resembling order.

"I can see you boys are having a lot of fun," Coach Harvey called from the front steps of the gym, and they walked towards him, a few other students trailing in behind them. At the entrance, Coach Harvey flashed them a conspiratorial grin and handed over the attendance sheet.

They signed in, and when Andrew was done, Coach Harvey's grin stretched wider. "Let's see how much fun you'll be having after you find out what I've planned for you this term."

A collective groan followed. None of them were eager for whatever fresh torment he'd cooked up. They stepped into the gym and blinked.

The entire place had been transformed, and never in a dozen years could they have imagined the sight that greeted them.

The race tracks and training equipment were gone. Instead, a series of open cells—each several meters in diameter—lined the walls. Students filled the open space in the middle, eyes wide and mouths whispering as they peered into the cells.

"Raol, save us," Yurin whispered as they walked toward the nearest cell and peeked inside. The cell was empty and could have been mistaken for a simple storage closet, if not for the hundreds of holes lining the walls—some large, others tiny—and the faint hum of machinery pulsing in sync with the complex array scripted at the center of the floor.

"What do you think this is?" Aodhán asked.

Daruk shook his head, baffled. "I have absolutely no idea. I just know it won't be fun."

Ayisha and Scarlett soon joined them, and together they watched the cell, trying to decipher its purpose. More students trickled in, each voicing their astonishment at the new layout. But despite their combined efforts, none of them could guess what Coach Harvey's latest brand of torture would entail.

The gymnasium soon filled up, and Coach Harvey stepped in, a wide, almost maniacal smile stretched across his face. Miss Greene followed behind him, her smile more demure but no less excited.

Coach Harvey spread his arms wide and grinned. "I see you've been introduced to our new exercise plan for the term. Sick, isn't it?"

Murmurs rose in disagreement, and Yurin clutched his stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick," he muttered.

When no one voiced agreement—as Coach Harvey had clearly hoped—his grin faltered, and he raised both hands to explain. "Okay, maybe it's a little over the top, but I promise you guys will like this one. Last term, we focused on building up your endurance with the null armors. This term, we're zeroing in on reflexes. You think you're fast? Well, you can be faster. And this whole setup is designed to get you there."

"Get to the point, Coach! Are we going to die?" Someone shouted from the back.

Coach Harvey's sly grin returned. "Oh, not at all. But you may wish you had by the time the exercise is over."

"I knew it," Aodhán muttered, already dreading whatever fresh torture lay ahead. Around him, other students echoed their distress.

Coach Harvey's grin only widened as he soaked in the atmosphere of suspense, fear, and grudging curiosity he'd created. Still smiling, he walked toward one of the cells and pushed it open.

"For the past few months, you've been getting by on raw talent, instincts, or maybe a little bit of luck. But in a real battle, luck is just another name for 'almost died but didn't.' Isn't that right, Miss Greene?"

"It most certainly is," Miss Greene replied, her smile growing to match his. She raised her voice to address the room. "And instincts won't get you far either. They'll carry you—until something faster, sharper, and meaner comes for your head."

"Exactly." Coach Harvey nodded. "This exercise is designed to beat the arrogance out of you and turn you into something… faster." He gestured to the gleaming silver walls of the cell. "The walls are lined with projectile launchers that fire blunted Blight Arrows. And these holes you see? Well, let's just say you'll come to hate them soon enough. That array in the center? It's an Adaptive Speed Matrix. It recalibrates in real time, adjusting the difficulty based on your current speed."

His grin widened. "It's the perfect way to curb your cheating asses. Whether you slow down or pick up the pace, the challenge evolves to match you. It won't stop until you push beyond your limits. In short, you must become faster. And the moment you do, so will the array."

Aodhán frowned, the concept clicking into place. To dodge, he'd have to move faster than the projectiles. But doing so would only cause the array to increase its speed in turn, escalating the challenge with every success. It was a never-ending loop of acceleration, forcing them to move, adapt, and grow relentlessly.

Coach Harvey kept talking, explaining the technicalities of the cells. His words painted a picture of brutal torment, but Aodhán felt a flicker of excitement. The null armor races had been grueling, yet rewarding. If this was anything like that… then the pain would be worth it.

"To be clear," Coach Harvey said, wrapping up his speech, "this is an exercise meant to sharpen both your speed and your perception. You cannot defend or hide yourself using skills. If the array detects you activating any skill, it will immediately double its speed. And trust me—you do not want that to happen."

"This is a nightmare," Andrew muttered under his breath.

Coach Harvey only confirmed it a moment later. Spreading his arms, he stepped away from the cell and grinned. "Welcome to your new nightmare, students. By the end of this term, you won't just dodge—you'll dance between death itself. You won't just react—you'll know what's coming before your opponent even thinks it. Now, get moving. The exercise begins in two minutes."

The students scattered. After a round of quick good lucks, Aodhán stepped toward the nearest cell. He pushed open the silver door and exhaled sharply as the array flared to life, a low mechanical hum spreading through the space.

But rather than fear, Aodhán felt only determination.

His ten-second battle with the Burmehien had laid his weaknesses bare. He had brute strength. He had explosive power. But his speed? Still lacking. This would fix that. With the tournaments approaching, this was exactly the challenge he needed.

The cell door shut behind him with a loud metallic clunk. The hum deepened. Bolts locked into place. Metal groaned and sealed.

He stepped into the center of the room and looked up, eyes locking onto the largest hole, nearly the size of his fist. Whatever arrow came from there wasn't going to tickle.

Aodhán took a slow breath, sinking into the tranquil depths of {Eye of the Storm}. Calm blanketed his mind. His gaze grew clear and still. His reflexes heightened, his breathing steadied, and the world slowed. His awareness spread, anchoring him to the cell. The tension melted from his shoulders.

Seconds passed in near silence.

Then, from outside the cell, Coach Harvey's voice rang out like a gunshot.

"Begin."

The cell whirred to life in an instant, metallic clicks reverberating through the walls, and then—

FWIP!

A single arrow streaked toward him from the left, almost too slow to be a threat. Aodhán tilted his head barely an inch, and the arrow whizzed past his ear, a whistle lingering in the air where it should have struck. The array hummed in response, adapting to the speed he had just displayed.

The second attack wasn't so slow. It shot toward him from behind like a bolt of lightning. Aodhán sidestepped, the Blight Arrow missing his neck by a hair's breadth.

Despite expecting the speed increase, he hadn't expected it to be quite so drastic. However, the real issue revealed itself when the array hummed again, clicking mechanically as it recalibrated to his new speed.

The next instant, rather than a single arrow, two shot out—one from the back and the other from above. Aodhán shifted his footing, dodging the arrow from above, but he failed to dodge the other in time.

The arrow struck him in the back, and his eyes widened as pain radiated from the point of impact like phantom heat, sending a jolt straight through his nerves. The pain wasn't excruciating, but it wasn't negligible either.

Before he could catch his breath, the array struck again. Two arrows shot toward him—one from the left and the other from the front. Turning sharply, Aodhán managed to dodge both—the first missing him cleanly, while the second skimmed past his shin.

There was no time to celebrate. The array adapted again. Its mechanical hum grew louder, and the next moment, four Blight Arrows shot toward him, their speed nearly doubled.

Aodhán pivoted sharply, feeling the shift in the air as he spun out of the way, pushing his speed even further to avoid the barrage.

The array recalibrated again. Five arrows.

Aodhán pushed deeper, sinking his mind further into the calm, precise focus of {Eye of the Storm}, drawing on every ounce of perception and speed it granted him. His senses were on high alert, eyes flickering, ears twitching, and instincts sharpening.

By the time eight arrows were fired, he wasn't dodging anymore—he was flowing.

He moved like wind through shattered glass, gliding between the attacks with fluid grace. His body moved in perfect sync, each muscle responding before his mind could finish processing the incoming threat.

With every volley, he grew faster and better. But so did the array. It adapted to even the smallest improvement.

And Aodhán couldn't keep improving forever.

The enhanced speed and perception {Eye of the Storm} provided wasn't infinite, and Aodhán was slowly approaching his limits.

He reached his limit three minutes later when 14 arrows shot out of the walls from every direction. They came at him like a blur. He twisted, ducked, and spun—but it wasn't enough.

Five arrows struck him at once, and Aodhán's vision flashed white with pain. Gasping, he forced himself to move before the next volley came, but he was already behind.

More arrows struck him, setting his nerves on fire, but the array did not stop. It would not stop until he surpassed himself.

The next barrage came an instant after. More pain. They seared across his back, his legs, and his side with raw, stinging fire.

And in that moment, Aodhán realized that if he didn't find a way to increase his speed soon, he would be constantly assaulted by the arrows until he either passed out or Coach Harvey took pity on him.

Forcing himself to think, Aodhán asked himself the one question that mattered. What would the storm do?