The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

After Andrew's icon manifestation nearly a month ago, many students had begun taking the matter seriously, searching inward to uncover their ideals. But one student pursued it more fervently than the rest—Yurin.

He already had his phrase—or at least the pieces of it. All that remained was to tie those pieces together into a whole, but even that wasn't as easy as it sounded. Over the holiday, he had worked diligently, spending countless hours meditating and reflecting, trying to shape his ideal of never giving up into something more grounded.

True, he never wanted to give up on anything—whether it was his studies or a battle. However, he had to draw a line somewhere, or else he would be a fool. His recent duel against Aodhán had made that painfully clear.

He wasn't the strongest in the academy, let alone the kingdom. Blind persistence was a fool's path, and if he followed it without thought, he would surely die an early death. There was wisdom in retreat, in living to fight another day—and that was what he had been seeking all through the break.

He hadn't found it yet, but one thing he had locked down was never giving up. Sooner or later, he would find the right phrase. Until then, he would keep meditating and reflecting, searching daily until he found himself.

Yurin walked into his cell with that thought firm in his mind. His heartbeat was steady; his focus, unwavering. He hadn't given up on Runic Theory even though it was mercilessly kicking his butt. He wasn't about to give up on himself either.

The moment the cell door shut behind him, Yurin activated {Radiant Clarity}. The room hummed to life as the complex array at its center flared with golden light. Yet Radiant Clarity revealed nothing major—no illusions, no fragments of distorted reality. Only the inconsistent spacing between the holes, their dark mouths yawning, eager to dish out pain.

The cell was small, offering little room to flee or hide, but Yurin didn't need space. He didn't need to hide either. What he needed was to overcome this exercise and use it to his advantage.

Shuffling his feet to burn off excess nerves, Yurin waited for Coach Harvey's signal.
Two minutes later, it came.

"Begin!"

With a sigh of determination, Yurin moved to stand at the center of the array.

The cell whirred to life at once, mechanical clicks reverberating through the walls like the growl of a sleeping beast. The array beneath his feet flashed brilliantly, and an instant later, an arrow sliced through the air. Yurin dodged easily, crossing the distance from one end of the cell to the other in a heartbeat. It wasn't his highest speed, but it was close. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

A chorus of clicks echoed out as the array adapted to the speed he had just displayed. The next attack shot out like a beacon breaking through the dark. Eight arrows shot towards him from different angles, but they were still too slow. Yurin dodged, his steps as light as a feather as he twisted, bent his head, and spun his way out of the attack.

A proud smile crept across his face as he evaded the arrows unscathed, but the array was only just getting started. A heartbeat later, nine arrows were launched.

He dodged again, his movements nearly a blur as he weaved in between the arrows, one nearly grazing him as it whizzed past by a hairsbreadth. It was exhilarating. Even after landing, Yurin didn't stop moving, gliding across the floor as blighted arrows whirled around him in a deadly dance.

Ten! Eleven! Twelve arrows!

Yurin dodged them all, his body a streak of golden light, contorting and bending into a dozen impossible poses just to evade the arrows. It was magnificent—his movements seamless, effortless. Little did he know, his real problems were only just beginning.

As a Light Awakened, speed was his forte. Each advancement granted him more of it compared to most other affinities. Yet even he had limits.

The next instant, fourteen arrows shot toward him from all directions. Yurin moved as fast as he could—but this time, he failed. Pain exploded in his knee as an arrow struck, and he stumbled. Still, he was back on his feet before the next barrage came.

Another fourteen arrows.

He dodged again, pushing himself to the brink. Still, he wasn't fast enough.

An arrow tore into his back, searing pain through his body like a bolt of fire. Yurin nearly blacked out. Cursing under his breath, he forced himself to move, shifting his focus less on raw speed and more on accuracy and precision.

He pivoted sharply, raising his hands, dropping them, and then leaping to avoid a flurry of arrows from below. They whizzed past him, missing by a hair's breadth.

Yurin's eyes widened. In that instant, he grasped a shard of insight.

It lasted barely a heartbeat—no epiphany, no flash of inspiration—just a small but vital understanding of himself and how his affinity intertwined with his ideal. It was minor, almost insignificant, yet it fit into the growing puzzle that was his icon phrase.

And it lifted him greatly.

With a grin, Yurin moved, his body no longer responding but reacting at the exact moment necessary. There were no wasted steps. No panic. Only motion, and as the next barrage of arrows shot towards him, Yurin slid forward and then pivoted, weaving between the arrows with fluid precision.

A few arrows grazed him lightly, sending tingling sensations of pain singing through his muscles, but he managed to avoid them all. This time, however, there was no proud smile. Just bullheaded determination as the array adapted again.

Fifteen arrows shot out next, moving so fast his eyes could barely track them. Still, he did his best to dodge, sliding toward the edge of the cell to avoid the largest cluster. Even so, five arrows struck him at once, and pain lit his nervous system on fire.

Stumbling, Yurin cried out, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Sweat slicked his skin, dampening his uniform. His body burned. The muscles along his back ached, screaming with each movement, but the array didn't stop.

THWIP! THWIP! THWIP!

Another barrage of arrows tore through the air, and Yurin forced his battered body to move once more. He jerked left, then right, narrowly avoiding half a dozen arrows. Sliding forward, he sprang to his feet and darted left again, weaving through the incoming strikes by a hair's breadth. The arrows blurred past him, the air whistling with every near miss. Metallic clicks echoed all through the cell, and for a fleeting moment, Yurin thought he had dodged all the arrows until one struck him in the shin.

Pain lanced deep into his bones, and he cursed as his legs buckled. "Dammit, Yurin! Move the fuck."

Another chorus of metallic clicks.

Another barrage of arrows.

Another cry of pain.

Gritting his teeth, Yurin forced himself upright and moved, even as agony howled through every fiber of his being. A desperate thought flashed through his mind, clinging to him like a lifeline.

~I will never give up.~

It was his icon phrase—the supposed definer of his being—but Yurin knew that it was flawed and incomplete. Hadn't he given up against Aodhán during their duel? Hadn't he given up against the blood Orc? The only time he had truly never given up was when he had been trapped in the same seal chamber with Aodhán and had nearly lost his life had Principal Zatya not arrived in time.

The truth was that he had given up countless times, and the ideal he had clung to for years since his brother's death was now rendered invalid. He couldn't never give up—not when he was surrounded by monsters, geniuses, and inheritors. He needed the ability to retreat when the situation called for it, to step back and wait for the right moment. It might be a coward's mantra, but survival often depended on living to fight another day.

What he needed, then, was balance—between bullheaded persistence and a healthy dose of sanity, something to pull him back from the brink whenever he reached too far.

Weaving through another volley of arrows, Yurin gritted his teeth in pain as multiple arrows found their mark. However, even while gasping and shuddering, Yurin forced himself to continue moving, his mind working overtime to search his spirit for a path forward.

Despite the pain engulfing his senses, ideas were born and discarded in Yurin's mind as they failed to complete the jigsaw puzzle that was his icon phrase. An arrow struck him in the side of his head, and pain exploded within him once more, setting his nerves aflame.

Panting, he gritted out, "I will always fight."

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The words spilled from his lips like a plea, but the moment he uttered them, Yurin felt the dissonance deep within his spirit. He couldn't always fight—not every battle was one he could afford to engage in. There were battles where surviving meant retreating. The simple truth was that charging headfirst into every battle would mean his death. He needed another way.

Biting down on his pain, he discarded the phrase and continued moving, his body blurring across the floor as he dodged and reacted on instinct. Still, the arrows were too fast for his weakened and battered state. He was tired and in pain. The logical thing was for him to give up.

"No!" he gritted out, shoving the doubt away. Giving up wasn't an option. He couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop, not when he'd come this far. But then it hit him. Stopping wasn't the problem. Giving up was. Stopping wasn't a weakness. Running wasn't a betrayal, and sometimes, stepping back meant finding another way forward. It wasn't about fighting to the death. It wasn't about blind stubbornness. It was about consistent progress. Not resisting. Not enduring. But pressing forward, pushing through, and transcending limits, despite all.

Another chorus of clicks. Another barrage of arrows.

Yurin's eyes sharpened, and his muscles screamed in protest. But he moved. The arrows kept coming, but he was undeterred. His breath came in ragged bursts, his body battered and bruised, yet he continued to weave and twist through the onslaught. With each step, his understanding of his icon solidified. The shards of insight he had gathered over the break began to merge into something tangible, something that was no longer just a fractured ideal but a path forward.

The pieces clicked into place, and a new phrase, born of complete understanding, rose in his mind.

~I will always advance.~

The words echoed through his consciousness like a declaration, and deep within his spirit, something shifted. It opened up within him like a chasm, and an intense wave of heat surged through his being. His body burned with energy, and his aura—now a torrent of blinding radiance—erupted from him, painting the entire chamber in golden light.

The arrows froze in midair, halted by the blinding glow. Yurin gasped in pleasure as chaotic energy rushed into him from the origin plane. It surged through his pathways, flooded his core, and pushed him to the next tier of power. Excess energy poured out from his core, spreading through his muscles and bones, strengthening him from the inside out.

The whole process lasted only a minute, but Yurin felt as though it had stretched far longer. Power coursed through his veins, filling him with more strength than he'd ever known, but it was his speed that had undergone the most significant change. He hadn't yet tested it, but he was almost certain his speed had doubled. His spiritual cultivation had also skyrocketed, and a grin spread across his face as he felt how much lighter his spirit had become.

As the blinding radiance gradually receded, Yurin glanced down at his wrist in anticipation. He wasn't disappointed. There, shimmering on his wrist, was an intricate, circular celestial pattern. Radiant spirals of golden-white light pulsed in subtle shifts, resembling a grand rune. The edges of the pattern were lined with fractal and geometric arcs, which flickered in time with his heartbeat.

It was exceedingly beautiful, and as if the system sensed his approval, a line of golden text soon appeared.

Congratulations! You have advanced to the 24th tier.

Congratulations! You have realized an icon.

Icon Realized: Icon of light's transcendence.

You're unshackled by time and space. Moving at lightspeed, nothing can impede your advance.

There was no other explanation for the icon, but Yurin didn't need the system's help to understand the icon he had created. It shone brightly on his wrist, thrumming with a power of such weight that it almost felt heavy.

Yurin smiled in satisfaction. He had finally done it. He had formed an icon.

~~~

Coach Harvey and Miss Greene sat in a small section of the gym, carved out as a makeshift watch station. The space housed a large holographic screen displaying all one hundred students as they prepared for the exercise. Some paced nervously, while others simply stared ahead calmly.

Coach Harvey observed each student's location and confirmed that all the cells were in working order before picking up the microphone to give the go-ahead. "Begin."

The cells whirred to life simultaneously, and with a hopeful sigh, Coach Harvey settled in to watch.

"How do you think they'll do?" Miss Greene asked.

"Terribly," he chuckled, shaking his head. "It's their first time, so I don't expect them to get it right all at once. Although I do hope some of them do."

Miss Greene laughed and glanced at the document in front of her. "It says here that the average number of arrows they should be able to dodge is nine. But I don't think the cell creators accounted for their inherent speed, or lack of it."

Coach Harvey smiled knowingly. "That's because it has nothing to do with speed, Miss Greene. Too often, people confuse increased reaction time with increased speed. I expect most of them will make that mistake, but the truth is, reaction time is more about sharper perception, quicker reflexes, decision-making, and efficient movement—"

"Preemptive awareness, pattern recognition, muscle memory," Miss Greene finished, smiling. "I should be surprised if any of them gets it."

Coach Harvey shrugged. "I think a few of them might. This is not an entirely strange training after all."

Miss Greene nodded in agreement and then turned her attention back to the screen. Many of the students were taking it steadily, adapting to the array little by little, even as it adapted to them, while others used their full speed at once and began trying to improve their speed from there. Both methods were wrong, but this first exercise wasn't really about right or wrong.

It was simply a test to see where the students were lacking and how they could tailor the rest of the semester to do them the most benefit. Judging by the way things were going, Miss Greene wouldn't be surprised if the students emerged from their cells, cursing and screaming Coach Harvey's name, but after nearly sixteen years serving as the gym instructor for the first-year category, Coach Harvey was used to all of it by now. He understood it, even, and as always, Miss Greene realized she would have to play the good cop once again. She only hoped everyone would reach the average of 9 arrows before running out of their cells.

However, it seemed that even the average was too high for some students, as nearly a dozen of them ran out of the cell a few minutes later, groaning in pain. Miss Greene checked their scores and scoffed. "Six arrows. That's poor."

Coach Harvey didn't respond, too disappointed, but then, everyone couldn't be great. Besides, he reminded himself, this was a test. Their next run should be better.

While the students cursed and conversed together about their shared experience, Coach Harvey turned his attention back to the screen, his gaze flitting from one end to the other as he watched the remaining 89 students.

Time passed in this manner, with students exiting their cells nearly every minute. Sometimes an entire group exited all at once, groaning in pain as they massaged the areas where the blighted arrows had hit.

Fifteen minutes later, half the class had exited their cells, and with a sigh of disappointment, Miss Greene checked the scores of the latest batch. "Ten arrows. Not terrible, but not great either."

"I expected better." Coach Harvey grunted as he glared at the groaning students. "Their pain resistance is so low that it's an embarrassment. We need to find a way to fix that quickly."

Miss Greene jotted it down and sighed. "I should probably begin an orientation for those outside their cells."

"No, just keep them busy for now. Save the orientation for later."

Miss Greene nodded. "Perhaps someone will surprise us yet."

"Perhaps," Coach Harvey replied, his gaze shifting to a few cells where he expected certain students to excel. It wasn't ideal for a coach to have favorites, but with students like Cyrus, Lysirel, Aodhán, Ayisha, Daruk, and Cameron in his class, it was hard not to.

Miss Greene stepped out of the watch station to lead the students who had exited their cells through a series of light exercises. Coach Harvey glanced at them before his attention returned to the holographic screen.

Beating this exercise was easy, at least for those who understood its mechanics. He didn't expect the students to actually increase their speed—it was technically impossible—but that didn't mean they couldn't become faster in other ways. There were countless ways to achieve it, and as time ticked on and more students exited their cells, Coach Harvey realized that he had a lot of work ahead of him if he was going to get everyone into better shape by the end of the term.

Another ten minutes passed, and in that time, 27 students had exited their cells, leaving only 23 remaining. The holographic screen shifted, deleting the cells of the students who had completed the exercise to make room for the ones still going.

With the expanded view, Coach Harvey could now clearly observe each student, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he saw a few of them beginning to understand the true nature of the exercise. They stopped trying to move faster and, instead, focused on economizing their movements. Their dodges became smaller and more precise, avoiding the larger, more exaggerated movements they'd initially made. They reacted smarter, not faster, training their ears to pick up on the subtle vibrations the arrows made and anticipating their release before they even fired.

It was crude—mostly trial and error—but the mere fact that they were starting to get it filled Coach Harvey with pleasure. When Aodhán finally cleared eighteen arrows after struggling with it for the last ten minutes, Coach Harvey nearly jumped out of his seat with excitement.

"That's how you do it!" he shouted, but immediately quieted when Miss Greene glanced at him.

"Sorry," he muttered, quickly returning his attention to the screen.

Another ten minutes passed in this manner, and soon only ten students remained within their cells, each one fighting desperately to surpass their current limits. Coach Harvey watched them all closely, analyzing their methods and techniques as they pushed themselves. Half the time, they were just running around, trying to avoid as many arrows as they could, crying out in pain whenever a blight arrow struck. But the fact that they had such high pain resistance—or, in the case of Cyrus and Yurin, too much stubbornness—filled him with joy.

He cheered each student silently until finally only five students remained: Aodhán, Cyrus, Harnoth Darkwater, Imani Blackwell, and Yurin. It was an unexpected lineup, save for Aodhán and Cyrus, but Coach Harvey cheered the others on nonetheless.

However, as time wore on, Coach Harvey found his gaze lingering on Yurin's cell. While the others cried out in pain and frustration whenever they were struck, Yurin cried out in determination. Sometimes, he didn't even cry out—he merely gritted his teeth and kept going.

The others were doing great, too, but something about Yurin's relentless perseverance and determination kept pulling Coach Harvey's attention back to him.

Miss Greene poked her head into the watch room, but before she could speak, Coach Harvey waved her in and asked, "Have you ever seen such feral determination? I don't think he's going to give up."

Miss Greene frowned, identifying Yurin on the screen. She slowly sat down and asked, "Do you think he's about to surprise us?"

Coach Harvey watched the screen in silence for a moment before answering, "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

He had barely finished speaking when, in an instant, Yurin's entire presence seemed to shift. The change was so abrupt that Coach Harvey almost didn't register it at first. Then, without warning, Yurin exploded with golden brilliance.

The intensity of the light surged outward, filling the screen with such overwhelming energy that it was impossible to see anything else. The glow seemed to pulse rhythmically, like the beating of a heart—bright, fierce, and impossible to ignore. The holographic display flickered for a moment, as if struggling to process the sheer force of the light emanating from Yurin.

Both coaches jumped to their feet instantly, their usual composure slipping for a second.

"By ascendants!" Miss Greene cursed, eyes wide in shock. "Is that an icon?"

"I believe it is." Coach Harvey responded, equally stunned. After a moment, he cursed and muttered. "Just how many geniuses do we have hidden among this sore bunch?"