The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

It didn't take long for Aodhán to learn that treasures weren't quite as easy to find as awakened plants, despite the latter's rarity. After an hour of digging and hacking through suspicious underbrush, he finally gave up and redirected his full attention to their original task. Not that he'd forgotten it, but now he actually focused. And thank Raol he did because he nearly walked past the infernal Emberleaf without noticing.

Unlike common, uncommon, and even rare-ranked plants, epic-ranked plants like the infernal Emberleaf were notoriously elusive. Their cores were so thoroughly shielded that, outside of core-sensing, the only reliable method to find them was to locate areas with extremely high essence density and then comb through them like your life depended on it.

Even with core sense, Aodhán would've missed the hidden node cluster had he not sensed the core of a powerful creature nestled just within the underbrush. Coming to an immediate halt, he raised a hand to his lips to shush Daruk and pointed to the underbrush with a smile.

Daruk caught on quickly and wiped invisible sweat from his brow in relief. Stifling a chuckle, Aodhán turned his attention to the blazing, fiery core and whispered to Daruk. "It's a tier-24 Lava Wyrm."

Daruk didn't ask questions. Instead, he pulled a substantial amount of willpower and energy from his core, channeling it into {Drain Heat}. Aodhán could have handled the serpentine creature on his own, but this was an opportunity for Daruk to really fight without limiting himself, and so, Aodhán decided to let him have it.

Daruk sent him a glance, asking, "Where is it?"

Aodhán pointed to the exact location, and Daruk nodded, his expression tightening with resolve. He had barely taken five steps toward the wyrm before it let out a low, rumbling growl of warning. Daruk ignored the guttural warning and continued forward, forcing the wyrm to rise from its hiding place in a burst of fury.

Aodhán's gaze tightened in sympathy when he saw the wyrm—scales dimmed and its body atrophied from lack of food. The wyrm must have been waiting here for weeks to protect the Emberleaf while it grew, but now that it was mature enough to harvest, Aodhán was about to steal it right from the wyrm's hands as if nothing had happened.

Had this been any other plant, Aodhán might have called Daruk off, but this plant was important to him, and despite his sympathies, he couldn't afford to let go.

The wyrm hissed a warning, red flames spurting from between its fangs—but Daruk wasn't threatened. He marched forward, hands curling with cold energy, his gaze as frigid as the aura gathering around him.

With a roar, the wyrm lunged, unleashing a torrent of dark flame. Daruk snuffed it out with a flick of his fingers, draining all the heat from the attack in an instant.

The wyrm choked on its own flames as it froze mid-throat, then reversed, roaring like flame, yet spreading absolute cold down its gullet. It was Daruk's {FireIce} skill, and with so much willpower packed into it, the wyrm didn't stand a chance.

Icy arrows erupted from within the wyrm, spearing through muscle and bone before bursting out of its hide like a bloom of jagged frost-thorns. The creature shrieked, a guttural roar of pain and fury echoing through the clearing—only to be silenced a heartbeat later. With a flick of his wrist, Daruk summoned an arcing blade of ice and severed the wyrm's neck in one clean sweep. Frost spread over the stump instantly, sealing it shut before a single drop of blood could escape.

The wyrm fell with a loud thud, its decapitated head rolling across the floor to nudge Aodhán's feet. The whole battle—if it could even be called that—had lasted no more than two seconds. Wearing a slightly guilty grin, Aodhán moved towards the underbrush to harvest the infernal Emberleaf plant while Daruk moved to dig out the Wyrm's core.

Even standing over it, Aodhán still couldn't sense the plant's node cluster—an impressive feat, considering he was staring right at it. Chuckling, he crouched and began the harvest, digging carefully so as not to damage the roots. It took him a full two minutes, and only when he completely uprooted the Emberleaf did he finally sense the node cluster—a dense formation, so tightly packed it was nearly a core.

Aodhán frowned, studying the energy signature with growing fascination. He'd read about this structure the day before, but reading wasn't the same as seeing it, sensing it—having core sense imprint it directly into his mind.

From the wyrm's remains, Daruk yanked out a red core, his arms streaked with blood and viscera. A quick activation of {LiquidIce} washed most of it off, and with a curious frown, he jogged over.

Peering down at the Emberleaf, he asked, "So this is the plant we've been tearing through this forest for over two hours to find?"

"It is." Aodhán grinned, eyes lighting up as insight trickled into his mind. Core sense expanded—not in range, but in precision—narrowing its focus, sharpening. Now that he could feel and interpret the plant's structure, his core sense was evolving, learning.

Daruk stared at the plant for a beat, not particularly fascinated, before glancing down the list. "Our next target is the Umbralshade Nightfern. What kind of name is that?"

"A very pompous name for a pompous plant." Aodhán chuckled, carefully placing the infernal Emberleaf into a special spatial ring, separate from the others they'd gathered.

Raising his chip to his lips, he informed Andrew that they'd found the infernal Emberleaf and were about to begin the search for the Umbralshade Nightfern. To avoid overlap, Andrew and Yurin were starting their search from the bottom of the list while they worked from the top.

Andrew responded that they'd also found one of their targets—the Desert-Mirage plant—and were now hunting for the Dark-Vitalis Bloodbloom.

Two out of eighteen didn't feel like much progress, especially given how long it had taken to find just one plant. But that wasn't about to change.

Grinning, Aodhán focused on the sea of gleaming cores scattered within Core Sense's range and murmured, "Shadow."

Just like before, his senses shifted. Some glowing cores and node clusters dimmed, while others brightened, bursting to life and shining like beacons to his senses. This time, however, there was a subtle difference. Aodhán could narrow his search further.

The node clusters of epic-ranked plants were so densely packed that they almost resembled small cores. The textbook had explained this, but sensing it firsthand had pushed his understanding to a whole new level.

Parsing through the sea of cores and clusters, Aodhán filtered out the loosely packed ones—most likely common and uncommon plants. But when he tried to filter further, core sense stubbornly refused to budge.

Still, he'd cut their search time in half. With an excited grin, he raced toward the nearest dense cluster—and smiled when he found a rare-ranked plant, guarded by a tier-24 Malefic Shade.

The creature barely had time to blink before a beam of red lightning impaled it, blowing it to pieces. Daruk hissed, raising an umbrella construct to shield himself from the patter of viscera and bloody tissue, but Aodhán just laughed.

He harvested the plant carefully, placing it within his spatial ring before rushing to the next.

Ten minutes later, they found their first epic-ranked plant—a Duskpine Marrowleaf, its blue-black leaves rimmed with edges of gold. It might not have been the one they were looking for, but it was a win regardless.

They moved on, their pace slowing now that they no longer had to search every single shadow-affinity plant that core sense revealed. With the ability to filter, the hunt became more efficient—though not necessarily easier.

Aodhán did his best to avoid clashing with any of the creatures or other hunters. The former was easily avoided, but avoiding the latter was another matter entirely. And sure enough, before long, they burst into a clearing—and found it filled with people.

Four hunters stood there, each one tense and wary, eyeing one another with matching suspicion. Aodhán grimaced—not because he was surprised to see them (core sense had already warned him), but because this time, there was no avoiding them.

To the left, just beside the clearing, was the plant he sought—or what looked like it. Hundreds of Umbralshade Nightferns blanketed a large hill, too many for such a rare species, filling the air with a slight silvery fog.

The four hunters all turned to stare at him at once, muscles twitching and energy surging as tension thickened in the air. The first was a tier-33 mundane-class woman with a plant affinity. She wore dirty camouflage clothing, and though the sinister-looking blade strapped to her back might have given a lesser hunter pause, Aodhán dismissed her as a threat after a brief perusal of her core.

The other three, though, were a concern.

The second hunter couldn't have been much older than Aodhán himself—nineteen, perhaps—but Aodhán couldn't be sure. He was a changeling. A tier-27 advanced-class changeling at that. He was dangerous.

The third and fourth hunters were both in the evolved class, but that seemed to be the only thing they had in common. The third, a wiry-looking man with a cunning expression, was a fire awakened at the 31st tier—a rare case, since it meant he had crossed the second milestone (tier-25) without fulfilling the requirement for class evolution and was now stuck at the evolved class permanently.

Despite being at a lower tier, the fourth hunter was the most concerning. She was a burly, violent-looking woman with a sound affinity. Though only at the 24th tier, the power radiating off her was anything but weak.

They stood in silence for several seconds, tension rising steadily as they assessed and weighed one another, until the second hunter finally spoke. "I don't want any trouble."

"I don't either," The fourth hunter replied, her expression stern. "But I've been searching for the Umbralshade for nearly a month now, and I'll be damned if I leave here with nothing."

"I was here first," the second hunter snapped. "This is my plant. It'd be in y'all best interests to just walk away."

"I'm not doing that." The first hunter refused, her voice tiny and meek-sounding.

An argument broke out, escalating quickly as voices rose. Daruk hissed from beside Aodhán. "Why are they fighting? There's a literal hill of Umbralshade right there in front of us."

"They're illusions," Aodhán said, his gaze locked on the third hunter—who was watching him just as sharply. "There's only one real plant on that hill, and we all want it."

Daruk's eyes widened in sudden realization. He muttered, "So they're not rushing in because they can't tell the real one from the fakes."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Exactly," Aodhán whispered, a faint smile tugging at his lips as his eyes drifted toward the hill. "Unfortunately for them, I don't have that problem."

Daruk returned the smile, but Aodhán's gaze had already shifted to the first hunter. She wasn't the most powerful person here—not by a long shot—but she had the highest chance of locating the real Umbralshade aside from him. Her plant affinity gave her an edge that the others lacked.

As the two whispered and planned, the other hunters carried on their argument, the air growing so thick with tension that a fight felt inevitable. The sound affinity hunter clenched her fists. The fire awakened paced in short, agitated strides, his eyes flashing red whenever someone spoke too loudly. The changeling, despite his confidence, seemed to be stalling—perhaps trying to identify the real plant just as Aodhán was.

But none of them had a core sense.

Aodhán focused, letting his perception sink beneath the surface. A sea of illusions shimmered in his mind—a dense, inky fog of false signals and mirrored magical echoes. Yet within that murk, his core sense threaded outward, patient and deliberate—until it found it. A cluster of shadow nodes pulsing differently. Cleaner. Sharper. Real.

"There," he murmured, tilting his chin slightly toward the left ridge of the hill, just past a twisted boulder etched with three vertical claw marks. The true Umbralshade was nestled between a pair of thorned shadow-fern projections, half-buried, projecting at least a hundred false images of itself across the hill.

Daruk's gaze flickered, almost imperceptibly. "That far?"

Aodhán didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the fire awakened—cunning and composed—slowly, almost imperceptibly, edging toward the real Umbralshade.

"He's close," Aodhán whispered. "We need a distraction."

Daruk's gaze steeled. "What's the plan?"

Aodhán didn't respond. His eyes stayed locked on the fire awakened, who was inching closer to the Umbralshade with every heartbeat.
No more time.

Without hesitation, he acted. With a roar like thunder, Varéc burst from his spirit, a beam of red lightning already surging from his draconic snout.

The sudden eruption of violence sent the hunters scattering. Aodhán seized the opportunity, summoning a large storm cloud overhead and flooding it with so much energy and willpower that it exploded in a torrential downpour so loud and relentless that it drowned out every other sound.

However, the rain hadn't even soaked the ground before it crystallized into sleet, then jagged icicles, all of which hurled toward the sound-affinity hunter like spears. The fire awakened unleashed a burst of flames, but the rain doused it, drenching him to the bone in seconds. A flick of Daruk's fingers engulfed him in a bubble of LiquidIce, making it impossible for him to free himself.

Varéc rushed towards the changeling, attacking with a sweeping arc of electricity that sent the plant mage running and screaming while simultaneously keeping the changeling preoccupied.

While all this happened, Aodhán raced towards the hill, his attention fixed on the node cluster ahead of him like a beacon. He tore through the field of illusions, heading past the twisted boulder and into a small alcove where the true Umbralshade Nightfern was nestled.

Shouts erupted behind him as the changeling and Varéc clashed in a storm of electricity and gnashing teeth. Ice splintered as the sound awakened lashed out, trying to break Daruk's control. But with so much water now pooling across the clearing, Daruk was nearly unstoppable. Water was converted to ice almost immediately, and whips of LiquidIce lunged at the sound mage to hold her down.

Aodhán ignored all that was happening behind him, forcing himself to carefully dig out the plant to avoid damaging it. The plant awakened, however, and had other plans.

Vines exploded from the ground, curling toward him like snakes. They latched onto his legs, tugging and pulling—trying to rip him away.

Aodhán didn't flinch.

Without even turning, he fired a beam of red lightning in the direction she was hiding. A scream echoed, and the vines went limp, collapsing in a heap. It wouldn't take her out permanently, but it gave Aodhán enough time to harvest the plant and place it within his spatial ring without damage.

As soon as the plant disappeared into his spatial storage, the illusions vanished, revealing the hill for what it was: a slope overgrown with weeds and thorns.

The plant mage scrambled to her feet, eyes wide with fear, but Aodhán barely spared her a glance as he raced back to the clearing to help Daruk out, his breath catching when he saw the sinewy, looping beast the changeling had transformed into.

In mere seconds, Varéc had been riddled with holes and slashes—his once-solid form now flickering and insubstantial. But despite his injuries, Aodhán knew Varéc would survive, and so he turned his attention to the sound awakened, whose mouth was already forming a shriek—a scream of raw, weaponized sound.

Aodhán moved faster.

He blinked forward in a flash of lightning, closing the distance before the scream could escape her lips. {Surging Momentum} ignited with a crackle, and with all his strength, Aodhán drove his fist forward—hard and precise—just below her shoulder blades where nerves clustered and muscle coiled tight.

The impact was brutal.

Her body arched with a violent jolt, limbs flaring wide as the shriek died unspoken in her throat. She hit the ground hard a heartbeat later, twitching, the air ripped from her lungs.

No scream. No counter. Just silence.

Until Varéc roared, and the bubble of ice Daruk had frozen the fire awakenedin cracked.

"Now would be a great time to run."

Aodhán agreed—but not without Varéc.

His seals were still far from being fully regenerated, but Aodhán didn't need seals for what he was about to do. He needed willpower. Directing the storm cloud overhead toward the changeling, he channeled a large amount of willpower and energy into {Lightning Descent} and activated it.

The sky opened.

A river of lightning descended, so bright that it was blinding. It wouldn't kill the changeling; it might not even damage him too much, but it would give Varéc a chance to escape.

The river of lightning struck with an explosion so loud it was deafening. It bathed the entire clearing in flames, releasing the fire awakened from his icy prison. Roaring, the man lit the entire clearing in a wave of heat, but Aodhán and Daruk were already gone, an injured familiar racing behind them.

They didn't stop running until the sound of pursuit had faded and the clearing was miles behind them. Varéc returned to his spirit space at once to recuperate, and Daruk bent over, hands on his knees. "Are things always this chaotic around you?"

"Pretty much." Aodhán chuckled, pulling out the list and crossing off the first two plants. After a brief hesitation, he crossed out the last two as well, leaving only fourteen plants on the list.

Daruk shook his head and asked. "What plant is next on the list?"

"The Ever-Warp VoidBlossom." Aodhán grinned, and with the adrenaline of the last encounter still coursing through his veins, he uttered, "Void," sighing in bliss as his senses shifted—cores and node clusters dimming to make way for another affinity.

This was so much fun.

***

Placing the Dark-Vitalis Bloodbloom within his spatial ring, Andrew scowled at the careless destruction of plants Yurin had left in his wake during the battle with the Bloodhound. He resisted the urge to comment, though, and instead glanced down at the list in his hands.

Unlike Aodhán and Daruk, Andrew had taken a slower, more deliberate approach to the search—allowing the forest to guide him and Yurin, rather than tearing through it and leaving chaos in their path, as Yurin had just done.

It irked him to see people treat the forest with such disregard—trampling over vines and roots as if they meant nothing.

Despite trying to ignore the mess, Andrew couldn't focus on anything else, and with an exaggerated sigh, he activated {Create Plants} and {Accelerate Growth} in tandem, smiling as a host of new plants replaced the old, blending so seamlessly with the forest that it was almost impossible to tell that a battle had occurred there at all.

"Hey! Are you trying to bury me alive?" Yurin shouted, stumbling out from a newly created underbrush with a blood-soaked crimson core in his hand. Hastily sidestepping a slithering vine, he scowled, tossed the core into his spatial ring, and burned the blood off his hands with a wave of searing light.

"I should use this on you," he said, pointing a glowing palm at Andrew. "Let's see how you like it."

"I won't like it very much," Andrew admitted and then waved at the carcasses of burnt plants that now littered the clearing. "And I'm sure the forest feels the same way."

Yurin's eyes widened in realization, and he chuckled. "Oh, I see what's going on here. You're the vegetation police."

"Very funny," Andrew replied dryly, and quickly turned away, not wanting to spend a second dissecting the obvious problem. Well, it wasn't a problem, not really. It was just a very annoying inconvenience.

Andrew knew he couldn't stop people from harming plants. That was just the way the world worked. Plants may be living things too, but they were definitely at the bottom of the intelligence and emotional strata. This was his icon's doing.

Unlike Yurin, who had built his own icon brick by brick, Andrew couldn't say the same. In fact, it could be said that he had been given his icon. {Mycelium Network} had helped him understand his core ideal and phrase, but it had also tied it to the forest. This was his family. All these trees around him. He was their guardian. Their protector. And he was inexorable.

The icon was perfect. Unflawed. Balanced. But it also meant watching people tear their way through the forest, snapping branches and slashing vines in their way, physically pained him and ignited rage within him. It was different with the awakened plants because he wasn't killing them. He was harvesting them. There was a difference.

Thankfully, aside from when he battled, Yurin was careful around the forest. Even now, he moved cautiously, shifting a vine gently aside to follow him. Smiling, Andrew slowed down for Yurin to catch up and then pulled out the list.

"What's the name of the next plant?" Yurin asked, leaning closer to read his shabby handwriting.

"It's the Lucentglass Myrrthorn." Andrew read it aloud and looked up, watching the forest for any hint. Ever since they'd begun this search, the forest had been leading him in subtle ways. It was never obvious, but Andrew always saw it—the shudder of a branch, the curling of a vine, the shifting of roots.

It was almost enough to convince him the forest was alive, but Andrew knew otherwise. He was simply family. As expected, a tree shuddered in an absent breeze, and a vine subtly shifted, curling to point east. Andrew pointed at the narrow path. "Let's go that way."

Yurin followed him without question, his expression serene as he basked in the abundance of light essence around him. They moved in relative silence, only speaking whenever they were deciding whether to avoid a creature or attack it.

Andrew walked with his eyes wide open, searching for awakened plants and harvesting them without straying too much from the path the forest was showing him. This limited the harvest of other plants greatly, but Andrew couldn't have it both ways.

Their slow march continued for almost an hour until they reached a dense thicket of Thornwillows, arranged in unnaturally perfect rows, their silver thorned trunks straight and evenly spaced as if planted by deliberate and calculating hands. At the center rose the Lucentglass Myrrthorn, radiant and gleaming, encased within a dome of delicate glass that glistened like molten crystal.

However, the plant wasn't the only thing in the clearing. Standing guard over it was a Velynar—a bird-like creature with a semi-transparent body like sculpted stained glass. The creature was huge, nearly six feet tall, with a wingspan to match. It had a shard-like beak, long like that of a flamingo, and through its midsection, a core of refracted light pulsed slowly like a heartbeat.

Despite the beauty of the Velynar, Andrew and Yurin came to an abrupt halt when they saw the creature, eyes widening as they read the line of text floating above its head.

[Wild Velynar, Tier-29

They stood as still as statues for nearly a minute, watching as the Velynar worked without rest, dismantling stumps with its beak and plucking out weeds with its claws. Not daring to breathe too loudly lest they draw the Velynar's attention, Yurin whispered, "This is the moment where we turn around and vanish. I cannot fight that creature alone."

"I'll fight it with you," Andrew whispered back without hesitation.

"Are you crazy?" Yurin hissed, but when he saw Andrew's determined expression, he realized the answer to his question. Gone was the sagely gentleness Andrew had displayed for the past few days. Instead, a fierce determination marred his face—and a faint trace of bloodlust began to radiate from him.

Alarmed, Yurin grabbed him and hissed, "Get that bloodlust under control before you put us in trouble. Are you trying to kill us?"

Andrew reined in his aura. "What do you suggest?" he whispered.

Exhaling in relief, Yurin replied, "I suggest we call Aodhán and Daruk for assistance. The four of us can probably take it down—"

"We don't need Aodhán and Daruk," Andrew cut in and pointed to his icon. "We have icons, Yurin. Aodhán and Daruk do not. Yet do you think they would ever call us for assistance? They are pushing themselves, Yurin—we have to do the same."

"Nope," Yurin refused adamantly. "I'm not throwing myself against an advanced class creature five tiers above me just to 'push myself.'"

"Come on," Andrew urged, almost pleading. "Don't you want to kill an advanced-class creature before you reach the advanced class?"

"No, I truly don't. And even if I did, I still wouldn't do it just for the sake of doing it. There's no payment, no reward, no adoring fans—"

"There's a title," Andrew cut him off, smiling. "There's a huge-ass title attached to it. Aunt Fortuna got one. That's how I know."

Yurin paused, glanced at the Velynar, and then hesitated, watching the creature with renewed interest. After a moment, he asked, "What kind of title?"

Andrew grinned. "The kind that helped my aunt push her bloodline so far, despite the willpower requirements."

Yurin swallowed, his mouth opening and closing in shock. He remembered Aodhán asking Andrew this question at the banquet they had attended and the evasive answer Andrew had given at the time. But if it was true—if he could really gain a title that helped him hack his bloodline evolution—then he had to take it.
Still, one thought ate at him, and he asked, "Why aren't we trying with an easier creature—Tier 26, perhaps?"

"Because the creature has to be at least five tiers above you to gain the title. If it were that easy, Yurin, every noble would be walking around with a blessed bloodline like royalty."

"Oh," Yurin breathed, flicking his fingers to brush out his nerves. He glanced back at the Velynar, and a moment later, his face hardened in determination. Bracing himself, he whispered, "Let's do it."

Andrew grinned, and with his heart thumping a dozen times a second, he stepped into the clearing, crossing the boundary of glass shards the Velynar had made.

A deafening screech followed.