The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

Two weeks ago.

Andrew sat in his father's cultivation chamber, deep beneath the Willowood estate, surrounded only by Jorgumien's roots, which pulsed golden to a rhythm only the spirit tree could hear as it pumped immense amounts of life, spirit, and nature essence into the chamber.

Golden sap flowed freely around him—treasures in their own right, the very lifeblood of the spirit tree. He'd lived off the sap for a full week before finally requesting something more chewable… and less vision-inducing.

Energy hung thickly in the air, so dense that it was visible—a floating cloud of golden life, verdant nature, and blue spirit essence all blended to give the room an almost cosmic feel as essence shimmered in the air like constellations.

Despite his recent advancement, it had taken Andrew a full day to adjust to the density of the energy and another to walk without hunching under its pressure.

He sat now at the chamber's center, legs crossed, fingers poised in silent meditation. A half-open book lay beside him: The Technique of Techniques. The occasional ruffle of its pages was the room's only sound.

Hours passed in stillness—until the chamber door creaked open and his father stepped in, a bright smile on his face when he saw how much better Andrew was looking compared to the day he'd first arrived. "Hey kiddo, you're looking so much better. How are you feeling?"

Andrew shrugged. "I'm not really feeling anything yet."

"Hmm," Nikolai Willowood nodded thoughtfully. "Hopefully that'll pass before you're due back at the academy in a few days."

Andrew didn't respond and just watched his father. A military man himself, Nikolia Willowood was a mountain of a man, muscled and ripped underneath all the silk and finery. Every step he took was measured, powerful, and held in restraint.

With practiced ease, he settled down opposite Andrew, his own vivid green hair defying gravity for a moment before settling on his head smoothly. He glanced at the textbook beside Andrew and asked. "How far have you read?"

Andrew shrugged. "Not far. But I think I've grasped the basics."

"Is that so? What have you learned?" His father asked, a casual smile on his face, but Andrew caught the undercurrent of genuine curiosity beneath his words. His father was observing him. Testing him.

Frowning just to show some emotion, Andrew responded. "I just finished reading the seven categories of techniques. It was very enlightening."

"And what are these categories?" His father prompted, eyes narrowing in focus.

"They refer to the stages of technique mastery. Crude, rough, clean, refined, perfect, sacred, and forbidden."

Andrew listed the categories easily, and his father nodded somberly. "You know, when you started out at the academy, I didn't have high hopes. I try not to with all of my children, but one by one, you've all surprised me. You and Fortuna, by a larger margin. You've made not just me but this entire family proud, and since you gave us a gift as precious as the {Mycelium Network}, I and the other elders of this family have decided to give you something equally as precious." His gaze deepened, and he asked. "What do you know about sacred techniques?"

Andrew's breath hitched, and for the first time since he regained his senses, he felt a spark of something other than complete calm. Excitement.

It was snuffed out almost immediately, but the mere fact that he had even felt something brought a smile to his face, and he responded quietly. "A sacred technique is one infused with the ancestral will and foundational intent of the patriarch of a noble family—built up and passed down from generation to generation."

His father nodded and then pulled out a golden parchment from his spatial ring. He handed the parchment over to Andrew. "This is a copy of the sacred technique of the Willowood family, imbued with the will and intent of seven patriarchs before me. You're the second of my direct descendants to get this."

Andrew accepted the parchment with a small smile, feeling the warmth radiating from it. Without opening it, he asked. "Was Aunt Fortuna the first?"

His father smiled. "Naturally. Now open it."

Andrew opened the parchment to find an empty page, its golden hue marred by a single crimson drop at the center. Andrew didn't hesitate. He formed a wooden claw and pricked his thumb, grimacing slightly as the claw broke through flesh and blood leaked out.

Blowing out a deep breath, he placed the thumb just above the crimson drop, joining his blood with his father's.

The moment that happened, the parchment exploded into a cloud of golden essence that rushed straight into his mind. Andrew closed his eyes and opened his mind to absorb the information he was about to receive.

A moment later, a series of texts began crawling across his vision.

Congratulations! You have learned the Heart of the Forest technique.

Heart of the Forest (SACRED): Passed down through the Willowood family for centuries, this technique is a profound manifestation of harmony between life, spirit, and nature. It doesn't just aid the manipulation of plants; it awakens the will of the forest itself, establishing a temporary domain where all-natural plant life becomes an extension of the wielder's body and consciousness.

Drawback: Consumes immense amounts of energy, willpower, and life essence. Overuse may result in premature aging or permanent loss of vitality.

Andrew read through the skill's effects and then drawback before opening his eyes. "I'm surprised you gave me this."

"I can't protect you forever. At the very least, it'll teach you responsibility."

Andrew smiled. "I'll use it carefully."

"That is all I ask."

***

Present day.

Andrew had only ever used his sacred technique once—just to test it—because the toll it exacted was far too steep. But now, with Yurin limp and bloodied in his arms, something inside him snapped. A river of rage surged through him, drowning out fear, caution, and self-preservation. He couldn't care less about his vitality or life span at that moment. All he wanted was to kill the Velynar. He no longer minded what he had to do to achieve that.

Eyes aglow with verdant light, Andrew stood to his feet even as the entire clearing shuddered with ancestral energy. Like spirits, ghostly blue trees erupted around him, their ancient barks absorbing all the light in the area. Trees, both real and ghostly, bent toward him, their roots uncoiling like sleeping titans. Vines as thick as iron cables lashed out from every opening within the forest, their tips sharp and gleaming with deadly intent.

This was no longer an ordinary clearing. It was his domain. He was a god here. Yet, as the Velynar launched itself forward, a discordant shriek tearing out of its glassy throat, Andrew knew it wouldn't be enough.

Rather than panic, he simply raised a hand to the Velynar and activated his icon.

Like thunder, the words boomed in his mind and that of the Velynar.

{ICON MANIFESTATION: VINES OF INEXORABILITY!}

Chaos exploded within his spirit. Energy and willpower drained from his core like water through a broken dam. Heat seared his spirit, and the icon on his wrist practically vibrated with power. The world shivered and then stilled.

But the stillness only lasted a moment before chaos ensued.

From every shadow, crevice, and limb, the vines emerged—their golden hue so bright it was nearly blinding. They joined the army of snarling vines [Heart of the Forest] had conjured, and together, they shot towards the Velynar.

They didn't grow. They hunted—lashing out like whips, lunging like serpents, and twisting mid-flight as though they had eyes and rage of their own.

As one, hundreds of vines converged on the Velynar to kill it. They didn't stop when cut. They split and multiplied, spraying thorns and spores into the air.

Their paths warped with Andrew's will, coiling towards the Velynar's stumps and shimmering throat. The Velynar screeched in defiance, talons cleaving downward in a gale of glass that sliced the vines to pieces.

Unrelenting, Andrew refused to be bested. He raised a hand, and the vines obeyed. They caught the limb mid-descent, dozens of them snapping taut and pushing back against the pressure. The Velynar shrieked, pressing down with all that it had, and eventually, the vines broke—but not before they pulled its other limb out from under it.

The Velynar staggered, another series of spiderwebbed cracks spreading across its crystalline torso. Andrew snapped at the opportunity like a hungry lion, and with the dredges of his willpower, a new surge of golden vines erupted beneath the Velynar—anchoring themselves into its cracks, back, and limbs—stabbing relentlessly and wrapping tighter around its neck than any noose. From above, thick canopy branches dropped like hammers, bludgeoning and bashing the Velynar from multiple angles.

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Blood trickled down his nostrils, and his legs buckled, but Andrew didn't stop pushing.

His eyes glowed with verdant power, bright and undeniable—but behind them, pain. The sacred technique burned through his spirit. His icon clawed at his pathways, siphoning all of his energy and willpower, but Andrew refused to give up until the Velynar was dead.

The Velynar let out a bloodcurdling wail as the cracks on its body widened.

Andrew screamed back, his voice raw and hoarse as he funneled the last of his willpower into his icon.

The ground heaved. The forest itself roared, and a third and final volley of golden vines surged out from every angle—hundreds, maybe thousands—forming a writhing dome around the Velynar. They didn't just aim to bind. They aimed to bury.

The vines beneath the Velynar convulsed—then pierced upward. Thorns embedded themselves in cracks, widening them. Vines burrowed through the glass, ignoring resistance. Massive branches, older than stone, fell—crushing the Velynar in a perfect, synchronized hammer blow. Thorned vines enveloped the Velynar, burying it under layers of snarling vines and raw verdant fury.

The Velynar fought bravely, trying to resist, but the vines were too overwhelming. Glass shattered, and with a final shriek that split the air, the Velynar's body imploded—vines piercing through its core as glass burst like a dying star. Shards exploded outward, drenching the area in a cloud of glass essence before it all stilled, the shattered pieces of the Velynar's body scattered across the clearing.

Andrew collapsed to the ground, too weak to even stand. His willpower had bottomed out, and his energy wasn't far from doing the same. His spirit ached with burned vitality, and Andrew felt like he had just lost about ten years of his lifespan.

Still, he smiled and turned his emerald gaze to the Lucentglass Myrrthorn, untouched behind the wreckage and surrounded by a network of ghostly blue vines.

"We did it." He whispered to no one just before he completely lost consciousness, too tired to even keep his eyes open.

***

It was evening when Andrew finally regained consciousness, the world returning to him as if from far, far away. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting at first to give his sight time to adjust. It took a full minute.

Groaning softly, he turned his head toward the Lucentglass, expecting to see the glass plant swaying gently in the breeze. Instead, he found a patch of upturned earth—a circle of bare soil in a sea of green grass.

Alarmed, he tried to sit up, only to be struck by a wave of vertigo so intense the world spun violently. He collapsed back to the ground, vision swimming.

"Oof. That's got to hurt."
A voice echoed behind him, and a moment later, Yurin stepped into view, looking marginally better than he felt.

Yurin smiled down at him. "Don't try to get up yet. You need rest."

"And food," another voice muttered. A moment later, Aodhán came into view, smirking down at Andrew and shaking his head. "By Raol, you look like shit."

Yurin slapped Aodhán's arm. "Don't say that. You'll just make him worry."

"I'm right here," Andrew groaned, struggling to keep his eyes open. "And I'm already worried. How bad do I look?"

"Not too bad," Yurin said—at the same time Aodhán replied, "Emaciated."

The two exchanged glances, and Aodhán gave a shrug that said, Who's going to tell him the truth if we don't?

Yurin sighed. "Don't mind Aodhán. We're cooking something. You'll feel better with food in your system."

Andrew wasn't sure he had the strength to eat, but he managed a faint nod and turned his head to the side again, avoiding the glare of light filtering through the canopy. His gaze landed once more on the patch of upturned soil, and he remembered the Lucentglass Myrrthorn. Coughing harshly, he asked, "Yurin, the Lucent—"

"I already harvested it," Aodhán cut in, frowning. "Now stop stressing. You look awful enough as it is."

Andrew let out a breath of relief and finally relaxed. "Where's Daruk?"

"I'm right here, just outside your field of vision."

Andrew forced his eyes open wider, and Daruk came into view at last. The Ice Awakened smiled at him.

"Yurin said you must have bottomed out your energy and willpower at the same time." He said, then frowned. "If not for the title you gained, I would have said it was incredibly foolish to fight an advanced-class creature on your own when you could've called for help." He paused, then added. "Actually, I still might."

The mention of the title reminded Andrew of what he had almost died for, and he quickly searched for the expected notification at the edge of his vision. It took him a few seconds to find it, but when he eventually did, the notification screen expanded to fill his vision.

Congratulations! You have gained a new title.

Treader of Dread—Lesser variant (Shared): This is a title given to any evolved-class awakened who willfully pits themselves against an advanced-class creature no less than five tiers above them and then survives to tell the tale.

Effects:

Ø Defier's Grit: Increases resistance to aura suppression from enemies no more than 25 tiers above you.

Ø Battle-honed core: Grants a slight increase to willpower regeneration, energy manipulation, and recovery during life-threatening circumstances.

Ø Dread Tempering: Unlocks an alternate path to bloodline evolution and refining. Bloodline can now be refined through accumulated near-death encounters with creatures five or more tiers above you, rather than consuming vast amounts of willpower. May trigger unique bloodline paths not found through conventional willpower evolution paths. Epic----> Epic+ (1/1024DT)

Despite his weakness, Andrew couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he read through the title's effects. For a long time, he'd feared he would never be able to evolve his bloodline like Fortuna had. He simply hadn't been strong enough. But Mycelium Network had changed everything. The possibility of reaching the Mythic class had just quintupled.

His smile must've drawn attention, because the others turned to look at him.

"I take it you've seen the skill's effects," Aodhán said with a chuckle. "I have to admit, I was a little envious when Yurin showed it to me."

"Me too," Daruk grumbled. "We need to get that title for ourselves."

"Weren't you just saying it was foolish?" Yurin raised a teasing eyebrow.

Daruk grimaced. "I'm not retracting my statement, Yurin. It is foolish, but I'm doing it anyway."

They all laughed. Then Yurin asked, "So, who are you partnering with? Surely, you're not planning to do it alone—and Aodhán doesn't need the title."

Yurin was right. Neither he nor Daruk needed the title—not this version of it, anyway. With their immense willpower reserves, they could shrug off aura suppression from any tier within the advanced class. They just had to be willing to burn through an absurd amount of willpower to do it.

The second effect was mildly tempting, but ultimately not worth it. The fact that it only activated during life-threatening situations didn't help either.

It was the third effect that kept Aodhán from dismissing the skill outright. Even with all the willpower he and Daruk had, refining and evolving their bloodlines was still out of reach. It was that costly. By his estimate, he wouldn't be able to afford it until he hit the 35th tier. His unique bloodline was far more complex than most, after all.

But with the Dread Tempering technique, he could reach that milestone in a matter of months—if he pushed himself. And honestly, he liked the idea of nearly dying and getting rewarded for it. He was curious, too, about what new aspects the technique might awaken in his bloodline—or how it might shift his progression, if it changed it at all.

Making up his mind, he replied. "I think I'd like to have the title too. No need to waste willpower when I can almost die instead."

That earned a round of chuckles, and Daruk clapped his hands. "It's settled, then. We're getting the title."

"Copycats," Andrew muttered, and they all burst into laughter again.

Their conversation continued for a few more minutes, and with each one that passed, Andrew seemed to be regaining more and more of his strength. He soon pushed himself to a sitting position and began narrating how he had ended the fight with the Velynar after Yurin lost consciousness.

Aodhán listened until Andrew and Yurin began arguing over the details of the event. Aodhán couldn't blame them. It was a miracle they remembered any details at all, considering they must have been fighting for their lives at that point.

Evening slowly crawled into the night, and after a meal of roasted meat, they all huddled together to sleep, including Varéc, who was still recovering from his ordeal with the changeling. He was recovering fast, though, siphoning Aodhán's willpower to speed up his healing process.

They slept in the clearing that night, chatting among themselves until sleep took them—a quiet contentment settling over them as the forest sighed in relief.

***

Aodhán woke before dawn, snuggling against Varéc, who growled softly and nudged him gently in greeting.
"Good morning, buddy." Aodhán grinned and moved to warm up their leftovers from last night. While the food crackled and fizzed over a small fire pit, he went to wake the others, nudging them gently.

When he reached Andrew, he placed a hand on his shoulder and helped him sit up. Andrew groaned but managed not to fall over. A quick scan of his core showed he was doing much better. He still looked pale and emaciated, but his face had gained much more color now.

He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and asked, "What time is it?"

"It's nearly six a.m.," Aodhán replied with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful. I feel like a stray breeze could blow me away at any moment."

Aodhán chuckled. "Well, if that happens, we're here to catch you."

Andrew smiled and then turned his gaze to the wreckage he had caused the previous day. He had regenerated some of his energy and willpower, but it wasn't enough to do a complete overhaul of the entire clearing without collapsing once again. Yet he couldn't leave it like this—it wasn't even a matter of choice. Andrew was sure his feet wouldn't let him move on unless he fixed it.

He released his aura, channeling just a few strands of energy and willpower to boost its verdant power. A green haze radiated from him like a gentle healing touch. It soaked into the earth, and flowers burst forth in a vibrant wave, their tiny petals shimmering like a sea of color. Dead plants withered away, replaced by fresh life.

Slowly, his aura spread, healing the land he had destroyed, but then it stopped only a few meters from him in diameter. Andrew could push the aura further, but then he would be risking bottoming out again. He couldn't do that, but he also couldn't leave without fixing this mess.

Aodhán watched him struggle for a moment before stepping forward. "I think I can help."

Moving toward the center of the clearing, Aodhán placed a hand on the ground now covered in a carpet of lush flowers and activated {Lighting Beam—Green}. He utilized no willpower or chaos. Just energy. A tiny drop of energy.

Green lightning poured into the ground, spreading out towards the edge of the clearing, and an instant later, more plants sprang up, growing so densely that the entire clearing was packed in seconds.

Aodhán cut the skill off before it could do more and exhaled when he found no mutations except for the exceptional greenness of the plants.

Andrew observed the plants for a moment before nodding. "Thank you. The forest is grateful."

"Right. Now let's eat. You and Yurin need to return to the academy as soon as possible so you can be better treated. Daruk and I will continue the hunt."

Andrew nodded and then settled back down to eat. After the quick meal, Andrew and Yurin were ready to depart. Daruk clicked the talisman Rahim had given him, and a moment later, a swirling portal tore itself open in front of them. Rahim stepped out of the portal with a worried expression, but when he saw everything in picture-perfect condition save for Yurin and Andrew, who were leaning against each other for balance, he muttered. "I won't even ask."

He glanced at Aodhán and Daruk. "I take it neither of you are coming with us yet?"

"Not yet." Aodhán shook his head. "We still have a few plants to find."

"Okay." Rahim nodded, gathered Yurin and Andrew, and stepped into the portal. Before disappearing, he looked back at Aodhán with a pointed expression. "You have only twelve hours left. Be careful."

"We will."

Rahim left, and Aodhán pulled out the list of plants from his pocket. He crossed off Lucentglass Myrrthorn and sighed. "Eight plants in twelve hours. Will we make it?"

Daruk shrugged. "If we start now, maybe. What's next on the list?"

Aodhán scanned the remaining names and picked one at random. "The Hevrenten MindBlossom. Epic rank."

***

Floating high above the clearing, Kaelith watched Rahim escort the two injured boys back to the academy, his admiration for them quietly growing after witnessing their brutal fight with the Velynar.

He'd shadowed them at Principal Zatya's orders, staying well beyond Aodhán's core sense to remain undetected.

Frankly, he was surprised anyone thought Zatya would allow four of her top students to roam unsupervised this close to the tournament. Still, his only directive was to intervene if any of them faced mortal danger.

Raising his chip to his lips, he sent a brief message to Principal Zatya, informing her of the current situation. It was only an update, but he knew Zatya would appreciate it greatly.

As he watched the boys sprinting ahead, Kaelith muttered to himself, "What exactly are they searching for now?"