The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

The world blurred as Varéc phased through the rippling entrance of the dungeon, reality warping like heated glass around his scaled form. A lethal grin spread across his elongated muzzle as the world fell away, replaced by a vast expanse of cerulean sky, white clouds, and floating islands.

The sound of chirping and squawking filled the air in abundance—a symphony that sounded grating to his draconian ears—as all manner of birds and bird-like creatures revealed themselves.

Swiftians flocked from island to island in glittering clouds, their iridescent feathers catching the light and scattering it in rainbow arcs. Nearby, massive storm crows preened their lightning-touched plumage, sparks dancing between their talons as they scratched away parasites. A lava wren sang from its nest of hardened stone, flames flickering along its throat with each note.

All around him, birds flew, sang, and chirped, soaring from one island to another in playful flight. These creatures were fearsome in their own right—none lower than the 20th tier—and yet they played and chirped like mundane birds.

If Varéc had any eyebrows, he would have raised them in surprise.

He had entered a heaven for birds, and he was more than ready to begin devouring it. Claws clicking together in excitement, he soared deeper into the dungeon, slitted eyes taking in the sight.

Unlike other dungeons he had seen, this one had no rhyme or arrangement. It was neither a labyrinth nor a maze. It simply stretched upward, islands stacking upon each other, each with an increasing number of birds.

The creatures eyed him as he flew past their islands, some pausing their preening to squawk in his direction, but aside from subtle shows of hostility, none made any move to attack him. Some even ignored him entirely, flying past without a second glance.

It was strange. More importantly, it irked Varéc, who had expected to be swarmed the moment he entered.

Still, he wasn't deterred.

With a powerful flap of his wings, he flew higher into the dungeon, soaring past the weaker birds until he tore through a dense layer of clouds and mist, breaking into the second layer—a much larger expanse filled with golden sunlight and floating islands.

Varéc growled in excitement, a rumble lost to the endless blue as he set his eyes on a host of new creatures within the 23rd to 25th tier range. The scents here were intoxicating—mist, crackling air, the musk of hundreds of feathered creatures. They swarmed and chirped all around him, some standing alone on their islands while others congregated together, chirping and preening each other, seemingly oblivious to his presence once again.

But Varéc wasn't having that this time.

He growled low, slitted eyes scanning the clouds for worthy prey. It didn't take him long to find one.

Standing alone on its island was a tier 24 Driftfeather Hawk with mist affinity. The creature was massive for a bird—nearly five feet tall—with huge silver wings that gleamed like polished steel.

The Driftfeather Hawk turned its head as Varéc approached, fixing him with one pale yellow eye that seemed to shimmer with internal mist. Its feathers rustled in a wind that touched nothing else, silver plumage rippling like liquid mercury.

The creature didn't flee or cry out in alarm as its gaze locked with Varéc's predatory stare—it simply watched him with the same mild curiosity and subtle hostility Varéc had seen from the others.

The weird passive aggression only fueled Varéc's irritation. What was wrong with these creatures? Why weren't they attacking him?

Growling in budding anger, Varéc lunged for the creature, zipping through the thin air with a burst of speed aided by a quick activation of {Surging Momentum}. The air peeled away from him, the world turned blue, and lightning crackled down his sinuous body, racing across his scales and gathering at his teeth as he built momentum.

The hawk's form began to blur around the edges as Varéc closed the distance, but he was prepared for that. He slammed into the hawk like a javelin of storm essence, and the hawk screamed—a thin, piercing cry as it swiped at Varéc with its razor-sharp wings. But Varéc wasn't just larger than the Driftfeather; he was far stronger. He had no flesh to rip apart nor blood to spill. He was a chaotic storm given life, and he was brutal.

The hawk screamed again, but the sound was cut short with a snap of Varéc's jaws. A single twist, and the Driftfeather's head was ripped away, blood spurting out to stain the clouds beneath. A swipe of his claws tore the headless corpse open from throat to belly. Blood splashed hot against his scales. Lightning danced along the torn flesh, and a gleaming silver core revealed itself.

Varéc ripped out the mist core with a savage wrench of his snout and growled, feeling a wave of excitement and pleasure lance through his predatory pathways. With the thrill of savage excitement still flowing through him, Varéc created a makeshift bag of storm essence like he had seen Aodhán do many times and threw the mist core into it. Aodhán would be so proud of him when he showed up in the morning with a bag of rare affinity cores.

Growling in amusement, Varéc discarded the body of the dead hawk and turned, wings flaring to take flight—only to find the gaze of every single creature locked on him, eyes gleaming with malice.

There was a heartbeat of silence where no creature moved.

Then, from somewhere deep in the upper reaches of the dungeon, a high-pitched call rang out—not a song, but a command that cut through the air like a blade.

The sound built. Crescendoed. Then chaos erupted.

The sky exploded into motion. Every bird within sight launched itself into the air, beaks aimed and wings flapping with savage rhythm. They rushed out from every angle—a surge of talons and wings: Slicewings, Raptors, Cloudsharks, Thunderkites, and Driftfeather Hawks—a chaos of rage and hunger.

Wind coiled beneath their wings, and the clouds churned in anger. Essence of various natures exploded around him—mist, wind, gravity, sky, space, and light—all churning and twisting as the birds activated their skills and directed them toward him.

Swiftians dove in glittering streams, their iridescent feathers now razor-sharp projectiles. Slicewings cut through the air like living blades, their metallic wings whistling death. Raptors struck from above with bone-crushing talons while Cloudsharks swept in low, their ghostly forms phasing through the mist to attack from impossible angles.

Rather than panic or dodge, Varéc roared and rushed to meet them head-on. This was what he wanted. The rush of violence and chaotic fury. This was what a real dungeon dive should feel like.

Excitement and adrenaline churned within him like a maelstrom, and with a roar like a clap of thunder, Varéc pulled on Aodhán's pool of willpower and activated {Lightning Surge—Red}.

Boom!

A veritable river of red lightning exploded out of him. It surged out to engulf a diameter of nearly fifteen meters, slammed into the nearest birds, and then exploded. Blood rained, birds screeched, and deep in Varéc's mind, a voice shouted, "What the fuck, Varéc! Where are you?"

Varéc roared, his excitement transforming to elation as Aodhán finally woke up. Unleashing a condensed beam of red electricity from his snout, he sent images of the dungeon and the massacre to Aodhán, injecting each image with a healthy dose of love, just in case Aodhán got mad about this.

He wasn't sure it worked, but when he felt Aodhán rushing toward him, he assumed it did and returned his attention to the creatures rushing toward him.

Despite the number of birds Lightning Surge—Red had killed, the swarm didn't seem to be decreasing. More poured out from their islands, hundreds of them, each one screeching in malice as the scent of ozone and blood filled the air.

But Varéc wasn't scared. Not because he was more powerful than all of them combined, but because he couldn't die… not truly. It was empowering knowledge, and maybe it made him a little careless, but it was the truth.

At most, if the battle was too far above him, he would dissipate and reform within Aodhán's spirit after a day or two. It was with that assurance that he dove into the maelstrom of talons, blades, beaks, and screeches that assaulted him.

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With savage excitement, Varéc unleashed skill after skill. Beams of red and black lightning erupted out of him like an unending torrent of destruction. All around him, birds convulsed mid-flight—wings seizing, eyes bursting from the voltage, and blood boiling in their veins—as lightning ran rampant within their bodies.

Others simply disintegrated, their bodies turning to ash as their forms were consumed by the necrotic lightning until nothing remained but drifting ash and the acrid stench of burned feathers.

Those who survived the initial blast plummeted like broken dolls, their wings charred and useless, leaving trails of smoke and blood as they crashed into the floating islands below.

Still, the swarm of attacking birds pressed forward, their screeches reverberating with more malice with each bird that fell.

Varéc grinned, baring large fangs crackling with electricity. He inhaled deeply, pulling energy from the core of his being, and activated {Lightning Spear Rain}.

What happened next was devastation incarnate.

The clouds above churned black as pitch, and the next instant, bolts of pure white lightning screamed down, each one thick as a tree trunk and crackling with annihilation.

They punched through the mass of birds with bone-shattering force—bodies exploded on impact, spraying gore across the sky in crimson arcs. Shrieks of agony pierced the air as birds were split in half. A Cloudshark was split clean in two, revealing a cloud core so pure that Varéc couldn't help but lunge for it.

Flying through the wave of blood, smoke, and burning feathers, Varéc dove into the chaos, enduring the pain as claws tore into his scales and razor-sharp beaks plunged through him. Each attack forced him to redistribute mass instantly, further reducing his size, but the cloud core was too important.

As soon as Varéc grabbed the cloud core, he unleashed another surge of electricity that tore through the nearest monsters and set him free. He placed the cloud core alongside the mist core, but that was all he managed to do before the swarm closed in on him again.

This time, an Illusion Harrier stood front and center.

It materialized above him, talons already descending in a deadly arc. Varéc responded with a blistering stream of red lightning that pierced the harrier's form clean through, leaving nothing but ashen remnants in its wake. But of course, it was an illusion.

The real harrier appeared at his side and raked its talons across Varéc's wings, digging deep and tearing clean through. Varéc growled in pain, and had he been a creature of flesh and blood, that would have been a critical injury. Instead, storm essence immediately flowed from his torso and limbs, pooling into the damaged area. The wing reformed in seconds, but Varéc felt himself becoming less substantial.

Each wound forced him to cannibalize himself, storm essence flowing from undamaged areas to rebuild what was torn. His body grew smaller with every repair, like a candle burning at both ends.

His outline was already noticeably smaller, but it wasn't enough to make Varéc panic. Not yet.

Another Illusion Harrier blinked into view above him, but this time, Varéc didn't take the bait.

Pulling deeply on Aodhán's willpower pool, Varéc activated {Vortex of Lightning—Red}, and all the lightning around him bent inward, revolving with feral intent. A muttered curse echoed in his mind, but Varéc was too engrossed to hear it.

The vortex grew quickly, and a few seconds later, Varéc was surrounded by a hurricane of red and black lightning.

The vortex spread outward, expanding with every mote of willpower he funneled into it.

A moment later, the explosions began.

All around him, birds burst apart—bodies detonating in midair to paint the dungeon in blood and ash. Space cracked and feather blades lunged at him, but every attack was swallowed up by the vortex of lightning around Varéc, feeding it and expanding it further.

In seconds, hundreds of creatures were gone, their cores exploding along with them to add to the chaos. Even the advanced class birds stood no chance, and this was because, unlike them, Varéc wasn't simply wielding chaos. He was a being of chaos. What this meant was that he was always open to his origin plane. Chaos lived within him. Always. And he was the harbinger of it.

The advanced creatures, however, put up a serious fight—and one of them, a Sky Roc, proved to be Varéc's greatest adversary. But even it fell eventually, losing its balance when a condensed beam of lightning punched through one of its wings.

It screeched as it fell, and Varéc dove for it, moving in a blur so fast it might as well have been teleportation. The Roc lurched, trying to catch its balance, but Varéc ended that hope before it could even take form.

Jaws wide, he crunched down on the other wing, fangs tearing through feather, bone, and sinew in a single devastating bite.

The Roc screeched again, but the sound was cut off suddenly when Varéc unleashed a beam of pure destructive lightning directly into the wound and exploded it from within.

KA-THOOM.

The Roc detonated—blown apart in a cloud of black smoke and shredded mist.

At the proud tier of 27, the Roc was the strongest bird in the entire level, and at the sight of its death, every other creature fled, leaving Varéc to pant and glance around in annoyance.

He was nearly half his original size, having lost so much mass, but he was more than ready to go another round. He glanced at the upper layer, wondering if he could explore more, but before he could decide, a voice like thunder echoed in his mind. "Don't you fucking dare, Varéc. Come out now."

Varéc cringed, feeling Aodhán's anger clearly now that he wasn't engrossed in battle. Snout flaring, he began scanning the clouds for any intact cores he could use to bribe—yes, bribe—Aodhán. He moved to the closest one, a tier 25 illusion core, but before he could grab it, Aodhán spoke again. "If I have to come drag you out of there myself, I promise it won't be funny. You've made a mess I now have to clean. The least you can do is show your damn face."

Outside the sky dungeon, Aodhán stood before the Adventurer's Guild guards, massaging his temples in frustration. It had taken him nearly an hour to locate Varéc—an ordeal made worse by the dungeon's interference with their psychic link.

Following the link was like searching for needles in fog. But he'd found it eventually. Relief had barely begun to settle before his gaze landed on the figures stationed near the dungeon's rippling threshold.

Adventurers.

Aodhán had no personal issues with the Adventurer's Guild, even though he had heard many rumors discussing how corrupt they were. Still, the sight of their uniforms set his nerves on edge, and he sighed. "Good morning, adventurers. I fear my familiar has wreaked havoc on your dungeon."

"I'm sure he has." The first guard smiled and folded his arms. "Isn't the dragon too young to be roaming the sector on its own? That's violating a code, I'm sure."

The second guard chuckled. "Two codes, actually, but that's beside the point. Your dragon—"

"Fury. He's a fury." Aodhán corrected instinctively, cutting the man off before sighing. "Look, I'm very sorry for this. Varéc usually keeps to the academy and its neighboring cities. I don't know what happened today. How can I solve it?"

"You can't," the first guard smiled. "We don't care about the broken codes or laws or whatever. We simply can't let your familiar go until you sign up as an adventurer."

Aodhán grimaced. "And what does that entail?"

"You'll have to visit the nearest guild hall and request membership forms," the second guard responded. "You'll fill out some paperwork detailing your personal history, magical abilities, combat experience, and emergency contacts. You'll also have to pay an application fee."

Aodhán's grimace tightened. He didn't want to do any of that. He already had too many people seeking to control him. Signing up as an adventurer under the guild would simply mean signing himself over to the guild master. What little control he had over his life would be gone.

Aodhán took a deep breath and massaged his temples again. "Is there no other way we can sort this out without signing up for anything? I'd rather not make that commitment now."

The guards didn't answer right away. They exchanged looks, and then the first one crossed his arms and gave Aodhán a long, hard look. "Well, if you won't sign up, then you'll just have to pay for all the damages your familiar incurred. It will take days for the dungeon to recreate the creatures your familiar destroyed. Not to mention the second level is—how do I put this politely—burnt to cinders."

Aodhán winced. "Right. Yes. Of course. A number. Please. Tell me a number."

The shorter guard pulled out a sleek crystalline tablet, swiped through a few glowing panels, and turned it around. Aodhán stared at the figure.

"What! That is not a number. That is a mansion. In sector 9. With a sea view."

"Then perhaps next time," the first guard said, "you'll keep your familiar safely tucked away in your spirit where he cannot cause any damage."

Aodhán scowled, aware that he was being extorted but wanting to smooth things out without introducing any third party. Exhaling deeply, he was about to agree to the amount, but a thought suddenly struck him, and he realized the guards had planned this exact situation, hoping he would be too desperate to catch their error. Their plan had been to either force him to sign up as an adventurer, which would of course benefit them, or make him pay a huge sum of money, which would no doubt be going into their slimy pockets. Corrupt bastards!

Folding his arms in annoyance, he glared at the guards and said, "No."

"What?" the first guard asked. "What do you mean, no? We have to report on all that happens here daily. Surely, you don't want us to mention this to the guild master."

"Oh, but you can." Aodhán's smile widened. "And when you do, make sure you explain to them how a familiar got into the dungeon without supervision and wreaked all this damage without you stepping in. Surely you must have realized he was a mere child."

The first guard scowled. "We thought he was… mature. He was very big."

"He can't even speak yet," Aodhán retorted, arms folded in annoyance.

Fortunately, Varéc picked that moment to exit the dungeon, his form only a bit larger than six feet. Aodhán smiled. "He doesn't look very big to me. He looks small. What do you say we settle this without any issues?"

Varéc growled at the mention of his size, but Aodhán ignored him. He had more important things to worry about than Varéc's sensitivity.

The guards exchanged a glance, irritation softening into something more practical. The first one clicked his tongue.

"Fine," he muttered. "You want it quiet; we want it quiet. Sixty percent of the initial estimate. That'll cover the cleanup and the hush."

"Twenty," Aodhán said flatly.

The first guard scowled. "Fifty."

"Thirty. That's my final offer, and frankly, it's generous."

The silence stretched for a beat.

"Fine. Thirty."

Aodhán sighed, dug into his spatial storage, and pulled out a pouch of gold coins. He tossed it to them without ceremony. It jingled with satisfying weight as the shorter guard caught it one-handed.

"Done," Aodhán said.

The shorter guard nodded, lips twitching. "Pleasure doing business. Don't let that dragon out unsupervised again."

"He's a fury," Aodhán muttered under his breath, but he didn't turn around. He simply glared at Varéc before zooming back to the academy. Varéc followed behind him repentantly, the storm bag he had created swaying softly around his neck, but he said nothing.

They arrived back at the academy just as the sun began to rise, and with a tired groan, Aodhán trudged to the bathroom to begin preparing for the day.

His head throbbed with a headache, and his eyes twitched from lack of sleep. It was going to be a long day. And this world had no coffee.