The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

There is no such thing as spiritual cultivation beyond perfect. There is perfect, and there is transcendent—the latter, a rare achievement found amongst transmigrants and double inheritors alike. However, it has come to our attention that the Ragnarians have slain many double inheritors in their greed for a harvest, despite these individuals bearing no world tattoo. We have sent a letter previously, and now, we are sending another, urging your people to look first before leaping. You are destroying precious resources in your avarice.

Letter to the Awakened Council of Ragnarok from the Council of Lords (Central Kingdom) concerning the rampant killing of double inheritors mistaken for transmigrants,

Year 2237.

Principal Zatya sat in her office, watching the trial play out on the screen with keen interest. She had barely paid attention during the other trials, occupied instead with working on the budget for the 4th-year graduation ceremony scheduled to take place in two months. This trial, however, wasn't one she could afford to miss. She had a stake in this one.

The moment Aodhán stepped onto the stage, she placed her pen down, narrowed her gaze at the screen, and whispered, "Don't disappoint me, boy."

Aodhán hadn't won any of the trials yet, but she hadn't expected him to. His strength wasn't speed or intelligence or even raw strength—it was the enormous amount of willpower he possessed. His understanding of his element was also peak for his tier, and with his icon half manifested within his spirit, Zatya didn't expect any opposition in this trial. She expected a flawless win.

However, what she didn't expect was the blinding white radiance that erupted from the spirit-sensing orb the moment Aodhán touched it.

Her eyes widened as the entire screen turned white, a light so blinding that it could only mean one of two things.

"Oh, for Ascenders' sake." She cursed as she jumped to her feet, mentally berating herself for not seeing this disaster coming. In all her excitement to see Aodhán win, she had forgotten one key factor. Aodhán was a transmigrant, not an inheritor.

She had said that lie so much that she had subconsciously begun to believe it, forgetting just how much that tiny little fact contributed to the strength of his spirit.

Aodhán was too strong for his tier, and as if the spiritual weight he bore behind his neck wasn't enough, he also had Varéc contributing tremendously to that foundation, further boosting his spiritual cultivation.

The white light vanished an instant later, and Zatya watched, still cursing, as the screen flickered back on to reveal Aodhán, eyes wide as he stared at the remains of the orb that had exploded in his hands, unable to contain the might of his spirit.

The camera panned to the crowd of students, all shell-shocked as they stared at the powdered remains of the spirit-sensing orb. The silence in the arena was deafening, but Zatya could almost hear the thoughts churning in the minds of hundreds of students: a spirit artifact, reduced to dust by the spiritual weight of one student.

This was a disaster, one she had to to address immediately lest it blossom into something she couldn't handle. Her name and that of Ascendant Candidate Lightus won't save Aodhán if things get out of hand.

Many of the students might not realize the gravity of the situation,, but the fourth-year students and the professors were a different matter entirely. Already, she could imagine their thoughts, their suspicions,, and their eventual conclusions.

She knew far too well how impatient the people of Ragnarok were in matters like this, and without wasting any more time, she tore a hole in space and hastily stepped through, appearing on the arena stage in full military regalia.

Like iron filings to a a magnet, Zatya's presence drew the eye of every student immediately, and she smiled at them confidently, portraying a sense of calm in a bid to weaken the gravity of the situation.

It worked.

Slowly, whispers and murmurs began to rise as both students and professors searched her expression for the same shock they were experiencing and came up short. This was a serious situation, one that could either become celebratory or bloody very quickly. They expected shock, greed, anger,, or even curiosity, but Zatya gave them nothing, save for a calm smile that morphed their shock into confusion.

"What an extraordinary event." She began, her voice carrying to the far reaches of the arena with ease. "I fear a secret the academy has been hiding for a while now has finally come to light."

Her words caused another spark of confusion, and Professor Daemon frowned, his words cautious. "Principal Zatya, do you mean to tell us that the academy knew of this all along? That Aodhán here is—

"Yes, Daemon, the Academy knew." Zatya cut in immediately, the lie slipping out of her lips easily. Forcing herself to stay calm, she turned her gaze to the audience and smiled. "Yes, Aodhán Ashoka-Brystion is a double inheritor."

Her words caused an uproar of whispers, and Aodhán blinked from where he stood behind her, eyes darting toward her for a quick moment before he straightened his spine, dusted the artifact residue off his fingers, and took a step forward with a small smile.

Zatya's smile widened,, and she gestured for him to stand beside her. He obeyed immediately, causing her smile to become genuine as she continued. "I discovered this truth the very first day Aodhán stepped into this academy, and ever since that day, I have made him my personal project."

She placed an arm around Aodhán's shoulders, subtly pressing down to halt his slight trembling lest his unconscious action give her words away for the lie they were.

"We have kept this secret for as long as we could, but it seems we can no longer do so." She let out a theatrical sigh and continued weaving her narrative. "I had hoped he would win one of the previous trials so we could avoid all this, but alas..."

Her words came out somber, but deep inside, Zatya couldn't help but grin at how quickly she had taken control of the situation. She had never considered herself a seasoned liar or masterful at deceit, but after the narrative she had just woven, perhaps it was time to add that to her repertoire.

Her words had the desired effect on her audience, and slowly, cheers exploded from every corner of the arena. Students rose in their seats to clap and shout in celebration, and Zatya's smile widened further.

A double inheritor was a thing of celebration. A reason to rejoice. And despite himself, even Aodhán smiled. He was still in shock about the whole thing, but the excitement of the audience was infectious.

Many of his friends were also in shock, amazed that they had spent the last six months with a double inheritor, and from his vantage, Aodhán could see Andrew and Yurin staring at him wide-eyed. Ayisha was even worse, nearly on her feet in shock. Aodhán wondered how he would ever convince her to treat him normally after this.

Chuckling to himself, he turned to face his professors,, and then things turned sour.

The students had bought Zatya's story wholeheartedly, and many professors even seemed to be celebrating too, congratulating each other, but a few of them stood stiffly, watching both him and Zatya with suspicious expressions.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

They stood together, seemingly having gravitated towards each other during Zatya's speech, eyes narrowed as they whispered amongst each other. Zatya cursed under her breath immediately she saw them and muttered, "Heavens forbid I do a thing without opposition."

"What do we do?" Aodhán asked quietly, but before Zatya could respond, the group began walking toward them, led, of course, by Professor Dubois.

She smiled when she noticed Zatya's attention and bowed stiffly. "I think congratulations are in order, Principal Zatya. It is a great achievement to have a double inheritor in the 5th academy."

"It truly is." Professor Daemon agreed, his tone thick with suspicion. He glanced at Aodhán and smiled. "I guess it does explain all the peculiarities around you, young man. Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir," Aodhán replied, a bit stiffly, and glanced back at Principal Zatya, expecting her to say something. Instead, she just smiled, the expression never leaving her face as if it were her defense against opposition.

Not understanding it, Aodhán decided it must have an effect he couldn't see,, and so he copied the expression, straightening his spine, as he accepted the handshake of the other professors.

He noticed the effect immediately, as the expressions of the suspicious professors became uncertain, frowns taking over their features. They shuffled awkwardly and began bowing out, returning to join the other professors.

One professor, however, wasn't affected by his smile, and as Professor Daemon turned to leave, her voice rang out, as sharp as moonlight.

"Tell me, Aodhán," Professor Dubois began, "who is your patron?"

Zatya stiffened at that, and Dubois smiled. "Storm inheritors are quite rare, considering the rarity of the affinity itself. But a double storm inheritor? Your patron must have been an inheritor themselves. I simply must know who they were."

"I—" Aodhán began, but Zatya quickly cut him off.

"You'll find out soon enough in the press statement the academy will release about this good news. This news is bound to get out very quickly, so I'd rather get ahead of the exaggerations." Her smile returned,, and she gestured to Kaelith. "Join me in my office immediately. We have much to discuss. I would have loved to leave Aodhán here so he could be celebrated by his friends, but I fear I'll have to take him with me."

Kaelith bowed in response,, and her grip on Aodhán tightened. "And bring Daruk Brystion along with you—he should have a chance to congratulate his brother."

Before anyone could disagree, she tore another portal open and dragged Aodhán into it, a roar of voices resounding behind her as the arena erupted with whispers.

They stumbled into her office, and Aodhán suddenly found his voice. "OhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGod, what the fuck do we do?"

"Nothing." Zatya scowled at him. "You are to do absolutely nothing. Say absolutely nothing. Leave everything to me."

"That will be suspicious."

"Anything you say will be more suspicious." Zatya countered with a scowl before slowly easing herself into her chair. "I think a lot of people bought the narrative. It's obvious Dubois still has her reservations, but she can't prove it, so she should be handicapped for a while, until I can sort things out."

She continued speaking, highlighting her plans to make this as real as possible, but Aodhán wasn't listening, as the fear and shock of recent events began getting to him. He had known his spiritual cultivation was high, but it wasn't until he'd clasped the spirit-sensing orb and was nearly blinded by its light that he'd realized just how strong his spirit truly was.

The question, however, was how?

Excluding Varéc, his budding icon, and his sizable willpower pool, he had nothing else that should have warranted such high spiritual cultivation. Or did he?

Completely forgetting about Zatya, Aodhán began to pace.

While the spirit-sensing orb had scanned his spirit, his mind's eye had been opened to something even more powerful within his spirit. He hadn't been able to see it, but he had sensed the gravitas and weight that it carried—heavier than a mountain and much more powerful than any seal or icon.

His hand reached up to the world tattoo on his neck, or more appropriately, the position it had occupied before Varéc's tattoo had covered it. He caressed the spot gently, shuddering as realization condensed within his mind.

After a moment, he whispered, "What is this thing?"

Zatya looked up at him and frowned. "I'm not sure I understand what you're referring to."

"The world tattoo on my neck. The tattoo that all transmigrants have. What is it?"

Zatya paused, her mouth opening and closing before she finally responded. "It's a gift from ÆFLYM to remind you of the world you come from."

Aodhán scowled. "But it's not just a memento,, though, is it?"

Zatya remained silent for a moment before giving a single short nod. "No, it is not."

Aodhán shuddered and closed his eyes. He had always suspected that the tattoo was more than just a brand, but he had never quite realized just how important it was. It made sense now—why transmigrants were hunted while inheritors were left alone and even celebrated.

There was only one difference between them: the world tattoo.

Swallowing nervously, Aodhán asked, "This world tattoo—what power does it carry?"

"That's not important." Zatya shook her head firmly, but Aodhán refused to take no for an answer.

"Tell me," he demanded, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "This is why people want to kill us? For this tattoo? If they will kill for it, then it must be important."

"Aodhán, please—" Zatya began, her tone hard, but before she could continue, a knock echoed out, and a moment later, Kaelith and Daruk stepped in. Daruk moved to stand beside him immediately, eyes darting between him and the principal like an overprotective bear.

The tension in the room was palpable, and after a moment of awkward silence, Kaelith cleared his throat. "Should I come back later for the press statement, Principal?"

Zatya sighed. "I think that would be best, Kaelith. Thank you."

He left immediately, leaving Aodhán and Daruk to face the principal alone. After the door clicked shut behind him, Aodhán turned his gaze back to Zatya, more emboldened now that Daruk was here.

"Tell me what it is," he asked again. "You told me that you didn't know what this world did to people like me, but that was a lie, wasn't it? This is what they're killing for. Tell me what it is."

Zatya dallied for a moment longer before letting out a quiet sigh. "The world tattoo is a well of spiritual power that you can only access when you begin to near the end of the mythic class and begin preparation for the formation of your inner world. Merely having that tattoo provides you with half of what you need already."

"No." Aodhán's eyes widened in realization, and Daruk hastily reached forward to grip his arm tightly.

"Yes, Aodhán." Zatya continued. "Transmigrants like you are priceless commodities for mythics preparing for their next evolution. Your tattoos are cut out—harvested—and sold at auctions to the highest bidder."

Daruk shifted closer to Aodhán protectively, eyes wide as she gave them classified information. His grip on Aodhán's wrist was tight, but Aodhán barely felt it as he asked, "What happens to those transmigrants whose tattoos are harvested?"

Zatya's expression sobered. "Vegetables. They do not die but have no will to live either. Many of them die after a few weeks. None survive more than a month."

Aodhán shuddered and took a step back. Fear churned in his gut like an overwhelming tide, and electricity sparked within his veins in preparation for a fight. Behind him, a chill spread as Daruk also prepared himself.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Zatya watched them in fascination, her lips quirking up at the corners. A minute passed in silence before she spoke. "I have no such intentions with you, Aodhán."

"Swear it," Aodhán commanded, eyes hard and body humming with electricity. He would kill himself before he let himself be taken and used in that manner. Steeling himself, he continued, "Swear an oath to me right now that you do not have the same intentions for me."

Zatya hesitated, her expression uncomfortable. After a moment, her eyes hardened, and the chill of Daruk's aura intensified. They couldn't fight the principal and win, but if push came to shove, they would damn well try.

Principal Zatya took one look at their expressions and sighed. "I would think that after all our time together, you would trust me by now, but given what you've just heard, I guess I can understand your wariness. It must be scary to wonder if my—our—plans are even real. Am I trying to make you a weapon of unimaginable proportions, or am I just saving you for when I need to create my inner world?"

Her lips spread into a smile, and Aodhán tensed further. His chest tightened, and his heart pounded in his ears, racing a mile per minute. But with a sudden motion, too fast for Aodhán to even see, Zatya slit her wrist with a knife that had appeared out of thin air.

Gold-tinted blood dripped to the table, and in a tone that showed how serious what she was about to do meant, Zatya said, "I swear on my blood that I have no intent to strip you of your abilities or kill you before your time. All I want—"

"Be specific with the blood oath." Aodhán cut her off, and a flash of irritation crossed her features. For a moment, Aodhán thought she might strike him, but she took in a deep breath and began again.

"I swear that I'm not keeping you alive to eventually strip you of your transmigrant mark or kill you before your time. Happy now?"

Aodhán felt the tension ease from him, and he exhaled. "Thank you. I'm sorry for asking you to take the oath, but I needed—"

"—to know you can trust me. I get it, even if I don't like it." She paused, studying his face. "I'm glad you do now. Hopefully, you'll stop fighting me when I ask you to do things. Now sit down, both of you. We need a cohesive plan to navigate the next few days. People will buy what we want them to—we just have to sell it well enough."

Aodhán and Daruk exchanged glances, and together they sat down before the principal to plan how to deceive the whole continent. Little did they know that fate had moved on, and trouble was already brewing on the horizon.