The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

While the entire arena buzzed from Principal Zatya's and Aodhán's confession, cheers and murmurs echoing from every angle, Cyrus sat, expression scrunched in shock and disbelief. For the entirety of the holidays, he had worked tirelessly on improving his willpower and spiritual cultivation, all in a bid to catch up to Aodhán and prove himself to his father.

He had trained and meditated, seeking inspiration to create his own skills instead of simply copying the skills of his half-brother, Artemis. He had worked his ass off, and after gaining his icon, Cyrus had thought he'd narrowed the gap between them. He had looked forward to the selection trials, particularly the trial of spirit, hoping to show off the result of all his hard work, but all his effort was in vain. Aodhán had been hiding his true strength after all.

Anger boiled within him as he tried to overcome his shock, but Aodhán's smile refused to leave his mind. It mocked him and all his hard work, reinforcing the idea that no matter how hard he tried, he would never match up to Aodhán, not to mention surpass him.

The thought angered him further, causing purple wisps of spatial essence to curl around his fist violently. But this time he wasn't alone in his anger. His whole friend group was pissed, and as they watched some of the professors try to understand the situation, Lilith snarled. "I can't believe this. Why was fate so cruel?"

"Fate has no hand in this." Grendar scowled. "Aodhán Brystion is a fraud and an ingrate. Do not give him cosmic significance."

But Cyrus wasn't listening to them, his mind clouded by anger and a distinct feeling that he had been incredibly wronged. Why had fate given one person all he would ever need to succeed on a platter while the rest of them had to scramble and fight for scraps? Why was it so indifferent to all of his effort and troubles? Why hadn't it set things up for him to have gained Aodhán's legacy seed himself? If anyone should have been a double inheritor, it should have been him.

He deserved it, yet fate had given it to the commoner on a platter.

Cyrus hated it.

Turning to glance at Lilith, he muttered darkly, "My father will have a field day with this."

"Your father will have a field day with anything that undermines you." Lilith replied with a snort, her expression still furious. "The question is, what are we going to do about this now? Only a few days ago, we were celebrating our icons and lounging in the feeling of finally catching up to the commoner in terms of spiritual advancement. But now… now, we might as well be mundane awakeneds compared to the strength of his spirit. It shattered a spirit artifact, Cyrus!"

"Don't remind me!" Cyrus snapped, his expression darkening further as his anger turned into rage. Kellan caressed his wrist, trying to control his emotions, but Cyrus refused to calm down. Lilith had just put all his fears into words, surmising it in one sentence: No matter how hard he tried, he would always fall short.

But Cyrus wouldn't… couldn't accept that.

Narrowing his gaze at the empty stage, he gritted out. "He's not too far ahead. We can still catch up. We thrive in competition. This is a challenge at best."

"Are you insane?" Grendar scowled. "The commoner has more willpower than a dozen first-year students combined and the condensed paths of two ascendants. You are not even an inheritor, Cyrus. Don't be delusional."

"Shut up, Grendar!" Cyrus snapped, unwilling to have her words taint his mind. "Just fucking shut up. I wasn't talking to you. Why are you even here? I don't need your weak-ass sensibilities weighing me down."

Grendar's scowl deepened, but she held her tongue, face red as she bit back cutting remarks in favor of silence. Lilith sighed and responded. "As right as your words are, Grendar is also right. Aodhán is a double inheritor capable of feats we can only dream of if he truly applied himself. How can we ever match up to that?"

Cyrus opened his mouth to speak, but the words hung in his throat as the weight of his inadequacies hung heavily on him. Lilith was right. How could they surpass Aodhán when he was so much stronger than they were without even trying?

Slowly, Cyrus's anger began to morph into resignation, and in that moment, he would have completely given up had the disgusting image of his father not popped into his mind, reigniting the fire within him.

"Nothing is impossible," Cyrus replied immediately, jumping up to his feet with renewed anger and fervor. "We just have to train more. We can't give up. We are geniuses, remember. We can do this."

But even as the words left his mouth, Cyrus could hear the hollow ring of desperation in his voice. He was grasping at straws, and they all knew it. Still, he couldn't stop himself from continuing, the words tumbling out faster and more frantically.

"We'll train harder. We'll find other ways to grow stronger, other paths to power. We just... we just need to be smarter about it. More strategic." His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. "I refuse to believe that a commoner is untouchable. There has to be something we can do."

Shrugging Kellan's hands off him, Cyrus jumped to his feet and fixed an intent gaze on Lilith. She looked up at him, wondering what he had planned this time, and he stretched a hand toward her. "Come on, we have a lot of training to do. I will request an official duel against him tomorrow to assess his strength. Double inheritor or not, he's just a commoner."

Lilith looked skeptical at first, but then her eyes brightened with possibility, and her face hardened in determination. "I believe in you, Cyrus. Double inheritor or not, the commoner's control of his element is nowhere near yours. We have not been defeated yet. We can still crush him."

They left for the training hall after that, leaving Kellan and Grendar to stare after them, the first with a slightly perplexed expression and the second with a scathing scowl.

Kellan watched them go for a moment before sighing, "Neither of them is thinking straight. Grendar, we have to do something."

But Grendar was already gone, stalking away from the arena in a fit of anger and metallic essence.

***

Viscount Bane Helsarin was in his study when his daughter's message came in, and he checked it immediately. Due to the nature of their allegiances, their family rarely communicated using the chip, as their conversations could be easily tracked. So, whenever he received a message from anyone within his family, he knew it was urgent.

Frowning, he opened the message, which came attached to a recorded memory, and began reading. It was only one line. The Storm runs in paired rivers. What should I do now?"

Bane understood the cryptic message immediately, and his eyes widened in shock. When he'd been asked to send his daughter to the 5th academy by his masters, he hadn't had the faintest idea why and had even kicked against it for a while, asking Ayisha to keep her abilities hidden for as long as she could.

But after Aodhán Brystion had been declared an inheritor by the Academy a few months ago, Bane had quickly adjusted his stance, and now, a double inheritor? The eyes of the watchers really did see far in their search for stepping stones.

Chuckling to himself, he played the recorded memory and settled in to watch the trial of spirit. He watched as the student took to the stage, clasped the spirit-sensing orb, and then proceeded to shatter every single spirit recorded known to man in centuries.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Pure white light exploded from the orb, so bright and absolute that it almost seemed divine. It filled his vision, the intensity blinding, and yet, Bane couldn't bring himself to look away. Memories of similar occurrences flashed in his mind, and with a sense of urgency, he replayed the video one more time, certainty filling his mind as the memory reached the point of Zatya Malakov's confession.

He wasn't buying a word she said.

This boy was no double inheritor. He was a transmigrant. Bane was certain of it.

As a prominent member of the Watch, he had spent most of his life recruiting members for the cause before his promotion to devoted. His targets had always been fugitives and rejects—people with no will left to live or those fleeing the wrath of their kingdoms with death's shadow trailing behind them.

And what group of people fits that description better than transmigrants?

From the moment of their arrival in this world, they had been hunted for the gift they carried, forced to hide the marks of their heritage to avoid being harvested. Bane himself had rescued two of them from the clutches of greedy mythics, snatching them from the precipice of certain death and bringing them to the place he called home. The two transmigrants had joined the cause without hesitation, serving as conduits for the Fated—for no one else could match the Fated's spiritual strength.

He had seen the signs before in the boy's miraculous feats, but with the recorded memory, it was now undeniable. Having witnessed two transmigrants undertake this same trial, Bane could identify another from a mile away.

Hustling to his feet, he raced for the hidden compartment behind his office shelf, pushed the shelf to the side, and pressed his palms to the bare wall, letting out a subtle pulse of time essence to open it. Energy spiraled out like tentacles, snapped against the wall, and a moment later, the compartment slid open to reveal a box that contained a small talisman.

He channeled energy into the talisman and stepped back, fingers tapping urgently as he waited for someone to respond.

This was an opportunity he couldn't afford to miss. The boy was in danger, and he had to steal the boy away before the Awakened Council got to him. It didn't matter that he was responsible for the death of hundreds of his brothers. The boy's status as a transmigrant made him a possible ally, and he needed to capitalize on that.

The talisman shimmered a moment later, and the holographic image of Elder Vasmos appeared before him, face scrunched in irritation. "We have received the news, Helsarin, if that's what you're about to report. The boy's status as a double inheritor only exacerbates the danger he poses to our mission. The trial of harvest is to begin soon. We need to eliminate him before—"

"No," Bane shouted.

Elder Vasmos paused, and then his expression clouded with rage. Bane realized his mistake immediately and quickly apologized. "Sorry to cut you short, Elder, but Aodhán Brystion is not a double inheritor, or at least I don't think he is. I suspect he's a transmigrant, and if I'm right, then he's not our enemy. He's just misguided, and if we do this right, we could have another ally to join the Fated on the day of fulfillment.

Elder Vasmos narrowed his eyes in thought. "And you suspect this because?"

"I don't know, Elder. I'm following my gut here, and my gut tells me Zatya Malakov is lying." Bane sighed. "I've saved transmigrants before, as you well know, and I think I'm right about this."

Elder Vasmos still didn't seem convinced, so Bane added. "We have nothing to lose if we steal him away. Whether I'm right or wrong, we lose nothing, but if I'm right, the Fated could potentially gain another conduit."

Elder Vasmos frowned, now considering the idea. After a moment, he asked. "Okay. How do you propose we steal the boy away? If he's under Zatya's protection, then he's well protected."

"Not unless we have someone on the inside, and we do." Bane grinned. "My daughter is a friend of his. She has a synced talisman and a pint of my blood with her just for a situation like this. She can kidnap him without anyone knowing."

"What?!" Elder Vasmos exclaimed. "A mere child with a direct link to the Order. What were you thinking?"

"I trust my daughter, sir, and she's very ingenious. I have no worries whatsoever about her."

"Still, it is wrong." Vasmos reprimanded, glaring at him for a while before snorting. "Make sure she makes no mistakes. Get the boy to us, and if he's a transmigrant, you might just get another promotion."

Bane grinned and was just about to turn off the communicator when Elder Vasmos spoke again. "Return to the Order too, Helsarin. Jefferson has been missing for days now. We can only assume that he's been compromised and is being tried by an Oathbreaker. He can't reveal our location, that's for certain, but he knows someone who can, and if we're right, then it's only a matter of time before he gives out your name."

Bane's body went rigid, and he nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Elder Vasmos. My wife and I will return to the order as soon as I end this call."

"Do so. And make sure your daughter returns too. We can't have a breach like that running around unattended."

Bane bowed in response, and a moment later, the holographic image winked out, leaving a subtle smell of ozone in its place. Bane stared at the empty space for a moment before snapping out of his fear to begin hustling.

For years, he had worked tirelessly to bring the prophecy of his masters to fruition. This wasn't his first close call, so he was very well prepared for the eventuality.

Pulling out a black duffel from another hidden compartment, Bane raced back to his table and began typing out a response for Ayisha. As soon as he finished, he texted his wife and informed her of the current situation, simultaneously pulling out a synced talisman from his spatial storage.

He only had two of these left, but it was more than enough for his current needs.

Slicing his palm open on the edge of his worktable, he pressed the blood to the talisman and grimaced slightly as energy and time essence were sucked out of his core. A swirling black portal opened up a moment later, and without hesitation, he stepped through, rushing to the safety that the order provided.

At the same time, several miles away from the Helsarin estate, Jeffery let out an agonized cry as Avara Lys pulled the last of his oath chains apart. His body convulsed. Bones snapped, and his skin tore open, welts opening up like stripes all over his skin as his core fractured despite the meticulousness of the Oathbreaker.

Blood gushed out of his wound as if seeking a way to end his misery, but death wouldn't come for Jeffery today. Avara had been too careful for that.

With a grip as hard as steel, she grabbed Jeffery by the neck and forced his gaze to hers. "Tell me all you know about the children of the watch, and I'll end your suffering right now. It'll be quick and easy. You wouldn't even feel a thing."

Not a single bone in Jeffery's body resisted the idea.

Chest caving with violent heaves, Jeffery spilled all that he knew. Names, recruitment methods, hidden agents, hidden caches, traveling routes, and finally, the truth that he had absolutely no idea where the order was located, nor did he have any talismans hidden anywhere.

"I'm not lying, I swear to Raol." He cried out as Acara's grip on his neck tightened. "I don't know. No one knows, except the watchers themselves. All I know is that it's an alternate dimension that can only be accessed using synced talismans. The only two people I know who possess a synced talisman are Bane Helsarin and Commander Lunarshard of the Conquestian camp. Now kill me, please."

But death truly wasn't ready to take Jeffery's soul yet, and with a hiss of utter disgust, Avara released his neck and spat on him, her gaze going to the judges standing above her. There were four of them now, and with her sharpened sight, she saw how troubled they all really were.

Avara didn't blame them. The names Jeffery had just dropped weren't small names. The cultists had their agents carefully placed in strategic locations, many of whom were formerly trusted individuals.

Fortunately, the rot of the cultists hadn't eaten too deep into the kingdom and was still manageable.

The judges conveyed their thanks with curt nods, and like a whisper in the wind, they all vanished.

Avara turned her gaze to Jeffery once again, eyes cold and unfeeling as her body raked the agonized man from head to toe. Feeling an unsightly urge, Avara gave in to an urge she hadn't been able to from the constant vigilance of the judges.

Raising a palm to Jeffery's stomach, she pressed her palm against his abdomen and smiled as she used a skill she had only very recently created. Karmic essence poured out of her palms and into Jeffery's abdomen. Jeffery screamed again as the energy curled around his intestines like a string of flame, but Avara wasn't after his fleshly organs.

The fiery energy pierced past his body and into his spirit, curling around his pathways to latch onto his dormant core. A gasp escaped her lips as a sense of connection filled her, and with a slight mental push, she whispered. "I swear an oath on your behalf, Jeffery Harvey, that you will not die but live the rest of your days in the misery I have put you in."

Had his core been bursting with willpower and energy, perhaps he would have been able to resist, but with his core completely drained of life, the karmic essence pierced into Jeffery's core and seamlessly twisted into a string of fiery chains as the oath took hold on his behalf.

They snapped tight, tighter than normal oaths, and Jeffery completely lost the will to die, even as his emotions plunged into the depths of absolute misery.

Jeffery screamed.

***

While Jeffery's screams echoed through the dungeon, the judges barked out orders, calling on trusted individuals for a strike mission.

The Awakened Court bustled with activity as agents rushed out of the building in droves, heading in a dozen different directions, their destination the location of all the names Jeffery had mentioned.

Champions and elites were also sent out in dozens, each group tasked with arresting several suspected individuals in a bid to root out this evil once and for all. All around the kingdom, pieces moved swiftly—the crimson judge, champions, council agents, and cultists.

Fate churned violently, sensitive only to those familiar with its workings.

A convergence was here, and it would not be peaceful.