The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

While Aodhán wrought his fate before the watchers, the rest of the Lutia trembled in disarray.

It had been a full hour since the kidnapping of the three boys, and news of it had spread to every corner of the continent, declaring the boldness of the cultists to steal away three promising students right from the heart of the 5th sector, kidnapping them right beneath the watchful eyes of several mythics and Zatya Malakov herself.

The 5th academy had been turned upside down in search of the boys, agents rushing through the hallways and residences, spiritual perceptions sweeping through the classrooms, and every student frantically searching in hope that the cultists couldn't have taken them very far, but their efforts were futile, and when Duke Solaris inevitably heard of his son's disappearance, the entire 5th Sector was also turned on its head, agents and guards swarming every city within the sector—not just searching, but arresting suspected cultists.

Yet amid all the chaos and frantic searching, one voice rose above the rest with pointed suspicion.

The crimson judge had arrived at the academy within minutes of the incident, and after how long they had been delayed behind the aerial shields, she wasn't buying any of the propaganda Zatya was spreading.

The moment they'd been let into the academy, she had moved with the calculated precision of someone who had seen too many lies dressed as tragedies, her eyes and spiritual perception searching the academy for the boys she was almost certain remained hidden within it, tucked away behind layers upon layers of cloak runes.

Her eyes held no sympathy for Zatya's obvious distress. After all, the timing was remarkably convenient. Just hours after her faux speech to declare Aodhán as a double inheritor, he had suddenly gone missing, vanishing into thin air before anyone could confirm or deny the truth of her words. The single fact that Zatya had delayed them outside the aerial shields for nearly half an hour was proof that backed her suspicions.

However, after conducting a thorough search of the academy herself, the Crimson Judge had been forced to accept that even if the boys had been hidden, they were nowhere within the academy.

She had turned her gaze to Zatya in rage after that, accusing her of hiding Aodhán away so that she could harvest him herself. Greedy bitch!

"Why would I kidnap his brother and Cyrus Valerion of all people if that was my aim?" Zatya had snapped back, frustration and anger boiling within her for every moment that passed without any link to Aodhán.

But the crimson judge was set in her belief, calling Zatya a sniveling, psychotic, and manipulative hag whose every word was a lie. She was right, of course, but in this instance, Zatya was unfortunately in the clear. She knew nothing about the kidnapping, nor could she track him in any way. His academy chip was completely untraceable, most likely destroyed, and even the tracker she had placed within him all those months ago was also untraceable—not even a weak pulse.

And so, with Aodhán nowhere to be found, the Crimson Judge had no choice but to return to the Awakened Court empty-handed, failure weighing heavily on her shoulders.

The Council had lost once again.

***

Lady Alwina returned to the Silverspire court empty-handed, a carefully curated report on the 5th sector's situation held ready in her mind. However, the moment she arrived, emerging from the glass walls like liquid mercury solidifying into human form, she was struck by the pungent stench of blood and viscera.

Grimacing at the scent, she turned her gaze to the center of the chamber, where the body of Lady Reece Vanbrim lay, hacked to pieces and flayed—a grotesque message about the fate of cultist infiltrators.

Only a few feet from the grisly warning, Queen Althéa sat on her throne, a satisfied smile on her face, while the other ladies-in-waiting stood to her left, expressions carefully neutral despite the carnage before them.

To the queen's right stood the first prince, lips pressed in silent disapproval of the brutal display his mother had orchestrated. He stood with his best friend and advisor, Lord Roman Lys, and when they noticed her arrival, their expressions grew grave.

Lady Alwina read the situation quickly and bowed low, "Your Majesty. His Royal Highness."

The queen acknowledged her greeting with a smile, and her voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Lady Alwina. I trust your mission bears better fruit than our recent... housekeeping." Her eyes flicked meaningfully to Lady Vanbrim's remains. "We've just finished dealing with one cultist who thought she could hide among us. Now tell me—where is the boy?"

Lady Alwina tensed for a moment, eyes darting to the flayed corpse of a former friend before she found her voice. "He's gone, Your Majesty. Taken by cultists before anyone could reach him." She swallowed hard. "But he wasn't the only one. His brother and Cyrus Valerion were kidnapped, too. The entire 5th sector is in turmoil as we speak."

"By Raol's blood!" Prince Magnus cursed, his composure cracking. "Duke Solaris will tear the sector apart."

"Solaris is not the problem." Queen Althéa snapped, her satisfied smile vanishing at the troubling news. "The boy is. And if he truly is a transmigrant, as the awakened court suspects, then we've just handed the cultists even more power than they possessed before. What is this now? The third transmigrant lost to these renegades? Fourth?"

"Third, Your Majesty," Lord Roman corrected, his perpetual scowl deepening.

"We have to get him back," Prince Magnus stated, his voice carrying undeniable authority despite his obvious distaste for his mother's methods. "I've already dispatched envoys to the ambassadors of Calodan and Unoros requesting formal audiences. General Daystar is also coordinating with their military divisions and champion handlers." His jaw tightened. "It's past time we treated this cult threat as the war it's become."

"We are already fighting one war." The queen shook her head in complete opposition. "Do not go war mad like your father."

"We have to do something, Mother." Prince Magnus responded firmly, eyes hard with determination. "The cultists are gaining too much power too fast. We can't just sit back and let that happen. They are growing bolder and bolder by the day. So bold that one managed to become a lady-in-waiting without us knowing."

Queen Althéa frowned at the implication of his words and settled deeper into her throne. "Can we not handle this… quietly. Clean the house without making a mess of everything. We cannot afford a war at the moment. You know this, Magnus."

"The problem, Your Highness," Roman interjected quietly, his voice carrying through the chamber with deadly calm, "is that the war has already begun."

His gaze drifted to Lady Vanbrim's remains. "If they've already infiltrated deep enough to place someone like Lady Vanbrim in our very court, then they must be everywhere. Among nobility and commoners alike, merchants and mercenaries, the military, and even champions. This is not the time to take just any action. Whatever plans we make, they must be aimed at one goal. Complete eradication of the cultists."

***

Outside the castle, nobles and commoners felt the tremors of chaos rippling through the kingdom. Rumors spread like wildfire—whispers of missing students, of cultists in the shadows, and of executions in the royal court itself.

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Fear spread through the kingdom as soldiers marched about, auras flaring and perception sweeping, dragging cultists from shadowy dens and suspected outposts.

Shop owners shuttered their windows early, unwilling to risk the roving patrols that questioned anyone who looked even the tiniest bit suspicious. The taverns, usually bustling with evening crowds, sat half-empty as people huddled in their homes, afraid that a careless word might mark them as cultist sympathizers.

Their fears weren't unfounded. With each passing hour, every paranoid whisper was proving true as more and more cultists were being exposed. But it wasn't until Commander Lunarshard of the Sigma15-25 camp was exposed as a cultist that the people realized just how deep this infestation had burrowed into the kingdom.

The revelation sent shockwaves through the entire military hierarchy.

A decorated officer with several decades of service, access to classified information, and direct oversight of promising cadets—his betrayal wasn't just a security breach; it was a complete intelligence catastrophe. If someone of his rank and standing could be compromised, then no one was above suspicion. Every decision he'd made, every soldier he'd recommended, and every mission he'd overseen now had to be questioned and scrutinized for signs of sabotage.

The paranoia was infectious. What had started as a localized crisis in one kingdom quickly became a continental concern, and with so many individuals being exposed, soldier after soldier, noble after noble being dragged from their positions in chains, the news spread even faster than word of Aodhán's spirit trial.

Before long, Calodan and Unoros began their own sweep, while the Central Kingdom, as usual, called a council meeting to discuss what actions to take.

Within an hour, the ambassadors of Calodan and Unoros arrived in Ragnarok, along with a host of champions as their entourage. They made their way to the command center, where meetings were already being held and plans put in motion.

Anyone with divination or tracking skills was recruited to begin searching for the boys, but the main focus was getting the captured cultists to spill their secrets—and for that, they needed more Oathbreakers.

The whole kingdom was tense, but nowhere was the weight more crushing than in the Brystion Mansion, where desperation and helplessness hung like a living thing, feeding on hope and growing stronger with each passing hour.

At the heart of this anguish, Synové sat on the floor of their living room, her form wracked with worry while Unrid and Yue tried to comfort her despite their own anguish. A few neighbors had shown up to comfort and sympathize with them, but Synové was in no mood for visitors, and Yue had had to send them on their way, citing that the family would like to be alone in this trying moment.

Even the invisible guards protecting them had revealed themselves to comfort the family, but when visitors came knocking—which they did frequently—Yue was the one to welcome them, graciously receive their heartfelt sympathies, and then send them back on their way.

It was exhausting for the young changeling, and after sending old Miss Coleen back home, Yue returned to the living room, which was now covered in stacks of different newspapers, each displaying a series of headlines.

SHOCKING: Child Prodigy and Double Inheritor Aodhán Brystion Kidnapped by Cultists.

NOBLE HEIR MISSING: Cyrus Valerion Seized by Cultist Infiltrators right within the 5th Academy.

BREAKING: Duke Solaris' Son Among Missing Students in Academy Raid.

Unrid pored over each one obsessively, face scrunched in a tight frown as if the solution to their current dilemma dwelt within them. Yue understood him perfectly. This was the only way he could do something. This was the only way they could gain insight into what had happened to Aodhán and Daruk.

Yue had always considered the academies one of the safest places in every sector. But this, this changed everything. If cultists could infiltrate the academies themselves, then nowhere was safe.

Sighing, she sat down on the floor and wrapped her arms around Synové's shuddering form, whispering words she didn't believe. "It's going to be alright. It's going to be alright…"

"No, Yue. No." Synové shook her head, refusing to be comforted. "Cultists have taken my babies, and there is absolutely nothing I can do. It is not alright."

Yue swallowed back her tears, forcing herself to be strong for Synové. Aodhán would want her to be strong.

Her arms tightened around Synové, engulfing her in a warmth of comfort, but there was little else Yue could do. She had no skills geared towards comfort or sorrow. All she could do was hold the distraught mother while her husband paced obsessively around the living room, jaw hard as if, if he let himself relax for just a moment, he would become a bumbling mess.

Minutes passed in that manner, the only sound in the room Synové's quiet tears and the constant rustling of newspapers, until a knock echoed out again.

With a tired sigh, Yue stood up, forcing herself to be strong as she readied herself to smile, receive their gracious words, and send whoever was at the door on their merry way. However, the moment she opened the door, the fragile smile on her face died. Her emotions burst like a dam within her, and tears rolled down her face without restraint.

"Oh, Aldric," she choked out before flinging herself at him. The fact that he looked nothing like the man she had known only a few weeks ago barely registered in her mind. Out of the three brothers, he was the only one whose whereabouts she knew—the only brother she could touch, could hold, could know was safe—and that meant more to her than anyone could imagine.

There was no need to be the strong one anymore. Somebody else was here to carry that burden.

Aldric squeezed her tightly, rubbing her back to comfort her, but his gaze wasn't on her. Instead, it was on the distraught woman rushing forward to embrace her son. Synové practically launched herself at Aldric, a broken sound escaping her throat as she reached for him, as if touching him could somehow bring her other sons back, and without issue, Aldric shifted Yue to hug his mother, carrying them both as if they weighed nothing.

His hands found both their backs, and a moment later, Yue gasped as she felt the overwhelming desperation that had threatened to choke her begin to subside. It was still there, but it no longer overwhelmed her, and for the first time since they got the news of Aodhán and Daruk's disappearance, Yue was finally able to breathe without the crushing weight of panic that had been slowly suffocating her all day.

"You're alright. I've got you." Aldric whispered to both of them as he stepped into the house, his eyes landing on his father with quiet understanding.

Unrid stood to the side, almost helplessly, as he clutched a crumpled newspaper in his white-knuckled grip.

"I can't do anything," he choked out, his voice heavy with worry. "I don't know how to help them. How to protect them—"

"It's alright, Dad." Aldric cut him off gently and beckoned his father forward. "I'm here now. Let me be your strength."

Unrid hesitated only for a moment before he too moved toward Aldric, eyes bright with unshed tears as he joined their embrace. Comfort flowed into him slowly, barely a trickle, but it was enough to combat the crushing tide of helplessness and desperate fear that had been consuming him.

Within moments, Aldric made quick work of his family's raw emotions, absorbing them into himself to relieve them of the crushing weight. He was their anchor. He bore the weight of their terror for them. Drowning so his family could breathe.

And breathe they did. In only a few minutes, the suffocating tension that hung over the room had been cut nearly in half. Yue couldn't feel Aldric's touch directly on her emotions, but she could sense him doing something. Whatever it was couldn't have been easy for him, but he barely showed the strain—barely frowned. He was strong.

They all pulled away from the embrace after a moment, and Unrid asked, "Any news? Please tell me there's something."

"There is plenty," Aldric replied somberly, "but I fear none of them are good news."

Synové closed her eyes in disappointment, turning away to sob quietly, and with an apologetic glance in her direction, Aldric launched into an explanation of all that was going on and what he had learned so far.

He had left Fort Dominion as soon as he'd heard. Being so close to the champions, he'd gained information that most of the public had no access to. He spoke of how the champions were banding together and how the other kingdoms were finally working to find the location of the cultists. Captured cultists were being interrogated, and although none of them had been sufficiently broken yet, there was hope that they would get some answers very soon.

"That's all well and good," Unrid replied, "but what about Aodhán and Daruk? Have there been any leads in tracking them? Any clue at all?"

Aldric shook his head slowly, his composure cracking slightly. "I'm sorry, Father, but as of now, there aren't any leads."

"So, they are lost forever?" Synové exclaimed fearfully, eyes wide as she gripped Aldric tightly, her voice breaking on the words. "Is there nothing you can do, Aldric? Nothing at all?"

Aldric opened his mouth to speak, wanting desperately to give them hope, but instead his expression of quiet strength faltered, and his own anguish became visible.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I placed an imprint on Aodhán recently. It's supposed to give me a general feel of his location. But I fear even that has been destroyed because I can't feel anything, only an aching sense that he's still alive."

"So, there's still hope?" Yue asked, clinging to those words like a lifeline. "If Aodhán is alive, then the cultists don't intend to kill him?"

Aldric smiled solemnly at that. "No, I don't think they do. There is still hope. All we can do now is wait and hope that the kingdom finds them before anything bad happens."

Everyone exchanged glances, and an oppressive silence descended on the room, the weight of it pressing down on their shoulders like a physical thing, heavy with all the fears they couldn't voice and the terrible helplessness of loving someone who might be suffering while you could do nothing but wait.