The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

Aodhán glanced around the Origin plane in shock, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He could still feel the chaos swirling around him, but it no longer invaded his mind. Instead, it flowed around and through him just like the ethereal currents Az had described—completely ignoring him as if he were part of the realm itself.

"How is this possible?" he asked himself, and a dozen possibilities presented themselves.

This could be a result of his perspective change and new understanding of the Origin plane—no longer viewing it as a fragment of a previous reality corrupted by chaos. But that, regardless of how profound it was, seemed too trivial a reason to have caused such a drastic shift.

Aodhán wondered if perhaps it had something to do with Varéc or the tribulation he was currently undergoing. But whatever it was, Aodhán was immensely grateful for it.

For the first time, Aodhán could hear his own thoughts clearly within the origin plane. His mind was filled with all the wisdom Az'marthon had bestowed on him, and now, surrounded by the purest expression of his affinity, those grains of insight began to condense into motes of understanding and inspiration.

Once, he had considered the Origin plane of storm as a realm filled with raging storms and chaos, heralded by intents of destruction and supremacy. But now his understanding had evolved enough for him to see that it was only a facet of the aspect of storm—a tip of the iceberg.

Storms didn't just rage for destruction or supremacy; they converged.

Like Az'marthon had said, a storm was a gathering. A convergence. Just as it was a gathering of clouds, it could also be a gathering of water, fire, ice, sand, energy, or even chaos itself. But even that was thinking within a box, Aodhán realized.

Az'marthon had made it clear that there was no such thing as concepts or aspects—not that they didn't exist in theory, but that it was foolish to limit oneself to them. A storm was a gathering, simple. And if that was true, then it could just as well be a gathering of memories into dreams, a gathering of scattered thoughts into a storm of inspiration, or a gathering of fear from a thousand minds into a storm of overwhelming terror capable of paralyzing armies. Courage into a storm of heroism. Pain into wisdom, and hope into revolution.

With each moment he allowed himself, his mind broke through the invisible boundaries into the abstract, sharpening as understanding condensed quickly, stacking upon each other to reveal more and more about an affinity he had thought he understood. A rumble echoed out—but from within him rather than without—and in that moment of sharpened clarity, his ideal rose within him like a prayer.

I GAIN STRENGTH TO GIVE IT. I GAIN STRENGTH TO GIVE IT…

The mantra twisted and merged with his thoughts, imprinting itself on every new block of understanding he condensed. With each imprint, the mantra grew louder, echoing like a thousand whispers—perfect and suitable.

Aodhán welcomed it, relishing the sense of fulfillment that came with each repetition. This was who he was. This was why he advanced—to give power to those in need, just like the storm, which converged to carve out new rivers, scatter seeds to distant lands, and clear out dead forests to make room for new growth.

I GAIN STRENGTH TO GIVE IT…

The mantra echoed continuously in his mind, intertwining itself with his budding understanding. And as it condensed into a full-fledged inspiration, thunder rumbled above him—much louder and more powerful than all others.

That was all the warning Aodhán got before the all-encompassing consciousness of storm invaded his mind, scrutinizing and searching his understanding.

Aodhán gasped as memories were unearthed and dissected before being shoved back to the recesses of his mind where they belonged—even those hidden by the Veil of Shrouded Mind.

It only lasted for a moment, though, because knowledge followed soon after, pouring into him like a flood instead of the usual trickle he was accustomed to. Heat erupted within him, and a seal burned itself onto his chest—so large and bright that it overshadowed the previous two and occupied enough space for three.

But that was not all.

Another brand appeared on his wrist—white-gold lines spiraling into a single point. Gathering. Converging.

I GAIN STRENGTH TO GIVE IT.

Aodhán glanced at the gleaming icon, completely in awe of the magnitude of what he had created. The icon was beautiful, but more importantly, it was powerful.

The seal, on the other hand, was a problem. Despite the odd occurrence of not being plagued by chaotic whispers, Aodhán couldn't say with any certainty that he would be spared by the twisted effect.

Hopefully, he would be, because he couldn't afford to run mad for the next twenty-four hours in this blasted realm. There was no quicker way to die. And so he decided to take precautions.

Grimacing slightly, Aodhán raised his hand and released an explosion of willpower into the origin plane, infusing it with a cry for help and a clear imprint of his location.

The plane absorbed the will imprint immediately, and Aodhán watched it move jerkily away, floating across the ethereal currents like a boat caught in a sea storm. Hope blossomed within him, and with a small smile, he released another willpower explosion, then another, until he had unleashed a total of thirty-seven will imprints into the origin plane.

Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to deplete his willpower pool. He could easily go on, spamming the will imprints until he was completely drained, but as dangerous as suffering from the twisted effect was, it still wasn't quite as dangerous as being completely drained in a realm like Abyssos. How would he run or fight when he was inevitably attacked by monsters and other captives?

Resigning himself to a brutal fate, Aodhán pulled his arms down and sighed. The area around him had become so turbulent with willpower that all he could hear were the thunderous hums of approval echoing from the plane itself and the mantra echoing in his mind.

An overwhelming sense of belonging and familiarity filled him, but Aodhán only had a moment to enjoy it before he was spat back into reality, where pain and torment awaited him.

They assaulted him immediately.

Pain exploded in Aodhán's mind the moment he returned—overwhelming and encompassing—as his body was torn apart by destructive energies. But Aodhán opened his eyes, smiled through the torment, and whispered, "I see with new eyes."

***

Daruk watched Aodhán step beneath the swirling extinction with a deep frown. He was concerned—very deeply. This tribulation wasn't something Aodhán could handle, regardless of his lightning or pain resistance.

But he understood that what Aodhán needed right now wasn't his concern or worry but his support and strength.

He locked eyes with Aodhán as thunder rumbled violently and gave him a short, firm nod. Aodhán didn't return the gesture, but he smiled.

Daruk exhaled and returned his gaze to the swirling vortex of extinction above. Despite knowing that Aodhán needed his support more than ever, he still had to suppress the urge to ask Aodhán to run. But it was obvious that Aodhán was locked in already. Asking him to run or shy away from this would have little effect, if any at all.

And so, with no other option, Daruk settled in to watch the cultists torment his brother, a cold rage frosting over within him.

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Cyrus, on the other hand, wasn't content to simply watch. He scowled at Daruk. "Are you guys insane? He'll die in there."

"He will not," Daruk hissed, squashing his own fears before they could form. "He's survived a tribulation before. He can survive another."

"Except this isn't a tribulation—it's a death sentence."

"Why do you care?" Daruk shot back, anger erupting within him as he turned to scowl at Cyrus. "You hate my brother and me. You think of us as privileged, as if we haven't had to toil and suffer for every grain of power we have. Why do you suddenly care?"

Whatever response Cyrus would have given was cut short as the first bolt struck, slamming into Aodhán with so much force that Daruk was certain it would have sent him flying despite his advanced class.

Aodhán, however, stood his ground, fist clenched as lightning raced through him. Varéc released a mournful roar in response, and Cyrus shook his head, eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

The second bolt struck with even more force. Yet Aodhán remained standing, even as welts opened up on his skin, smoking and hissing as lightning struck the raw, bloody flesh.

The third bolt struck, and this time Aodhán collapsed to his knees, a cry of agony tearing its way out of his mouth.

Daruk's heart ached at the sight, and he looked away, unable to watch anymore.

The fourth, then the fifth.

Each subsequent bolt sent Aodhán deeper into the ground, burning off his clothes and tearing welts into his skin. Though he cried out, his voice was lost in the roar of thunder and lightning. Raw energy burned through his veins, ripping off tissues and muscles to expose the bones underneath.

It was a gruesome sight, and by the seventh bolt, Daruk couldn't take it any longer.

He looked up at the sky in fury, tears streaming down his face as emotions rose uncontrollably within him. With no one to unleash his rage and hatred upon, he screamed at the sky, letting the emotion pour out of him and easing the tension in his chest.

Aodhán was wounded and covered almost entirely in blood. His body was a broken mess, convulsing on the floor like a puppeteered toy with loose strings. Daruk couldn't bear to watch any longer, and without thinking, he moved—intending to put a stop to the torment any way he could.

The temperature in the area dropped instantly, and ice walls rose around Aodhán to shield him from the tribulation. But before he could seal off the walls, Varéc roared, fangs bared and midnight wings flared wide in aggression.

"What are you doing, Varéc?" Daruk hissed, and Varéc roared again, lightning crackling off him in obvious agitation. Daruk couldn't understand him the way Aodhán could, but Varéc's intent was clear—he wanted Aodhán to be left alone.

Daruk shook his head. "I can't just stand here and do nothing."

Varéc roared again, and this time Daruk could almost hear the words: He's benefiting from this.

Daruk would have loved to say he was shocked, but he truly wasn't. How typical of Aodhán to turn an act of torture to his own benefit. But if that was the case, then he couldn't afford to interrupt it, no matter how much he wanted to.

Nevertheless, there were other things he could do. He turned to glance at Cyrus and asked, "Do you have any healing potions on hand?"

Cyrus squeaked, tearing his gaze away from Aodhán's form to stare at Daruk. "How… what?"

"Healing potions, Cyrus," Daruk snapped. "Do you have them or not? Aodhán's going to need a lot of them when this is over."

"That's if he makes it out alive, you dimwit. Look at him."

Daruk refused to do so, even as the eighth bolt struck. "Do you have any potions or not, Cyrus?"

"I don't." Cyrus shook his head vigorously. "I don't have anything."

Daruk nodded slowly and turned his gaze to Varéc. "I hope you know what you're saying., Varéc didn't respond, lightning arcing off his scales in pain and anger as the ninth bolt struck Aodhán, tearing off the skin from his back and exposing his spine.

Cyrus puked, but Daruk was too enraged to do the same. Varéc let out another mournful roar, and for the second time since the tribulation began, Daruk looked away from his brother, unable to stand the sight.

Just as soon as he looked away, though, Aodhán's spasming body suddenly went limp, and all the lightning wreaking havoc on his body was suddenly sucked into his core as if into a void. An overwhelming aura of supremacy and power burst out of him, throwing Cyrus several feet back and causing Daruk himself to stagger. The aura was so powerful that the ice beneath their feet cracked, forcing Daruk to reinforce it with willpower lest they begin to sink.

The tenth bolt of destruction struck, but this time it was sucked into Aodhán's core before it could even do any harm. Ambient energy followed next, streaming down like a vortex into Aodhán's core. The vortex grew, becoming denser with each passing moment, and as thunder rumbled in preparation for the eleventh bolt, Aodhán opened his eyes—twin pools of liquid gold, ringed by bands of red, silver, and a stormy gray so deep it was almost pitch black.

He raised his eyes to the swirling extinction above, blood running down the side of his face, and whispered, "I see with new eyes."

The words were like a command, and the next instant, Aodhán's core exploded with power—so heavy and dense that the pressure sent Cyrus to his knees and left Daruk's bones creaking. His snow-white hair billowed out, crackling with an increased number of colored streaks of electricity, and before their very eyes, the golden cracks on his dark skin began to move.

They spread out to cover the entirety of his chest, reaching past his neckline to cup his cheekbones. Electricity hummed densely around him, pooling together to form a swirling mirage as his core went into overdrive.

Varéc roared, but this time it wasn't a mournful sound. Rather, it was a cry filled with victory, and in that moment, Daruk knew without doubt that his brother had stepped into a new realm of power.

***

Aodhán gasped in ecstasy as his evolution began right within his torment, energy surging out of his core like a raging ocean into his spirit and body.

{Absorb Lightning} was still activated, and even as his core pumped energy into his spirit, more gushed in until the cultists realized they were feeding his evolution. The tribulation cut off a moment later, but Aodhán was offered no reprieve from the torment as the sudden lack of energy sent his regeneration into a frenzy.

Muscles knitted together, sewn by lightning itself. Tissues and muscles regrew out of thin air, destructive energies reworking and remolding him with the same agony in which he was broken. His bones grew denser as energy surged into them, melding seamlessly with his joints to strengthen them—recreating cracked bones and remaking them entirely from lightning.

Nearly every part of his body needed reworking, and so Aodhán endured the pain, eyes stinging with tears as his body was remade from the ashes like a phoenix. Notifications pinged his mind constantly, ringing like a mantra, but Aodhán ignored them all, focusing all of his attention on his core, which was nearly half full after all the energy it had absorbed during his evolution.

However, despite all the agony he was in, Aodhán almost wished the tribulation hadn't ended. He had completed his evolution, but he wasn't nearly finished yet. Energy that should have been used to shore up his strength was instead used to regenerate him, and even that wasn't finished yet.

Many of his injuries and wounds were yet to be fully healed. His back was still half exposed, and his well of willpower was like a pond compared to what it should be. If he didn't find another energy source soon, he would bleed out and eventually die.

Shuddering, he looked up, a pained smile lighting up his face when he found Daruk already waiting, a bag of cores dangling from his outstretched arms. Daruk's face was wet with tears as he stared at Aodhán's injured body, but Aodhán croaked, "Don't worry about me, Daruk. A couple dozen cores and I'll be as good as new."

Daruk nodded without words, but Aodhán could see the rage freezing within him as clear as day. It rivaled his own, chilling to his own burning rage, but it brought a smile to his face regardless.

With the sense of shared hatred came determination, and without wasting any more time, Aodhán grabbed the bag of cores, dug into it, and began absorbing. He cared not whether it was a fire core, a water core, or one of the ice cores Daruk had added to the bag.

All he cared about was energy, and with unrestrained fervor, he absorbed them all, groaning as the energy surged through his still-healing pathways into his core. Energy pooled within his blazing core, and fifteen cores later, his core exploded with power once again.

Aodhán groaned as his power took a sudden leap, chaos surging into his pathways to aid his regeneration. His body and spirit grew stronger, his core expanded, and his pathways shone brighter than gold to his sight.

A mental scan of his core revealed that the number of impurities in his core had decreased significantly, burned away by the destructive energies of the tribulation he had just undergone. Excitement surged within him, and with renewed fervor, Aodhán began absorbing the remaining cores, pushing himself closer toward the 27th tier.

His willpower regenerated with each moment that passed, aided by the Battle-Honed Core effect of Dread Tempering.

The cultists had meant to kill him, but little did they know they were strengthening him instead. Armed with the knowledge he'd gained from Az'marthon, all this pain was worth it. He would come out stronger, and as soon as help arrived, he would make sure he burned this place to the ground and all the cultists within it.

***

Back in the watchtower, Jethro shouted from his throne, face red as he stared at the screen, which was accumulating likability ratings like cookies. "Why isn't he dying? How did he survive that?"

But everyone was just as shocked as he was. Right from the moment the transmigrant had stepped beneath the tribulation lightning without hesitation, Jethro had been uncomfortable. The boy's defiance was like a thorn in his throat. He hated it, and he wanted nothing but to eradicate him completely.

As great as the watchers' plans were, Jethro didn't see this boy willingly serving him like the girls did. And even if he did, Jethro wasn't sure he could trust him at all. Better to kill him now, harvest his seals, and be done with it.

Scowling, he directed his gaze to the lead handler and shouted. "I want that boy harvested immediately. He's already too strong as it is. If a tribulation this size didn't do him in, then it would be foolish of us to let him survive it."

His gaze hardened, and an oppressive aura began leaking out of his core in anger. "Do not let him complete that evolution. Kill him now. Send all the creatures we have on that level to his location right now. That boy must die before the hour is up."