The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

Two days after Aodhán's kidnap.

Command center, Ragnarok.

Year 2273.

"What shall we do about these cultists?" The Calodan ambassador banged his finger against the concrete table to emphasize his question, as if his voice wasn't loud enough already. He was a huge man, easily seven feet tall with corded muscles and a violent disposition—the very image of the barbarians Calodans were usually likened to.

He had desert-colored skin like the rest of his entourage but was covered in so many scars that they appeared like Lichtenberg figures on his skin. His dirty brown hair fell down his back in uncoordinated wisps, and his mythic eyes were a swirling void of deep violet that betrayed his Force affinity.

However, despite his unkempt appearance and barbaric mannerisms, he possessed the grace and beauty of a seasoned warrior, practically oozing bloodlust with the most mundane of movements. Even now, in one of the safest places in Ragnarok, he was dressed in full armor.

Behind him, an entourage of Calodan champions and important personnel stood in an inverse triangle, dressed similarly to the ambassador and bearing the same grace of seasoned violence. Standing at the apex of the triangle was Seretta Sorrows, her pupils like burnished copper, so sharp they were piercing.

Opposite the Calodan ambassador sat the Unorian ambassador, Erik Morozov. He was a frail-looking mythic with snow-white hair, snow-white eyes, and snow-white features. Everything about him was so icelike and white that he could have passed for a patch of snow if he so chose.

Unlike the Calodan ambassador, he wasn't dressed in metal armor but a sleek mechanized suit powered by Theban scripts and willpower, rather than the runic formations favored by the other kingdoms. The armor gleamed with inner light, radiating a light chill that caused a drop in temperature around them.

Behind him, his entourage stood in a semi-circle, their expressions frozen into neutral masks that revealed absolutely nothing of their intentions or thoughts. They were dressed in the same sleek mechanized suits as their ambassador, radiating a colder brand of violence compared to that of the Calodans.

Standing between both ambassadors, however, was General Lucas Deaton, his peaceable disposition standing in stark contrast to the violence on each side of the meeting table. No one was fooled by his appearance, though. Anyone who could rise to the position of a general in Ragnarok's army was no pushover.

Behind him, an entourage of Ragnarok's champions and important personnel stood proud, all dressed in silver and black rune-scripted suits of armor vaguely resembling leather. Unlike the entourage of the other kingdoms, they arranged themselves in neat rows behind General Deaton, faces stern and postures at ease in the military fashion. Foremost among them were Artemis and Thalia Lightus.

General Lucas stood on the left of the meeting table with his arms folded before him, an intense expression on his face as he managed the proceedings. He glanced at the Calodan ambassador and sighed. "We are here to figure out what to do, Ambassador Hakim. Now, if you'll let us continue…"

Ambassador Hakim al-Asad gestured for General Lucas to continue, and he cleared his throat. "Thank you, Ambassador. Our first order of business is to find the location of the cultists. If we can figure out where they are hiding out, we can move on from there."

"What do we know so far?" Ambassador Morozov asked, his tone cold and quiet.

"Not much," General Lucas admitted. "But we're hoping that together we can change that. So far, our divinations and scrying have yielded next to nothing. We assume that the cultists have a Calamity or several cloaking them. We have not been able to confirm this theory, so that is still in the works as well."

"What about the cultists you captured?" Ambassador Hakim bellowed. "Have they not spoken yet? Have your people not managed to break their wills yet?"

General Lucas grimaced. "Their wills have been sufficiently broken, Ambassador Hakim, but unfortunately, they haven't been able to provide us with information we don't already know. Currently, the only way to access this supposed 'order' of theirs requires the use of a synced talisman. However, only a few high-ranking cultists possess these talismans, and as you would guess, none such people were among those captured."

Ambassador Hakim snorted in disgust but said nothing.

General Lucas continued. "Most of those we captured have turned out to be mere grunts, middlemen, or sympathizers—too low in the chain of command to possess talismans or any knowledge of actual worth, which leads us back to our main issue: finding the location of the cultists."

Ambassador Morozov frowned at that, and after a moment of silence, he asked, "Alright, let's take inventory. What do we have to work with?"

"Very little," General Lucas responded with a grim expression. "We have the artifact belonging to the cultist who kidnapped the students—an Aeon Clock of considerable power, still bearing the willpower and energy signature of whoever used it last. We also have blood samples from her father, Bane Helsarin—a devotee who apparently ranks high enough in the chain of command to possess a talisman. Unfortunately, he managed to escape before our agents could reach him."

"Informed by someone from within?" Ambassador Morozov asked.

General Lucas shrugged. "We don't know. As for his daughter, we believe he gave her the blood vial and synced talisman required to carry out her mission—which brings us to our next issue. The talismans are only activated by the blood of specific individuals."

"We already have alchemists working on recreating the blood sample in large quantities, but without synced talismans, the blood is all but useless. Finally, we have the brothers of the kidnapped boys—an empath of considerable strength, Aldric Brystion, and our very own prodigy, Artemis Valerion."

At once, all eyes in the room turned to the Ragnarian entourage, and reluctantly, Aldric stepped forward, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. Artemis did the same, though he seemed to bask in the attention until Geneva nudged him with an elbow.

Artemis was representing his family and Cyrus's interests in these proceedings, and Aldric had to admit that the lengths Duke Solaris had gone to find Cyrus were admirable. In the two days since their kidnapping, the duke had turned the whole sector upside down, searching for clues and cultists.

Sadly, all his efforts so far had been in vain.

Aldric, on the other hand, had spent the last two days at home, helping his parents and assuring them that the boys were alright. He couldn't feel Daruk or sense Cyrus, but Aodhán was still alive, and that was assurance enough. Or at least it had to be.

But doing nothing to find his brothers in those two days had been hell. When Geneva had extended an invitation to this meeting, Aldric had jumped at it.

He loved his family to death, but the last two days had been exhausting. He'd had to manage the emotions of three individuals alongside his own, and though he was usually able to handle more than that on a normal day, the last two days had been anything but normal.

Hopefully, he would return to them today with some good news.

"An empath, hmm?" Ambassador Hakim hummed curiously as his gaze met Aldric's.

"Yes, sir," Aldric replied respectfully.

Ambassador Hakim's smile grew predatory. "You're the transmigrant's brother, aren't you?"

The words were like an explosion in the quiet room, and Aldric felt his muscles tense uncontrollably. The emotions of mythics were out of his grasp for now, but those of the champions were like an open book, and Aldric hated what he sensed in that moment. The greed. The curiosity. The hate.

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Aldric knew Aodhán had his secrets, and he truly wouldn't be surprised to find out that the rumors of his status as a transmigrant were true. But for now, he was holding onto the words Aodhán himself had told them. He refused to believe otherwise until Aodhán or Daruk told him differently.

Quenching the surge of anger that tried to rise within him, Aldric replied in a neutral tone. "My brother is an inheritor, Ambassador Hakim."

"Not a double inheritor?" Ambassador Morozov interjected with a raised eyebrow and glanced at General Lucas. "Didn't the 5th Academy release a press statement concerning that fact?"

General Lucas let a beat of silence pass before speaking. "I was too busy dealing with cultists to read press statements, Ambassadors. Whatever the boy's status is doesn't matter to me, though. He is first and foremost a citizen of Ragnarok, and every citizen of Ragnarok is important."

"Of course," Ambassador Morozov smiled. "Back to the matter at hand. How will these boys help us find the location of the cultists?"

"Blood ties," General Lucas replied, glad to be back on track. "Aldric here shares blood ties with Daruk Brystion and familial ties with Aodhán. Artemis has blood ties with Cyrus. But beyond that, I believe Aldric has a..." he consulted the paper before him, "a soul tie with Aodhán Brystion. I'll let him explain."

Every eye turned to Aldric once again, and his jaw tightened in annoyance before he forced it loose. He was here to find Aodhán, and he could only do that by sharing the information he had.

Exhaling deeply, he began. "I placed a soul imprint on my brother, Aodhán, a few weeks ago. It's by no means a tracking skill, but I could track his general location and well-being with it. Ever since his kidnapping, however, I've been unable to do any of that. I'm still connected to him, though, and I can feel that he's still alive."

"You can't sense anything more than that?" Ambassador Hakim asked, and Aldric shook his head.

"No, sir. When I focus deeply, I can follow the connection for a while, but it cuts off before I can gain anything tangible."

"So, another dead end," Ambassador Morozov muttered.

"Not quite," Artemis responded and walked toward the concrete table. With a flick of his fingers, he produced two items—first, a bloodstained spatial ring, and second, a glowing life crystal. "These two items are spiritually connected with my brother, Cyrus Valerion. The first is his spatial ring, stained with his blood from a battle that must have occurred just minutes before his kidnapping. The second item, however, is a—"

"Life crystal," Ambassador Morozov cut in with a curious frown, his gaze darting over the concrete table. "With the other items, that puts our inventory at a total of four items and Aldric Brystion's soul imprint skill. Is that all?"

"I think it is." General Lucas nodded, but someone else countered his words with a loud, "No."

The voice came from the Ragnarian entourage, and a moment later, a man dressed in all black stepped forward, identifying himself as Kaelith—agent of the 5th academy. He had flowing black hair neatly tied back in a bun, and he wore an expression that made it obvious he wasn't particularly thrilled to be here.

He bowed to the gathered ambassadors in greeting before speaking. "The 5th academy would also like to present an item that might greatly help our search." He pulled a black cloth pouch from his spatial storage and placed it on the concrete table, revealing what appeared to be the shattered remains of a glass orb.

"This is the spirit-sensing orb that shattered beneath the weight of Aodhán's spirit. It's marked by both his energy and willpower, but I'm afraid it's also not enough to track Aodhán's location alone."

The sight of the shattered artifact caused another ripple of emotions among the gathered champions, and Aldric's grimace deepened. Beneath his righteous anger, though, was shock and amazement.

Aldric had always known Aodhán was strong—stronger than anyone his tier had any right to be—but even he couldn't imagine the weight Aodhán's spirit carried to shatter an artifact to dust like this.

It was insane, and despite holding onto Aodhán's words, the evidence that suggested otherwise just kept piling up.

A beat of silence passed, and then another, before someone finally spoke.

"Then what we have to do is obvious," Ambassador Hakim muttered, eyes roaming the gathered items with curiosity. "We have to combine all the items."

Ambassador Morozov nodded. "Every single item here is marked by the people we're trying to find. We can assume they're all in the same location, and if that's true, then we could potentially find the cultists' location by combining the temporal auras of all the items."

"Then we need a map and someone who can connect all these items together," General Lucas reasoned, but before he could finish speaking, the Calodan entourage parted to reveal a small woman dressed in the same scraggly desert-themed outfit as the rest of her people. She wasn't anyone Aldric knew or recognized, but she moved with the same fluid grace of barely leashed violence as the ambassador—harsh yet beautiful like the sands of the white desert.

"If I may apply my skills, ambassadors," she spoke when she reached the concrete table, bowing as she introduced herself. "My name is Nayra al-Sahr, and I am a resonance awakened. I think I might be able to help."

Her gaze landed on Aldric, and she continued. "Each of the items we have here, while individually weak, are clues that when linked could potentially lead us to our targets. It's no certainty, but it's definitely worth a try."

General Lucas nodded and pulled a huge map of Lutia from his spatial storage. "We're definitely willing to try, but first"—he glanced at the other ambassadors—"do your kingdoms have anything of importance we could add to the list to strengthen the link? Any clues or items you'd like to share?"

"Unfortunately, no," Ambassador Morozov shook his head sadly, showing a hint of emotion for the first time since the meeting began. "The moment news of Ragnarok's hunt spread, many of our people vanished—trusted individuals in seats of power. You cannot know how embarrassing this is for us, that we were unable to catch anyone of worth."

The Calodan ambassador nodded in agreement. "Same here, though we did catch a few. However, as far as items or clues go, we unfortunately have none."

"Well then, let's proceed." General Lucas pulled the remaining items from his spatial storage and placed them on the concrete table beside Cyrus's life crystal, spatial ring, and the spirit-sensing orb.

The Aeon Clock emerged first, followed by a vial of dried blood.

Intrigued, Aldric moved closer to the table, studying all five items with a hopeful expression. For the first time in two days, they had a clear direction. They were doing something, and it didn't seem completely hopeless.

Nayra moved to stand beside him, and after what seemed to be a muttered prayer, she began her work. She unfurled the map so it covered nearly half the table, then pushed Artemis aside and moved to the center of the table, arranging the items in a careful hexagon on the map.

At the north point, she placed the Aeon Clock. At the south, she positioned the powdered shards of the spirit-sensing orb. At the northeast, she set the vial of dried blood. At the northwest, Cyrus's spatial ring. At the southeast, his life crystal. Then she glanced at Aldric, pointing to the southwest point. "Place your hand here."

Aldric obeyed immediately and felt a zap of electrical energy the moment he did—like touching a live wire that sparked up his arms and straight into his spirit.

Nayra muttered something under her breath, then her eyes rolled back, showing only the whites as her hands began to move in a pattern above each point of the hexagon, including his hand, tracing connections only she could see.

She didn't speak, but a resonance rose within Aldric's mind—like the whispers of chaos, but calmer, less chaotic. The wind picked up, ruffling the edges of the map and spreading a slight chill through the air. The air began to shimmer between the points, and Aldric felt his breath catch as an indescribable feeling spread over him.

It plunged into his spirit, and a moment later, Aldric felt his seals grow warm, then hot, responding to whatever Nayra was doing. It was frightening, letting someone else interact with his spirit so intimately, but Aldric was willing to make the sacrifice for his brothers.

He watched in fascination as the other items responded. The blood darkened in its vial, pulsing like a heartbeat. The spatial ring hummed with barely contained energy, releasing waves of spatial force across the map. The shattered pieces of the spirit-sensing orb vibrated and clinked against each other as if trying to reassemble themselves. The life crystal's glow intensified, its light shifting from steady to rhythmic—alive, insistent. Time essence radiated from the Aeon Clock, clashing and merging with the waves of spatial energy from the spatial ring.

Energy sang through his spirit, curling around his pathways and stirring depths he'd never dared to touch. For a moment, Aldric couldn't tell where his own energy ended and the ritual's began. His seals flared one after another like ancient eyes blinking awake, flooding his mind with echoes of the lives tied to the items on the table.

There was nothing concrete—no, all of that flowed to Nayra—but Aldric received impressions of pain, greed, anger, and betrayal. The impressions filled his mind like a rising tide, but before they could drown him, Nayra pressed her palms flat against the hexagon's center, and suddenly Aldric felt it—a pull.

Not physical, but something deeper.

His seals burned against his skin now, pulsing to a rhythm only they could hear. His sense of the soul imprint blossomed within him, ballooning out to engulf his senses, and for a moment, Aldric felt Aodhán far more keenly than he ever could have on his own. But he was far away—too far, like a distant star barely visible to the naked eye.

The resonance built between all six points, each strengthening the others until the combined energy thrummed through Aldric's bones. Nayra's irises reappeared, shining with silver light, but instead of focusing in one direction, they darted across the map erratically, her expression growing more troubled with each passing second.

"They… they're everywhere," she muttered after a solid minute, then shook her head aggressively. "No, they're not even in our reality at all. They're in a dimension outside time, karma, and fate. I can't reach them." She paused, then began pointing to a series of locations on the map. "However, I can feel reality anchors—threads of dimensional quintessence tethering their dimension to our reality. There. There. And there."

Each point she indicated sent a chill through the air, plunging the room into freezing temperatures, though none of the other members seemed affected.

Nayra's expression darkened as she turned toward a fourth direction. "And the strongest anchor…" She hesitated, a scowl appearing on her face as if the words themselves were distasteful. "Sector 5, Sunstone. The pull is strongest there."