The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

Baxter stood at the apex of a mountain; a grimace etched into his features as he watched Monica and the other captives swarm Aodhán and his brother like starving vultures. The spatial cultivator reached them first, of course, and Baxter all but gave up on saving them—until the woman began a victory dance instead of simply smiting the boy and claiming her reward.

"Fool," he muttered under his breath, wondering what turn the situation would take now.

With his control over space, he could sense both boys struggling against the spatial lock the awakened had placed on them, but he could also sense the realm itself fighting them.

What could these boys possibly have done to be singled out this way? What could they know that threatened the cultists so deeply? Why were the cultists so desperate to see them dead?

Those questions churned through Baxter's mind as he watched the situation unfold from his vantage point. Aodhán and his brother were strong—too strong for their tiers if he was being honest. He had witnessed their power firsthand: the floods and tribulations they had weathered.

At the very least, they were far more powerful than he had been at their tier. The tribulation Aodhán had undergone? Baxter wasn't sure he could have survived it.

And now, the cultists wanted them dead. The question was why? Why were they so fixated on these two boys?

His eyes narrowed as the other captives drew closer, clearly expecting the boys to do or say something. He was not disappointed. Barely a second later, Aodhán's brother spoke, "Will you all watch while this woman steals your bounty after all your hard work to catch my brother?"

What?

Baxter frowned in confusion, not quite sure he understood the direction the boy was taking—but when he spoke again, it became clear. He was trying to sow discord among their captors. Clever.

Unfortunately, it didn't work quite as Baxter suspected the boy had hoped.

The spatial cultivator halted her victory dance, eyes growing wide with panic as the gazes of over a dozen captives turned to her in an instant.

"No—" She shook her head, her voice rising in desperation. "I caught him first. This is my bounty."

But the reward wasn't for capturing Aodhán. It was for killing him.

Monica reached this realization first, so blinded by desperation that she hadn't bothered to understand the requirements clearly. Her eyes widened in that critical moment, and Daruk's plan backfired spectacularly.

Instead of attacking the spatial awakened as the boys had hoped, the captives rushed toward Aodhán with Monica at their helm. Explosions surged forward immediately—blades, energy beams, and fiery destruction—all aimed at Aodhán with deadly precision.

It was pure insanity.

And without thinking, Baxter moved.

He understood the intent of his fellow captives completely and even empathized with some of them, but it was one thing to kill a man and another to kill a child regardless of his power or offense.

He couldn't stand it. Neither could he watch it.

Tearing through chaotic space, he shattered the spatial lock like glass and wrenched both boys out of harm's way, their terrified screams cutting through the air as his iron grip closed around them.

"I'm going to die—I'm going to fucking die!" Aodhán screamed in terror, his neck twisted agonizingly to the side in a futile attempt to escape a beam of entropy that would have disintegrated him regardless. Daruk, on the other hand, stood frozen, eyes glued shut in complete terror.

They had truly been bracing for death. How fascinating.

However, when death failed to claim them, both boys slowly cracked their eyes open to find themselves suspended in midair, an iron grip like a vice around their throats. They tensed immediately, and Aodhán's form began to shift in an attempt to phase through his hand.

Before that could happen, though, Baxter spoke.

"Calm down, boys. I'm here to save you, not kill you."

"What?" A fire awakened shouted from below. "If you don't want the bounty, let us have it, bro!"

"Shut up!" Monica snapped at the man, her voice cutting through the air like a whip before she turned to glare at Baxter. "Give the boy to me, Baxter. Don't take my salvation away from me."

"He's not your salvation," Baxter replied, his expression hard as he met the eyes of the other captives. "He's a prisoner like the rest of us. He is not anyone's salvation."

"Baxter." Monica's voice turned placating, as if he were the one making a foolish decision. "Don't do this. We're friends, remember?"

Baxter's grimace deepened. "Not any longer, I fear."

Before anyone else could speak, Baxter teleported, bending space into a portal of shooting stars that spat them out on a distant mountain range.

The moment solid ground materialized beneath them, Baxter released his hold on their necks. Both boys collapsed to their knees instantly, the world spinning around them as they struggled to find balance.

The dizziness faded away a few seconds later, and Aodhán forced air into his lungs, his heart still racing from the near-death experience. Had Baxter not showed up for them, they would have died by now, their seals and innate skills being harvested by Jethro.

Oh, how the Fated would have laughed, how the elders would have mocked.

After all his threats and bravado. He would have died like a sheep at the slaughter—his dreams and plans all cut short in an instant.

"You're alive," Baxter whispered, when neither of them spoke, his gaze reassuring.

Daruk nodded. "Thank you, once again. Never in my life has a plan backfired so terribly."

"At least you had a plan," Aodhán muttered sardonically. "My plan was to use Varéc as a shield."

Varéc roared within him, but it wasn't in anger. It was in love. Varéc would have given his essence for him without a second thought.

The thought sobered Aodhán further, and he realized he needed to get stronger quick. Sighing, he picked himself up and bowed to Baxter.

"Thank you for saving our lives. I will never forget it."

"Me too—" Daruk began to say when suddenly, the spatial awakened appeared above them, her smoking sword aimed at Aodhán's bent neck. Aodhán barely reacted on time, his body shifting to phase lightning only an instant before the blade struck.

Agony tore through him once more, like touching a plate of molten metal to a bleeding stump, and Aodhán collapsed to the floor, his body spasming from the pain. He was still alive and unharmed, but he seriously needed to find a way to avoid this woman's attacks without subjecting himself to agony.

Through the haze of torment, Aodhán barely registered a thunderous explosion as Daruk's willpower detonated in pure, unbridled rage.

The spatial awakened dodged whatever attack Daruk unleashed easily, but she couldn't avoid the condensed beam of cosmic particles Baxter unleashed. Aodhán couldn't see what happened, but he felt the exact moment the spatial awakened's body exploded into particles of starlight, completely eviscerated by a single attack.

She vanished from his senses a moment later, most likely taken by the handlers to be harvested. In the sudden silence that followed, Daruk's frantic voice cut through the stillness.

"Aodhán!" He dropped to his knees, hands hovering uncertainly over his brother's shaking form. "Are you hurt? Tell me you're okay."

Aodhán nodded stiffly, his body still shuddering from waves of pain.

"I'm sorry." Baxter crouched beside him. "Of course, she had followed; I should have been more alert."

"No need," Aodhán grunted, his labored breaths easing as the pain subsided. "You've done too much already. Thank you once again."

Baxter nodded, though he didn't seem to have forgiven himself just yet.

"Can you move on your own?" Daruk asked, concern still etched into his features.

"Yeah." Aodhán's voice came out rougher than intended, hands still trembling slightly. "We need to move. Now. I can already sense a dozen cores closing in on us."

Baxter's forehead creased. "You can sense people's cores?"

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"Questions later," Daruk cut in, slipping an arm around Aodhán's shoulders. "Please, just get us out of here."

Baxter glared at Daruk for a moment before nodding. "Then we shall talk about… all of this later."

He pulled them into another vortex of starlight, but rather than a single long jump, Baxter took three short ones to help acclimate them to the cosmic jumps.

They arrived at a small glade a few seconds later, free from any other human or monster, and Aodhán finally let himself rest. He created a chair construct for himself and lowered himself to it, his breath still a bit labored.

Daruk created his own opposite construct, and after a moment of hesitation, Baxter did the same.

Peaceful silence reigned between them for a moment, the only sound Aodhán and Daruk's labored breathing, until Baxter spoke.

"The both of you are..." He shook his head, his expression a mix of bewilderment and grudging respect. "Anomalies. That's the only word for it."

He looked directly at Aodhán. "I've heard so much about you. You're almost always in the news, but from what I've seen so far, you're even more formidable than the papers suggest." He turned to Daruk. "And that willpower explosion you unleashed earlier? absolutely devastating."

"Thank you," Aodhán began to speak, but Baxter cut him off with a raised hand.

"No. That wasn't a compliment. What I was trying to say is that there's something different about the both of you, which is why the cultists want you guys dead so badly."

His expression turned grave, and his voice hardened slightly. "You know something they don't want you to know. Tell me what it is."

Aodhán tensed, noting the slight edge of danger that had crept into Baxter's voice. His labored breathing evened out immediately, and he lied through his teeth. "I don't know; they want to kill me."

Baxter stared at him and then at Daruk before promptly bursting out in laughter. "That's a lie, and you know it."

Aodhán frowned. "Did a skill reveal that to you?"

Baxter shrugged. "If you're fishing to know my skillset, then you're asking the wrong questions."

"What will the right questions be?" Aodhán asked, trying to veer the conversation completely off track, but Baxter wasn't a child, nor was he gullible.

"The right question," Baxter said, leaning forward with predatory focus, "is the one I already asked. Why do the cultists want you dead?"

Aodhán grimaced.

Baxter had saved their lives twice already, earning himself a measure of trust in Aodhán's eyes. But it wasn't enough to make Aodhán tell him the truth. A truth he hadn't even told anyone in his family except Daruk. And he trusted them with his life.

Aodhán exchanged a glance with Daruk, who wore his usual neutral expression to hide the tension in his muscles. A thousand words passed through their gaze in that instant, and Aodhán decided there was no point in deflecting.

"I'm sorry, Baxter," he replied. "But I'd rather not say."

"That's not acceptable." Baxter shook his head. "I saved your lives because I couldn't stand the murder of children, but you would be fools to think my reasons were completely selfless."

His gaze hardened further, and he fixed Aodhán with a glare. "I saved you because I wanted to know what you have on the cultists to have them so focused on you guys this much. They wanted us to kill you for a reason. I want to know what that reason is and how it can benefit me."

When Aodhán still didn't respond, he continued. "Monica and I saw your tribulation earlier, and the horde and then the flood. We were watching from one of the mountains before we fell into a nest of carnivorous worms."

A smile touched his lips as he fixed his gaze on Aodhán. "When I saw the flood, I realized you must have gained an aspect only minutes after evolving into the advanced class. But as if that isn't weird enough—his gaze turned to Daruk—you keep burning willpower as if you've got it in abundance. First, with the explosion that created the macabre display of frozen fire-rexes, and then the battling of a horde numbered in the thousands with no one save for Aodhán's dragon familiar."

"He's a Fury." Aodhán corrected instinctively and glared back at the man. "And the fact that you stood by, watching while all that happened, says so much about the kind of man that you are."

"I'm a mercenary." Baxter smiled. "I do not fight for people unless you pay me too. Besides, I was curious to see Ragnarok's child prodigy in action, and I was not disappointed."

"Glad we gave you a good show," Daruk spoke up for the first time since they arrived at the glade. "But our answer remains the same. We cannot tell you why the cultists are after us. We don't trust you enough for that."

"I saved your life twice," Baxter began.

"And you watched us undergo a tribulation and battle a horde without lifting a finger to help." Aodhán countered firmly.

Telling Baxter about his status as a transmigrant wasn't an option, but Aodhán also didn't want to get the man on his bad side. Despite everything, the man had saved them from near certain death twice. He deserved an answer for his troubles. It just wouldn't be the answer he was looking for.

Aodhán cleared his throat. "Like my brother said, I cannot give you the answer you want. But I can give you an answer you would be interested in knowing."

"And what would that be?" Baxter asked skeptically.

Aodhán smiled. "That I could be the key to get us out of here. I could be your escape."

Baxter's demeanor changed instantly, and his desire for that very prospect shone through like a beacon at midnight. "What do you mean by that?" he asked cautiously, as if he was trying to keep his hope leashed.

Aodhán couldn't tell him exactly what he meant, so he hinted at it.

"I have certain… skills that, with enough power, could potentially get us out of here. The cultists have realized it, and they want me dead before I can get strong enough to do so."

It was a plausible lie, considering all that Baxter already knew about his feats. But it also wasn't a true lie, because he really could get them out of here. His will imprints were already floating across the origin plane of storm. Someone was bound to find it soon enough.

Baxter's eyes widened in surprise, and then he frowned, nodding to himself. "It all makes sense now why they are so intent on killing you. If you could potentially get us out of here, then by killing you, they are asking us to potentially ruin our only chance of survival…

He shook his head, amazed by the extent to which the cultists would go. Aodhán simply nodded along, chuckling to himself as he imagined the cultists running around, trying to figure out what skill this is and if his words were true.

But it didn't matter if it were true or not. He would escape this realm very soon, and when he did, he would make sure to drown the cultists in their own blood.

Baxter exhaled deeply. "And you mean to tell me this isn't the only reason why the cultists want you dead? Are you sure you can't tell me what the others are?"

Aodhán shook his head. "I'd rather not."

Baxter nodded, his brows furrowing in thought for a moment before he spoke again. "If that's the case, then I will join you—to protect you and to secure my own escape whenever your skill comes to fruition."

"Thank you, Baxter." Aodhán's expression softened with genuine gratitude. "We owe you a great deal for our lives. I'm glad we're working together."

From where he sat, Daruk rolled his eyes but said nothing, marveling at how easily Aodhán came up with lies. Necessary or not, it was perhaps his greatest gift. At least this time, it wasn't entirely untrue.

Daruk couldn't wait to hear this plan that Aodhán had supposedly cooked up during his tribulation that made him so certain of escape.

Aodhán's smile widened as he turned back to Baxter. "When we eventually escape this place, you'll be with us."

"That's all I can ask," Baxter replied, returning the smile. But then his expression grew serious, concern creeping into his voice. "So, what are your plans to ride this hunt out? We can't keep running forever—we have to sleep eventually, and we still have about thirty-six hours left in this level."

Aodhán's lips firmed into a line of determination. "We can't escape the hunt. The cultists will keep working to catch me. What we can do is get stronger."

A knowing smile touched his lips as he reached into his pants, causing both Daruk and Baxter to immediately scowl in disgust.

"What are you doing?" Daruk asked, his voice tight with revulsion.

Rather than explain, though, Aodhán decided to show them. He pulled the pendant from his pants, his own lips curling in disgust when it came out a little soiled. A bubble of water and a burst of black lightning later, he opened his palms to reveal a black-striped golden pendant shimmering with lightning essence.

Daruk's eyes widened. "Is that the original pendant?"

"The very same," Aodhán confirmed with a grin. "And now you know exactly how I smuggled it in here."

Daruk's expression grew even more disgusted, though there was grudging admiration in his voice. "That's both genius and revolting at the same time. I'm berating myself for not thinking of it."

"Me too," Baxter muttered, staring at the pendant with a mixture of respect and dismay. "But isn't that going to cause a host of problems for us?"

"We're already drowning in problems," Daruk pointed out grimly. "What's one more?"

"Exactly." Aodhán chuckled, his confidence infectious. "I already have a bounty on my head. What else could they do—smite me with another tribulation?"

Baxter couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're absolutely mad."

"And completely reckless," Daruk added, though his tone had shifted from disgust to reluctant appreciation.

"All terrible character flaws, I'm sure," Aodhán agreed cheerfully, "but this time, they worked in our favor. Want to know why?"

He raised the pendant dramatically, and a mountain of cores suddenly poured forth. Months' worth of bribes from Varéc, cores he'd bought, earned, and traded—all of it cascaded down to form a glittering pile before them.

"Nearly two hundred cores," Aodhán announced proudly, gesturing to the treasure trove. "And about a quarter of them are conceptual cores. We can't afford to remain below the thirtieth tier—our enemies are too powerful, and the obstacles ahead will only grow more dangerous." His expression grew serious again. "This is the only solution I can see. We either get stronger, or we die trying."

He glanced at Baxter and smiled. "The cores are all in the evolved class, but you can have all the conceptual cores. At the very least, you'll gain a tier or two."

Baxter nodded slowly, too stunned to speak. When he finally spoke, his words came out carefully measured. "And how many tiers do you intend to gain?"

"Five." Aodhán and Daruk said at the same time, as if they had rehearsed it. They chuckled at that, but Baxter felt his mind reel from what he'd just heard.

"Five tiers?" Baxter's voice cracked slightly. "You're talking about advancing five full tiers? That's madness—you risk completely damaging your spiritual cultivation by advancing so fast."

But Aodhán and Daruk just smiled at him. With a spirit as strong as theirs, they couldn't damage their spirit cultivation even if they tried.

***

"Useless! All of them!" Jethro shouted from his throne, fuming with anger as he watched the transmigrant begin to absorb cores and gain more strength. "How did he sneak that in there? Who oversaw the orientation?!"

Elder Makin jumped to his feet in panic. "It was I, Fated. I didn't think to check their butt cracks, my Lord. I realize now that it was a foolish mistake."

Jethro scowled in annoyance but didn't berate the Elder any further. Instead, he turned his gaze to the handlers. "And this skill he's talking about? Is it possible?"

This time there was silence in the Amphitheatre until Bane Helsarin spoke. "He's a transmigrant, Fated. The skills he has or what he could possibly do are beyond our scope of imagination. We cannot tell you for sure whether it is possible or not. His previous feats make it even harder to make such a statement."

He paused, straightening his shoulders as he gained the full attention of the Fated for the second time in a row. "What we know, however, is that he still can't use the skill to its full potential yet."

"Or he's bluffing." Third Elder Cedric interjected, his eyes going to the two girls standing behind the Fated. "Transmigrants are powerful, but Aodhán Brystion isn't the first transmigrant Abyssos has held. At higher levels, it has even held mythics—people with skills and abilities so powerful they are reality shattering. I really doubt a single transmigrant has the power to do what they couldn't do."

Some of the elders nodded in agreement, but Jethro wasn't satisfied. Aodhán Brystion needed to be put down immediately. Bluff or not. He couldn't allow that. The boy was growing too strong too quickly. Everything they had sent against him had simply become a stepping stone for his progress. They had to do something immediately.

He turned his gaze to the handlers and ordered. "Change the instruction of the bounty. I want all three of them as targets, and I want everyone in Abyssos hunting them. Increase the reward for their death to instant freedom. I'm sure they would all jump at that. If this doesn't work, then we'll have to do something truly drastic. I don't want any of them surviving the next 12 hours."