The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

Aodhán felt his core surge with energy and power for the fifth time in a row as he absorbed the last core, his body shuddering from the ecstasy that compounded within him with each advancement.

The deluge of energy rushed through his pathways like a flood, drowning out his senses even as it branched into his essence threads and finally into his physical body. Energy diffused into his muscles like a raging river, strengthening them until they felt as hard as steel. His bones were not left behind—as energy rushed into them, Aodhán suddenly felt more solid, as if he had grown denser. Heavier.

His heart thudded loudly in his chest, its rhythm slightly slower than usual despite the rush of power.

He had ascended five tiers in only a few minutes, and now he felt like a bomb teetering on the edge of an explosion, his body greedily drinking in all the excess energy his spirit had failed to absorb.

Still shuddering, Aodhán inhaled deeply, savoring the rush of fresh air as it filled his lungs before finally opening his eyes. A few notifications blinked at the corner of his vision, and with a smile, Aodhán opened his status screen.

Tier: 32—41.36%

Only one thing had changed, but it wasn't just numbers on a screen. Aodhán could feel the surge of strength and power deep within his bones. Each contraction of his muscles promised explosive power, and he felt more than capable of reducing a mountain to dust.

His pathways pulsed with energy. His essence threads had multiplied, and those he'd opened glowed brighter. His spirit hummed with barely contained power, and his veins throbbed with strength ready to be unleashed.

Aodhán felt drunk—but it wasn't just from power. It was the giddy sense of potential.

Unlike the evolved class, each advancement in the advanced class brought with it more power than two evolved advancements combined. Five tiers at once felt like ten in the evolved class. His body brimmed with barely contained energy.

He felt like punching something or unleashing his aura on the earth below.

Instead, he pushed himself to his feet, jumping nearly three feet in the air from the force of his movement. He grimaced as his feet touched ground once again, earth caving beneath them, and looked to his companions, wondering if they had witnessed his temporary lapse in control.

They hadn't.

Daruk sat with his eyes closed; a few cores still gathered before him as he slowly absorbed a swirling water core. Baxter, on the other hand, had absorbed all his cores and simply sat with his eyes scrunched tight, as if in meditation—but not quite.

Realizing that he was the first to finish, he turned his gaze to a mountain range in the distance, exhaling in relief when he found no cores nearby.

He sighed once more and began moving around, shaking his arms and legs slowly as he tried to acquaint himself with his new strength and speed. While he walked, he read through the rest of his status screen, seeking a deeper understanding of all the skills and titles he had gained so far.

Bloodline: Origin Storm Supremacy. {Unique+}

Amplifies storm abilities by 6% + {Eye of the Storm, passive}

Grants major resistance to lightning

Aura of Origin supremacy.

Treader of Dread—Greater variant: This is a title given to any evolved-class awakened who willfully pits themselves against an advanced-class creature no less than five tiers above them and then survives to tell the tale.

Effects:

Ø Defier's Grit: Increases resistance to aura suppression from enemies no more than 50 tiers above you.

Ø Battle-Honed Core: Grants an increase to willpower regeneration, energy manipulation, and recovery during life-threatening circumstances.

Ø Dread Tempering: Unlocks an alternate path to bloodline evolution and refining. Bloodline can now be refined through accumulated near-death encounters with creatures five or more tiers above you, rather than consuming vast amounts of willpower. May trigger unique bloodline paths not found through conventional willpower evolution paths. Unique+ → Unique++ (1103/7200 DT)

Monica's attack had cut his experiment with the gold lightning short, but Aodhán was determined to test the skill thoroughly before using it on himself or someone else. His gaze strayed to his bloodline next, and his smile widened.

His unique bloodline had evolved, gaining a plus sign to signify the change.

It was only a 3% amplification boost to his storm skills, but it was still nothing to scoff at. Coupled with whatever he gained from Eye of the Storm, Aodhán suspected he was working with a ten percent overall enhancement—which was fantastic.

His gaze fell on the required number of creatures he needed to kill to evolve his bloodline again, and his smile stretched into a grin.

Back in Ragnarok, finding seven thousand two hundred creatures five tiers above him would have been a real challenge, but here, with the ever-attacking hordes, he could complete that requirement in no time—jumping two evolution ranks in only a few weeks at most.

It was an exhilarating thought, and that exhilaration rose to elation as his gaze landed on the final change on his status screen.

Absorb Lightning >>> Absorb Energy: What is electricity but energy in its purest form? Absorb the energy of your enemies or willing allies to enhance yourself or fuel a skill.

This was not a skill Aodhán had expected nor had any inspiration about, and he wondered if perhaps this was because of his bloodline evolution.

It was a great skill nonetheless, and Aodhán smiled as he read through the description. The ability to absorb the energy of enemies was powerful. At the very least, it would help him max out his class quickly.

At best, though, Aodhán grinned as his mind provided a dozen ways he could utilize the skill.

Its potential was insane.

Aodhán's smile widened as he wondered what it would feel like to absorb all the energy of a person. How could he enhance a skill with such energy?

For the first time in a while, Aodhán wished the system provided more instructions with every skill so he didn't have to figure everything out himself. However, the promise of more experiments and testing excited him, and he came to an abrupt stop at the edge of the glade, looking out at the rocky valley below.

A small smile appeared on his face, and he inhaled deeply once more, savoring the whistle of wind as it curled around him and fluttered his robes. Despite the situation, Aodhán felt oddly at peace. Calm, like the eye of the storm, truly.

But then again, after Aldric had eliminated the swirling rage in his mind, he was almost constantly at peace—save for moments of extreme stress like when Zatya had announced him as an inheritor and this whole kidnapping situation.

He looked back at Daruk and Baxter, and his smile blossomed, glad that he wasn't doing this alone. He could rely on Daruk and, to an extent, Baxter. With them by his side, there wasn't much he couldn't handle.

However, one matter weighed heavily on his mind, and ever since his evolution into the advanced class, Aodhán had wondered how to relay it to Daruk.

His new understanding of the origin planes had unlocked so many unexplainable things for him, and he wanted to do the same for Daruk—maybe even Baxter, if he proved himself trustworthy. But more than that, Aodhán wanted to inform Daruk about the will imprints.

The truth was that storm awakeneds were a rare breed, and the probability of someone stumbling upon his imprints was low compared to what it would be if Daruk tried it too. Ice awakeneds were much more common, giving them a better chance of discovery.

The problem, however, was teaching Daruk how to do it without also revealing it to the cultists. They had no secure way of communicating, nor was this something a simple explanation would suffice for. If he was to share this with Daruk, he had to begin with his new understanding of the origin planes—sharing his whole inspiration, in a way.

But to do that, they needed a conversation. A long, detailed conversation that would no doubt reveal everything he wanted to keep hidden from the cultists.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Are we still alone?" Daruk's voice echoed from behind him, and Aodhán nodded.

"They're either giving us some distance or haven't found us yet."

"The former is more plausible," Baxter muttered with his eyes still closed, and Aodhán chuckled.

A wave of chill spread toward him, and his lips lifted into a smirk as he turned to see Daruk struggling to get his aura under control. Daruk was now in the 31st tier, having advanced five tiers as well, but while Aodhán struggled to master his new strength, Daruk's issue was his aura.

Frost covered an area nearly three meters around him—a result of his latent aura—and with each second it grew, spreading out to touch Baxter, who opened an eye to glare at Daruk. "I'm assuming this isn't intentional?"

"I'll get the hang of it in a moment," Daruk muttered with a grimace, his expression scrunched into a frown as he fought to leash his aura. But his efforts seemed futile, because despite them, the circle of frost kept expanding, showing just how powerful his ice affinity had become.

After a few minutes, though, he managed to get it leashed and wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead as he stood up to join Aodhán. "That was harder than it looked."

"I suspect it was," Aodhán chuckled, turning his attention back to the valley below, savoring the peace and quiet he knew wouldn't last forever. Daruk did the same—or at least he tried to—but after a few seconds of silence, he asked, "What do you think will happen now?"

"I don't know," Aodhán shrugged, "but this calm is suspicious. Whatever comes next will certainly not be pretty."

"But you're stronger now. We are all stronger."

"That's true," Aodhán nodded in acknowledgment. Baxter had advanced two tiers and was now at the 46th tier, putting him only a few tiers below the strongest person Aodhán had sensed in the cells. Still, with the numbers they were dealing with, it would be very easy to overwhelm them, especially if those with strange concepts like infinity and dream joined the hunt.

He voiced his concerns to Daruk and sighed. "We'll just have to deal with it as best we can."

"I guess we will," Daruk concurred with a sad smile and shook his head. "I wonder how Synové is faring?"

"Driving herself insane with worry," Daruk muttered lightly, as if he wanted to make a joke out of it, but it didn't quite land. His expression turned somber, and he looked away. "I doubt she's faring any better than we are."

Aodhán sighed. "Unrid will be no better, but at least they'll have Yue and Aldric to..." He shook his head again. "I don't know. Yue will barely be able to comfort herself, not to mention someone else, and Aldric will be too busy managing everyone's emotions to attend to himself."

Daruk shuddered as his emotions roiled within him, triggering the delicate balance of control he had achieved. He swallowed and whispered, "We need to get out of here before they all run mad."

"We will," Aodhán assured him, his expression tightening with determination.

Daruk looked back at him, his gaze searching Aodhán's for conviction, and after a while he asked, "How are you so certain?"

"Because a plan is in motion, and I really wish I could tell you all about it without revealing it to the cultists."

Daruk grimaced, a deep frown scarring his usual neutral mask. However, only a few seconds after Aodhán spoke, the frown slipped from his face, replaced by an expression of elation. He gripped Aodhán's shoulders tightly, coating them with frost as he whispered, "We can. We totally can."

"How?" Aodhán frowned. "We are not telepaths, and our chips are fried—"

"MemoryIce," Daruk hissed, his voice lowering even further. "I can absorb a person's memory and even gift other people these memories."

Aodhán raised his eyebrows in astonishment and nodded. "I really need to see your status screen so we can work better together. Share it with me after this, but first—if you absorb my memory, do I lose it forever? And how do you know which memory to absorb?"

Daruk paused at that, realizing that he didn't have the answers to Aodhán's questions either. A smile blossomed on his lips, and he chuckled. "It seems you're not the only one who needs to do some experimenting."

Aodhán chuckled, but his heart felt lighter. If he could share the memory of his conversation with Daruk without losing it himself, then that would be a great boon for both of them. However, until the skill was considered safe, Aodhán wasn't willing to part with any more of his memories. He had lost too much already.

With that settled, Aodhán decided to address another matter that had plagued his mind ever since he'd arrived in Abyssos. For the longest time, he had feared pulling anything out of the lightning pendant lest the cultists destroy it on sight, but after pulling out the mountain of cores without any repercussions, Aodhán felt ready to take things further.

He moved to the center of the glade and finally pulled out the holographic ritual Geneva had given him. Baxter opened his eyes at that, and when he saw the ritual circle, his eyes widened in shock.

"You have that here? Activate it immediately."

But Aodhán was more concerned with the realm's response to the sight of the ritual circle. He glanced up at the sky, expecting a tribulation to burst into existence as the cultists tried to destroy the ritual circle, but none came. There was not even a whisper of rage.

Aodhán grimaced, already feeling a sense of disappointment.

If the ritual circle could potentially lead them out of here, then the cultists should have reacted. Even a slight sense of rage would have been enough to show him there was probably a way out. But this silence? It meant the cultists couldn't care less about the item.

Daruk sensed the direction of his thoughts and squatted down beside him. "It wouldn't hurt to try, whether it works or not?"

Aodhán glanced back at the ritual circle, and after a moment, he nodded, channeling several strands of energized willpower into the activation circle. The circle glowed gold, sparkling with a ghostly blue screen that stood nearly six feet in height.

But no one appeared.

Not even an outline. The ritual couldn't reach Geneva.

Baxter eyed the dormant ritual for a moment and asked, "Who is that even linked to?"

"The Witch of Selia," Aodhán muttered dejectedly as he stared at the now flickering ritual. Baxter muttered something about him being more connected than he had thought, but Aodhán wasn't listening.

Despite suspecting what would happen, Aodhán still felt disappointment settle upon him like a wet blanket. Daruk tapped his shoulder in encouragement, and Aodhán smiled sadly. "I was hoping it would disappoint me in a good way."

"All hope isn't lost yet. This was just one option."

Baxter whistled again and shook his head, muttering something about strange, connected people. Aodhán chuckled and shoved the ritual circle back into the pendant, but in that moment, unknown to them, as the circle crossed the boundary between Abyssos and the spatial space of the pendant, a spark erupted in the activation circle before promptly dimming as it left that boundary.

***

Back in the command center of Ragnarok, Geneva gasped loudly, drawing the attention of everyone present as a frown of confusion etched itself across her face.

"I felt it just now," she spoke, her eyes and spirit still searching for that moment of connection she had just experienced. But it had been too brief for her to do more than feel it. She couldn't tell the direction it had come from, nor could she sense it anymore.

"What did you feel?" Artemis asked, and Geneva turned to find the entire chamber staring at her.

"The ritual circle I gave Aodhán. I felt it activate just now." She shook her head, still confused. "For the tiniest moment, I sensed Aodhán's location like a star so far away, but now I can't make anything of it, and the feeling's gone."

"Not if Nayra can make something of it," the Calodan ambassador suggested, and without hesitation, Geneva rushed to stand beside the resonance awakened, who had already begun rearranging all the items, placing Geneva at the seventh point of the heptagon while Aldric remained at the sixth.

Nayra's eyes turned milky white once more, and her arms began moving in ethereal, circular patterns that Geneva couldn't make head or tail of. She muttered something under her breath, like a ritual chant. Her eyes rolled back, showing only the whites, and in that moment, Geneva felt a resonance within her spirit, searching for the connection she had just experienced.

The wind picked up around them, and Geneva felt her seals grow warm and then hot as the resonance surged, and the connection bloomed in her mind once again.

Obsidian skies. Mountains. Light. So much light. And then a sudden cutoff.

Geneva gasped, struggling to hold on to the connection the resonance had just awakened, but just like the first time, it seemed so far away, so cut off from reality, like the light of a distant star that had already died.

"What did you see?" Geneva asked as Nayra's pupils reappeared, but the woman only seemed to have grown more confused than ever.

"I was right about their location being a place cut off from our reality," Nayra replied tentatively, as if she was still working through all that she had sensed and seen. "But I can sense another major anchor point, this one far stronger than the one in Sunstone."

She raised a finger above the world map and then placed it down, her fingers trembling as they came to rest on the map of Attilan. "The anchor is here. At the very edge."

***

Back in Abyssos, Baxter placed an arm over Aodhán's shoulders and said, "Don't be disappointed."

"You are disappointed," Aodhán retorted.

"True." Baxter nodded and smiled. "Maybe that advice is shit."

"It is," Daruk added, and they all chuckled.

And it was in that moment—that perfect moment of male camaraderie and laughter—that the cultists decided to strike.

An alarm blared across the realm, and an instant later, a crimson screen appeared before them all.

BOUNTY: KILL AODHAN BRYSTION, DARUK BRYSTION, AND BAXTERION VALENHALL.

KILL ANY OF THESE HARVESTS AND EARN YOURSELF INSTANT FREEDOM.

DURATION: 5 HOURS.

Please note: Any harvest who doesn't participate in this hunt risks being our next target.

Aodhán's jaw clenched in anger as he read the bounty's contents, the calm and peace he had felt earlier evaporating completely. The cultists had sweetened the reward of the bounty just as he had suspected they would, but beyond that, they were threatening anyone who didn't participate in the hunt.

"How many people are left?" Aodhán asked, trying to get a feel for the number of cores they were about to deal with. The answer wasn't encouraging.

"One hundred and twenty," Daruk replied. "Excluding us."

Silence reigned for a moment until Baxter broke it. "Well, you did say it would get worse. We have no choice but to face it. We're all wanted criminals now."

"It's a scam," Aodhán cursed, eyeing the floating bounty screen in disgust. He had seen the Fated and the Watchers, and he doubted any of them would be willing to part with three captives just like that.

"It doesn't matter what it is," Daruk replied, mirroring Baxter's determination as a chill wind began swirling around him. "There are dozens of enemies rushing toward us right now with the intent to kill us. We'll just have to make sure they don't succeed."

"That's just it," Aodhán disagreed with a shake of his head. "They are not our enemies. The cultists are. We cannot afford to lose sight of that."

"So, we just stand and wait for them to kill us?" Baxter scowled, but before Aodhán could respond, he sensed half a dozen cores enter his range at the same time, rushing toward them from different angles.

"They're here," he whispered, but even as he spoke, he sensed another two cores, then three, then seven, all rushing toward them with intent to kill, their logic completely overridden by their desperation for freedom.

Daruk watched Aodhán's expression as it grew even more distressed and asked, "If we're not going to kill, do we run?"

Aodhán wanted to nod, but he knew that was a futile endeavor. There was nowhere to run, nor could they run forever. They had to stand and fight.

Pushing his empathy aside, Aodhán braced himself for carnage and shook his head. "No running. We fight. But if you can avoid a kill, do so."

"Once again, I ask why?" Baxter pressed, and Aodhán's expression hardened as five new cores entered his range.

"Because the more people who remain alive, the weaker the Fated becomes. By killing these people, we're simply giving him bodies and spirits to harvest."