The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

Fort Dominion,

Sector 7, Ragnarok.

Tyrus Hadjen stood within one of the largest meeting chambers in Fort Dominion, surrounded by an array of champions and prominent elites from the three kingdoms. The chamber was magnificent—walls and pillars covered entirely in reinforcement runes. And those were only the ones on the surface.

He had heard that the crafters of this particular chamber had laid down their runes on each brick, making it second only to the command center in Ragnarok in terms of security.

Natural light streamed in from an array of stained-glass windows, painting the hall in hues of blue, red, green, and crimson. A rectangular concrete table stood at the center of the chamber, and on each side of it, Ambassador Hakim and Ambassador Morozov stood, grim-faced as General Lucas Deaton, who sat at the head, addressed them all.

It had been a week since Commander Lunarshard had been exposed as a cultist, and what had happened since then had been a complete overhaul of the military systems. Every officer under the commander had been interrogated. Every soldier whose file had crossed his table had been interrogated. But beyond that, every individual in a position of power and authority in the entire kingdom had been interrogated.

And sadly, many of them had been arrested, either as sympathizers or cultists themselves—people from his battalion, soldiers he'd considered his friends, people he had trusted with his life—leaving their entire military system in shambles.

The last few days had been a race against time to put things back into a semblance of order, lest they begin to seem weak or disorganized to the other kingdoms, especially now that they had two ambassadors and several champions living among them.

It was a complete mess, but they'd somehow managed to put things in working order. With so many vacancies and openings in the military, so many soldiers had been promoted to fill the gaps, including Tyrus himself, who had been promoted to the rank of major just the night before—only a step below the position his father had occupied before his death.

Tyrus was rising fast through the ranks, and though it wasn't a bad thing per se, it forced him to hasten his advancement drastically, pushing boundaries that wouldn't have been considered safe for most.

His core still churned from his advancement into the 42nd tier, a climb he'd nearly had to give his life for. Fortunately, he had a ton of people looking out for him, feeding him opportunities and resources to expand his horizons and shore up his experiences.

This was one such opportunity, and Tyrus was more than honored to be here, standing in a room neither his power nor rank could have brought him. He was here mainly on the recommendation of Fortuna Willowood and the simple fact that General Lucas considered him a close friend to Aodhán—and he wasn't wrong.

Tyrus had a deep friendship with Aodhán, one borne from so many odd encounters that it could have only been fate. As soon as he heard of the kidnapping, he got in contact with the family and eventually, Aldric.

And that was when he'd gotten news he hadn't been prepared for.

Aodhán was rumored to be a double inheritor. No, not rumored. Principal Zatya Malakov had said it herself.

It had taken Tyrus a moment to process that information, but after doing so, he realized how much sense it made.

Aodhán was too powerful.

His actions in catching the changeling and his consequent actions at the Steppin' Plains proved that clearly. It was no surprise the cultists had felt threatened by him, going so far as to kidnap him only a few minutes after the reveal.

No. Tyrus's expression firmed with resolve. They had to get Aodhán back, not just because they were friends, but because, more than so many others, Aodhán's potential could not be allowed to fall into the hands of cultists.

It was with that same resolve that Tyrus stood at attention in a room he didn't belong in, standing among such powerful people, uncowed.

Inhaling deeply, he ignored the questioning glances some of the other kingdom champions shot in his direction as they wondered what a mundane awakened was doing among them—and turned his gaze to the man standing beside him.

Aldric Brystion held himself up with a regality that didn't seem to be intentional at all, purple hair swishing softly around his head, as crimson pupils stared straight ahead at the General. He was beautiful, exceedingly so, but more than that, he was also another odd presence in the chamber.

Unlike Tyrus, though, Aldric's presence here wasn't contested, not just because he was Aodhán's brother, but because his power was undeniable, despite being a mundane awakened also. It wasn't anything visible, just a keen sense that this man was far from ordinary, and when Tyrus stared at him with his soul sight, he marveled at how powerfully Aldric's soul burned—a pyre of purple and crimson essence so thick it rivaled that of some early-stage advanced awakeneds.

Tyrus couldn't understand how the man was so powerful, but then he was a Brystion. A member of a family he was quickly realizing to be a family of geniuses, even though the parents were nothing to write home about, advancement-wise.

Sighing quietly, he returned his gaze to General Lucas as he spread a map across the table and began speaking. "This is what we know of the cultists so far. Their main base is located just outside our reality stream—cut off from our flow of time, karma, and fate. This suggests that they are operating within a different flow of time—slower, I suspect, seeing how they can seamlessly integrate themselves into our reality stream whenever they appear."

Tyrus let out a small sigh of relief. It had been a week since Aodhán's kidnapping in their reality. A slower time flow might mean three or four days for Aodhán.

General Lucas continued. "This disparity in the flow of time also explains why they seem so very far away, even though we've determined that the cultists are still anchored to our reality through what we've decided to call reality anchors. We believe it is through these anchors that the cultists have been able to survive and recuperate after so many attempts at destroying them."

"Cockroaches, the lot of them," Ambassador Hakim spat. "This time around we'll make sure they stay dead."

"I'm sure we will," General Lucas responded with a slight grimace, "just as soon as we make our way to the location of these reality anchors and find a way to move through them like they can." He glanced at Nayra, the resonance awakened, and continued, "We have identified two major anchors. One in Sunstone, and the other at the edge of Attilan."

The mention of their enemy continent caused a ripple of annoyance to spread, but General Lucas raised a hand to calm them down and continued, "Now, we can't go to Attilan for obvious reasons, but we can go to Sunstone, and we will."

He glanced at the two ambassadors and sighed. "I spoke to Supreme General Daystar immediately after our last meeting, briefing him on all that we have discovered and our options for a way forward. I received a message from him this morning, a message I'm sure your Supremes have sent to you too."

Both ambassadors scowled immediately, obviously hating the content of the messages they had received.

"I shouldn't question it," Ambassador Hakim muttered darkly. "But I do. By Tihamun, I do."

"It is not our place to question," Ambassador Morozov said just as darkly. "Even though we do not agree." He glanced at General Lucas. "We bear the burden of passing the message to you, Lucas. I fear my mouth cannot utter it."

At this point, Tyrus was getting nervous, and even Aldric twitched with curiosity. What message had the ambassadors received from their Supremes that was so bad they couldn't utter it?

And then, General Lucas spoke, plunging Tyrus's emotions into the depths of disgust.

"The Supremes have formed a temporary pact of truce with Sunstone."

Just a single sentence, but it sent the whole chamber into turmoil. Sunstone—a kingdom they had been at war against for nearly a millennium. Sunstone, the betrayer of kingdoms. Sunstone, whose soldiers were responsible for the death of both his parents. Sunstone, whose latest attack had rendered several cities in Ragnarok unlivable, killing thousands in the process.

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Their Supremes had formed a pact of truce with that same Sunstone.

"No," Tyrus shook his head, refusing to believe it. Anger roared within him like a pyre of crimson flames; his blood boiled. He shook his head again. "No, it can't be possible."

Around him, everyone was having varying degrees of the same reaction. Shock, anger, disgust, and refusal filled the faces of many, and for Aldric, it was even worse.

The surge of negative emotions slammed into his empathic senses like water from a broken dam, so much so that he staggered. {Tyrant of Boundless Empathy} activated immediately, and the force of the emotions was cut down immediately. He breathed in deeply, pressing down physically like a tyrant until the roaring river of emotions dulled to a smooth-flowing stream around him.

The effect of the skill was immediately obvious.

The emotions on people's faces didn't change—their outrage, shock, and anger didn't disappear—but they lost their edge enough that someone asked, "How long will this truce last?"

That single feat cost Aldric a ton of willpower, but at least people were finally asking sensible questions.

"Until the threat of the Cultists is dealt with fully." General Lucas replied with a heavy sigh. "However, for the pact to hold, we have agreed to some terms—"

"What terms?" Thalia Lightus asked curtly, earning herself a sharp glare from General Lucas.

"If you will let me speak, Miss Lightus, then we can all get through this unpleasantness quicker. Let's not forget that there are people currently suffering at the hands of these cultists. The longer we delay, the more they suffer." He turned his glare on everyone else. "Three Supremes decided this is the best way forward. No one here has a right to do or speak otherwise."

The ambassadors nodded, though they seemed like scolded children themselves.

"General Lucas is right," Ambassador Morozov proceeded to add. "We are soldiers. We obey first. Anyone who doesn't wish to do so has the right to leave and never return."

A terse silence reigned for the next few seconds, and when no one left, General Lucas spoke. "Sunstone has agreed to open their borders to us on the terms that no aggression or violence happens for the duration of the truce. We will also be working alongside their military and research personnel to inspect the anchors."

"Anchors they were very conveniently unaware of," Ambassador Hakim muttered quietly, earning himself a glare from General Lucas.

"If you're not going to help—"

"Apologies. Do go on."

General Lucas turned his gaze back to the pact in his hands. "They have also stated that any cultists captured during the operation should be shared with them for intelligence's sake. I cannot stress enough the importance of peace during this mission. We won't be going into Sunstone as soldiers, but as explorers. We go in, get what we want, and get out. We can go back to being enemies after that."

Ambassador Morozov sighed. "It pains me to say this, but General Lucas is right. However, I do not agree that we're going into Sunstone as explorers. They cannot be trusted, even with the pact. Time and time again, they have proven to us how easy it is for them to betray others. So, no. We aren't going as explorers, but as soldiers. We simply won't be fighting a war."

General Lucas nodded in agreement and then grimaced. "Unfortunately, that is not the last term we agreed to." His grimace deepened. "The Supremes have agreed to have a Sunstonian ambassador join us in these meetings so they can have access to all the information we've gathered concerning the cultists so far. In simple terms, Sunstone has joined the alliance against the cultists."

The words hit the chamber like a physical blow, but the response was markedly different from before. No one called out in outrage, even though it was evident many wanted to. Tyrus was among this many. He felt betrayed by the Supremes even though he could see the logic in their decision.

Not only would he be forced to work alongside Sunstonian soldiers without bashing their heads in with a jagged rock, but now, he would have to sit at meetings with them, discuss and argue, and parley.

No, it was too much. He couldn't take it. He wouldn't be able to control himself. His parents' killers—seated at the table—

A loud knock echoed through the silent room, and everyone turned their gaze to the massive entrance except General Lucas and the two ambassadors.

They already knew who was knocking, and with a resigned expression, General Lucas called out, "Come in."

Tyrus tensed, not sure what to expect, but knowing it would be bad. Still, the moment the door opened, the sight that greeted him was far worse than he could have imagined.

Standing at the entrance was General Li Fang of the Sunstonian army and a small entourage of Sunstonian Champions—people who had been responsible for the death of thousands. Millions.

The rage Tyrus felt in that moment was unquantifiable. But he wasn't the only one. All over the room, scowls appeared, especially from the Ragnarian entourage as their gazes landed on their ancient enemies.

Bloodlust rose immediately, gathering thickly above them as the general and his entourage stepped into the chamber and made their way to the other end of the table—the squeaks of their armor the only sound in the room.

Despite the suffocating silence, however, Tyrus was nearly deafened by the thunderous pounding of his heart in his ears as rage surged within him, fed by the cloud of bloodlust gathering above them. His anger burned so fiercely that his skin began turning the fiery orange of molten earth.

High General Li Fang was the right-hand man of the Sunstonian Supreme, a man of incredible power wielding the affinity of fire. Tyrus should have experienced the subtle bond of familiarity that came with wielding the same affinity as the man; instead, his rage only burned hotter, his body shuddering as the man came to stand opposite General Lucas, his face an expressionless mask that grated even further on Tyrus's nerves. And when their gazes locked, Tyrus barely managed to keep himself under control.

His gaze slid to the champions walking behind Li Fang, many of them familiar, and his anger rose further. The moment his gaze landed on Patchwork, however, his emotions exploded, overriding his logic and instincts.

Without thinking, he took an aggressive step forward, only to stagger to an immediate halt as his emotions experienced a sudden, violent pull. An ethereal weight slammed down on him, and in an instant, Tyrus felt his rage drain away like water through a sieve.

It wasn't a complete erasure, but it dragged him far, far back from the brink of the insanity he had almost attempted. Aldric staggered beside him, his face ashen, and that was when Tyrus realized that the cloud of bloodlust in the room had vanished, forcefully drained away by one person.

The emotions of champions and elites, drained away by a mundane awakened!

Tyrus couldn't believe it. But he wasn't the only one in shock. For a moment, everyone stared at Aldric in surprise, even the ambassadors, until Aldric spoke. "I'm sorry, but if this is the only way forward, then so be it. But I will not stand here and watch you all break a pact meant to save my brothers' lives. My two brothers are being held captive by cultists. Their lives mean more to me than my hatred for Sunstone. And they should mean more to you too."

His words landed heavily, and all around the chamber, people looked away, their faces burning with shame and shock. At the 35th tier, his body wasn't nearly strong enough to handle the burden of his deviant skill, but if he had done nothing, then someone would have ruined the pact already with a rash decision.

The moment of silence stretched for a few uncomfortable seconds before General Lucas finally cleared his throat, his expression a mixture of gratitude and concern as he studied Aldric's pale features.

"Thank you for reminding us what we have gathered here for, Aldric," he said quietly, the words carrying more weight than a simple acknowledgment. "I must say we needed the stark reminder of what we are truly fighting for."

He glanced across the room. "Everyone here, even if not personally, has lost someone to the cultists. We may hate each other, but we only have one true enemy right now, and that is the cult. It is time we put our grievances against each other behind us." He glanced at General Li Fang and grimaced. "At least for the moment."

Ambassador Morozov nodded. "That would be best. I suggest we explain to the Sunstonians what we know so far."

"We've been briefed already," General Fang spoke, his voice like gravel grinding against stone. "My people are working on finding the location of this anchor you found."

He glanced at the other ambassadors, his expression unchanging. "You have fulfilled your part of the pact by inviting us here, a step that was obviously not easy for you to take. And for that, I promise right now that we are not here to play games either."

Ambassador Hakim snorted, but General Fang simply continued. "Over the years, we have lost several Sunstonian citizens to the cultists. And now, we've lost all three children of Supreme Priest Sōsei, our holiest order. The cultists have wronged us far more than you can ever imagine. We are ready to do all we can to find our people. It puts us in an unfortunate and unpleasant situation, but we are soldiers." He grimaced. "When is anything ever pleasant?"

"Then we are on the same page, General Fang." General Lucas placed his hands on the map. "There's no more need for discussions. It is time we go to Sunstone to see this reality anchor for ourselves."

General Fang nodded. "I'm amenable to that."

In his corner, Aldric breathed a sigh of relief at the promise of action. Finally. He turned to smile at Tyrus. "Let's go save my brother."

Ambassador Morozov returned to his chambers in the fort, pretending to have forgotten something. However, the moment the door shut behind him, he clicked the holographic caller on his mechanized suit and waited patiently for his contact in the Rune family to pick up.

The holographic screen glitched a moment later, and a thin, lanky man appeared, dressed in a drab brown waistcoat and a high-collared shirt, looking more like a librarian than the threat Morozov knew him to be.

His lilac hair fell softly around a pale face marked by a glowing ouroboros etched into his forehead.

However, despite his mundane appearance, Ambassador Morozov bowed deeply. "Lord Damien Rune, I hope this is a good time."

"It is never a good time, Morozov. What news do you have for me?" Damien Rune replied, and Ambassador Morozov nodded.

"We have been joined by the Sunstonians and are now preparing to head over to the anchor site in Sunstone."

Lord Damien nodded. "We are also preparing here to head to… the other anchor site. Hopefully, we can be in and out of there before the Attilans notice anything."

Ambassador Morozov swallowed nervously. "Are you sure that's a good idea, My Lord?"

"It's the only lead we have so far," Lord Damien scowled. "It's not like we have a choice, Morozov. Do you not realize how embarrassing this is for the Rune family? We must get my younger brother back before news of his absence leaks; if not, we will be ridiculed. Of what use is a family of infinity awakeneds if they cannot even save their own from cultists?"

"I understand the stakes, Lord Damien. I'm just concerned for your safety, sir."

"And I'm concerned for the reputation of my family. Thank you, Morozov, but I would much prefer you focus on finding my brother on your end. I hope to hear good news soon."

The call clicked shut, and Ambassador Morozov stared at the screen for a moment before walking back out. It was time to head to Sunstone and inspect the anchor. Hopefully, they would have some good news by the end of the day.