The Ascender's Legacy [A CHAOTIC STORM LITRPG]

Back in the cultists' amphitheater, the once-excited atmosphere had fallen into a cloud of gloom and doom as they all watched the last few minutes of the first level, which had ended a full thirty hours ahead of schedule.

The viewers were furious with the rushed spectacle and early deaths, complaining that they had hardly gotten to know any of the harvests before they died. But that wasn't the problem on anyone's mind at the moment.

No, the real problem was the foul smell of decaying corpses filling the air.

"Why won't he absorb them?" Elder Makin whispered to his neighbor for the third time in the last ten minutes. "The corpses are polluting the atmosphere."

Elder Voss shrugged silently, a grimace etched deeply into his features as he glanced at the fuming Fated.

For a reason none of the elders could explain, the Fated had suddenly stopped harvesting the seals of the cultists, claiming he needed a moment of rest. Rest?!

What a ridiculous idea.

Sárán Beithir had harvested armies of his enemies without rest. Why was the Fated letting good resources go to waste and torturing them with this all-too-foul smell?

Another body from the pile of bleeding corpses before the Fated slumped, flesh dimming to ash as life completely exited it.

"And there goes another one," Elder Makin whispered again, his expression scrunched into one of annoyance as he watched the nearest devotees move to dispose of what he assumed was the seventh dead body the Fated had refused to harvest. "He is wasting resources."

"And our time," Elder Voss finally responded, his grimace deepening in disgust. "I don't know what is wrong with him, but something is seriously wrong." He glanced back at the screen and scowled. "And this obsessive fascination with the storm awakened. Why is he so hell-bent on harvesting him in particular when so many seals and skills are wasting right in front of him?"

Elder Makin shook his head in confusion and dissatisfaction—a motion echoed by several other elders and devotees as they all had different versions of the same conversation with their neighbors.

But no one said anything to the Fated himself, who stared at the screen with single-minded focus, blue veins bulging on his forehead.

Bane Helsarin, who stood beside him, seemed to have it worse—far worse than the Fated's transmigrants, who simply glared at the pile of decaying corpses with mild interest. He seemed to be holding back the urge to vomit as harvest after harvest was wasted.

What was the point of the Harvest tournament if the Fated refused to utilize it?

A few seconds passed. Another body dimmed, and this time many of the elders failed to hold back their sighs. They shifted uncomfortably in their thrones, metal groaning to speak the words they couldn't utter. Below them, the devotees kept sending questioning glances at the Fated, wondering what the hell was going on.

The answer was pretty simple.

Jethro had harvested too many people at once, straining his spirit far more than he could have thought possible. Aodhán was right. His spirit was stretched too thin to contain all the seals and skills he had harvested, even with the help of his pet transmigrants.

While the elders whispered among themselves in confusion, Jethro fixed his gaze on Aodhán's screen, praying to Sárán that the transmigrant died or took the oath-debt by accident. There was no denying it any longer. His spirit was too weak to live up to the legacy of Sárán Béithir, who had somehow harvested so many seals and skills with his spirit alone.

But that didn't mean he couldn't live up to it. He simply needed help along the way.

His lips curled in distaste as he realized that the watchers had been right after all. He needed Aodhán to join him, not die. Even if the transmigrant died now, his spirit was too weak to harvest him. His core, too unstable to shoulder the mighty weight that was sure to be the transmigrant's seals and innate skills.

And so, fifteen minutes later, when the first level eventually collapsed without the transmigrant dying, Jethro didn't unleash a roar of fury like the elders thought he would. Instead, he uttered shocking words. Words that broke every sense of convention to have ever existed.

The Fated glanced at Bane Helsarin and commanded, "Reverse the time for these decaying bodies, and Elder Korvash"—he glanced at the 5th elder, a powerful life awakened—"heal as many of this harvest as you can and throw them back into Abyssos. I wish to be merciful."

His words sparked even more confusion among the elders and handlers, and they all muttered among themselves, completely taken aback by the sudden shift in the Fated's demeanor.

"By the watchers, Your Fatedness," Elder Basilea summoned courage to speak. "Such a thing has never been done before."

"Well, let it begin now," Jethro replied with an air of feigned nonchalance. "Besides, I think the viewers would very much like to see their favorites again."

The elders exchanged heavy glances before nodding, and the devotees quickly sprang into action as if they had been waiting for their signal all along. Jethro frowned at this but said nothing, his heart and core beating and pulsing as if he had just run a marathon.

He had to find a way to evolve his spirit before the next level ended, lest it become obvious to the whole Order that he was a weaker version of their god. He needed to delve even deeper into Sárán's book of prophecy and techniques to find out how his patron had managed to strengthen his spirit so powerfully, but first, he had to make sure there were no other deaths for the next forty-eight hours at least.

Groaning inwardly, he stood to his feet, all the elders and devotees following him. The handlers began to do the same, but he waved them off with a tight smile. "No need. How many people took the oath-debt?"

"Seventeen, sir," the lead handler responded immediately. "Should we unleash them on the transmigrant immediately?"

"No," Jethro shook his head, his expression scrunching into a grimace. That was exactly the opposite of what he needed right now. "Let's use the second level to equip them and strengthen them. Remove the attacking hordes so they only have to deal with the main threats. Also, erase the bounty on the transmigrant and his friends. I bet they'll be confused as to what's happening."

Those in the amphitheater exchanged confused glances as they all wondered, "What bizarre madness is going through the mind of the Fated?"

***

Zareen Tahrizaar spasmed on the burning ground, tears flowing down her face as the rising heat scorched her skin and burned her eyes. The scent of blood filled the air, and the pungent smell of burning flesh filled her lungs.

Of the five of them who had attacked the cursed storm awakened, she was the only one left alive.

Karvath, the life awakened, had been drained to death and further obliterated by a beam of lightning. Sloan, the wind awakened, had been split from breastbone to pelvis almost immediately the battle began, leaving her, Kharissa the earth awakened, and Felder the fire awakened to rot on the burning ground.

Kharissa had died soon after, her body and spirit completely drained of essence, while Felder had given up the ghost only minutes after the alarm went off, declaring the destruction of the first realm.

It had been over an hour since then, and what had begun as sweltering heat now cooked her skin alive. Pain racked her entire being, rising from the earth into the raw blisters on her back. It was agony—pure and unadulterated. But Zareen couldn't move, couldn't turn, and couldn't crawl away to safety.

Her core was drained dry of energy, and the trickle she had regained since then was the only thing keeping her conscious. She didn't want to die, but in the pain and agony of the moment, Zareen wanted to be rid of that energy still tethering her to life and fall into the loving embrace of death like all her friends had done, but the energy stubbornly kept her alive.

If she could just lift her hand, or even move a single muscle, she could unleash the energy in a wave and finally be rid of this pain that engulfed her mind and body in a cocoon of sweltering heat.

But she couldn't move. She could barely even breathe.

A choked sob escaped her parched lips as she cursed herself for joining up with the cannibal on this foolish manhunt.

"I should have opted out," she thought to herself as her sweat and tears fell to the ground in a sizzle of steam. "I should have never come here."

A constant hiss of steam echoed in her ears as the bodies around her bubbled like meat, so utterly drained that their bodies had no defense against the heat. The smell hit her next, a pungent wave of roasted blood and burning flesh that caused her eyes and nose to burn.

"Tihamun, please save me," she cried out to the god of her clan, her voice a harsh whisper that barely reached her bleeding ears. "Please, I just want to turn. My back—my whole body, it burns."

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But her god neither heard her nor did he answer.

The heat rose steadily, and before long, tremors began to rock the earth, dragging her blistered back against the rocky ground.

Zareen would have cried out in pain had her mouth agreed to move. Pain lanced through her as her skin tore from her back like paper, agony sweeping into every fiber of her being without mercy. Tears poured down her face in streams. Her nose burned. Her throat itched like the inside of a rusted pipe.

Her fate was decided. She was going to die here.

Even if she regained enough strength to get up now, there was only an hour and a half left. She wouldn't have made it to the exit portal even in her prime with so little time, let alone now.

Hatred and pain burned within her as she darted her gaze to the crimson screen floating above her. She hated the cultists. Oh, how terribly she detested them. Oh, how callous and evil their hearts were to offer her no choice in disguise of one.

Zareen hated everything the cultists stood for, but she also didn't want to die here, in this ascendant-forsaken land of evil and filth. She wanted to see her family again. See her friends. But more importantly, she wanted to live.

The crimson screen pulsed as if in adherence to her thoughts, and another choked sob escaped her parched throat at the complete helplessness of her situation.

"Tihamun, please," Zareen rasped out once again, the words unintelligible as the tremors beneath her intensified into earthquakes and geysers began springing up from fissures. "Please, Tihamun. Perform a miracle and save me from this agonizing death."

But just like the first time, her prayers went unheard.

Her skin smoked, her hair burned off, and her eyes dimmed as every ounce of moisture drained from them. Death came closer with each second that passed. Time ticked down to forty-five minutes and then thirty.

Another five minutes passed, and in that instant, any hope for salvation Zareen had clung to died.

She looked back at the crimson screen and croaked, her voice nonexistent, "Save me." Save my life, and I'll be indebted to you forever."

The crimson screen flashed green in an instant, and a line of text appeared.

Congratulations, harvest number 76. You have become an agent of Abyssos.

Zareen felt something crack within her spirit as an oath chain wrapped itself around her core, draining what little energy she had left by half. A beam of light shot down to engulf her, and the next instant, Zareen found herself only a meter away from the swirling exit portal.

She didn't even have to move. The suction of the swirling portal dragged her into its depths like a piece of debris. Light flashed and colors swirled around her in a tumbling, mesmerizing display, and an instant later, Zareen was spat out into a realm of snow and ice.

Her smoking body collapsed into a pile of snow, and Zareen promptly lost consciousness.

***

"Run faster, Mira," Yuna Sōsei yelled at her younger sister as they raced for the exit portal. "We only have an hour left."

"I'm tired," Mira panted as she jumped back to avoid a geyser, platinum gold hair matted to her head from sweat. "I… I can't—"

"You can and you will." Yuna grabbed her, sweat slicking between their fingers. "Brother is waiting for us. You know he would never leave without us."

The mention of their brother gave them a burst of strength like it always did, and for the next twenty minutes, they ran with utmost determination until weariness crept in once again.

Mira was completely drenched in sweat, her legs shaking from the constant running. She stumbled, but Yuna caught her before her face could touch the ground. As the elder sister, Yuna was trying her best to stay strong, but the truth was that she was just as weary as her sister.

They had been running for over two hours now, and though her solar affinity and bloodline granted her some resistance against the heat, she was still only in the evolved class, despite all her efforts to advance.

"Come on," she panted as she urged both herself and her sister to keep running. "Just a little more, and we'll make it."

Mira slumped against her, her bones like rubber as weariness ate deep into her core.

"Look at the portal, Mira," Yuna snapped, raising her sister's head to the shining light in the distance. Desperation coated her tone as she continued. "Focus on the light. It's so close, Mira. Can't you feel it?"

Mira nodded weakly, and Yuna forced a smile. "Brother's waiting for us. We have to get to him before the realm explodes."

Mira nodded, determination sparking in her gaze. "To meet brother."

Yuna smiled in relief. "Let's go. Come on."

Their race continued for another fifteen minutes, and Yuna's heart nearly burst with elation as they finally crested a hill and found the exit portal only a few meters away.

Her blossoming smile, however, died the moment her gaze landed on the multitude of creatures blocking their way, and she realized they would have to fight their way through. Her strength took a quick nosedive in that instant, and her knees wobbled.

She looked back at her sister, wide-eyed, only to find the same fear in Mira's eyes.

"We can't possibly fight through that," Mira cried, tears already pooling in her eyes. "By the sun, we're dead."

Yuna opened her mouth to speak, but no words of motivation escaped her lips. She was tired, her bones weary, her muscles sore. Her core still brimmed with power, but her body was completely sapped of strength from the heat.

Mira was right. There was no way they could forge a path for themselves through the horde. With each thought, her strength dwindled until a woman wielding entropy appeared, tearing through the horde like a cyclone of death and decay.

Yuna perked up at the sight, and with shuddering breaths, she ran forward, dragging Mira along. "We can follow her trail. We'll stay far back enough that she won't see us, but close enough that we might be able to follow the path she creates for us."

Mira's eyes brightened at the idea, and she pulled on the last of her strength as they raced toward the horde. Weariness ate deep into their bones, but none of it mattered with safety this close.

They reached the horde a moment later, and with a beam of solar energy from Yuna supported by a blast of wind from Mira, they tore through the barricade of creatures the entropy awakened had just cleared.

"Faster, Mira," Yuna called out as she pushed herself forward, another beam of solar energy blasting against the horde closing in before her. Her attacks barely dealt any damage, but they frightened the creatures just enough to keep the decaying passage open for them.

Nevertheless, Yuna and Mira were still in the evolved class, which meant their speed lacked greatly compared to that of the entropy awakened, and eventually, the woman broke through the barrier, leaving them with only a few seconds of peace before the horde closed in front of them.

Yuna cried as she unleashed another beam of solar energy, desperation evident in her tone as she tried to force her way through. She created a wall construct first, but the horde shattered it like delicate glass. Wind swirled around them as Mira tried to do the same thing, but her efforts were even less effective, and with another stab of panic, Yuna realized they were trapped at the center of a raging horde with nowhere else to go but forward.

Fear churned within her like a raging river, but the thought of their brother filled her with a wave of determination. Letting out a cry of pain as a claw raked across her back, Yuna unleashed another beam of solar energy, pouring all that she had into the attack.

Sword constructs manifested in the air around her to form a horizontal cyclone designed to drill forward. Monsters shrieked in panic as the heat increased, and though she caused no actual damage, the horde gave way slightly.

Yuna pressed in with all she had, the world blurring around her as she fought desperately forward. Shrieks of panic and agitation filled her ears as the heat intensified, but Yuna barely paid them any mind. Claws raked her skin, and horns stabbed her back.

She cried in pain, but she didn't turn back. She couldn't turn back. If she turned back now, weariness would slam down on her like a hammer, and she would lose her momentum completely.

Stumbling forward, Yuna pressed in with all that she had, shoving and kicking like an animal herself, until finally, she broke through the barrier, her entire body shuddering from exhaustion yet filled with elation.

"We did it, Mira," she cried as she turned to hug her sister—only to find herself utterly and completely alone.

Panic slammed into her like a boulder, and she looked back at the horde with wide eyes, only to find Mira stumbling within the mass, half a dozen feet away.

"Mira!" she cried as she dove back into the horde without hesitation, but this time around, she had to fight her way against the tide. And it was infinitely harder.

The horde pressed against Yuna like a living wall of claws and teeth, every creature sensing her vulnerability. Without momentum, without the surprise of following the entropy awakened's path, she was nothing more than prey stumbling back into the den.

A scaled creature lunged at her, sharp canines bared in aggression, and Yuna barely managed to conjure a solar shield to protect herself. The creature's horns stabbed through her hastily constructed shield like glass, and Yuna had to dodge sharply to the left to avoid being run through by a set of horns.

Another horned creature attacked, and Yuna dodged as both horns locked, blood spraying to cover her face and body as one of the creatures took a horn in the neck and stumbled back.

"Mira!" Yuna screamed as she dove through the created opening, pushing deeper into the writhing mass of monsters.

A cyclone of wind up ahead was her only response, and Yuna quickly pressed toward it, panic rising as a bed of platinum gold hair suddenly dipped below the surface. Desperation and fear pushed her forward. Another claw raked across her arm, drawing blood, but Yuna barely noticed, her whole attention fixed on the cyclone of wind.

"I'm coming, Mira!" she yelled as she struggled forward, pushing against the tide in desperation. "Stay with me, Mira. Stay—"

A gargoyle arm slammed into her head from the side, and Yuna nearly lost consciousness as the force of the attack sent her stumbling. She fell to the scorching ground, claws and talons raking against her with furious agitation, but she quickly picked herself up, a blast of solar energy exploding from her as she tore her way forward.

"Mira!" she shouted again, and this time, she received a weak response.

"Yuna! Save me." Mira's platinum hair peeked out above the sea of monsters, so close that Yuna could almost grab it.

And grab she did.

Without hesitation, she lunged forward with all she had and yanked Mira by the hair, pulling her into her arms before the horde could sweep her away. Mira was bleeding from numerous gashes on her body, claws having torn her clothes to pieces, but she was alive.

Cradling her sister, Yuna turned around to face the horde once again, knowing full well that she couldn't make it with her arms occupied. However, as fate would have it, a tiny passage opened up before her as one of the massive beasts stumbled, crushing a series of smaller creatures beneath its bulk.

Without hesitation, Yuna staggered through the narrow opening, clutching Mira tightly against her chest as she prayed that the opening stayed open long enough for her to make it through.

It did, thankfully, and a few seconds later, Yuna burst through the barrier once again, tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and bloodied fabric as strength drained from her body like water through a sieve.

The crimson screen behind her began to blink, and Yuna choked back a sob when she realized they had less than a minute left to make it to the portal. On her own, she probably would have made it, but with an unconscious Mira in her arms, she wouldn't.

Still, she couldn't leave Mira behind to die, and with a cry of agony, she picked herself up from the scorching ground and began running toward the portal.

"Please," she cried to whatever god would listen. "Please, let us make it through."

The portal swirled before her, still several paces away. The earth cracked beneath her feet, and earthquakes rocked the entire realm to its core. The heat had spiked so much that breathing itself was difficult. Sweat drenched her completely from head to toe. It was obvious that she wouldn't make it on time.

And yet, Yuna refused to drop Mira.

Three seconds…

"Please," she choked out, arms shuddering from her sister's unconscious weight. "Please, please…"

Two seconds…

Tears ran down her eyes, obscuring her vision as Yuna realized with devastating finality that they would never make it to the portal in time. There were still a dozen steps left.

One second.

Yuna activated her movement skill, {Solar Flash}, crying out in grief as she felt the oath chain snap around her core instantly. The world blurred as she rushed forward, the implication of what she had just done clear. She had just signed her life over to the cultists.

She stumbled into the portal a millisecond later, and the last thing she heard was a huge explosion as the world exploded behind her.

She had made it through, but at what cost?