The light filling Ethan's eyes recedes to reveal a world of rushing smoke. Currents of grey trails follow rushing winds descending around Ethan from a black sky. They crash on invisible ground, exploding to the sides before merging and molding the scribbles of a landscape.
Colors take over the grey outlines, revealing a paved road around Ethan's feet, bordered by stone fences and far-going fields of wheat. A mansion, its walls made of thick chunks of chiseled stones, lies at the road's end, atop a hill.
'The realm of ascension is supposed to be a tailored challenge,' Ethan reminisces. His body feels devoid of the feebleness of using life force, as if it had been restored. He glances over the landscape, searching for any trace of enemies with predator's sight.
Russ opens his eyes on the surface of Ethan's shadow to glance around and sniff the air. His presence reassures Ethan; it would have been troublesome if he remained in Opal.
A wind rattles the fields of wheat, filling the air with the noises of its presence. It moves the clouds, letting through God rays that shine upon the landscape. The peaceful sight sets Ethan on edge; reason tells him it is a ploy to get him to lower his guard.
Convinced whatever awaits him is in that solitary mansion, Ethan starts walking up the road. His mind dwells on his current worries, but he remains alert, scanning the landscape with Prescience.
'I need to find a way to immunize myself to Kael's powers and to know who's affected,' Ethan thinks. 'With the average duration of the Realm of Ascension orbiting a week, it gives Kael and Caelum too much room. I have to warn Tombstone, and if I can't make it in time to Kingsreach, Caelum could take what he needs from Thea.'
Closing in on the mansion, Ethan triggers predator's sight to listen but hears nothing.
'Chances are she never visited Kingsreach. And even if she did, as basically a princess of another country, it would have been under official business. She wouldn't have visited their adventurer guild. This means she'll have some travel time. The easy way would be sailing, but it could leave too much of a trail. If she's smart, she'll travel by road; hiring solitary mercenaries or adventurers to escort her shouldn't be outside her price range. It gives me time before she finds herself near him.'
A playful, childish laughter breaks Ethan's thoughts. He looks to the side to see three children dressed in togas playing a game with small rocks.
'They weren't there a moment ago,' Ethan thinks. 'Illusions? Or do they have a talent to escape my abilities?'
The doors to the mansion open to reveal a corridor going to the sides and an archway leading to an inner courtyard. Plants cover the place, neatly arranged and trimmed.
A towering man sits on a bench, a book in his hand. The sight jolts Ethan's blood as he recognizes Four. Lucian is a tall, ebony giant with a musculature that overshadows any other man.
Lucian, or rather the thing cosplaying as him, raises his gaze from the book. "I welcome you to the Realm of Ascension, Ethan Reed. I've been awaiting your arrival with some anticipation." His voice is the exact copy of Lucian's, down to the most minute intonation – rich and sonorous, the vowels long and rounded, and the consonants crisp.
"Why did you take his appearance?" Ethan asks. While everything else points to this being Four, Ethan knows his mentor would never be caught wearing a toga. He cannot remember a single time seeing Lucian without a trellis, costume, or military uniform.
"I took the appearance of someone you trust," the man says. "I rarely present myself to your likes. But I've found it makes introductions easier when I'm forced to."
Ethan stares at Lucian's face, the blatant attempt at mind games raising his suspicions of this place.
"It displeases you," the man states.
"Very much so," Ethan confirms. "As does your mention that you've been watching me."
"So much animosity. I'm not your enemy, and I would have you know that I watch over everyone. You happened to catch my attention." Lucian's form melts into smoke to reform into the smaller shape of a blond-haired, Caucasian man wearing a white toga. Gold inlays his skin, forming tattoo-like shapes over his torso, neck, and arms. His voice turns deep and resonant, yet smooth with a metallic undertone. "It is the shape of the first man I ever found respect for. Tell me, Ethan, what do you think of this place?"
The smell of the fruits growing in the yard and of baking bread reaches Ethan's nose. The children he saw outside run from one side of the gates to the other, playfully pursuing each other with sticks. He can hear a woman humming through a window as she chops vegetables. Ethan answers. "It looks peaceful."
"I've come to understand this is the dream many a warrior aspires to," the man comments. He plucks a grape from its foot and flings it into his mouth. "How do you see the time when you'll be able to lay down your blade? Or whatever you call the machines that succeeded them."
Ethan stares at him for a moment, unsure of the consequences of answering the man.
"Come on, it is no trick. I am simply curious; very few ever relinquish their calling and have their… happy ending," the man says. "I rarely converse with my guests. Would you be so kind as to entertain someone starved of chats like myself?"
"I… am unsure. A year ago, I would have told you I thought about spending my retirement on some solitary island, where I wouldn’t be bothered. Now, I'm not so sure. Perhaps I want to explore the new world; it's something I was born too late to do in mine, and it would honor my father's memory." A question pops into Ethan's mind, and he asks, "Are there so few people who come to this realm? Surely, you can at least talk with someone every few days."
"I usually don't show myself to those who come to my realm, but the gift you received from the will of the world demands it. It woke me up from my slumber. Without my presence, it would interfere with this place," the man says.
'I doubt Oracle or Pastseer is what he's referring to,' Ethan thinks. Curious, he asks, "I have a talent whose name doesn't show on my status. Is that what you are talking about?"
"We do not know its name, but as you might have seen or heard, it interferes with the system," the man says. He waves his hand, and a window appears in front of Ethan. "But it isn't strong enough to repel my direct influence."
The Realm of Ascension welcomes you.
"Don't tell me you are the system," Ethan says, a hint of apprehension crawling into his mind.
"No. My duty is to loosen the shackles put upon the worthy creations of the elder God," the man says. Smoke spews from his book to swallow the peaceful garden. The man himself vanishes, engulfed by his own spell. The outlines of the walls move away and curve, forming the tall borders of an oval arena. "And for that, user of the Arsenal class, we have to answer a question – are you strong enough?"
The smells of wheat fields turn to the stenches of drying blood. A coliseum, its walls marred with giant, jagged scars and sands stained by crimson, reveals itself.
Six-legged beasts with skin made of laminar stone climb out of the cracks in the arena's walls. Spikes cover their back, from their thick tail to the top of their heads. They form into a pack of three, prowling and growling towards Ethan. They open and snap their mastiff-like maws, revealing rows of serrated teeth.
A larger variant enters after them. It sports longer, more athletic legs from which bone spikes jut out, protecting its stone skin. Unlike its brethren, its front legs are digitigrade and end in claws with an opposable thumb. It smashes its tail against the ground, raising a cloud of sand with the caudal blade that ends it. Stone pupils narrow around its six eyes, spread along its elongated head protected by outward layers of stone.
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'Talk about an evolution; this thing is hundreds of thousands of years more advanced than the small ones,' Ethan thinks. He extends his hand and summons Stormshard. 'I need a new spear.'
The smaller beasts stop a few paces away, growling as drool escapes their maws.
Ethan visualizes the runes of a Flame spell and lashes his hand to the side. The jet of fire he propels engulfs the hesitating monsters. It curls around their form, vanishing before taking hold of their stone skin.
"Basilisks' second ability is Magic Resistance. But it only improves their natural talent to resist spells." The man's voice echoes from a shaded room in the tribunes. His shadowed figure leans forward to get a better view of the battlefield. "I have little interest in abilities alien to your class."
A first basilisk lunges at Ethan, its maw opened to bite down on his chest.
Ethan swings at the creature's head, but his blade skids against the rock skin, unable to slice it. He places his left hand on the blade's flat and uses the weapon to stop the monster's charge, pressing it against its jaws.
'But one of my class's abilities is Weapon aura; isn't that the same thing as spells?' Ethan ponders. He jumps high to avoid a lunge from a second basilisk. Ethan unsummons his blade to replace it with the Purgatory's Hands. 'No time to experiment; bludgeoning weapons will be best.'
"Your collection of weapons is quite impressive," the man comments.
The last third stands on its hind legs, breathing in deeply. It propels a jet of grey gas at Ethan.
Still in the air, Ethan summons a fireball and throws it at the breath attack. It explodes on contact, blasting away the gas. Ethan lands in front of the beast and, triggering Strengthening to its soft limit, punches its skull. The blow compresses the basilisk in its length; its legs give out, and it falls unconscious.
Their leader's eyes move down to glance at the corpse, but the massive beast stays immobile.
'Is it how they behave in the wild, or is he in total control?' Ethan rotates his torso as he hears a beast lunging from behind. His fist connects with the basilisk's lower jaw, popping it out of the fulcrums holding it and stabbing its teeth into its upper jaw.
The wounded beast staggers back, blood drooling out of its nose and hammered-shut jaw.
The last of the smaller basilisks propels a jet of gas at Ethan.
Ethan throws another fireball, dispelling the gas. Before the blinding light of his spell vanishes, he dashes through with a punch aimed at maw's height. The attack breaches the Basilisk's teeth, propelling Ethan's hand into its maw. He grabs its rasp tongue and pulls, tearing off the hunk of flesh from its owner with a geyser of black blood.
The remaining, leading beast lunges at Ethan. It extends its front claws like a predating lion, aiming to grab Ethan's sides.
Ethan bursts through Strengthening's limits and dashes to the beast's back, the creature unable to adapt midair. Grabbing its tail below the blade, Ethan spins the beast and throws it at a wall.
The huge creature breaks the wall, crumbling it into giant chunks of ochre stone. Smoke rises from the fragments to climb into the room where the man resides.
The beast rolls to its feet, black blood dripping from its maw. It takes a sphinx pose, readying itself to lunge at Ethan. A low growl emanates from it, dotted by gulps of blood.
'It's weak; I'd put it at the level of the Great Skullgor. It can't be it,' Ethan thinks. He triggers Weapon Aura with the Ether he can expend on top of Strengthening. Threads of Ether buzz over the gauntlet's plates, focusing on the reinforced knuckles. 'I expected a tailored challenge adapted to my strength, but by the look of it, it seems only my class matters.'
The beast breathes in deeply, its stone-laden chest expanding with a grind. The sound of air rushing through its maw mixes with wet gurgles as its lungs struggle against the blood pooling in its throat.
Ethan bursts forward, raising with him parting waves of sand. He punches the beast's chest, and the energy gathered on his fist prolongs the impact with a wave that pierces the creature.
The beast's six eyes widen in unison, shaken by the pain it suffers. Its chest collapses inward, Weapon aura delivering a devastating impact that ruptures through its core.
Black blood sprays from the beast's maw, mixing with the sand in glistening pools. The monster's claws dig into the ground in a futile attempt to remain upright.
Not wanting to risk a last surprise from the creature, Ethan leaps into the air. His gauntlets crackle with his ability's energy as he ascends, aiming for the head. The impact lands with a crack, the force obliterating the layers of protecting stone and spreading its brain over the arena's walls and floor.
The beast's body spasms once, then falls still.
"I was expecting something more on my level," Ethan comments, immediately loathing his ego.
Laughter echoes from the man. "In all the times I administered this fight, you are one of the few who succeeded without perishing once. Your strength far surpasses what is expected of you!"
"Adding the Melee Weapon (Gauntlets) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 40 has been applied," the system echoes.
'I've never used gauntlets before. Is it my martial arts skills that put me to level forty?' Ethan ponders. 'No matter, I can't understand why One loves that kind of weapon. Their range is unbelievably short when facing something this large. I need to add a hammer to my collection.'
"An individual such as yourself, who dedicated years of his existence to hone both his body and mind, has every right to claim ascension. Step into the light and you'll return to the mortal plane." A crack of light pierces reality a few paces from Ethan, widening into a blinding gateway. The man waves his hand, and a window appears in front of Ethan. "When people come to my realm, there is no telling if they are destined to glory; only my brother can be certain of that. But you, oh you, I know you'll do great things, and I want nothing more than to make you my greatest work of art!"
The realm of Ascension acknowledges your strength. It offers you the blessing of a greater challenge. Should you accept it, you will be unable to leave this realm before its completion.
Do you wish to accept?
YES NO
"You sound demented," Ethan quips. He reads through the short text. "You call it a blessing, but what do I have to gain?"
"For one, I'll mold you into an even greater warrior," the man says. "But I'll also reveal to you information to help you on your quest."
"The system's rewards, from my very first dungeon, tried to set me on a path. Is it the quest you are referring to? To find the Etherlight crucible? If that's the case, I'd rather not waste time on information I'll eventually find once I'm done with my own goals."
"I am only a shard of what you know as the system, a small cog in a titanic machine; I cannot infer its intentions." The man stares down at Ethan for a moment. "But I know enough to ensure it wouldn't set you on a path alien to your own goals. You are right; I cannot help you in finding the betrayer."
"Cannot or will not?" Ethan asks. "You said yourself you observe all of us. I need to know where to find him, what his plans are, and how to defeat him."
"It is what you want to know, not what you need to. I'll only give you the latter," the man retorts. He leans back into his chair. "It is the path where you are most likely to benefit us, the path that is less likely to lead to your demise."
"Can you see the future?" Ethan asks.
"Unpredictable, shifting glances of it," the man answers. "Much like yourself, many of the gods and creatures of their kind unwillingly peer into time. One after the other, we play on the chessboard that is the mortal realm with the little we predict, hoping to outplay the others."
"And revealing Caelum's location to me would lead to a hastened confrontation in which I wouldn't prevail. Or it would delay getting closer to finding the crucible, letting its thieves' plan unfold unhindered," Ethan theorizes.
"I do not have the answers to those questions; nothing is set in stone," the man says. "Now, will you humor my request?"
Ethan's finger hovers above the buttons as he weighs the risks. The warning makes him wonder how long it could take and how much time it would translate to on the other side. He asks, "How long will it take?"
"I have no certainties," the man answers.
'I'm too weak to face Caelum; there is no telling if an ascended class will be enough. New abilities, talents, or even characteristic points are more than welcome,' Ethan thinks. 'Plus, I may be the first from Earth to be given that opportunity. There could be something as unique as predator's sight to gain.'
"Still hesitating?" the man asks.
"It's a risk; you could be luring me. I've heard stories of people vanishing for decades, stuck in or dying in your realm."
"It is entirely up to you," the man says. "It's rare for someone to fail the usual challenges presented to them, but it happens. However, there is no such thing as death in the realm of Ascension."
"Then what happened to Sylas Hartwell's father? The will of the world seemed quite adamant about his demise."
"He lost his mind," the man says. Smoke descends from his room to cover a section of the wall. It digs into it to form a large smithy with hundreds of blades littering the ground. A man resembling Sylas, with graying blond hair, is curled up in a corner. "He struggled with his challenge for decades, and one day he gave up. Technically he's still here, as an empty husk of the man he once was."
"What kind of challenge left him in this state?" Ethan asks.
The smithy vanishes, turning to smoke that climbs back up into the man's room. "Those who fight rely on the craftsmanship of others. His task was to arm another for his own quest; one by one he saw his craft betraying them. And yet, he never learned of these mistakes, never truly bettered his craft to an acceptable level."
"This is cruel, even by my standards," Ethan lets out.
"Understand that I have a role to play. Much like Kaliathra's duty is to ensure eternal rest for the souls of your dead, I am to ensure your species' strength. Those who cannot cut it are given infinite time to better themselves. But many of them simply lack the strength of mind."
"Why?" Ethan asks. "Why do you need to ensure mankind's strength?"
"I will not answer this question," the man refuses. "Now, will you humor my proposition?"
"What happens if I fail?" Ethan asks.
"Then you will remain here until you succeed or until your will shatters," the man answers with finality. "But for one such as you, I doubt the latter would come to pass."
Ethan exhales and presses, 'YES.'
"Brave, as expected," the man's voice echoes. The bright crack in space closes with a flash. He rises from his chair, appearing on the balcony with a bright smile etched on his face. "Let's carve a legend out of you."