A Sinner Ascends

Book I of the Path of the Last Champion.

Part 1 - The Upper Depths

“Why, Crystal? Why?” - Unknown ex-Climber, Intoxicated

Excerpt from “A Life in the Depths – A Study of the Life Conditions in the Between-Nexus”

Status: Unpublished. Censored under the authority of Truth Legate Alastor Ghabn

Notation: Level 4 Breach of The Tenets for Scholarly Conduct, Education and Enlightenment

Scholar Kuon Feeir, KUO274021097334283LDX – 2nd strike

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The dead, warm air weighed him down on his way up to the Chapel of the Holy Crystal. Hopefully, it would be the last time Nar was ever forced to make that trek.

He came up to a gap in between buildings and took a moment to recover his breath.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Nar gazed down.

It was said that the Nexus was an infinite cube, and that the sprawling Labyrinth, which surrounded it, was even more endless.

Beneath him, his little cubeplant stretched.

From where he stood, he could take in his entire home with a single glance. It was a far cry from infinite, and most of it was just empty, absolute darkness.

On the opposite wall, bright white lights marked the presence of the factories. Neat cubes, stacked high up the walls, the factories covered a full third of the cubeplant. That u-shaped mess of buildings was the brightest spot in the cubeplant, radiating its sterile white light from within.

From its myriad entrances and exits, crystalights pooled and stretched into the darkness in twin lines of lights.

The lines swelled into a chaos of crystalights at the midway point in the cubeplant. There, in another cube, cut down into the floor, was the Pile.

The Pile was an 860-feet deep hole that held an immensity of unending tons of spent aetherium, waiting to be carted off to the factories to be melted, purified and recast, and then sent back to the distant surface once more.

The lights then reformed once more into lines and continued on from the Pile, into another long journey across the silent dark. Until finally, they arrived at the Homes, where the workers spread throughout the gloom covered chaos of narrow streets, stairs and alleys.

Always there were two lines of crystalights. One for those headed into work, either in the Pile or the factories, and one for those returning from it.

The klaxon had sounded as Nar climbed the narrow, crooked steps, filling the air with its shrill, triple blare.

B shift was being taken over by C shift, which would later on swap out with A shift, and then B again, in an endless loop. Their work never stopped, for their atonement, and for the punishment of failing short on the quota. And it was a punishment no one wanted to face, no matter what cost it extolled from them…

Shaking off the thought, Nar followed the lines back towards the distant white lights.

He clenched his jaw.

One way or another, none of this would ever mean anything to him after today.

They could all rot in that dark, stifling hole for all he cared. But that would not be his fate.

He turned his back to the tiny, infinitesimal little cube that was all the Nexus he had ever known, and resumed climbing.

The last few steps to his destination were even more uneven, shaved bare by the endless workers that had come before him, and he held his crystalight above his face, to see where he stepped.

Footsteps echoed mutely from above him, and on instinct, he pressed himself flat against the wall.

Making himself small was not an easy thing to do, given his almost 6-foot frame, but at least he was skinny. His labor had never been of the physical kind. As a child, they had forced him straight into the factories, skipping what should’ve been his childhood years in the Pile, to operate the cursed machines within.

They had done many things…

The footsteps got louder, echoing off the cracked walls of the silent stair street, and Nar tried to push himself even further against the wall.

Then, a boy walked into view.

A human, like him. And like him, also on his nineteenth year of life.

And Nar knew this because of what the other guy carried… No! Hugged. Cradled, against his chest.

His eyes widened.

It was a weapon, something granted only to those who had made the choice Nar was about to make.

A spearman… Nar thought, marveling at the sight of it despite himself. A damage class.

The spearman froze mid step when he noticed Nar, squeezed against the wall. A brief smile touched his lips, but then he noticed the red stained cloth wrapped around Nar’s right arm. The smile faltered

Nar looked back down, remembering what he was, and what the other was not. He had seen enough of those kinds of expressions on his way up. He didn’t need to see another.

Almost… He told himself. It’s almost over.

“May the Crystal guide you on your Climb.”

Nar looked up, in surprise, as the man brushed past him.

Brushed.

Touched.

“M-May the Crystal guide you too!” Nar stammered after him.

The spearman gave him a wave without turning back, and soon, his footsteps faded around a corner.

Nar stood where he was, staring at the gap between homes where the guy had disappeared through.

Maybe it will work after all, he thought.

Then, he shook his head. He could only hope…

One thing at a time.

Nar quickly climbed up the last stretch of crooked steps to the tilted, mismatched and windowless chapel.

His heart raced, both from the long climb and at the prospect of what awaited him within, and he paused briefly to recover his breath, and muster his courage.

In front of him stood one of the only four doors in the entire cubeplant.

Nar touched it gingerly, between reverence and apprehension, noting the smooth wear of countless hands across the eons of darkness.

As a child, he had heard that once there had been doors everywhere, even on their widows. But such things, as well as many others, had all been lost in the Long Dark, the endless, lost period of time that stretched on from when their ancestors had first committed the Original Sin to that very moment, endless and countless shifts since they had been banished from the surface.

That long forgotten crime against the Holy Crystal had doomed the First Workers and all their future descendants to their labor in the darkness. A labor that would go on until the joyous, distant shift that would be their last. When their sin would be fully atoned for, and they would be welcomed back outside… Until then, they would never know true light, nor respite, again.

However, the Final Shift had yet to come.

A Second generation had grown and replaced the First. Then a Third had followed the Second… Eventually, the workers had lost count of the generations that had toiled in the dark before them. They knew only that there were numbers untold of them, spread throughout the Between-Nexus, across only the Crystal knew how many cubeplants just as the one that held them captive.

They had been born in the dark and they had died in the dark. And there they waited, consigned to the Waiting Dark with all of their forebears, all the way to the very First, waiting for their descendants to complete their punishment. Waiting for their souls to finally be cleansed and welcomed into the Crystal’s Everlasting Bliss.

But Nar would not die in the dark. At least not this dark. He did not plan to live his entire life as a sinner either…

He pushed, and the tall door swiveled with ease. Silent, over deep carved marks that had been there since he could remember.

He stepped into the dim within, and allowed the door to close itself behind him.

The air inside the chapel was even deader than outside, coating him with a fresh wave of sweat.

Nar had never understood how it could be hotter in the chapel than right next to his machine in the factory. In fact, he had pondered it for every, mandatory, long, dragging sermon, never arriving at an answer… Though today might be the day he finally discovered why.

“Have you come for the Climb, worker?”

A man stood in front of the second other door in the cubeplant. The tall, broad shouldered altei differed from humans only for his height, stronger frame, and light-colored hair. The priest’s hair happened to be a very light shade of pink, almost white.

Behind him, almost hiding, was a thin, short door.

Nar had never seen it open. No one, not even the priest himself, was allowed to enter, unless it was to make the decision that Nar was about to make.

“Yes,” Nar replied, his voice barely audible in the heavy silence.

The priest joined his hands in front of his chest, his fingers forming the representation of the Holy Crystal, and bowed solemnly.

Nar hurriedly returned the gesture. He joined his middle and index finger, the fourth and pinky finger aligned with them, and touched his thumbs together, pointing downwards to form the shape of the Crystal, his hands standing parallel, showing his palms to the priest.

“Another Climber is already inside,” the altei said. “Please, wait until they’re done.”

Nar nodded and stepped to one side.

His heartbeat was so fast now, he felt dizzy, the heavy air within the chapel clasped around his throat.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

He took a deep breath and stepped away from the man, looking up to distract himself.

Once the decision had been forced upon him, he had spent many of his few free hours here, staring up at the haloed icons of the Named Few. These were those who stood closest to the Crystal Almighty Itself. They were the saint guardians and defenders of the Holy Church, who kept the Nexus safe from the horrors of the Endless Labyrinth.

“Take it as inspiration,” his dad had told him, as he shooed him off that first time. “See what weapons they use. What magic they have. What class they took. It might help.”

Help with his choice of class. His choice of path.

It was said that after the Climb, one could change their class. Even abandon it, choosing to never fight again in their entire lives. But that was after they survived the Climb.

To Climb, all needed a class and a weapon. And magic, too… But magic had to be earned first. Suffered for.

The workers could all say that they worked for their atonement, and for that of the ancestors who had toiled and done their share. They could all tell themselves that was the reason they chose to stay. But Nar held a more cynical view of it all.

The Climb was harsh. Few Climbers made it past the guardians that were said to lurk in the dark corridors of the B-Nex. Or the challenges of faith and atonement that blocked the path upwards.

You worked for your forgiveness, or you suffered for it. Only those who endured the Wrath of the Crystal were allowed into the true light. And not many did… Or so they said.

In reality, nobody knew what lay beyond the enormous door that took over a third of the right wall of the cubeplant. The Doors, as they called them, were about 100-feet tall and 160 wide. And nobody wanted them to open, not even him, who would soon leave all of this behind.

The cubeplant had failed its quota in the past, and from the stories passed down through the generations, may the Crystal have mercy on them and grant them that should never fail ever again.

A shiver ran down his spine despite the heat, and Nar pushed away the sudden dark thoughts. Of what was said to lurk in the eternal dark of the B-Nex…

Instead, he looked up to the tall, dark, vaulted ceilings.

Here, covering walls and the uneven crooks and crannies of the ceilings, brightened by the lights of dozens of crystalights, were the icons.

These haloed men and women, and every other gender of boundless species that populated the Nexus, were the most powerful sentients in existence. With the aether granted them by the Crystal Itself, and the magic awarded them by the System for their many battles and victories, they were the goal he strived for. He needed power and magic like that, of the kind and level he couldn’t even understand, if he was ever to succeed in what he needed for his purposes.

As had become a habit of his, he quickly scanned the numerous icons, long faded of any color, until his eyes came to rest upon the two that mattered the most to him. It was fate that these two should be side by side, sharing a crystalight, for it was them that had finally given him the idea for his class. And the solution to his dilemma.

On the right hand was Romilt Ghroumvar, the Insurmountable Mountain of Thorns. He had never been able to tell what species or gender Romilt was. Romilt’s heavy bulk was completely encased in thick, spiked looking armor. On its left hand was a massive, bladed and spiked shield, and on its right hand, was a thick, short and plain looking sword. Both of these dripped what he assumed to be blood onto a mountain of sharp, intertwined thorns. Thorns which rose up from the bottom to frame the entirety of the icon. Even his halo was made of thorns, and it too, bled.

Next to Romilt was Nar, She Who Is One With The Wind. She shared his name, and that had been what had first drawn him to her. Only her face was visible, with the focus being on the cloth that covered her eyes.

He had always wondered why she had her eyes covered, knowing only that it must mean something to her path and class.

Covering a portion of her face was a span of narrow, deadly looking blade. It was covered in swirling lines of wind, which he understood to be a stronger version of a breeze, which was the best they ever got down there in the cubeplant, on rare occasions.

He had no idea how long that blade was, but he liked to imagine that it was very long for some reason. Almost as tall as she herself was.

“Absolutely not!” his dad had told him, when he had returned, excited, to tell him of his idea.

His dad had many reasons against his choice. Logical, all of them, of course. But Nar had persisted on it, refusing to budge. If his dad wanted him to Climb, then he would do it in his own way.

Besides, he had chosen his path for a reason. He defied tradition because he had no choice. He needed it. Needed the path that would stretch before him, afterwards, if he survived the Climb.

Though now, standing there, he couldn’t help but tremble in the face of his coming choice.

A lot could go wrong. And a party might not even accept him. At least not a good party...

But that was a concern for future Nar, even if that was barely two shifts away from the current moment.

You’ve made your choice, now stick to it! He chided himself.

Hastened breathing drew his attention to the priest and the door he guarded.

A human woman stood there, panting against the closed door. On her hands was a bow.

No arrows?  Nar thought, frowning.

“An archer. A ranged damage dealing class. Well done, child. You are a Climber now,” the priest said. “You are freed from your toil. May you find atonement on the Climb instead, and live to see true light on the Outside-Nexus, should the Crystal have mercy on you.”

The priest repeated the Crystal's blessing gesture, and the woman nearly tripped over herself trying to return it and not drop her new weapon.

She still gasped for air, her eyes stretched wide and showing their whites. She looked around herself as though she could not believe what she saw. Or had seen.

What in the pile happened in there? Nar wondered, feeling the knot in his stomach tightening.

The archer noticed Nar standing in the dimness, waiting for his turn in the shadows, and looked away.

She licked her lips and took a quick breath, little more than a gasp, as though to speak. Her face froze for a moment, then she simply stumbled out of the chapel.

“You can go in now,” the priest said, motioning towards the door. “May you find what you seek.”

Nar swallowed hard, looking from the swaying archer to the door, and stepped forward.

His heart felt as though it was trying to break free from his chest, and sweat dripped down his face and the back of his neck and back

He lay a hand against the small door and yelped in surprise and pain.

It was hot. Almost blisteringly so.

“Be respectful inside, when you make your request,” the priest whispered behind him, startling him. “Some never walk back out.”

Nar knew of this, of course. But those who had been rejected were few and far in between. There hadn’t been one in years, not since the times of his long dead grandfather, according to his dad.

However, that was not to say he had not dreaded that he might become one of those lost ones. It had been one of his recurring nightmares in the past few months… To go in that door and find himself amidst his scornful ancestors in the Waiting Dark.

Dead.

But here he was now, and he had no intentions to back out of it.

Gathering his resolve, Nar took a deep breath and pushed open the door, holding his tongue against the pain that seared his hand, and stepped into darkness.

It was burning in there.

The air was so dry and hot, it hurt as it clawed its way down to his lungs. And his sweat began to dry almost instantly.

He looked around him, feeling around in the sudden empty darkness that surrounded him. The door behind him was gone, and try as he might, he felt no walls around him. In fact, he felt nothing, and as the moments stretched, panic began to well up within him, his breathing accelerating.

Why was nothing happening? Had he failed? Had he actually been sent straight to the Waiting Dark? Was he…

A weight fell upon him and crushed him to his knees.

And within the weight, there was a presence.

“NAR293457741235645XAV,” a voice spoke. “YOU WISH TO CLIMB.”

Nar bowed his head lower, pressing it into his chest, straining under the weight.

What did It call me? A tiny, stray thought asked. Is that my identifier?

But with rising dread, he pushed the thought away, seeking to bow as low as he could.

For how else should a sinner address the Creator of All That Was?

“Yes, Almighty,” he replied.

“WHY?” the Crystal asked him.

Nar hesitated.

He had expected the question. He had dreaded it. His dad had even made him swear on the Crystal that he would not say anything of his true plans.

He had sworn nothing. But now, before the Crystal, Nar feared speaking out the words.

He considered saying something else, even. But only for a moment. He couldn’t imagine lying before the All-Knowing Crystal Itself. Not when already begging for his freedom and forgiveness.

“I want the strength to save my dad. He’s sick and I want to take him to the healers in the O-Nex. I wish to receive your aether, and gain magic for this reason, oh Almighty Crystal!”

“YOUR FATHER IS NOT A CLIMBER. HE MADE HIS CHOICE.”

Nar bit his lip, weighing his next words. “No, Great Crystal, but I will suffer in his place. If you will allow it, just like he suffered for me…”

The weight increased, and the heat rose to a point where it was quickly becoming intolerable, burning him from both within and from outside.

Had he said the wrong thing after all?

“TANK, DAMAGE, OR LEADER?”

Nar breathed in as much relief as he could under the strain. His mouth tasted metallic, but at least the Crystal had not rejected him. Hopefully, the rest would go as planned as well.

“I want a hybrid class, oh Great Crystal. Tank and damage.”

Silence stretched for a long moment.

“WHY?” the Crystal eventually asked.

Nar didn't know if he would be asked to justify his choice, but he had prepared for it nonetheless. It was a simple enough answer anyways.

“I need to be able to deal and take damage, Almighty One, so that I can one day Climb back down on my own to come save my dad. W-With your permission of course, Benevolent Crystal!”

There were only three ways out of the cubeplant. You died, and your body was returned to the Nexus, your soul joining the ancestors in the Waiting Dark. You Climbed, and you left by the smaller exit next to the Doors, guided by the light of the System to the surface. And lastly, you chose exile.

The door would open for you, but there would be no path to follow. No safe rooms to rest in, or dispensers to give you food.

No one chose exile. Exiles were those who committed crimes, and were forced to leave, or be executed in punishment.

But if Nar was strong enough, and well prepared enough, his dad could choose exile and Nar would be there, waiting for him. He would be a powerful, fully fledged Named Few then, ready to guide him safely to the O-Nex. And to the life of color and light they had always dreamed of.

That was the plan at least, as light on details as it currently stood. Though he could worry about the details when the time actually came, and if he actually survived to reach the O-Nex, free and forgiven.

“YOU CHOOSE A FOOL’S PATH, NAR293457741235645XAV. A HARSH PATH. A PATH THAT ENDS IN DEATH. CHOOSE ANOTHER.”

Nar's heart sunk, and he closed his hands into tight fists, almost hyperventilating in the even hotter air and tighter weight.

He felt as though soon, he would burst into flames.

 “I-I can’t!” he gasped. “I-I have… To do this! I have to… Repay my… Debt!”

“CHOOSE ANOTHER!”

“I can’t! I would… Rather be thrown… Into the Waiting… Dark… Than fail… My dad! I want a… Tank/DPS… Hybrid class!”

Silence stretched again, and Nar feared the worst as he collapsed on the invisible floor.

Did I go too far… he wondered, consciousness fading. Dad…

“REACH OUT YOUR HAND. TAKE YOUR WEAPON.”

Nar gasped as he was suddenly yanked upright.

The weight faded away, and the heat receded back to more manageable levels.

“Y-Yes! T-Thank you, Merciful Crystal!”

Stammering praise in an incoherent babble, he felt for the darkness in front of him until his fingers brushed against something soft, and closed around it.

“CLIMB, NAR293457741235645XAV. EARN THE FORGIVENESS FOR THE SIN THAT STAINS YOUR SOUL. SUFFER, AND YOU MAY YET EARN WHAT YOU SEEK… ”

Then, he found himself outside, gasping, leaning against the door, like the woman before him had.

What had been previously searing, was now nothing more than a warmth at his back, and Nar panted, his vision slowly focusing once more.

A heaviness was in his hand, and Nar squinted at it.

It was a longsword.

A heavy, solid reality in his hand, the granting of his request to leave. The granting of the chance in which to atone, and one day save his dad.

Thank you, Crystal. I will…Wait! Where’s my shield?

Dumbfounded, he stared at his empty left hand.

“A two-handed swordsman. A melee damage dealing class,” the priest intoned. “Well done, child. You are a Climber now. You are freed from your toil. May you find atonement on the Climb instead, and live to see the true light on the Outside-Nexus, should the Crystal have mercy on you.”

Nar repeated the gesture back at the priest, still grappling with confusion. He didn’t bother to correct the man. He didn’t want his pity. Or laughter.

Without a shield, what sort of tanking was he supposed to do?

He glanced at the door, but doubted he could go back in. Even if he could, what would be the point? The Crystal had heard him loud and clear, and It had given him the longsword in answer to his request. Its decision would likely be final.

Is this part of my atonement, to tank without a shield? But how am I even going to do that?

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, startling him.

He jolted around, facing the priest. “Y-Yes?”

“That thing,” the priest said, staring at the cloth wrapped around his right arm. “You don’t need it anymore. You may take it off and give it to me.”

Nar stared at the man for a blank, few heartbeats, still gripped by his encounter with the Holy Crystal Itself, and the lack of a shield in his hand.

“I… The…”

He looked down at the red cloth, his thoughts racing to catch up with what was happening.

“It’s okay,” the priest said, smiling at him. “You are a Climber now, not an Unclean. You can remove it.”

“Ah… Yes,” Nar mumbled.

With shaky fingers, Nar reached up to the cloth. He slipped three of them under it and tugged at it helplessly, his mind still in shock.

The cloth was tied well. Very, very well.

If it ever fell, and he didn’t notice, and someone recognized him for what he was, he would have been exiled. Or killed on the spot.

He tugged and pulled on it, struggling against the ingrained wrongness of the gesture.

The man stopped him gently, resting a hand over his fingers. “May I?”

Nar nodded numbly.

The priest stepped closer and worked at the tight knots.

“I took over from my predecessor about five years ago,” he said. “In that time, I’ve seen many Unclean. You all take the Climb, don’t you?”

“Yes. We-we are forced to,” Nar whispered. “The adults, they… They make us do it.”

The priest nodded. “Makes sense. There’s nothing for you here but pain and grief. Might as well take the Climb. I would have done the same in their place. Or in yours… Ah! There we go.”

As the cloth slipped from his arm, Nar felt a sudden nakedness. He had to fought the urge to snatch back the cloth from the priest. Or to look for hiding…

In fourteen years, he had never left his home without that cloth tied around his arm, and without it, the arm he now stared down onto, seemed to belong to someone else.

“Another five years, and I’ll have removed the brand of sin from the last of the Unclean Climbers,” the priest said, shaking his head.

Nar stared at the dark red stained and frayed strip of cloth in the priest's hands.

And when all the adults die, and no new children are born, the Unclean will be gone, he thought. And then, we’ll all be forgotten. As if nothing ever happened.

“Go now,” the altei said. “I pray the Crystal delivers you safely to the O-Nex, to magic, to light, and all that awaits you up there, in the City Without End.”

Nar looked up from the cloth.

What was that, gleaming in the priest’s eyes. Was that envy? Yearning? Jealousy? Sorrow? Pity?

“I… Thank you.”

The priest nodded. “Go on then. There is not much time left to say your goodbyes.”

Nar nodded and turned his back to him.

He stumbled towards the exit, much like the other Climber had done before him, and glanced up at icons of Romilt and Nar.

His request had been granted.

Now came the hard part.

Now came the Climb.