The city’s eastern side felt different, and not just in its structure. The buildings stood taller and more intact, but the air crackled with tension, as if the very atmosphere were bracing itself for a battle. Cassian strode forward with his usual confidence, glaive in hand, his eyes scanning the empty streets for the next challenge. Peter followed closely behind, his gaze flickering nervously between their surroundings and Cassian’s blood-streaked form.
“Are you sure about this?” Peter asked, his voice quiet but insistent.
Cassian didn’t answer immediately, his focus locked on the subtle vibrations in the air, the distant growls of creatures that would soon cross his path. Finally, he spoke, his tone distant. “You said this is where the Ascendants are, right? Then this is where we need to be.”
Peter hesitated, unsure if Cassian’s interpretation of “we” included him or if he was simply a tag-along. Still, his Path had led him here, and he couldn’t ignore its pull.
The pair pressed forward, navigating the maze of streets until Peter abruptly stopped. His eyes narrowed, and he pointed to a low-rise building tucked behind an overgrown park. “There,” he said. “I feel... something. It’s not safety, exactly, but it’s where we need to go.”
Cassian glanced at the building, its battered steel doors reflecting the faded orange of the setting sun. Without a word, he stepped forward, Peter following close behind.
As Cassian and Peter approached the building Peter had identified, the air grew heavier with a sense of foreboding. The structure was a fortress—a far cry from the quiet offices and apartments they had seen elsewhere in the city.
The building’s massive steel doors loomed ahead, their surface marred by deep scars and jagged dents. The remnants of patched-over holes stood as grim reminders of past assaults, evidence that this was no safe haven for the faint-hearted. Peter slowed his steps, taking in the sight with a mixture of relief and apprehension.
Cassian, however, barely spared the doors a glance. His eyes were fixed on the faint flickers of movement he could sense within, the unmistakable presence of other Ascendants. “Guess this is the place,” he muttered, his tone indifferent.
Peter shot him a sidelong glance, taking in his bloodied and tattered appearance. “Yeah, and you’re not making the best first impression. Let me handle this.”
Cassian smirked, leaning casually on his glaive. “By all means, Survivor. I wouldn’t want to scare them off with my charming demeanor.”
Peter ignored the remark and stepped forward, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. He called out, his voice loud but nonthreatening. “Hello! We’re not here to fight. My name’s Peter, and I’m a Survivor. My Path led us here.”
For a moment, there was no response. Then, a voice echoed from a speaker embedded in the wall beside the door. “State your business.”
Peter cleared his throat, glancing back at Cassian, who was now inspecting his glaive with bored detachment. “We’re looking for shelter. I can sense this place is secure, and we’re not looking to cause trouble. We just need a place to regroup.”
The speaker crackled as another voice, gruffer than the first, cut in. “And who’s the guy with the stick?”
Peter hesitated, weighing his words carefully. “That’s Cassian. He’s... an ally. A strong one. He’s been helping clear the way east. Took out a Zone Controller on his own.”
Silence followed his statement, the weight of the claim hanging in the air. Then, the first voice spoke again, its tone skeptical. “A solo kill? Of a Zone Controller? That’s a big claim, Survivor.”
Peter gestured subtly for Cassian to stay back, then stepped closer to the door. “I understand it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. His Path—” Peter began, but Cassian’s voice cut through, sharp and commanding. “Not relevant,” he said, his gaze fixed on the steel doors. Peter hesitated, shooting Cassian a wary glance, but nodded quickly and pressed on. “He’s... unique. If you’re worried about his intentions, I can vouch for him. He’s rough around the edges, but he’s not here to cause trouble.”
From behind Peter, Cassian called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, I’m just here for the ambiance and the delightful conversation.”
Peter winced, turning to glare at Cassian. “Not helping.”
The speaker crackled again, and this time the tone was almost amused. “Alright, Peter. We’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But if your friend steps out of line, it’s on you.”
The sound of heavy locks disengaging echoed through the air, and the steel doors groaned as they swung open. Beyond the threshold stood a group of Ascendants, weapons at the ready. At their head was a tall woman with a longsword strapped across her back. Her piercing gaze swept over the pair, lingering on Cassian’s bloodied form.
“Welcome,” she said, her voice sharp and commanding. “But understand this: trust is earned here, not given. If either of you proves to be a threat, you won’t make it through the night.”
Cassian’s smirk widened as he leaned his glaive against his shoulder. “Charming hospitality.”
Peter quickly stepped forward, cutting off any further commentary. “Thank you. We appreciate the chance to prove ourselves. And I promise, we won’t be a problem.”
The woman’s gaze flicked to Peter, softening slightly. “We’ll see. Come inside. We’ll find you a place to settle.”
The interior of the building was a stark contrast to its scarred exterior. The ground floor was organized and fortified, with makeshift barricades reinforcing the windows and hallways. Small groups of Ascendants worked diligently, repairing armor, sharpening weapons, and organizing supplies.
As Peter took in the scene, he couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. This was a place of resilience, a community that had survived against the odds.
Cassian, meanwhile, remained detached, his gaze scanning the room with a calculating air. The smell of sweat and steel filled the air, a familiar scent that spoke of battle-readiness.
The tall woman who had greeted them gestured toward a quiet corner. “You can rest there for now. We’ll talk more later.”
Peter nodded, offering a grateful smile. “Thank you. We’ll do our part to contribute.”
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Cassian dropped into a seat with a grunt, his glaive resting across his knees. “Well, Survivor,” he said, glancing up at Peter, “you wanted us to make friends. Let’s see how long this lasts.”
Peter sighed, already regretting his decision to let Cassian speak at all.
As they settled in, the tension in the room began to ease, but Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that Cassian’s presence would stir the calm waters of this community. He only hoped that when it did, it wouldn’t sink them both.
The woman introduced herself as Kara, her sharp eyes scanning Cassian and Peter one more time before stepping away. "Stay here," she said curtly. "The Commander will decide if you’re worth the risk." She disappeared through the heavy steel doors, her boots echoing faintly against the worn concrete.
Cassian leaned casually against the wall, absently inspecting the edge of his glaive. “Friendly bunch,” he muttered, earning a sidelong glance from Peter, who wisely ignored the comment.
A few tense minutes later, the doors groaned open again, and a towering figure stepped through. He was broad-shouldered and armored, with a battered shield strapped across his back and a spear slung over his shoulder. His scarred face carried the weariness of a man who had seen too much, but his posture was steady, exuding an unshakable authority.
“I’m Commander Ardan,” the man announced, his voice gravelly but steady. He glanced between Cassian and Peter, lingering briefly on Cassian’s bloodstained, tattered form. “We don’t often take kindly to strangers at our doorstep, especially ones that look like they’ve crawled out of a battlefield.”
Peter stepped forward quickly, cutting off Cassian before he could respond with something undoubtedly unhelpful. “We’re not here to cause trouble, Commander,” Peter said, his tone measured. “We’re looking to lend a hand. We’ve both seen what’s out there. You’re holding your own, but the threats are only getting worse.”
Ardan’s eyes narrowed. “And what makes you think you’re any different from the others who’ve stumbled in here, hoping for safety or salvation?”
Peter glanced back at Cassian, hesitating briefly before answering. “We’re not looking for safety. We’re looking to fight. Cassian’s... a little unconventional, but he’s effective. I can promise you that.”
Cassian let out a soft, amused grunt at Peter’s diplomacy but stayed quiet, his focus sharpening as the Commander began speaking about their situation.
“We’ve got fifty people in this group,” Ardan said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Thirty of them are combatants; the rest are support—medics, scavengers, cooks. Our goal is to clear the eastern zone and secure it as a permanent base, but every time we push out, the mobs beat us back. They’re evolving faster than we can adapt, and we’re losing ground.”
Cassian’s ears pricked at the mention of mobs, his fingers tightening slightly on the shaft of his glaive. He straightened, about to speak, when the sharp peal of a bell rang out, cutting through the tense atmosphere.
A voice shouted from the walls above. “Monster raid! They’re coming up the main road!”
Cassian’s smirk grew the moment he heard it. “Perfect,” he muttered, already moving toward the door.
“Wait!” Commander Ardan barked, stepping in front of him. His sharp eyes appraised Cassian’s tattered clothing and lack of heavy armor. “You might be eager, but I’m not throwing an untested newcomer into the front line. You’ll hold the rear. Protect the ranged fighters and keep anything that breaks through off our backs.”
Cassian scoffed, his grip on his glaive tightening. “The rear? I’m not a babysitter.”
Peter stepped in quickly, placing a hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “Just this once, okay? Do as they ask. There’ll be plenty of fights ahead, and you’ll get your chance.”
Cassian hesitated, his jaw clenching as he considered Peter’s words. Finally, with a reluctant grunt, he nodded. “Fine. But don’t expect me to sit still if things get interesting.”
The group surged out into the street, the frontline forming a solid wall of shields and spears as the snarling, clawed creatures came into view. The monstrous mob moved as one, an undulating tide of malice and hunger, their guttural roars reverberating off the surrounding buildings.
Peter hung back with the ranged fighters, his heart pounding as he watched the frontline warriors brace for the impact. Cassian stood beside him, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp, his glaive resting loosely in his hands.
The mob crashed into the shield wall, claws scraping against steel and teeth gnashing at the defenders. The Ascendants fought valiantly, their strikes cutting into the monsters, but Peter could see the strain in their movements—the faltering rhythm, the lack of coordination.
Beside him, Cassian growled under his breath. “Sloppy.”
Peter shot him a wary glance but said nothing. He could sense Cassian’s frustration building with every poorly timed strike and missed opportunity.
The battle raged on, and the inevitable happened—a massive beast broke through the frontline, swiping a defender to the ground. The injured warrior crawled back, clutching a bloody wound on his leg, leaving a gaping hole in the formation.
Cassian didn’t wait for orders. He stepped forward, his glaive flashing as he moved into the breach.
“Cassian, wait!” Peter called, but it was too late.
The battlefield seemed to shift as Cassian slipped into a trance-like state, his movements becoming unnaturally fluid and precise. The noise of battle faded to a distant hum for him, his focus narrowing to the enemies in front of him.
Peter watched in stunned silence as Cassian tore through the monsters with terrifying efficiency. Each strike of his glaive sent blood spraying, the weapon a blur of motion as it cut through flesh and bone. Cassian’s expression was eerily calm, his breathing steady despite the chaos around him.
At first, Peter was awed by Cassian’s skill, but that awe quickly turned to unease. The way Cassian moved, the almost casual ease with which he dispatched the creatures, was unsettling. And then there was the laughter—a low, chilling chuckle that bubbled up every time Cassian took a hit.
Peter’s heart sank as he realized that Cassian wasn’t just enduring the pain—he was revelling in it.
The other Ascendants began to falter, their strikes slowing as they turned to watch the whirlwind of destruction unfolding before them. Cassian didn’t notice—or didn’t care. His focus was absolute, his glaive carving a brutal path through the monsters.
“Cassian!” Peter shouted, trying to pull him back to reality, but his voice was lost in the din of the battle.
The fight ended as abruptly as it had begun. The last creature fell with a wet thud, its lifeless body crumpling at Cassian’s feet. The street fell silent, the only sounds the heavy breathing of the Ascendants and the steady drip of blood from Cassian’s glaive.
Peter’s gaze swept over the carnage, the torn bodies of the monsters, and the wide-eyed expressions of the Ascendants. Even Commander Ardan, who had seen his fair share of battles, looked shaken.
Cassian stood in the center of the blood-soaked street, his chest heaving but his expression serene. He glanced down at the glaive in his hands, turning it idly as though inspecting a mundane tool.
Peter approached cautiously, his voice low. “Cassian... are you alright?”
Cassian turned to him, his gaze distant. “Fine,” he said simply, the word carrying an unsettling finality.
Peter wanted to press further, to demand an explanation for what he’d just witnessed, but the cold detachment in Cassian’s tone stopped him.
Ardan stepped forward, his voice breaking the uneasy silence. “Well,” he said gruffly, “I think it’s safe to say you’ve proven yourself.”
Cassian smirked faintly, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Told you I wasn’t here to stand in the back.”
As the Ascendants began tending to the wounded and clearing the battlefield, Peter lingered near Cassian, his unease growing. Cassian’s detachment, his apparent disinterest in the chaos and bloodshed around him, was unnerving.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for soon,” Peter said quietly, his voice laced with both concern and fear.
Cassian didn’t respond, his focus already shifting to the next battle, the next opportunity to push himself further. Yet, deep within him, something shifted.
A sudden wave of energy coursed through Cassian’s body, halting him mid-step. His vision blurred as the system interface materialized in front of him, glowing brighter than ever before.
System Notification:
Path Evolution Triggered!
Path of the Wounded Ascendant Upgrade available
Cassian staggered, his grip tightening on the glaive as he finally understood the missing pieces. The requirements had been unclear, even to him, but now it was evident: it wasn’t just the combat, the bloodshed, or the pain. It was the complete abandonment of hesitation, the unrelenting pursuit of growth through adversity.
For a brief moment, Cassian’s eyes glinted with something beyond excitement—an understanding of the limitless potential his Path offered.
Peter noticed the change immediately. “What happened?” he asked, his tone cautious.
Cassian straightened, the faintest grin playing on his lips. “Path evolution. Shits getting real man”