image [https://imgur.com/mGrwyTu.png]

Clover looked at the wasteland before her, slowly lowering her massive glittering sword. The consecrated demon sword, Janstarmushosh, whispered to her constantly. She had long ago learned to mostly tune it out. Huge beasts lay in smoking craters, and the sprawled bodies of both enemies and allies were scattered like leaves. The high level enemy hero was bisected, the bottom half in front of her and the top half… somewhere else. She had tried to avoid hitting those fighting with her, but her ultimate skill [StarFall Ultimatum] did not discriminate. She had won another battle for the side of “Good”, and she was so tired.

She had gained another level. She drove her sword into the churned and gore spattered earth. It shifted and shivered in her hand, desperate for more bodies to sink into. The mental chatter was more insistent than usual [fool foolish fool fool fool you fool you little fool you foolish little fool you] but she had bigger things to think about. Her divine energy pool of over 300 was totally depleted, so she couldn’t even use [Absolute Restore]. She felt a tremble run up her legs, and she forced herself to stillness with an iron will.

She had been on The Continent for something like fifteen years now. Fifteen years of constant fighting against increasingly strong and skillful opponents. And she had always been the one to win, in the end. The notification of her level up seemed oddly insistent this time. She sighed and checked it. Consistently her stat points had all been put into Physical, Magical, or Light. She had passive abilities and active abilities that allowed her to output massive amounts of damage, as well as weather almost any attack. Maybe this was the level she would put the two points into Charisma. She almost chuckled at the idea.

She squinted at the floating letters. Oh. Level ninety.

ASCEND

There were no stat points to choose from. No new skills. Just a single silver floating word that filled her vision. ASCEND. She tried dismissing it, but it did not move. So, the rumors were true. At level ninety you were supposed to Ascend. The grand reward.

She looked around, feeling the stinging aches on her body from multiple small wounds. She needed to keep helping, but hadn’t she done enough? Her friends had died years ago and she hadn’t bothered to make new ones. She was… thirty two? Give or take a few years. She felt much MUCH older. Was she afraid to go? She had looked into “Ascension” a few years ago, using her wealth and status to gather information. It was all fairly unverifiable. The most agreed upon outcome was that you got to meet the Gods, and they would judge you based on your actions. You would then be given a wish, or a reward, based on how much you had helped your side. Perhaps after that you got sent home, or became a God, or went to a new world. Since nobody ever came back after Ascending that part was unclear. Lots of paintings of grateful Heroes adorned temples and illuminated manuscripts, for what that was worth.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

She went over to high command and explained her situation. They groveled in gratitude and began to rapidly yell for a celebration, for food and drink, for anything she would like. Corpses were being dragged off the battlefield rapidly. She nodded and then went back to her tent as the after battle clamor rose outside. The word ASCEND still floated in front of her vision. It looked bigger than before.

She had a lot of loose ends to tie up. The party, giving a speech, then making sure her home was taken care of. She never had gotten around to writing a will. She was supposed to train some more Chosen. She… she was so tired.

She closed her eyes, and the blazing letters were still clearly visible. [Little fool you little fool you stupid stupid little fool you fool you FOOL you LITTLE FOOL you TINY FOOL DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT YOU ABSOLUTE FO-] she tossed her sword across the room.

ASCEND

She mentally pressed against it, and felt a warmth grow inside her. She felt light, so light, and all her aches and pains and exhaustion fell away. When had she last felt like this? Oh. When she had first arrived. Had she even been eighteen then? She felt a flash of bitterness. A child soldier. But she had helped so many. Killed so many more. That one friend of hers… that had been “Evil”. That she needed to kill, that she had held afterwards. Was that when the numbness set in? When this all stopped feeling like a game? Maybe morality simply did not apply in the grand scheme of things, when Gods were involved.

The warmth and the light filled her, wrapped her, carried her. She was safe. A long deep sigh escaped her lips as she completely relaxed. She felt a slight itch on her nose and idly went to scratch it, and found that her hand was restrained. She tugged a bit more at her arm, and was mildly concerned that it was locked in place. She had 80 points in Physical, she could rip apart castle stone with her hands. But she could not move even the tiniest bit. She began to push harder, and felt a force pushing back. It was like she was a child again, attempting to pick up a skyscraper. The immensity of the power there was impossible for her to comprehend.

“I am Clover, A Divine Wrath Knight. I have reached level 90. What is it that I have worked so hard for?” Her voice carried out into the vast light all around her, often praised for its strength and resonance, now seeming insignificant and tremulous. She looked down at the bands of light around her. But they weren’t bands, her eyes were adjusting to the brightness and she was starting to see things more clearly. They were fingers. Massive fingers, easily encircling her entire body. A sudden chill went down her spine.

A presence filled her mind, a vivid image. It was as if all her life she had looked at the world through a smoked pane of glass, reflected in a mirror. But now she was seeing visuals without any obstruction. The clarity shocked her so much she almost couldn’t pay attention to what was occurring. But then she focused in. She saw a flower growing on a tree. It was being tended with care. It slowly turned into a gorgeous fruit. Insects buzzed around the fruit, but when they landed they were brushed away. Rain pelted the fruit and it was sheltered. Nutrition was given to the tree, which in turn was fed to the fruit as it grew. Some fruit nearby fell off the tree before fully ripening, and were consumed by the tree or by scavengers. But this fruit was perfect, slowly growing larger, more beautiful. Clover felt tears run down her face and she realized she was sobbing with joy as she looked upon the glittering fruit. She felt so much love for it. She had never realized how much wonder was in the smallest part of life.

Finally, when it could not possibly grow any more full, when surely the skin would burst, a gentle hand came and delicately plucked the fruit. It was so careful not to bruise it. It was treasured. As she watched, she felt the large impossibly strong fingers gently close around her neck, her face, her head.

The fruit.

The fruit was ripe.