In the past hundred years alone, there have been dozens of ascendant candidates, but only three have managed to actually shed their mortal coils and reach immortality. To ascend beyond this world requires one to reach the 200th tier of advancement, but as easy as it sounds, many have reached a spiritual limit even at the 199th tier, automatically failing the requirements of ascendancy.
Venerable master Orpheus.
Headmaster of the Black Forest Academy
Lutia. Year 2274.
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Aodhán shook as his heart threatened to rip itself out of his chest. He had known this day would come, but he'd never imagined it would be this soon.
His mind raced as he tried to figure out what had given away his identity, as it was obvious that the principal now knew about his status as a transmigrant.
Fear roiled within him as his imagination ran wild. He had no idea what would happen to him if the principal exposed him to the world, but he doubted it would be anything good, positive, or humane.
Principal Zatya frowned and took a step back. “You need not fear, Aodhán; I have no intention to do you harm.”
Aodhán observed her for a long moment, searching her features for any hint of deception, and although he found nothing, he still kept his guard up. Principal Zatya took another step out of his personal space, and he let out a deep sigh.
Silence reigned as both parties studied each other. One with childlike curiosity and the other with intense scrutiny. Aodhán broke the silence a minute later. “What would happen to me if you did expose me to the world?”
Principal Zatya cocked her head slightly and responded. “I do not know precisely, but I doubt it'll be anything good. Unlike inheritors, transmigrants are rare, and I haven't had the privilege to speak with one before now.”
Aodhán sighed. It wasn’t nice to know that he’d been right to keep his identity a secret. He had hoped to be wrong, or just overly paranoid, but he knew that if there was one thing he could be sure of, it was that the world was evil and was sure to disappoint him.
He turned back to the principal, whose pupilless eyes stared at him with childlike curiosity. She observed his actions with an expression very similar to one used to observe exotic animals or circus freaks.
The silence stretched on for what felt like hours but was only a couple seconds. Still, it made Aodhán extremely uncomfortable, and when he couldn’t take it anymore, he asked. “What do you want from me?”
If she didn’t want to expose him to the world, then surely she wanted to keep him for herself; perhaps she intended to perform experiments on him or cut him into several pieces just to analyze his soul.
If she had any sinister motives, Aodhán wanted to know now. The principal had never given him the impression of such insane pursuits, all in the name of knowledge or magical breakthroughs, but you could never really trust people.
Principal Zatya shook her head and smiled. “As absurd as it sounds, I truly have no negative intentions towards you. I am merely curious to know your experiences, what your home world was like, whose legacy you bear, or what it even feels like to be a transmigrant. These are the things I want to know, and like I said earlier, I have no intentions to do you harm.”
Aodhán observed her for a long moment, still wary. The principal seemed sincere, but the best liars usually were, and letting his guard down would be a grave mistake.
Principal Zatya sighed. “I see you don’t trust me.” She walked back to her desk and motioned for him to sit on the chair opposite her. He hesitated, but after a moment of contemplation, he moved away from the wall and carefully slid into the leather chair.
“Okay, let’s start by building trust.” She smiled, and another rune-scripted device appeared in her hand, similar to the truthseeker talisman, but the colors of the runes were different. She gave the talisman to him and said, “That is a much stronger version of the truthseeker talisman; ask me anything you want to, and you’ll know if I’m lying.”
Aodhán clutched the talisman in his right hand, and it flashed with green light as his energy was forcefully drawn into it. The device activated immediately and began to vibrate gently, so to test it, Aodhán asked the principal to tell a lie.
She shook her head slightly and muttered. “I’m a calamity class awakened."
Immediately, the talisman shrieked; in fact, it was so loud that he almost dropped it in shock. At least now he knew the talisman was functioning. He turned back to the principal and asked. “What gave away my identity?”
“What you said about coming to the realization of the limit on your own—it’s impossible; the curse wouldn’t allow it.”
Aodhán frowned at her response. “What is this curse that you keep talking about? And what does it have to do with my identity?”
Principal Zatya sighed, and her expression turned serious. She observed him carefully, her eyes narrowed in contemplation, and just when Aodhán thought she wouldn't answer the question, she spoke. “Nearly a millennia ago, Lutia was conquered by a neighboring continent called Attilan. Their people were much stronger than our fathers, and despite their smaller numbers, they quickly overwhelmed us.
The war lasted for many years, but we lost in the end, and their ruler—the red witch— cursed our fathers and their descendants with a spell of forgetfulness that she anchored to the earth to prevent the curse from ever fading.
The spell had only one function: to remove the knowledge of the limit and how to prevent it from our minds. The Attilan continent sought to weaken us and prevent any native of Lutia from ever reaching the second milestone.
The curse was brutally effective, and for nearly two centuries, our people were neutered by the limit. Those who managed to evolve before the first milestone only prolonged the inevitable. The Attilan continent ruled over us and mocked us for centuries until they finally grew bored and deemed us insignificant.
They left us to our sorry fate years later, but Raol heard our prayers and sent a man to us, a transmigrant like yourself, whose name was Von Amyl Argent. Have you heard of him?”
Aodhán nodded. Von Amyl Argent was the 27th ascendant from Ragnarok, but he had been one of the most powerful on the entire continent. He had awakened the same concept as Raol: reality manipulation, but Aodhán now realized that if Von Amyl Argent was truly like him, then he must have absorbed Raol’s legacy.
Principal Zatya continued. “Just like you, Von Amyl realized the true nature and cause of the limit. I have no idea how the nobles and the other kingdoms came to possess this knowledge, but they’ve kept it quiet ever since, forcing everyone who knew to take the oath of silence, lest we draw the attention of Attilan once again.”
“How many years ago was this war?” Aodhán asked skeptically, and principal Zatya waved dismissively. “Nearly a thousand years ago.”
Aodhán frowned. “If that is the case, how is this curse still in effect?”
“It is believed that they have an extremely powerful artifact that anchors the spell even after the ascendance of the one who cast it.” Principal Zatya replied calmly, but things still remained unclear to Aodhán, and more questions kept popping into his mind.
“So, what you’re saying now is that transmigrants are unaffected by the curse because we weren’t born on the continent?” He asked, trying to understand the whole thing, and Principal Zatya nodded.
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“Essentially yes. We don’t think they planned for this particular loophole.”
“Okay, why hasn't the Attilan continent come back then? Surely they have spies within the continent. They must know that we have found a way to circumvent their curse; why have they not done anything about it? Also, why are we still hiding from them after so many centuries have passed? Why haven’t we found this artifact and destroyed it yet? This entire story of yours isn’t adding up.”
“But it’s the truth.” Her gaze turned to the truthseeker, who was vibrating gently in his hands. “I cannot give you all the answers you seek, as even I am limited in what I know and what I can pass on, but it is the truth.”
Aodhán stared intently at the principal as his mind spun and his thoughts jumbled together. One question remained, and after a few seconds of contemplation, he asked. “Why did you tell me all this? Why did you give me all this information if it’s supposed to be a secret?”
“Because you asked.” Principal Zatya replied, and although she was still smiling, her face had hardened a little.
Aodhán shook his head and dropped the truthseeker on the table. “You could have chosen not to answer my questions, but you did because you wanted something. What do you want from me? Don’t lie.”
Principal Zatya observed him quietly for a moment before she grinned. “You’re right, I do want something from you.” She stood up and slowly walked—prowled—towards him. “I want to create another Von Amyl Argent or another eldritch terror like the abyssal wraith, Erina Blackwell.
She leaned towards him, her eyes burning with an intensity that pinned him to his seat. She continued in a voice barely above a whisper, but it sounded like thunder in his ears. “I want to mold you into a weapon, like the great catastrophe, Az’marthon Ranok, so when our war with Attilan finally begins, the 5th academy would have created a monster strong enough to bring our oppressors to their heels. How would you like to be my new pet, Aodhán?”
……
When Aodhán finally stepped out of the office several minutes later, his feet were wobbly, and he felt so disoriented that he had to lean against the walls of the hallway for a minute before he could regain his bearings.
“Fuck.” He murmured into the emptiness of the hallway. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
He had declined the principal’s proposal at first. He was no weapon of catastrophe; neither was he Von Amyl Argent; he was Aodhán Ashoka, and he just wanted to live his life in peace and explore his superpowers.
The principal had tried to cajole and persuade him with deals and enticing offers, but when he remained adamant, she revealed her true colors and threatened to expose his identity if he failed to cooperate.
“I do not like to resort to such foul measures of persuasion, but you have pushed me, Aodhán. Why can’t you just see that this is for your own good as well as the good of the entire continent?” She had said it to him, and before he knew it, she had pressed a shimmering rune to his forehead.
“That is a tracker.” She had said, “It’s a gift to protect you. This way, I would know where you are at all times.”
When he had failed to squeal in excitement at her ‘gift’, she shook her head wearily as if he were being obstinate. “In time, you will thank me for this; for now, I shall assume that you do not know what you’re doing.”
Aodhán shook his head wearily and slowly banged his head against the wall. Was the principal’s proposal such a bad idea? Not really. He wanted to grow stronger, and the end goal of her plan was to make him so.
What he hated was the fact that she wanted to control him, to mold him into an image that she wanted, and to forge him into a weapon that she could aim at her enemies. He had to find a way out of this situation, but the most pressing problem was the rune she had placed inside him.
He couldn’t feel or sense it, but he knew it was there, and he hated that. He controlled his own fate. He held the will of an ascendant within him; he wasn’t weak. He would overcome this. He would find a way out of this situation.
He remained in the hallway for almost an hour, and by the time he was leaving, he had come to one conclusion. If principal Zatya wanted to mold him into a weapon, then he would become a weapon, but he would wield himself. He would never become the mindless killing machine that she wanted; he would fight on his own terms, and if it all came crashing down, he would die on his own terms.
…..
Warren village, sector 12.
Things had been quiet in Warren ever since the soldiers left the village a few weeks ago. There had been no disputes or conflicts, but it was obvious that the villagers were unhappy, angry, and disappointed, not just with the kingdom but also with the awakened council.
For obvious reasons, the villagers had directed their anger and hate toward the Brystions, either at the behest of some members of the awakened council or of their own volition. Ever since the day the news of Aodhán’s and Daruk’s disappearance had come to light, the villagers had raged and protested, threatening to hide away their own children until the mayor had announced the punishment meted out to the Brystions for their actions.
The announcement had placated the villagers a little, but ever since then, Unrid and Synové have been ostracized and shunned by their neighbors, except for a few who sympathize with them.
Aldric had returned to the 12th academy a week later, when things had calmed a little and Unrid and Synové had taken up their hoes and ploughs. With the little money they had left, they dug a well in their backyard and converted a small patch of land behind them into a farm.
Synové has cried herself to sleep ever since, as she suffered both from missing her children and the depressive situation they were currently in. Unrid tried his best to comfort her, but there was little he could do, and Synové sometimes directed her anger at him for sending the children away.
Now, more than two weeks had passed since then, and they’d finally settled into a sort of rhythm. They made their way to the farm every morning, wetting and weeding their mounds, but there was little hope of anything growing, not with the continuous lack of rain.
Yet they plowed on, refusing to give up. They both felt the absence of their children deeply: Aodhán’s seriousness and honesty, Daruk’s etiquette and propriety, and Aldric’s feigned nonchalance and sarcasm.
Unrid sighed as he carried the watering can to another mound and began watering it. Due to the lack of rain, the land had hardened, making it much harder for the plants to grow, but they couldn’t afford to wait for the rainy season as they would have run out of food by then.
A few hours later, Synové dropped her watering can and sighed. “We are through; all we need to do is come back in the evening for another round.”
Unrid nodded and grabbed the two cans, but as they made their way back to the house, a man dressed in a black and silver military uniform suddenly appeared before them. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, and two black bands ringed his gray pupils.
The man had dark bronze skin that shone slightly, and he carried himself with a confident and self-assured bearing. He stood about 6 feet tall and looked only a little older than Aldric, yet Unrid immediately dropped the watering cans and subtly moved to hide Synové from view.
He would have to be blind and stupid not to sense the presence and power that the young man exuded. It was obvious he wasn’t from around here, maybe not even from the sector, as soldiers were usually stationed at the seventh sector.
If the man truly was from the 7th sector, then what business did he have with the village? More importantly, what was he doing on their farm?
Synové tensed behind him, and he felt her hands clench in anger at the sight of the uniform she had grown to hate. Before she could say a word, though, Unrid gave a polite bow and asked, “What brings you to our humble farm, sir?"
Surprisingly, the man responded with a similar bow. “My apologies; my name is Kaelith Dalquor, an emissary of the 5th academy.” He displayed his ID card before proceeding. “I was sent here by the principal of the 5th academy to inform you, firstly, that both of your children were successfully admitted into the school.”
“Oh Unrid.” Synové gasped in excitement as she came out from behind him and hugged him. “It was not in vain; they did it.”
Unrid let out a heavy breath, one he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and he almost staggered in relief. Their greatest worry had just been eliminated. Unrid believed in his children, but he had feared and doubted.
The news was so pleasant that he and Synové soon found themselves laughing and crying happily. They forgot their sorrows for the moment, and it wasn’t until the emissary coughed that they realized he was still there.
“Thank you so much, sir; you’ve given us such wonderful news.” Unrid said to the emissary, who smiled and began explaining the events that happened during the tournament. When he finished, Unrid and Synové were beside themselves with pride and excitement.
“Oh, I knew he could do it.” Synové cried with joy, her face flush with excitement so pure that the wrinkles on her face disappeared. Unrid was simply overwhelmed, and having no words to express his pride and relief, he simply waved for the emissary to continue.
“Considering Aodhán’s amazing feats, the 5th academy wants to keep him from transferring to either the 1st or 2nd academy, so we made a deal with him, and he has requested that you both be relocated to the 5th sector.
“What?!” Unrid exclaimed and exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Synové, who seemed to have been frozen in shock.
“Rest assured, accommodations have been provided, although the hunt for jobs is still ongoing."
“Wait! Calm down” Unrid interrupted as he tried to process the emissary’s words. “You mean the 5th Academy has provided jobs and accommodations for us?”
“Yes.” Kaelith replied with a tired smile. He loved his job as an emissary of good news, but sometimes, delivering bad news was just so much easier.
Unrid and Synové stared at the emissary in shock, but Synové burst out laughing a moment later and asked. “Do we have to go immediately? There’s still a lot we have to attend to; besides, we need to inform our eldest son.”
“No, you don’t have to be relocated immediately, in fact.” Kaelith took out a small pouch and gave it to Unrid. “I was ordered to give this to you. It should be enough to transport you and your family to the 5th sector whenever you’re ready.”
Unrid opened the pouch, and his eyes bulged when he saw the shimmering gold coins clinking within it. “This is—” he struggled to find the right words, but eventually settled for a simple thank you.
The emissary nodded and handed over a small device covered in shimmering blue runes. “This is a locator talisman. All you have to do is imbue it with energy anywhere in the 5th sector, and I’ll be able to find you.”
Unrid accepted the talisman carefully, still in a daze, while Synové offered their gratitude once more. The emissary disappeared a moment later, leaving them to stare at the talisman and the pouch of gold coins in amazement.
After several moments of silence, Unrid turned to Synové and smiled. “Send a letter to Aldric; we need to discuss our new future as soon as possible.”