Chapter 294. Ambition Isn’t Everything (Patreon)

Ascendant Crimson Teeth

“You knew people would be frustrated by the new format,” Ebon Pearl remarks.

I mean, yes, obviously, but I didn’t think they’d just…

“Storm off?”

Essentially. Change is hard, I know that, but it leaves a nervous pit in my stomach to infuriate so many. I want this change to stick since it’s for the good of the Hall of Ascension.

The ascendant observers came expecting fighting and quick rounds, as is customary. Once they realized that the trial wouldn’t finish in less than an hour, they threw a collective fit. When I revealed the first round might take a day to elapse, they went ballistic.

The best tests can’t be completed in a few minutes or hours. They’re the tests that are open ended and last as long as necessary to teach a lesson. The factions didn’t bring the right participants for this kind of game, or so they probably think. But any ascendant should be able to complete these rounds if they have the right kind of thinking.

I found a way to beat every round without my affinity, utilizing only my ascendant energy, while temporarily wiping my memories of the rounds to go through them as a new competitor. If I can do it, anyone can, though the trial-goers might need to discard stale ways of thinking and assumptions regarding how the Hall of Ascension agents operate when trying half-step ascendants.

A few will find ways to brute force their way through rounds, but most won’t succeed. To rely on force for all five rounds? I’ll have great fun seeing the competitors try.

­—

We’re the fifth pair in the room to wake up. Red blinks his eyes rapidly and stretches in his seat, yawning.

“Red, I think you did too well,” I say. “Most people are still stuck in the round.”

He frowns. “Oh. Well, that’s unexpected.”

I resist the urge to facepalm. “Do worse next time.”

He looks around. “Those who already finished are gone.”

He’s right. I sense Holiday with a few ascendants over on the observer platform, though it’s a much smaller number than I expect. Where did the observers go?

We leave the treehouse classroom and fly to the clear-floored platform. Holiday is speaking with the four competitor-observer pairs who finished before us. A few staff from the Hall of Ascension are also present, engaged in conversation with each other. A small table of refreshments is practically undisturbed.

“Just what I need,” Red mutters as he strides toward what looks like a coffee carafe.

Holiday’s eyes snap over to us, Red’s words the excuse he needed to politely notice our arrival. “Ah, Ancient Black and Ascendant Red, back so soon. How excellent.”

I glide over to Holiday’s group and nod politely, though refrain from initiating conversation.

“I look forward to seeing highlights from your play-through, Ancient Black,” one of the observers says, refusing to let me fade into the background. The others nod and smile politely. Empty smiles–they likely assume that I gave Red, theoretically the weakest ascendant present, a disproportionate amount of aid. How else could he come out fifth?

Holiday probably guesses the truth. Ascendant Red’s blue energy and lack of a destructive affinity are no real hindrance.

When Red joins us, blowing on his coffee, Holiday cuts off the chatter. “Now that the first five groups have finished, we have enough to start the next round. We’ll return to the treehouse in five minutes.” He gives Red an apologetic smile. “I’d ask someone to cool that down for you.”

“Why was he waiting?” Red mentally asks.

“He’s using some kind of Beginning tech to run the simulations,” I reply. “He probably has a certain number of nodes that each run a version of the same scenario. I’d guess that he only has enough assets to evaluate a minimum of five groups–ten people–at a time.”

I’m not complaining–I’m glad for the minimum downtime.

“What if we didn’t try to do poorly?” Red suddenly says as he holds his coffee out to a Moon practitioner who chills it with an absent wave of her hand. “I wasn’t trying, not really, and we came in fifth.”

“We’re not here to compete. We’re here, generally, to establish a way to meet Achemiss, and now secondarily to gain a favor from Holiday.”

Red sips the dark drink, his expression impassive, though I sense the simmering of frustration and disappointment in his mind. “I thought you wanted to gain power.”

“I do.” Obviously. “I’ve advanced further in a few years than most do ever.”

“But that’s just it,” he says, “you’ve advanced, past tense. You’re tired of training, of grinding your affinities higher.”

“Wouldn’t anyone be tired after years of Ancient Ash’s tutelage?”

“But we aren’t just anyone,” Red replies. “We’re ascendants, and this is Eternity. It’s a place where literally nothing is impossible, so long as Eternity wills it.”

Red and I step off the platform, falling gracefully toward the treehouse classroom behind the other competitors and Holiday.

It’s a place that rewards the bold, Maria interjects. Coming to this competition and impersonating a powerful ancient is gutsy, and your plan to kill Achemiss–bold in the extreme. As an outsider, I’d say it’s practically a death wish.

“It’s not really impersonating since I am an ancient, but I get it,” I say, mulling over their words. I’d have to be dull not to get the point. I have more affinities than I know what to do with, between my three and Maria’s two.

My ascendant energy is my weakest link.

Red continues, saying, “We gain Eternity’s favor by being bold… but more specifically, by doing things that matter, things that leave a mark on this place. For most, red energy is an eventuality when you cannot die; but the speed at which you acquire it is incredibly variable.”

Surely, participating in a competition with the intent to win won’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, Maria argues.

“Correct,” Red says. “But it’s who we are that matters. It’s not just about being daring but being driven. I want to win, not because it will help save your world, Ian, but because if it can be done, I want to do it.”

Aren’t all ascendants like that? I ask Maria privately, shielding the thoughts from Red. We all want to win.

Do you really believe that? Maria asks. Your power was thrust upon you. You didn’t fight because you wanted strength itself, but because you wanted release. You wanted an escape. She pauses. You know I’m sorry for that.

I know.

Messeras told me about the Infinity Loop experiments on other worlds, how those in power would use them to awaken practitioners who might not manifest powers on their own, and then force them to ascend by torturing them in loops. Those worlds weaponized–and in some ways, artificially produced–ascensions. They’re the kinds of worlds favored by the black faction, warring places of chaos, ascendant factories that burned short and bright.

Were those half-step ascendants–those victims–driven, ambitious? Or were they just desperate, willing to do anything to make the torture of a time loop stop?

I want to save my world from that kind of fate, but it’s dread that moves me, a responsibility that weighs me down, anchors and ache.

I act because I fear.

“I suppose I am different from you,” I finally say. We alight on the classroom floor and walk over to the chairs we sat in before. “I think it’s a mistake to characterize Eternity as monolithic when there are different paths to power. Ambition isn’t everything.”

“Will you help me win?” Red asks, plopping down into his chair.

Even from the classroom, I can sense the people on the observer platform–or the lack thereof. “I won’t hold you back, but don’t get your hopes up about winning and joining the Hall of Ascension.” I sit down in the chair next to him. “People don’t like Holiday’s new competition format, so the results might be thrown out.”

The red button from before is still on the school desk in front of the chair. I stare at the white, six-pointed star on its surface. Red meets my eyes, and we press down on our identical buttons together.

The interface from before pops up. “Observer Black, please select an affinity for this exercise.”

Here we go again.

After picking my affinity, the voice announces that Discardia is loading. After a few seconds, the world fades to black and I find myself in the middle of a body of water, deep under the surface. Light doesn’t reach here; I can only sense the surroundings with my affinity.

The pressure is horrific, though not yet deadly. The challenge wouldn’t be very fun if the observers–unable to use ascendant energy–died from the environment in the first minute.

“Welcome to Discardia,” Holiday’s voice says pleasantly. “You are on level two. Your objective is to make your way through all five levels.”

Red swims over and grabs onto me, blue ascendant energy illuminating his legs. He kicks out and propels us forward. In less dense materials like air, I can move my body around with my practice, but in water that strategy is much less effective. It’s easier to trust Red to bring us to the surface.

“You have been sent to evaluate the qualifications of a half-step ascendant. You traveled to this half-step ascendant’s world and entered the atmosphere twenty-four seconds ago. You realized that the half-step ascendant’s supposed location was in the middle of the ocean but were unable to arrest your trajectory in time. You plunged into the water. The half-step ascendant is nowhere to be found. As this is your first descent, an ascendant observer has come with you to offer assistance.”

The message is partially the same as before, though the scenario is clearly different.

“Find the ascendant as quickly as possible, judge them, and return to Eternity. Reward: proceed to round three. Note: if the competitor perishes, the round will restart.”

We breach the surface and gasp for air. I lift Red and I both up out of the water and suspend us in the air, where the ocean breeze and harsh sun start to dry us.

“Great,” Red thinks. “We don’t even know which continent this ascendant is from.”

I shrug. “Pick a direction. The goal is to find land.”

“Can you fly us fast enough?” he asks.

I chuckle as a veritable graveyard of marine bones rise from the water’s surface. “Give me a minute and we’ll be good to go.”

He watches me inquisitively as I form the flying construct, his eyes growing especially owlish when I socket the just-formed soul gems and lead him into the construct’s glowing rib cage.

“Never been in a construct like this before?” I ask out loud as the bone wyrm starts its ascent. The gray-blue waves grow smaller until they look like scintillating scales.

“Never needed to,” he replies. “I’ve ridden other things, though. Shuttles, of course. In Eternity I’ve controlled a few flying creatures.” He pauses. “Have you ever flown a matria moth?”

“No.”

“Imagine a moth the size of a house.”

After about thirty minutes of flying, we finally see the first signs of land. Not knowing if this world’s countries have heavy artillery that automatically shoot down incoming flying objects, and erring on the side of caution, I bring the wyrm into a descent until the ocean sprays our clothes, then disassemble the wyrm, pocketing its soul gems.

I control our bodies, flying us to a cliffside walkway.

“We could have tried a different strategy this time,” Red points out. “The, ‘bring the half-step ascendant to me or pay the consequences!’ kind of solution.”

I give him an appraising look as we approach a tiny, touristy tavern overlooking the water. It’s midday, so the tavern is almost deserted. I sense only five people inside, four of them employees.

“I don’t think that’s our style,” I reply. “If it were just me, with my Death affinity, that might be my only option. But we have your Remorse and Maria’s End.” I sigh. “Besides, Holiday’s agenda is obvious. He’s created trials that don’t favor brute force.”

“You know, sometimes I wonder why we bother with some of these ascendants. If they’re determined not to be found, I’d rather just leave them be.”

I shake my head. “If hiding was all it took to escape fate, many more would hide, and we’d have far fewer ascendants.”

“Not on my world,” Red replies. “Why would anyone give up the honor?”

“To many, it’s a death sentence, or at least feels like one,” I retort. “Not all worlds are as lucky as yours.”

“Would you have avoided your ascension, if you could have?” Red asks.

“No.” My fist clenches. “I wanted out of that place.”

“The place you’re trying to save?”

I give him a tired smile. “One and the same.”