[Ascendance: The Journey to Type 7. Ch_003]
The winds blew hard over the bustling metropolis of Tidespire.
In this city of steel and storms, skyscrapers reached up toward the heavens,
adorned with countless lights like stars strewn across the night. Here,
in the Wavesong Union, Kael felt small—a mere shadow among giants,
yet a shadow that refused to fade. For the past years, he had learned to walk
the fine line between survival and ambition, the city's ruthless energy becoming
part of his own.
Tonight, the city seemed more alive than usual. The air pulsed with tension as
Kael hurried through the dimly lit streets, his thoughts clouded by the recent
warning from the system.[Beware, an E*********n(Deity) hostile towards you]. The word echoed
in his mind, reminding him of some dark, ancient myth. The rest of the name had been
blurred, a hint of something colossal lurking just beyond his understanding.
He felt the weight of this strange threat as he approached the small, cramped apartment
he shared with Elara and Caelan. Although the building was old and battered, it was
home—the only real sense of stability Kael had known in a world that had often seemed to reject him.
Inside, Elara and Caelan were waiting for him. Elara, Kael's aunt, had lines of worry
etched across her face as she looked up at him. She was a tall woman with a fierce gaze
softened only by years of hardship.
Elara: "Kael, we need to talk about what's been going on."
She paused, glancing at Caelan, who nodded.
Caelan: "You're carrying too much on your own, boy.
This city can turn anyone into a monster if they aren't careful."
Kael sighed, sinking into one of the battered chairs at the table. The room was dim,
the faint glow of a single candle casting long shadows against the peeling walls.
Kael: "I know it's dangerous. But I can't turn down a chance to get stronger.
You both know what it's like here—how people like us can barely survive."
Elara's eyes softened as she looked at him, memories of her own struggles flashing in her gaze.
Elara: "We understand, Kael. Believe me, we do. But there's a difference between strength
and sacrifice. You're risking too much. We can't lose you."
Kael clenched his fists, his jaw tight. He knew Elara was right, but he couldn't let go
of his desire for power. Not with the mysterious warning from the system and the
looming shadow of the Syndicate.
Kael: "I've lost too much already, Aunt. If I don't keep pushing forward,
we're just going to keep scraping by, always looking over our shoulders.
This is a chance to change everything."
The days that followed were a blur of sweat and steel. Kael threw himself
into his training with a single-minded intensity, every punch, every step
pushing him closer to his goal.
Between shifts at the docks, where he moved
heavy crates and stacked goods under the watchful eyes of indifferent foremen,
he spent his nights in the underground rings.
These were brutal places, dimly lit and stinking of sweat and metal.
Fighters from all walks of life gathered here, bound by the same need for
survival and the faint glimmer of fame. In the underground rings, Kael was no longer
a forgotten child of the slums; he was a force to be reckoned with.
He had earned a reputation among fighters, known for his ruthless precision and unwavering resilience.
Yet, in the dark corners of his mind, he couldn't escape the system's warning.
It felt like a shadow growing larger with each passing day, the blurred name a taunting mystery.
One night, after a particularly grueling fight, Kael wandered alone through the alleys near the docks, his mind racing. That's when he felt it—the faintest flicker of energy in the air,
an unnatural stillness that set his senses on edge.
Kael: [whispering to himself] "Who's there?"
The shadows shifted, almost as if alive, and from within them emerged a figure. Cloaked in darkness, the entity seemed to shimmer, its form barely distinct as if it straddled the line between reality and something far beyond.
Entity: "Kael Ashvale… child of defiance."
The voice was neither loud nor soft, but it resonated in Kael's mind, cold and unsettling.
Kael: "I don't know what you are, but I'm not afraid of you."
The figure chuckled, the sound like a whisper carried on the wind.
Entity: "Brave words. But bravery alone won't protect you from the forces that lie in wait."
Kael felt a chill run down his spine, but he held his ground, fists clenched.
Kael: "If you're here to warn me, then tell me who you are.
Or better yet, tell me who—or what—is hunting me."
The figure's face remained hidden, but its gaze seemed to pierce through him.
Entity: "Knowing about me, won't help you. But, There are things beyond your understanding, Kael. Powers that see you as a mere pawn in a larger game. Beware… an E*********n watches."
Kael: "How do you know my name?"
And with that, the figure faded back into the shadows, leaving Kael alone once more.
His heart pounded as he processed the encounter, every word etching itself into his memory.
He didn't understand the name—or what it meant—but he knew that whatever it was,
it would test him in ways he couldn't yet comprehend.
Some weeks later, the Syndicate finally contacted him again. Kael had been expecting it,
feeling the weight of their gaze on him since that night in the alley.
A cloaked figure awaited him outside his apartment, his face hidden beneath a hood.
Cloaked Figure: "Kael Ashvale, the Syndicate has a task for you.
One that will prove your loyalty—and your worth."
Kael crossed his arms, meeting the figure's gaze with an unwavering stare.
Kael: "And what exactly does this task involve?"
The figure's voice dropped, taking on a colder tone.
Cloaked Figure: "There are smugglers—rivals—who think they can cross us.
They're holding shipments that belong to us.
We need someone to remind them of their place."
The mention of smugglers piqued Kael's interest. He had heard rumors about
the underground trading networks in Tidespire, whispers of forbidden technology
and weapons that could shift the balance of power.
This was no ordinary job;
it was a chance to learn the workings of those in control.
Kael: "Fine. Just tell me where to find them."
The figure handed him a small device,
the holographic map flickering to life with the location marked.
Cloaked Figure: "Deliver the message,
and make sure they understand—crossing us has consequences."
The warehouse loomed in the night, its broken windows like dark eyes watching Kael
as he approached. The air was thick with tension, each step echoing through the empty dockyard.
Inside, the shadows stretched long, illuminated only by a few weak lights hanging from the ceiling.
Kael scanned the area, spotting the men gathered around crates.
They looked rough, armed, and clearly not inclined to talk.
Kael: "I'm here with a message from the Syndicate.
Back off, or pay the price."
The leader, a tall man with a scar across his face,
smirked and stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.
Leader: "The Syndicate sent a pup? I was hoping for a real challenge."
The men laughed, their faces filled with smug arrogance.
Kael's muscles tensed, his gaze hardening.
Kael: "Keep laughing. It'll make this easier for me."
The leader's smirk vanished, replaced by a scowl.
He lunged forward, swinging a heavy fist at Kael's face. Kael ducked,
dodging with a fluid movement and countering with a punch to the ribs that landed with a solid
THUD!.
The man staggered back, gasping as he clutched his side.
Leader: "You little—get him!"
Kael: "You thought you could intimidate me? You're in over your heads!"
As the remaining men closed in, Kael's heart raced, his instincts sharp and focused.
He recalled the countless hours spent training in the underground rings,
the lessons drilled into him by his fellow fighters—speed, accuracy, and exploiting weaknesses.
The leader regained his footing, his expression twisting into a scowl of rage.
"You'll pay for that!" He lunged again, this time throwing a flurry of punches.
Kael blocked the first two with his forearms, feeling the jarring impact reverberate through his bones, but he was ready.
He ducked under another swing, then countered with a powerful uppercut
that caught the man off guard. The leader's head snapped back,
his mouth opening in a silent gasp as he staggered away.
THWACK! The sound of flesh meeting flesh rang out as Kael turned his attention
to another attacker rushing from the side.
With a swift pivot, he delivered a spinning kick, connecting solidly with the man's chest.
The blow sent him crashing to the ground, gasping for breath as he struggled to get back up.
Kael: "You should've chosen a different path. The Syndicate doesn't play games!"
More men surrounded him, their faces a mix of anger and disbelief.
Kael felt adrenaline coursing through him, sharpening his senses.
This is what I need to become stronger, he thought, gritting his teeth as he prepared for the next wave of attacks.
Suddenly, a burly figure charged at him, wielding an Advanced Crowbar.
Kael's eyes widened, the weapon glinting ominously in the flickering light.
He dodged just in time, feeling the rush of air as the crowbar swung past him.
Using the momentum, he spun around, catching the man off balance, and delivered a knee to his gut.
CRUNCH! The sound echoed through the warehouse, and the man crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.
Kael was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead. He felt the rush of combat—exhilarating and terrifying.
This was the life he had chosen, and there was no turning back.
As the fight continued, he caught a glimpse of the leader rallying his men.
Leader: "Stop playing around! Take him down!"
The remaining attackers charged in unison, a wall of fists and fury.
Kael braced himself, focusing on the rhythm of their movements. Here it comes, he thought, his instincts kicking in as he evaded their strikes, his body moving like a dancer in a deadly ballet.
BAM! One man swung a fist aimed at his face, but Kael ducked, allowing the punch to soar over his head.
He retaliated with a swift jab to the man's stomach, sending him stumbling back.
THUD! Another attacker rushed in, brandishing a knife.
The glint of the blade caught Kael's attention, his heart racing as he sidestepped the slash.
He grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it sharply until the knife clattered to the ground.
In one smooth motion, he followed through with a knee to the attacker's face.
CRACK! The sound was sickening as the man crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from his nose.
Breathless, Kael scanned the remaining fighters. Their bravado was fading, replaced by fear and confusion.
He had taken down several of them already, and they could see their leader struggling to regain control of the situation.
Kael: "Is this all you've got? I thought the Syndicate's enemies would be tougher!"
The leader gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing with determination.
"You're just a kid! We'll show you what real fighters can do!"
With renewed vigor, the leader charged again, fists swinging wildly.
Kael dodged the first punch but felt the sting of another blow connecting with his ribs.
He grunted, feeling the pain flare through him but quickly shook it off.
Kael: "You're going to have to do better than that!"
In a burst of energy, Kael launched himself forward, catching the leader off guard with a flurry of strikes—left hook, right jab, spinning kick—each movement fluid and precise.
The warehouse was filled with the sounds of combat: grunts, the thud of bodies hitting the ground,
and the metallic clang of discarded weapons.
BAM! A punch landed solidly on the leader's jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor.
Kael stood over him, chest heaving, his breath heavy but steady.
He could feel the rush of victory coursing through him,
but there was no time to revel in it.
The remaining fighters hesitated, glancing nervously at their fallen comrades.
Kael took a step forward, his expression fierce.
Kael: "This is your last chance! Tell your bosses to back off the Syndicate,
or next time, it won't be just a warning."
The leader grimaced, struggling to get up. "You'll regret this,
kid. The Syndicate can't protect you forever!"
Kael turned, ready to leave, but not before delivering one last message.
Kael: "You're the one who should be worried.
Remember, there are forces in play you don't understand."
He strode out of the warehouse, adrenaline still surging through him.
The fight had been brutal, but he felt alive, invigorated by the danger.
The warning from the system echoed in his mind, urging him to remain vigilant.
Outside, the cool night air enveloped him as he made his way back home.
He could still hear the sounds of the fight—the thuds,
the grunts—like a symphony of chaos lingering in his ears.
Days passed, and the encounter weighed heavily on Kael's mind.
Each time he trained or fought, he felt a burning desire to understand his limits and push beyond them.
Yet, the words of the mysterious entity haunted him,
reminding him of the greater dangers that lurked beyond the immediate threats.
"An E********n watches."* The phrase lingered in his thoughts,
a dark cloud he couldn't shake off.
Kael: "What are you, and why are you watching me?" he murmured to himself one night,
alone in his room. The faint light of the city filtered through the cracked window,
casting eerie shadows on the walls.
It was during one of these contemplative moments that Elara knocked softly on the door,
her voice gentle yet firm.
Elara: "Kael? Are you in there?"
He opened the door, forcing a smile despite the turmoil inside.
Kael: "Yeah, I'm just…thinking."
Elara stepped inside, concern etched on her features.
Elara: "I know you're pushing yourself, but you need to be careful.
I've heard things about the Syndicate's enemies. They won't let this go easily."
Kael nodded, his resolve hardening.
Kael: "I can handle myself, Elara. I have to be stronger for us.
I can't let anything happen to you or Caelan."
She reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring.
Elara: "You're not just fighting for yourself, Kael. Remember that.
You have us, and we have each other. Don't lose sight of what matters."
His heart softened at her words, the weight of responsibility mingling with gratitude.
Kael: "I won't. I promise."
TO BE CONTINUED.