At the edge of a village stood a quaint wooden cottage, home to only one occupant: Sandro Rubens. At eighteen years of age and an orphan, Sandro lived alone. Despite the cottage's cozy appearance, it felt rather empty.
Sandro stood in what had once been the cottage's living room. He had long since converted it into a makeshift art studio after purchasing the place. It was the only part of the home that seemed truly lived in. The rest of the rooms contained only the bare essentials. Nearby, a large yellow duffel bag rested on the couch. It held everything Sandro needed for his journey: clothes, basic necessities, and, most importantly, his art supplies.
Picking up the duffel bag, Sandro left the cottage, making sure to lock the door behind him. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought; he had already sold the home, as he had no intention of ever returning.
Sandro walked into the village and sat on a bench, waiting for public transport. As he sat, he attracted quite a few stares.
There were two reasons for this. First, Sandro was undeniably attractive. His golden blonde hair was styled into long twin braids, his emerald green eyes were striking, and his flawless olive skin added to his charm. His above-average height and athletic physique exuded energy and vitality. He wore a loose-fitting turtleneck shirt with cargo pants featuring multiple pockets, along with a pair of high-top sneakers.
While his good looks often drew attention—which he secretly enjoyed—the second reason was even more compelling: Sandro was an Ascended, an individual who had undergone the transformation to surpass the limits of ordinary mortals.
He smiled and waved, engaging politely with anyone who approached him. Although he kept up appearances, Sandro was largely uninterested in the people of his small town. As he sat there, his thoughts turned inward, and he mused with amusement: I've lived peacefully here for so long, yet I couldn't be happier at the prospect of leaving. No, that's not quite right—it's not leaving that excites me. It's the endless possibilities that lie ahead.
After exchanging pleasantries with a few passersby, the public transport finally arrived. The vehicle was large, capable of carrying numerous passengers, and built to perform in extreme conditions. Though advanced, such vehicles were common thanks to the technological breakthroughs brought about by the Ascended.
Sandro boarded the bus, paid his fare, and set off for Cruciburg City.
...
Far off in a regular home in a quiet residential area sat another young Ascended in her room.
The room was kept relatively neat, though this might not be apparent at first glance. Dozens of books were scattered about—some physical, others digital and stored on devices. The contents of these books were of a notably high academic level, covering complex topics.
The young Ascended lounged on her bed, engrossed in one of these books. The text delved into the fundamentals of Ascended training. According to the book, there were three core aspects of an Ascended: their Vessel, Conscious Mind, and Soul. These aspects were interconnected, each feeding into the others.
Her name was Curie Adams, a sixteen-year-old with striking red hair and a face dotted with freckles. Of average height for her age, she had a slender build with lean muscle. She wore a white hoodie layered under a red denim jacket, paired with a skirt. Circular spectacles rested on her nose—not out of necessity anymore, as her Ascension had corrected her vision, but as a stylish accessory.
As she read, Curie suddenly decided to rise from her bed and open her bedroom door. Standing just outside was her mother, Madeline, who appeared slightly startled.
Before Madeline could speak, Curie preemptively addressed her in a casual tone. "I know breakfast is ready. I'm almost fully dressed, and my things are packed. I'll be down shortly." Though she wanted to close the door then and there, Curie resisted, knowing it might upset her mother.
Madeline smiled warmly at her daughter before heading downstairs. As she walked away, she remarked, "You're always a step ahead of everyone else."
Curie acknowledged the comment with a passive nod, then turned to put on a pair of sneakers. She had a knack for predicting patterns and took pride in her ability to stay ahead. Her love of knowledge came from its potential to be wielded as a form of power.
Curie ate breakfast with her parents, engaging in idle conversation purely as a pleasantry. She found her parents rather ordinary and predictable, their words holding little interest for her.
After breakfast, the family set off for Cruciburg City. Though her parents tried to hide it, Curie was well aware of their apprehension. It wasn't her youth as an Ascended that worried them. The real issue was the prospect of her living independently, beyond their reach. There was little they could do to change the matter, and all Curie offered to reassure them was a simple promise to maintain irregular contact.
The situation was even harder for her parents because they could only accompany her part of the way. At a certain point, Curie would have to continue the journey on her own, a fact that weighed heavily on them.
...
In a luxurious penthouse overlooking a city, a wealthy family enjoyed breakfast. Their home was sleek and modern, equipped with amenities far beyond what most people could afford.
Servants moved about, either performing tasks or standing by, ready to attend to any request. At one end of a long dining table sat a well-dressed woman, her posture exuding authority. At the other end sat a man in an expensive suit, radiating an air of quiet dominance. Seated between them was their son, Alexander Lionel, an Ascended.
Nineteen years old and tall with an athletic physique, Alexander had sharp blue eyes and straight, raven-black hair styled loosely. His clothing was both comfortable and formal, reflecting wealth and status. He wore a long-sleeve golf shirt paired with tailored dress pants and polished boots. A mechanical harness was attached to his chest and back.
Throughout breakfast, Alexander's parents talked—though not to him, but about him. Their voices carried across the table as they discussed his future, his potential, and their expectations, as if he weren't there.
Alexander found the experience unpleasant, though his expression remained stoic and unreadable. As he ate in silence, his gaze occasionally shifted to the staff members moving about the room. He envied them in a quiet, detached way. They worked here, and when their tasks were done, they could leave. He, however, lived here.
When breakfast concluded, Alexander rose to leave, but his parents called him back for a final word. His mother spoke first, her tone firm and commanding. "I trust you understand the importance of your success in Cruciburg City."
His father followed, his voice colder but equally resolute. "It goes without saying—you are not allowed to fail us."
With his stoic demeanor intact, Alexander gave a curt nod in affirmation. His parents dismissed him with a wave, as if he were a servant.
Alexander made his way to the penthouse elevator, where a servant handed him two suitcases. The larger one contained personal belongings, while the smaller, crafted from a black metal alloy. He secured the smaller suitcase to the harness on his back. As the elevator descended, a rare sense of peace washed over him, providing a brief moment for introspection. His thoughts churned beneath his calm exterior.
My success will only mean that I serve someone other than them. I have no intent of letting it stay that way!
...
Within Cruciburg City, a thousand Ascended applicants stood outside a massive domed coliseum. Among them were Sandro, Curie, and Alexander, each quietly observing the large gathering of their peers.
The colossal mechanical doors of the coliseum began to open slowly. The crowd, a mixture of anticipation and resolve, started making their way inside in a calm yet disorganized manner. The interior of the coliseum was vast and brightly illuminated by powerful lights. Unlike traditional coliseums, this one had no audience stands—what was about to take place was not a spectacle for entertainment but a test of skill and determination.
Opposite the main entrance stood a raised, levitating platform. On it was an Ascended woman with mossy green hair and striking golden eyes. Her dark skin and slender physique gave her an ethereal presence. She wore a loose-fitting gray shirt and baggy pants of the same color. Over her shoulders draped a deep red poncho, and a navy-blue rope belt tied in a neat bow secured her attire.
She gripped the railing of her floating platform, her golden eyes scanning the crowd of applicants below. The weight of her presence filled the space, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that she was an immensely powerful Ascended.
The woman spoke, her voice loud and electrifying, echoing throughout the coliseum. "Greetings, applicants! I am Gaia, and I will be the overseer of the trials you are about to face. Each of you has trained hard to walk the path of Ascension! You were invited here because you were deemed worthy, and you accepted the challenge to take our trials! Let me remind you passing these tests grants you the honor of joining one of the dominant Ascended factions!"
Her voice reverberated across the room. Sandro couldn't tell if the effect was due to her natural projection or an unseen device amplifying her words.
Gaia's tone shifted, becoming sharper and more serious. "The first trial begins now. Each of these trials has been devised by one of the factions you wish to join. The rules for this test are simple: you must battle your fellow Ascended until only half of you remain. You may use any tools or abilities you've acquired through your training. However, there is one absolute rule no killing!"
The air in the coliseum grew tense as her words settled over the crowd.
With that declaration, the first trial began.