Stormborn Ascendant 2: A LitRPG Apocalypse Adventure, page 22
He began spinning again, and the entire world trembled.
Cracks formed at the edges of the illusory plane, and the ground itself seemed to constrict around Tyler for a moment. The ripping and warping of reality felt a bit more familiar the second time around, but he still found himself stumbling in a disoriented step as the magic began to finish.
"Now, my children, we have enough time. Ten days, if my power is able to hold. The first order of business — the Ritual of Mental Rebirth."
Lisa and Tyler suddenly stiffened, and there was a brief flash and a sea of tingles down his spine.
Immediately, they sat cross-legged and began to cycle the Forge of Dawn and Dusk.
After needing to go through an hours-long physical bath and a split-second simultaneous integration and advancement while he was actively engulfed in magma, taking an hour or so to leisurely weave in the beneficial magic via a third-layer fractal felt almost pedestrian. It was a struggle, sure, and they did have a time limit. But now that they’d reached the cave, they could afford to breathe.
After he felt the magic settle into a deep, comfortable place in his mind, Tyler stood up with a grin.
"And thus, it is done," the Trial Guardian announced. “Congratulations, Warriors.”
Despite the pressure looming above them, Tyler still felt a wave of pride surge through him. For so long, he’d wondered what it would be like. And yet…
"That's it?" Lisa quirked an eyebrow. She’d finished a full fifteen minutes before he had, and must have noticed the same thing. "It doesn't feel that different, especially not compared to the other two."
"The Ritual of Mental Rebirth is far more subtle than the other two," Ceph said as he began spinning slowly in place. "But its effects, especially when combined with the full set of Rituals, may prove invaluable."
He paused from his spinning to gesture toward the Saint's corpse. "Take a look again at his body, the way his magic plays along. Tyler, your Aspect may be similar enough in some ways for you to glean insight. Conjure up that memory in your mind."
In the fractals of light, Tyler saw the weight of the Saint's magic — a thousand scenes playing out, even more vivid than the physical forms that danced along the inside of the Storm. As he approached one of the pieces, a hand-sized shard of magic so thin it might have been a trick of the eye, the shard slowly rotated toward him.
He watched as a dragon descended, only to be met by a delicate film of reflective magic.
Absolute Counter.
His own memories of the moment flooding back, and somehow there seemed to be more there now.
"There is more to our Trials than simply the enhancement of our Warriors," the octopus said from above them, his voice vibrating as the mists seemed to coil faster and faster around him. "There is a reason for the Aftertrials, for the Caves of the Ancestors. Here, you are working towards something far greater. Truly see, child — see magic as it is."
Tyler reached to touch a finger against the shard, and it was as if he was back on the island the first time — his knees weak, his inflammation rampant, the smell of choked dust and fire in the air. He felt his gaze hone in on the delicate thread of magic pushed out from the Saint's palm. He felt the confidence in Savadiere’s stance, the sharp spike of his System Boon as the technique materialized.
The dragon struck at the technique, and something in his soul stirred.
"Yes!” Ceph shouted. “Have you garnered insight, child?"
"I think so." Tyler gasped. The sudden shift between perspectives felt smoother, somehow, in the dream world. His mind was swimming with thoughts and feelings that he couldn’t quite place.
"Then we shall go back to the Aftertrials for you to meditate upon your experience. Lisa, have you managed to extract any Resonance?"
Across from him, Tyler could see that the woman was struggling to hold a tiny wisp of the Saint's Blood Resonance. It was so powerful that even despite the Resonance being relatively pure, the auxiliary Resilience was still enough to make Tyler’s spirit wince.
"Good enough," she said through gritted teeth, and the Trial Guardian bobbed up and down.
“You will have time to practice more, children. Do not worry. For now, we go —”
Boom.
The entire ground trembled so hard that despite his Adept physique, Tyler was thrown to his knees. Lisa yelped as she was flung upwards, and the Trial Guardian ceased his spinning, his large eyes wide open in panic.
“What?” Tyler gasped. His body hurt, but not just in this world. Also somewhere deeper, somewhere more real.
"No.” The Trial Guardian trembled. “It cannot be. How is he already here? How is he interfering? Quick, children —"
The mist surged up, and Tyler felt more magic beginning to work just as a monstrous aura pressed down against them. There was the crack of breaking stone, and despite his eyes being wide open, he felt simultaneously that his eyelids begin to flutter.
"No!" the Cephalopod said with a strangled squeak. "No, these are not real mists. His control over the Resonance should not be enough —"
"You underestimate the power of a Master."
16: Awakening
Thomas Fitzgerald's voice boomed through the chamber, and Tyler's heart stopped as he realized he was laying on a floor of cold stone.
He was on his feet instantly, mana flooding through him in the familiar pattern of magic tearing. He tried not to think about the sparks dancing along the man's fingers, tried not to remember how little he'd progressed since their last fight.
The man strode into the chamber like he was taking a leisurely walk. Impossibly tall, impossibly muscular. His immaculate beard and slicked-back hair were speckled with gray, but his eyes were as sharp as any apex predator's.
He wore a mundane suit, despite the tales of his legendary armor. And he'd come with neither weapons nor personnel.
Just him. Just a Master.
As the man's aura buffeted Tyler like a physical blow, he struggled to find fault in Fitzgerald’s recklessness. Even alone and unarmed, this man would easily crush them all.
"So this is a Saint," Fitzgerald whispered.
The mists formed of his own body swirled against those permeating the chamber, twisting into snarling faces of monstrous entities that seemed to bite at the very magic of the Trial. Even as Tyler’s mana threaded through his channels with a density it had never been able to accomplish before, a cold, deep fear settled into the pit of his stomach.
"Incredible. He is nothing of any similar Aspect to mine, and yet he shines so bright." The man took another step forward. "Is that the power of a Saint? To have your reach extend to everything?"
He moved toward the corpse, and Tyler and Lisa both shifted, ready to fight.
The man chuckled.
"Honored Master," Ceph said with a quiver. "I am afraid to say you are not welcome here. The Reaman people have surviving Saints yet still. You would not wish to anger them by desecrating our sacred ground."
"Is that so?" Fitzgerald's eyes narrowed. "Fascinating. Are your people still alive? I haven't encountered any like you."
"We would be happy to parlay, if you wish." The Trial Guardian slowly floated to eye-level with the towering man. "But these two, along with the corpse, are not to be harmed."
Fitzgerald paused for a moment. Then, he let out a cold snort. "You wish to stop me from taking vengeance on the man who killed my son?"
Tyler's hands clenched even tighter.
"This is your final warning, Master," Ceph spat. "Do not invoke the wrath of Keladira, Saint of Eternal Chains."
Fitzgerald's eyes flashed, and a slow grin crept up his face. "The Saint of Eternal Chains, you say? Good. She will prove a worthy challenge after my own ascension."
With that final word, his hand blurred. Suddenly the Trial Guardian — made more of magic than anything material — was sent flying through the room, its tentacles thrashing as arcs of electricity coursed through it.
The octopus let out a horrendous howl.
"I'm keeping you alive only to study you," the Master said. "But you two…"
He took one slow step forward. "You do not provide any use."
Tyler growled, launching himself to the side and attempting to strike low at the man's shin. At the same instant, Lisa flung a miasma of red that pooled at the Master’s ankles, and sent her own fist flying up to catch the man in the face.
The Flowing Sands roared through Tyler's veins, and he accelerated with every remnant of the flood of magic effects still lingering on his body. Time seemed to move just a little slower now, and despite the rush of the situation, he somehow knew that his kick would land with perfect precision.
His shin snapped out with every ounce of force he had, but it wasn't enough.
Fitzgerald didn't even bother to dodge. He simply caught Lisa's fist in a palm and Tyler's kick on his own shin — and then both of them were spasming with arcs of lightning.
Before he could react, Tyler felt himself being flung across the room, striking the far wall with such force that it shattered beneath him. He landed on his knees in a gasping heap.
"You should have bowed a long time ago, children," Fitzgerald taunted.
Lisa was instantly back on her feet.
Tyler sprang across the room with as much speed as he could muster, his mana channels flooding with his magic tearing technique as he caught a thread of lightning that Chase Fitzgerald had casually flung toward him.
It seared his veins and scorched like hot lava, but he was still able to catch it and dissolve it beneath the immense density of his mana.
As the Master engaged Lisa in another clash of blows, Tyler took the opportunity to sweep a full-force punch at the man's neck.
For once, his hit landed.
Even as Lisa was pummeled to the ground, her arm twisted in seven different ways, his hand — now flat like a blade — crashed into Fitzgerald's spine.
And the man actually stumbled forward.
A hit. A clean hit.
Tyler's eyes sharpened as Fitzgerald growled in annoyance, following his strike up with a kick.
"Down!" Lisa shouted, and he found himself obeying almost before he'd fully processed the thought.
In one smooth movement, he swung his entire body horizontal to fall underneath a backhand that would have caught him clean across the jaw.
Lisa released another magical technique, and even as Fitzgerald batted it aside, Tyler caught him in the stomach with another blow. This time, it was with the full, explosive power of the Flowing Sands.
And the man was still off balance from his engagement with Lisa.
Fitzgerald crashed into the ceiling with the sound of splintering rock.
For a brief second Tyler and Lisa locked gazes, and he felt the slow build of elation spreading through his chest.
Hope.
They might be able to do it. The Rebirth of their minds had allowed them perfect coordination — a change so subtle that they’d scarcely noticed until it was put to action.
As the tingling in his spine grew stronger, Tyler's gaze lingered for an imperceptible moment on the air around them — on the reflections that tugged at his soul.
Then Fitzgerald was roaring, and Tyler found that he'd already engaged the Dragon's Bones to shield Lisa from an onslaught of incoming lightning.
Fitzgerald spat, rubbing his chin where Lisa must have struck him with a glare. The skin was red and blistering, and her magic still sparked there for a moment before finally dissipating.
And Tyler and Lisa advanced towards him — injured, blackened with soot, but still standing.
Lisa's injuries were already beginning to heal, her arm slowly knitting back into place as her aura bloomed outwards. With the precious seconds that Tyler had bought her, she’d taken a small chunk of the Saint’s blood.
Tyler drew on the near-infinite well of magic within his soul, letting the Resilience inside him drive his body beyond the limits of his pain and exhaustion. He leapt forward, tearing through a shield shaped like a miniature cyclone only to be pushed backwards by a burst of wind so strong it seemed to crack as it exploded outwards from the Master.
“Leave us,” he growled as he got back to his feet.
"You truly believed that you could win, children?" Fitzgerald said, his voice thick with disdain.
He patted a bag of holding at his waist and withdrew a long trident.
"I believe you've encountered a similar weapon to this, Thorn." The man twirled the trident casually as sparks began to fly from its tips. "My son had a replica. However, it could never come even close to the might of the original."
He launched the trident forward towards Tyler’s heart.
System Boon Engaged: Analysis.
Thomas Fitzgerald — Aspect of Storms
He’d been holding his Analysis back this whole time, in hopes of using the System Boon’s effects when he would most need it. He hadn’t tried to use it now.
But as his eyes locked onto the trident rocketing across the cave, noticeably moving despite the slowed time, Tyler felt a shiver go down his spine. His System Boon had noticed something that he hadn’t.
Without any outside help, there would have been no way to dodge.
Even now, under the slowed time, he felt like he was moving through molasses. The Flowing Sands streamed through him alongside the residual movement enhancement techniques they’d piled haphazardly onto him during their journey, but the trident was just too fast.
Time resumed, and Tyler coughed as the trident pierced two holes in his lungs and a third in his arm. Blood gushed from his skin, and his eyes widened as his body instinctively doubled over. There was nothing in his world except pain — an excruciating dance of lightning along his veins that tore up his skin, his bones, his sinew.
The charring of his hair, the spasming of his muscles. The heat — greater even than the volcanic rock he'd had to swim through, greater than the pain of Chase's barrage of magic.
Tyler desperately flailed his spirit — at first with magic tearing, then with the Dragon's Bones — but neither did more than mildly blunt the magic that was killing him from the inside out.
Fitzgerald slowly stepped toward him. Tyler realized he’d fallen to the ground in a pool of his own blood.
Without his Analysis, he wouldn’t even be alive. The trident would have speared him straight through the heart.
Lisa tried to send healing magic to him, but it dispersed wildly against some sort of counter-magic artifact Fitzgerald had pulled from his bag of holding.
Tyler saw her get smashed to the floor as Fitzgerald approached.
Three times she got back up. And three times he ruthlessly broke her against the cold stone.
"Tyler Thorn." The Master drew out his words as he kneeled before Tyler's still-quivering form.
Even now, the electricity wouldn’t stop. Even now, he was powerless.
"Oh, I've waited for this moment." He smiled. "I normally only take pleasure in defeating worthy opponents. But despite your insignificance, I predict your death will feel rather good."
Slowly, the man removed his trident from Tyler's side, twisting it to send more jolts and convulsions through his limbs before he finally withdrew it fully. The weapon's three tips were drenched with blood and pieces of flesh.
Tyler gasped as control of his body returned to him for a brief moment, then the man stabbed him through again in the same spot.
His screams echoed so loud against the cave that they almost matched the ringing in his ears, and his throat seized painfully as his punctured lungs struggled to breathe amidst the storm of power sieging his body.
"Some say that you gave my son an honorable death," the Master said as began to twist. "That if nothing else, my son died fighting."
He spat, and the plegmn fell upon Tyler's cheek.
"They lied. There is no honor in being defeated by a frail nobody from some backwater branch. A full stage of advancement weaker than you, at that! Then, you go and defeat my Adepts. You ruin my plans, force me to come to this island and solve things myself. You have been a humiliation, a thorn in my side. Again, again, and again."
With each word, he stabbed Tyler through once more.
Somehow, the Resilience within Tyler kept him just barely on the brink of consciousness.
"I will admit, it was my son's fault," Fitzgerald continued. "He should have been strong enough to defeat any Journeyman. The same goes for my Adepts on this island — they were all too weak. But you, Thorn. You will be the one to pay for their humiliation."
Another stab, and this time the influx of magic was so great that Tyler felt himself lose consciousness.
He was awoken a moment later as Fitzgerald splashed a powerful healing artifact against him.
"No, no, Thorn. We will be staying lucid for this."
The man hefted his trident again, only to be interrupted by a guttural roar. His head snapped to the side, to where Tyler had seen Lisa's bloody form fall one final time right before the torture had begun.
He’d thought she was unconscious. He’d prayed she wasn't dead.
Clearly, she was neither.
She'd fallen beside the corpse of the Saint. While Fitzgerald had been taunting him, she’d been cultivating. She’d been advancing to Adept.
But when she stood, her form swelled with an aura so vast it seemed to dwarf even the Master's.
Red lines streaked through her skin, bleeding crimson mist and pulsating quick with the beat of her heart. The fog curled around her, coiling around her limbs and stretching like veins into the air.
And when her eyes opened, instead of irises, all he saw was a deep lake of ruby and welling blood.
Unbidden, his Analysis took hold for the second time.
System Boon Engaged: Analysis.
The Last Breath of a Dying God
She charged toward Fitzgerald, her movements without a hint of grace but faster than the eye could track. In an instant she was in front of them, and her fists crashed into Fitzgerald's sternum with a crack so loud it might have burst Tyler's eardrums.
