Chapter 105 - Ascension [SEASON 3 Start]

[Author here. Words cannot describe how happy I am as I write this. The Amazon version of this book has sold 23 copies—23 COPIES! That's more than most authors sell in their entire lives. Even after writing over 500,000 words in my career, I cannot express how grateful I am to all of you who support me. Whether it's through comments here, joining my Discord; which is now over 55 members strong, purchasing my book, upvotes, or even briefly reading a chapter—you've all made a difference.]

[And recently, something incredible happened: my first paid Patreon member, SparkyZinger, joined alongside my very first supporter, dfha993. Writing has always been my dream, and all of this allows me to indulge in it even more. I can't thank you enough.]

[Thank you for your love, support, and encouragement. Stay tuned for updates on the second book—I'm actively working on it and refining it for Amazon.]

[I originally planned to write more chapters before releasing the next season, but with all the incredible support I've received recently, I felt it would be unfair to keep you waiting any longer.]

[With that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you for reading this far!]

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"A god?" Van muttered, his voice barely audible as he walked through the plains. The air—cool yet warm—brushed against his face, grounding him in the present.

Yet his focus remained locked on the glowing words that floated in his status window.

[In this universe exist many gods. Countless planets, countless realms—with gods above those gods. And beyond even them: beings that exist outside their perception. An infinity.]

[The place you stand is a Void Anomaly. A universe born by chance within the Void—a ripple caused by a clash of forces beyond reason. Yet the Void itself—this boundless 'space'—is but a fragment of a greater, incalculable being. And you are part of it.]

Van's heart pounded harder. His steps faltered. 'What is this? Infinity? Void? I never wanted to be a god. I just wanted to be happy. I just wanted—'

More words appeared, answering his unspoken doubts.

[You qualify not only because of your strength, but because of your will. Your curiosity. Have you not wondered what lies beyond your limits? How your strikes would feel if you pushed past them?]

Van gasped, the memory striking him like a blow. That day—the hard swing against Lilac, Alicia's bone dragon. The force of it cleaving through the air, his power measuring 31,000 points of strength.

That day, he wondered. He wanted to know how hard he could swing.

He stopped, looked to the sky.

'... I guess it would've been a sight to see...' He thought as his gaze locked on the deep blue above as he then recalled his fight with Kota, 'Just how big of an explosion I created with [Void Lancer].'

[You are human. You doubt, you question, you dream. But beyond those doubts—beyond your dreams—infinity awaits. Infinite growth. Infinite strength. An endless story, constantly contested by countless beings across countless universes.]

Van's chest tightened, his pulse pounding in his ears.

[Join us. If you wish to follow this path, then...]

The words hung in the air, glowing ominously—inviting, insistent.

But Van tore his gaze away before he could read the rest.

Van swallowed hard. "I… I have Alicia here. I don't need this."

But as his gaze fell to his fist, he froze.

It was clenched—so tightly that space itself wavered around it. Gravity warped, light twisting unnaturally.

A thrill sparked deep inside him, primal and uncontrollable.

Startled, Van wrenched his hand open, shaking his palm as though to rid himself of the sensation. 

He exhaled sharply, forcing the fire within him to settle.

"I'll walk back to the capital," he muttered to himself, steadying his steps. "I have things to do first."

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"Cheers," Arnolt muttered, his voice low as the group settled inside Galdo's dimly lit tavern. Vaelthir, Savathon, Sylva, Ami, and the two warriors accompanying Savathon all sat around a rectangular table.

"To that brat," Arnolt grumbled, lifting his cup, "…bearing the finest gear and the finest strength."

Vaelthir's brow twitched as a splash of ale from Savathon's cup landed on his face. He wiped it away quickly, brushing aside his irritation as he raised his own cup. 

"To Hellix," Vaelthir said flatly. "Though human, he showed wit and strength beyond my expectations."

"YOU'RE SO DAMN DRY, YOU POINTY-EARED SNOB!" Savathon roared, startling nearby patrons. "TO VAN HELLIX, THE WARRIOR!" He lifted his cup higher than the rest, his towering frame making it seem almost ceremonial. 

"TO UNYIELDING BRAVERY AND HONORABLE SACRIFICE!" His booming voice spurred the two warriors into hearty cheers.

"F-for V—" Sylva began, hesitantly raising her cup, only for Vaelthir to place a firm hand on hers, halting her.

"Not a chance," Vaelthir said calmly. "You are not of age, My Lady."

"I-I just want to say cheers too! I don't have to drink it, do I?" she protested.

Arnolt grunted, lowering his cup with a small nod. "Uncustomary, but I'll allow it."

With that, Sylva lifted her wooden cup high, her voice soft but resolute. "To Van Hellix... A-and…" Her tone faltered, growing quieter.

"…To Unicus. For everything he did for us."

Her words hung in the air, a cloud of sadness settling over the group. Sylva's gaze dropped, her expression dimming.

Savathon nodded solemnly. "A mighty warrior, he was."

"He had outstanding values and care," Vaelthir added, though his voice carried a reluctant weight.

Arnolt finished softly, his voice like a final note in a somber song. "…A good friend."

The table fell quiet, the jovial echoes of the tavern seeming distant now. Sylva glanced at Arnolt, his expression shadowed beneath his beard.

'Arnolt… he must be in more pain than any of us over Unicus. They'd known each other for over fifteen years, hadn't they?' Sylva thought, the realization settling heavy in her chest as she watched the dwarf's silent grief.

'Am I… allowed to cry for him?' The thought crept in, unbidden. 'I never knew him too well—we only shared two years together… and he was married. But…' She pressed her lips together, swallowing the knot in her throat. 'I just wish I could cry.'

'He was kind, accepting, and I always felt safe next to him. But… around this table, others deserve that privilege more. Hold yourself together.'

Her gaze shifted to Ami, slumped at the table with her face buried in her arms. The sharp, cat-like features that defined her were gone. Ami had explained her reasons for concealing her features loosely before they arrived.

"Brat," Arnolt grumbled softly, turning his eyes away from her. "Drinking to his name would bring respect to him."

"I don't want to drink," Ami murmured, her voice muffled by her arms. Her fingers gripped her hood tightly, knuckles white. "My mama told me… when you feel sad, you have to be sad. And when you feel angry…" She paused, her voice trembling, "…you have to be angry. Because if you don't… you'll just hurt yourself."

Her shoulders shook as tears slipped silently, staining the wooden table beneath her. "Van—Van wouldn't want that for me. My mother wouldn't either."

"So, I'm gonna be sad…" she sobbed. "I'm gonna keep being sad… until he comes back here."

The air thickened around them, heavy and stifling.

"He promised he'd be back here…" Ami whispered, her voice breaking like fragile glass.

But they all knew—Van was never going to walk through that door again.

Sylva's breath hitched. The knot she'd been holding back began to unravel. 'Is… is it really fine…?' Slowly, she lowered her head, pressing her palm to her mouth as if to stifle her cries.

'I… I didn't know Unicus that well,' Sylva thought, her eyes closing as fresh tears welled up. 'But I wish I had. I wish I knew him more before he died… to that monster.'

And like Ami, Sylva wept in silence.

The rest, observing the girls' reactions, drank their ale in unison with a shared, heavy sigh.

"...Being in the Capital feels like shit now," Savathon muttered, his gaze flicking around the tavern.

"Indeed," Vaelthir agreed, his voice low. "Whatever being took over Unicus back in the cavern—it claimed the Goddess wanted Hellix dead; and would have claimed our lives had he not beaten him. Under other circumstances, I might have suspected Hellix was the true culprit." Vaelthir paused, staring into the bottom of his empty cup.

"But no culprit would sacrifice their life in such a way. It appears…" He took a slow, deep breath, the tension thickening around the table.

"We must be on our guard in this place."

The words stiffened everyone at the table. Even the girls' sobs quieted, their gazes darting uneasily around the room.

Vaelthir turned his attention to Sylva's slouched form, her soft weeping still audible. "My Lady," he began gently, pausing to gather his words, "there is no need to stay in the Capital anymore. Something here is amiss. I will not point my finger at the Human Goddess, but caution is now a necessity."

"Hey, ELF."

The insult cut through the air, sharp and loud. A human warrior spat the words, snapping Vaelthir's attention to him. "Watch your fucking mouth. That mage—he must've been rogue. Saying he represented the Goddess? Bullshit. The Goddess doesn't waste her time targeting some nobody—"

"But what was Van Hellix?" Vaelthir interjected calmly, his tone deliberate. "Did none of you listen to him back in the cave?"

The room stilled. All eyes turned toward Vaelthir.

"My world," he said, repeating Van's words with quiet intensity. "That was the phrase he used to argue Unicus wasn't himself."

The table fell silent. Even Ami's sobbing subsided as she lifted her head, listening.

"What do you think it means?" Vaelthir pressed on. "A different village? A distant continent? I have studied many races, for the sake of protecting my Lady; many customs, and yet not one refers to their tribe or land as a 'world.'"

Ami blinked, her red-rimmed eyes fixed on Vaelthir as his words sank in.

"The only person I'd excuse for saying 'my world'… is Magus Veil, who came from another dimension," Vaelthir concluded.

The room seemed to shrink around them. Everyone's eyes widened slightly at the name.

"In the stories," Vaelthir continued, "Magus Veil was summoned alongside someone else—another hero. Their name, however, was never detailed."

"You crazy elf," Savathon growled, his booming voice breaking through the tension, "you're not saying—"

"It is the only way it makes sense," Vaelthir interrupted, unshaken.

He met their eyes, his expression resolute. "Van Hellix is... Was the other hero. I would assume a local here in the Capital could confirm it for us, given the story originated here."

The group exchanged uneasy glances. Even Ami, weary and drained, looked at him with disbelief, unable to form words.

'No way...' Sylva thought, her eyes widening as she kept her head down, 'Van Hellix... Was a HERO? Then... Maybe Mom spared him because of that? But... She mentioned she executed him... Was it to protect him? I don't...'

Vaelthir's gaze darkened slightly. "The only thing that doesn't make sense…"

"…is why the humans' fair Goddess would want him dead," Arnolt finished, his gruff voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He clicked his tongue in irritation, the sound echoing between the group.

"…Correct." Vaelthir nodded.

The air shifted from somber to tense. They had tried to honor Van's sacrifice and Unicus's tragic demise, but none could shake off the lingering suspicions gnawing at them.

Meanwhile, at the Capital walls, Van stumbled upon a peculiar sight....

"Hey!" a voice called out enthusiastically.

Van turned his head to see a man addressing a group of passing women, his smile wide and almost childlike.

"Let's all fuck!" he declared with an absurd level of excitement.

The response was swift—shouts, spit, and slaps rained down on him as the women stormed off in disgust.

'…Somebody's a little too optimistic,' Van thought with a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he prepared to walk past the bizarre scene.

But then the man turned to someone standing nearby—a young woman dressed in a maid's uniform.

"DID YOU SEE THAT!?" he cried, his voice echoing off the stone walls. His frenzied smile only grew wider. "I WAS SPAT ON! SPAT ON, MIRIAS! THIS IS THE BEST PLACE EVER!"

Van stopped mid-step, his brow twitching. 'Wait, what?'

His gaze flickered back to the troublemaker, now fully absorbed in his own chaotic euphoria.

'Wait a second,' Van thought, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the enthusiastic figure before him.

He noticed faint, transparent horns atop the man's head. A red aura pulsed around him, radiating off both him and the human maid standing nervously at his side.

'Huh,' Van mused, his curiosity piqued. 'That's a demon, isn't it? Never seen him around before. Good thing he's disguised—it could've been a problem if someone recognized him. But...'

'Who's he?'

"Hey, you!" the man suddenly shouted, catching Van's lingering gaze. Without hesitation, he almost sprinted toward him, his movements erratic.

"L-Lord Bailey, please stop this!!" the maid called out, scrambling to follow him, her face etched with worry.

The man—Bailey, apparently—came to a stop in front of Van, a manic grin spreading across his face as he jabbed a finger toward him.

"Fucking hate your hair. Looks so fucking stupid. Your face is fucking ass. Would've been preferable if you just walked on a headstand, displaying your ass around and hiding that shitshow you call a face." His words tumbled out like a torrent, vicious yet oddly gleeful.

"You're like a walking sexual assault. Just looking at your shitty face makes me feel violated. Bet you eat food through your ass and shit from your mouth, too."

Van raised a brow, his expression calm and unbothered as the tirade ended.

"Oh?"