Ascension
The battlefield was chaos incarnate.
Fire raged across the city, buildings crumbled under the weight of the enemy's siege, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and smoke.
Ryker's forces were scattered, pushing back the invading army with everything they had, but the rival kingdom was relentless, crashing through Valcaria's defenses with sheer ferocity.
Ryker stood at the heart of it all, his sword flashing through the air as he cut down soldier after soldier, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing louder in his ears. His eyes darted across the battlefield, watching as his people—his army—fought for their lives, for their homes.
Every moment was a desperate struggle to survive, to hold the capital, but it was slipping away from them.
His mind raced, a torrent of thoughts, strategies, and grim realizations flooding him.
They were losing ground.
Despite their strength, despite their preparations, the enemy had broken through.
He could feel the weight of leadership crushing him—the responsibility, the lives depending on his decisions, the constant balancing act between power and control.
He had come so far, but at this moment, it wasn't enough.
Valcaria wasn't enough.
He could hear the Rift pulsing within him, a steady, haunting rhythm.
The power he had unlocked in the Rift, the raw, unimaginable force, was surging just beneath the surface.
It had been there for days, weeks even, clawing at the edges of his consciousness, whispering promises of strength and victory.
He had resisted, fearing what might happen if he gave in to it completely. But now…
Ryker's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.
He could feel the desperation in his soldiers, the panic creeping into their movements as the enemy pushed closer to the heart of the city.
The flames flickered in his peripheral vision, casting long shadows that danced with the madness of war.
And then, he saw her.
Kiera was fighting nearby, her blade a blur as she sliced through the enemy forces, her movements graceful and lethal.
She was always there—fighting beside him, offering him strength when he needed it most.
Her presence was grounding, a reminder of what he was fighting for, what they were trying to protect.
But even Kiera, with all her skill and precision, was beginning to show signs of fatigue.
Her chest heaved with exertion, her usually calm face now set with grim determination. Ryker knew she couldn't keep this pace forever. None of them could.
He could hear the voice of the Rift growing louder, the power pulling at him, beckoning him to take it, to ascend.
To save them all.
The decision was made in an instant.
Ryker let go of his fear.
He let go of the cautious restraint that had held him back for so long.
His mind reached for the Rift, for the vast, ancient power that had shaped this dimension and given him the strength to lead Valcaria.
He allowed the energy to surge through him, to consume him.
The change was immediate.
A torrent of energy erupted from Ryker, a wave of raw power that sent a shockwave rippling across the battlefield.
His sword gleamed with a bright, blinding light as if it were infused with the very essence of the Rift.
His body began to glow, his veins pulsing with energy so intense it felt like it would tear him apart from the inside.
His muscles swelled with newfound strength, his senses sharpened beyond anything he had ever experienced.
His armor, once weighed down by the grime and fatigue of battle, now shimmered with an ethereal glow, as if reforged by the power coursing through him.
The battlefield around him slowed, the chaos and violence fading into the background as he ascended.
Kiera, who had been mid-battle, stopped abruptly.
Her eyes widened in awe—and fear—as she witnessed Ryker's transformation.
He had unlocked something far beyond the Riftborn abilities they had come to rely on.
This was something else entirely.
He was no longer just Ryker, leader of Valcaria.
He was something more.
Something… godlike.
Ryker moved with blinding speed, faster than any human or Riftborn could.
His sword cut through the enemy ranks with ease, each strike sending bursts of energy cascading through their forces.
The rival kingdom's soldiers, once charging with relentless aggression, now faltered.
Their expressions turned to terror as they realized what was happening.
With a single, sweeping motion, Ryker unleashed a wave of energy that tore through the enemy frontlines.
It was as if the Rift itself had been unleashed upon them, consuming everything in its path.
The ground shook, and the very air seemed to vibrate with the intensity of Ryker's power.
But with that power came a cost.
Ryker could feel it, deep inside.
The Rift's energy wasn't without its price. It was tearing at him, threatening to consume not just his enemies, but him as well.
Every ounce of strength he used to decimate the rival kingdom's forces was also draining him, pulling him deeper into the abyss of the Rift's influence.
His vision blurred, the edges of the world growing darker as the overwhelming power surged through him.
He had become a beacon of destruction, a force of nature that could no longer be fully controlled.
From her position on the battlefield, Kiera watched in horror.
Ryker's transformation was magnificent, awe-inspiring—but also terrifying.
The man she had fought beside, the leader she had come to respect, was slipping away.
She could see it in his eyes, the way the power was changing him, warping him.
"Ryker!" she shouted, her voice barely cutting through the chaos.
"You have to stop! You're going too far!"
But Ryker couldn't hear her, or perhaps he didn't want to.
The power was too immense, too all-consuming.
His only focus was on the enemy, on the destruction of the rival kingdom that had dared to threaten Valcaria.
With another devastating strike, Ryker sent a shockwave through the battlefield, scattering the enemy forces like leaves in the wind.
The rival soldiers were in full retreat now, fleeing from the terrifying force that Ryker had become.
But even as victory seemed within reach, Kiera could see the cost.
Ryker's body was trembling, his face contorted in a mixture of rage and pain.
The energy was tearing him apart from the inside.
His ascension was incomplete—his mortal body wasn't meant to handle this level of power.
Desperation filled Kiera as she fought her way to his side.
"Ryker!" she shouted again, grabbing his arm and pulling him back from the brink.
"You have to stop this! You're going to destroy yourself!"
For a moment, Ryker's eyes met hers, the godlike glow fading just enough for her to see the man behind the power.
The man she cared about.
The man she couldn't lose.
With a tremendous effort, Ryker forced himself to pull back, to rein in the power that threatened to consume him.
His breathing was ragged, his body shaking violently as he fought for control.
Slowly, the glowing energy that had surrounded him began to dissipate, the Rift's influence retreating into the depths of his being.
The battlefield grew quiet once more.
Kiera stood beside him, her hand still gripping his arm, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and fear.
She had seen Ryker at his most powerful—and his most vulnerable.
The cost of that power was clear.
And Ryker knew it as well.
"I'm sorry," Ryker whispered, his voice hoarse.
"I… I had no choice."
Kiera shook her head.
"You don't have to apologize. But you can't let that power consume you. We need you—Valcaria needs you."
Ryker nodded, but the weight of what had just happened lingered in his mind.
He had ascended, but at what cost?
The Rift's power was vast, but it was dangerous—dangerous to him, dangerous to his people.
He couldn't allow himself to become lost in it, no matter how tempting it was.
As the smoke cleared and the enemy retreated, Ryker looked out over the battlefield.
Victory had come, but it was only the beginning.
The war was far from over, and now, more than ever, he needed to be careful.
Ascension had given him strength, but it had also shown him the price of that strength.
And he wasn't sure if he was ready to pay it.