Revelation of Ascension

The symbols flickered, almost hesitant, as if weighing the gravity of Sol's question. The air grew dense, pressing against him like an invisible weight. Peach shifted uneasily beside him, his fur bristling at the unnatural stillness that had settled over the Archive.

Ascension is not a path, but a consequence. It is the shedding of limitation, the unraveling of mortality, and the reconstruction of self beyond known existence. To ascend is to sever ties with the lesser framework of being and embrace a state dictated by one's affinity and will. However, the price is steep. No two ascensions are the same, for each being that reaches beyond must pay according to their nature.

Sol swallowed, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. "And what exactly is that price?"

The symbols pulsed erratically, the Archive seeming to hesitate again. Then, slowly, they reformed.

Identity. Humanity. Purpose. Those who ascend shed the bindings that tether them to the world they once knew. Some retain a semblance of self, their will strong enough to shape what they become. Others dissolve into the fabric of the cosmos, lost to the vastness of eternity. Power comes at the cost of selfhood. Few who take the step can ever return.

A chill ran down Sol's spine. He had expected something costly—nothing this profound came without sacrifice—but the idea of losing himself entirely, of dissolving into something incomprehensible, made his stomach twist.

"Has anyone ever ascended and remained themselves?"

The Archive's response took longer this time. Sol could almost feel the gears of reality grinding against the weight of the knowledge he sought. Then, at last, the symbols pulsed again.

Few have tried. Fewer have succeeded. Those who did became forces of their own making, neither mortal nor divine, shaping their own existence outside of fate. Some are remembered as gods, others as myths, and some… as monsters.

Sol exhaled slowly. He wasn't sure what unsettled him more—the idea of losing himself or the knowledge that there were beings who had succeeded but had become something unrecognizable. He had wanted answers, but with each truth uncovered, new questions clawed at his mind.

He took a moment to steady himself before asking, "And the one I saw… what became of them?"

The symbols dimmed. The silence stretched so long that for a moment, Sol thought the Archive wouldn't answer. Then, softly, the response formed.

They are neither dead nor alive. Their name has been forgotten, but their presence lingers in the echoes of creation. What they became cannot be defined.

Sol frowned, his thoughts spinning. Whatever this entity had ascended into, it defied definition. That was both fascinating and terrifying.

Peach let out a small chuff, breaking the tension. Sol glanced down at him, smiling faintly. "Yeah, buddy. This is a lot."

Taking a deep breath, he shifted his focus. He needed to process this information later—right now, he had a chance to ask more while the Archive was still responding.

He thought carefully before speaking again. "Are there those who seek ascension intentionally? Who try to force it?"

The symbols brightened, answering almost instantly.

Yes. Many have sought it. Some through knowledge, others through raw power. Few succeed. The path is not one that can be forced, only reached when the conditions align.

That made sense. If ascension was a consequence rather than a choice, then no amount of effort alone could guarantee it. Sol felt a shiver of unease. There were likely people—powerful ones—desperately clawing for something they didn't understand. And if any of them actually got close…

He exhaled, pushing the thought aside for now. Instead, he asked, "How does affinity influence ascension? Does someone's affinity determine what they become?"

The Archive pulsed again.

Yes. Affinity is the foundation of one's existence. Upon ascension, it ceases to be a mere ability and instead becomes the defining essence of the self. A being who ascends through fire may become an eternal flame, one with death may transcend mortality, and one with time may step beyond the cycle of existence itself.

Sol's pulse quickened. His time affinity. If he ever reached that point… what would he become? A being untethered by time? Would he exist across infinite moments at once? The idea both thrilled and horrified him.

He shook his head. He wasn't anywhere near that level. And even if he were, he wasn't sure if that was a fate he wanted.

Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for one final question. "What happens when someone fails to ascend?"

The Archive's response was immediate.

They are lost. Those who stand at the threshold and cannot cross it are undone. Their essence unravels, scattered through the void, neither living nor dead, existing only as whispers in the dark.

Sol shuddered. That was worse than death. It was complete erasure.

He took a step back, letting the information settle. He had learned more than he could have imagined, but every answer came with heavier implications. Ascension was not just power—it was transformation, sacrifice, and an irreversible step into the unknown.

For the first time, he wasn't sure if he wanted to chase this knowledge any further.

Peach nuzzled against his leg, grounding him. Sol let out a breath and smiled faintly, patting his companion's head. "Alright. I think that's enough godly existential horror for today."

The Archive's symbols dimmed slightly, as if acknowledging the weight of what had been discussed. Sol took a final glance at the glowing script before turning away, stepping back from the center of the grand hall. He wasn't done here—not by a long shot. But for now, he needed time to think.

As he made his way toward the nearest corridor, the Archive remained silent behind him, watching, waiting. The knowledge was still there, always waiting for the next seeker to return.