Chapter 17: Path Of Ascension

As the echo of Tavian's last remark faded, the group finally stirred.

Garrick grunted and turned toward the wall, checking the power levels on his gauntlet. The faint hum of activated systems crackled from his armor as tiny runes shimmered beneath its plating. Kaela knelt beside a small supply pack, checking what was left of their rations—crushed nutrient bars, water-purification tabs, a flickering heat coil. Barely enough for three more days.

Joran silently walked a slow circle around the chamber, not speaking, not looking at anyone. Just… observing. Calculating. His jaw was tight.

Lucian leaned back against the wall, head tilted just enough to feel the vibrations through the stone. The clinking of distant chains had faded, but not gone. Just quieter. Quieter meant lurking.

They're stalling. We should be moving.

But no one wants to be the one to say it.

Fear makes people inefficient. Panic makes them honest.

He ran a hand over his dagger's hilt and they were faintly warm. Not from heat. From friction. From need.

A whisper of breath shifted next to him. Tavian crouched with a sigh and tapped his shoulder.

"Just for the record," Tavian said, voice low, "I'm ninety percent sure your death threats are more metaphorical than literal."

Lucian said nothing.

"…Ninety-five," Tavian amended.

Lucian cracked the faintest smile. "Let's keep it ambiguous."

Tavian snorted. "Gods, you're the worst kind of mysterious."

Across the chamber, Garrick slammed a panel shut on his weapon casing and stalked toward Joran. "You know this is a suicide march," he said, voice low but hard. "We're bleeding people. If there's something down here worth all this, you better tell us now."

Joran didn't even look at him. "Get ready to move."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting," Kaela cut in.

A ripple of unrest moved through the Ironbrands. Whispers. Glances. Fingers tightening around hilts and triggers. Not yet mutiny. But not far from it either.

Lucian adjusted his stance, seeming to relax. But he noted every face. Every twitch. Who would break first. Who would be useful. Who wouldn't.

'They think they'll survive by knowing the truth. Fools.

Truth doesn't keep you alive out here. Timing does. Distance. Obedience when needed. Rebellion when it counts.

If they burn each other out, that's fewer people I need to outrun.'

"Form up," Joran said again. "Two by two. Torches up. No wandering off. No noise unless you want to attract something worse than what we've seen."

Kaela shoved her half-packed gear into a satchel and slung it across her back. "Lucian, with me."

Tavian raised a brow. "Since when are we assigning partners?"

"Since people started dying without warning."

Lucian gave a small nod, stepping into place beside her. His fingers flicked once over the hilt of his dagger, as if checking it was still there. Still real.

Garrick barked orders to the Ironbrands, breaking them into flanking formation. Vael and another scout tested their line-of-sight drones, which flickered in and out through the mist like dying fireflies.

Joran led from the front. Not looking back.

Lucian tilted his head, listening.

The silence ahead was thick again. Too thick.

It's waiting for us.

Whatever woke up… it's not done.

He stepped forward anyway.

The group walked in silence for a while.

Boots scraped stone. The mist hugged their legs like hungry fog, reluctant to let go. Somewhere behind them, the mountain rumbled in its sleep, sending a long groan through the tunnel walls. But it was quiet up ahead.

Lucian walked beside Kaela, counting each step by vibration. He kept his hand out, brushing the tunnel wall, feeling for shifts, for faults. For changes.

Kaela watched him do this. "How do you track so well without sight?" she asked, not for the first time. "You move better than some scouts."

Lucian shrugged. "I don't know any other way."

Tavian's voice chimed in from behind. "Let's be honest, it's either impressive… or really creepy. I still haven't been able to decide which one it is."

Kaela ignored him. "Have you ever trained in cultivation?"

Lucian turned his head. "You mean the blood-honing stuff? Breathing exercises and inner fire and essence whatever?"

"Not… exactly," she said with a faint smile. "Though that's not too far off if you listen to how some teachers explain it."

"I've heard the word thrown around, but I thought it was just another name for bio-enhancement or neural imprint training."

"Those are just tools," Tavian said, catching up. "Cultivation is different. Deeper. Harder to measure. But it's how the world works. At least for those who want to survive in it long-term."

Kaela nodded. "Most people never go beyond the Foundation Stage. That's where you learn to draw in Spirit Energy. You start refining it into your body, bones, blood, marrow. Slowly."

Lucian furrowed his brow. "Spirit Energy?" The words striking a chord in his mind.

"The living energy of the world," Kaela explained. "It clings to everything. Stone, air, metal, blood. The stronger you are, the more of it you can hold. But it has to be absorbed, filtered. Controlled."

"And the stronger cultivators?" Lucian asked. "They've absorbed more?"

"Not just more," Tavian said. "Better. They refine it, purify it. Shape it into forms. Attune it to their body or spirit. They grow techniques called aspects based on what their spirit energy resonates with."

Kaela shook her head. "It's more than that. The first stage is the Foundation Stage. It entails learning to sense and absorb essence. It becomes part of you, your bones, blood, nerves."

Tavian added, "Then comes the Tempering Stage.That's when essence starts reinforcing your spirit and nervous system, not just your body. Makes you faster. Sharper. Harder to kill."

Lucian tilted his head. "And after that?"

Kaela hesitated. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Lucian turned to her."And from there?" Lucian asked.

Tavian whistled. "From there? You start climbing the real ladder. Some call it the Path of Ascension, some call it Heaven's Divide. Past a certain point, you start shaping the world around you just by existing."

Lucian's jaw tightened. "And what about you two? What stage are you at?"

Kaela didn't answer. She just kept on walking as if she never heard his question. She didn't seem too keen on answering him.

"I'm in the second stage," Tavian said easily. "Or, well, early Tempering. I'm not dead, so that's something."

Lucian's lips quirked faintly. "You don't seem the type to be modest."

Tavian grinned. "It's only modesty if I'm lying."

Lucian fell silent again, digesting the new information.

"So that's what the monks were doing?" he asked. "All those rituals and symbols on the wall… they weren't just for show... they were practicing this stuff?"

Kaela nodded slowly. "Exactly. The monks of the old temples were cultivators. Strong ones. But the powers they used weren't always clean. Some forged pacts. Some created heresies. Some… twisted themselves in ways that still echo through places like these. This is a result of bending the rules one too many times."

"And what about the rest of the world?" Lucian asked. "The factions I've heard rumors about. Sanctums, empires, forbidden sects...?"

Tavian's voice darkened slightly. "They're real. You've got factions like the Sunvault Harmonium, the Emberclad Spiral, the Wyrmglass Circle. Each with their own techniques. Their own source of power. All chasing different ideals. Some noble. Some… not."

Kaela added, "And their own secrets. Not all cultivation paths are… acceptable. Some walk the line between essence and corruption. Cultivation can uplift or corrupt, depending on what you feed it."

Lucian's jaw tightened. "Sounds familiar."

"Why?" Kaela asked.

Lucian didn't answer. He just kept walking.

'Feels like something I've already started… without even knowing it.'