Ashoka woke up the next day, covered in sweat. Fortunately, this time, he hadn't woken up from a nightmare, but instead it was just for a very mundane reason.
It was hot as hell today.
His blanket was thrown aside, lying on the ground. A part of it was perked up, and it almost seemed as if it was glaring at him with resentment. The clothes he had worn to bed were strewn around the room, on the floor, on the table, and in the almirah as well. It seemed more so as if a loving couple had just had a passionate night, rather than the result of Ashoka having thrown them when even discarding the blanket wasn't enough.
Ashoka looked at the ceiling, expression impassive, before eventually fighting away the urge to close his eyes and slowly got up.
In the next second, he was immediately flashbanged by the brilliant light of the morning horizon sun as it cut through the barely parted curtains and directly landed on his eyeballs.
'Fah...'
Ashoka hissed, shielding his eyes from the overwhelming radiance.
He took a few deep breaths, rubbed his face, and rose from the bed.
'They say let there be light, but not in my face, damn it!'
A new day had begun.
Twenty minutes later, Ashoka was examining himself in the mirror, new and clean clothes wrapped around his damp skin, and cold vapor rising from his long, wet hair that fell to his shoulders.
He scrutinized his plain, painfully unassuming features staring back at him and exhaled a defeated sigh. Reaching up, he aggressively raked his fingers through the damp mass, shoving it back and tucking the unruly strands behind his ears. The damp tips curled sharply inward, tickling the back of his neck and sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.
"Yeah... I'm definitely having them cut after this is finished."
After that was done, he looked around his room for a bit before bending down near his bed.
Underneath the bed, a simple leather bag was lying. He slowly extended a hand and took it out. But in the process, something else was revealed, lying behind the bag.
It was a silver stiletto. The same one that he had picked up from Alariv's personal chambers. After the whole incident with Oswald, things had been too busy for him, making it impossible to put it back. So, he had just decided to throw it beneath his bed until the time was right.
Ashoka's eyes lingered on the silver shine for just a moment before he reached his hand and picked it up as well.
Finally, he stood up and walked towards one of the tables before opening the bag on top of it, revealing the gleaming soul shard stored inside.
Since there was a big possibility that this would be his last day in the Nightmare, he wanted to make sure to awaken his soul essence before everything ended. By now, he had already absorbed 85 of the initial 150 over the course of the last two weeks. Now, he needed to absorb the remaining 65 more soul shards to awaken his essence.
With the silver stilettos in hand, he slowly took out a single gleaming crystal and placed it on the table. Then, he raised his hand and brought the pommel of the stilettos on it. The soul shard instantly shattered and was subsequently absorbed by his body.
Then, he repeated the same action over and over until his hands started to hurt.
Finally, after an hour had passed, only a single crystal remained. Grinning, he repeated the previous motion and crushed the final soul shard using the stiletto.
He felt the stream of power flowing into his soul.
And then… his soul suddenly surged.
Ashoka struggled to describe the way he felt with words. He had expected the feeling to be similar to when he took the potion, but in fact, it was completely different. While the former felt more like an invasion, the sensation of awakening his essence felt more... internal, as if something deep within had simply been awoken.
It was as though his entire body was suddenly permeated by a cool, vibrant, nurturing flame. However, that flame simply passed through his flesh, unable to touch it.
Ashoka took a deep breath and closed his eyes, imagining the map of his body. He could feel his essence flowing freely, chaotically, with no shape or form. So, he slowly extended his will and tried to guide it. The feeling was similar to what controlling his spirituality felt like, and so, he quickly got the hang of it.
At first, there was a lot of chaos and colliding currents in its flow, but as Ashoka deepened his concentration, the torrent of his soul essence grew increasingly stable and orderly. Still, there was still some chaos deep within the torrent.
'Are these the side effects?'
Since he had so unceremoniously speed-ran his way to awakening, absorbing almost 60 shards at once, a small amount of the essence seemed to not have been completely assimilated. And these tiny impurities were now in his essence flow. Although they didn't have a will of their own, they still somehow managed to resist his will, forming small eddies in the current and creating resistance.
Still, these problems were only minor, and Ashoka doubted they would be long-term issues. As soon. As he formed his soul core, they'd gone.
Letting out a sigh, he looked outside the window to absorb the sun. It was about time he met up with Eldrin to discuss what would happen in the court.
Just as he prepared to leave, his eyes suddenly landed on the silver stiletto lying motionlessly on the table. His steps halted.
For a second, he remembered the feeling of great unease and impending doom he had felt the previous night. He had almost forgotten about.
He lingered for another moment before taking a deep breath.
'Yeah, might as well keep myself safe.'
With that, he picked up the elegant stiletto and hid it in his clothes around the waist. Then, he left the room.
***
The royal hall was fuller than Ashoka had ever seen it.
Word had spread overnight that the king would announce something important, and the commoners had come in droves. They packed the carpeted aisle and the galleries, shoulder to shoulder, whispering. The banners hung above them. The Brass Pillar stood in the middle of the hall, towering over everything.
Ashoka stood near the doors, hands clasped behind his back, trying to look like he had nothing to hide.
'Smile. Just smile.'
He sweated anyway.
A herald stepped forward and struck the floor three times with his staff. The hall went quiet.
"All rise for His Majesty, Eldrin, King of Casamir!"
Everyone was already standing, but the herald's voice made it feel official. With the sound of loud trumpets, Eldrin walked in from the side door, the Ascended a step behind him. The boy wore heavy ceremonial robes that looked a size too large. Ashoka quickly joined them from the side, walking along as if he'd always belonged there. They climbed the dais, and Eldrin sat himself on the throne. The Crown rested on his head, as dark and jagged as ever.
He looked tired, but he didn't look away from the crowd. Ashoka decided that counted for something.
Eldrin's gaze travelled across the court. Finally, he addressed the people.
[A/N: a bunch of yap after this that you can skip. I did NOT have a good time writing this]
"In the last two weeks, many things have happened, both wonderful and terrible. Some left a mark on both the land and in the heart of people, while some are known only to a few. Some were even a result of my own actions.
"As a king of this beautiful kingdom, i have a special privilege to know what my subjects think of me. And so it is no secret to me how many of them also despise my rules and decisions."
The crowd ahead stirred with unease.
"Some think I am too young and inexperienced to govern this kingdom, and I am not foolish enough to not know my weaknesses. This kingdom deserves something better until I am worthy to truly inherit the mantle as a king."
Following the arrangements, the herald called out Ashoka's name.
Ashoka quickly walked in front of Eldrin and gracefully knelt. The boy, meanwhile, took a ceremonial sword from the Ascended behind him and unsheathed it.
"It is therefore that a new office be created. One that stands second only to the king, to guide this land in his stead and answer to the people when the king's own words cannot. The office of a Duke."
The herald stepped forward with a rolled charter and read the terms in a loud voice: the rank, its duties, and its authority. Ashoka silently clicked his tongue as he listened to every word. Half of them he had written himself in the early hours of the morning.
"And for this office," Eldrin continued, "the Crown names one who has served the realm faithfully. One who gave the people a voice in this very hall."
Ashoka kept his eyes on the carpet, but he felt the crowd shift.
"Ashoka, apprentice of Prince Alariv, and my wisest advisor. Do you accept this office and swear to bear it with honor?"
"I do, Your Majesty."
Eldrin touched the blade to his left shoulder lightly, then repeated the same process with his right shoulder and the crown of his head.
[A/N: Come back!—————-————--—————-]
"By the authority of I, Eldrin, the Crowned King, and before all who bear witness, I name you Duke of Casamir."
As soon as Eldrin finished, a visible ripple passed through the fabric of reality. The entire court turned dead quiet as the light of the sun inside turned abnormally blinding, as if a sign of the king's words seeping into reality.
The entire court erupted into deafening cheers and applause.
Amidst the deafening cacofony, Ashoka heard the voice of the spell whispering into his ears.
[You have received a new attribute.]
He hurriedly summoned the runes and saw the attribute he'd received.
Attribute – [Duke].
Attribute description – You are a duke of Casamir. Your authority is second only to the King himself.
'Duke Ashoka... I don't know if that has a nice ring to it...'
A wide smile broke across Ashoka's face nevertheless, and he slowly raised his head to look up at Eldrin, who was giving him an expectant look.
"Did it work?"
Ashoka's smile widened even further.
"You bet it did!"
Saying that, he stood up and took a step closer to him. Eldrin, following the cue, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Some of the crowd noticed the strange sequence of action, and confusion appeared on their faces. The Ascended who was standing behind Eldrin, was in a similar state. Luckily, Eldrin had told him to ignore if Ashoka did anything strange.
Ashoka did not pay any attention to them at all. With a resolute expression, he raised his hand and stretched it towards the obsidian Crown resting over Eldrin's head, as if intending to grab it.
Right before that happened, he directed his senses inward, reaching for his innate ability.
In the next second, the world around him turned blurred and infused with a strange radiance. Within all that radiance, he only saw a thin, illusory golden thread drilling out of his chest, as if reaching the deepest parts of his soul.
No, there was also something else. A strange whirlpool of pitch-black darkness was hovering right in front of his extended palm, emitting nothing but a sense of overwhelming majesty, chaos, and dominance. Ashoka knew what it was, but he did not pay it more than a second of his attention. Channeling the Crown's power would only give him the abilities of a higher Black Emperor sequence. That was definitely not something he wanted at the moment.
So, following his initial instinct, he wrapped his fingers around the thin illusory thread, grasping it tightly.
And just as he did, he was suddenly somewhere else, surrounded by brilliant, endless whiteness.
For a moment, one would think that there truly wasn't anything in this space, but slowly, the brilliant dimmed, forming small patches of greyness. Some of these patches grew in size, while others connected with other blotches, forming lines and shapes that eventually transformed into the silhouettes of ancient, massive, forlorn structures.
On his first attempt almost a week ago, this was all Ashoka had been able to see, but this time was different. This time, the fog of brilliance dimmed and thin, revealing...
A vast and endless kingdom sprawling before him, stretching as far as the eye could see, covered in a sea of swirling smoke and mist.
The kingdom itself wasn't a single monolithic structure either. Instead, it seemed to consist of 33 layers of sky, each stacked upon each other and containing cities as boundless as the world itself.
These 33 layers of the sky appeared to also be separated into three distinguished Sections, each containing 11 layers within them.
The lowest of the three Section appeared to be illuminated by a golden ambience ever present. In the lowermost layer of the eleven skies in that section, a brilliant golden sun hung in the sky, illuminating a pristine city made of pure white stones. Beneath that light, countless figures moved about in the streets and buildings, going about their lives. There was no crime or chaos in the city, and everything seemed full of order, balance, and peace, perhaps even happiness.
But all of it was all illusion. Sure, there was no crime and chaos, but that also meant anything out of the norm was a crime as well. Every step of every person was measured and counted; every breath weighed. There was order, balance, and peace, but that also meant their lives were completely monotone and without any randomness or surprises. This wasn't a life, but just a twisted facsimile of it, just a hell of a different kind, one that many people often failed to consider.
On another one of the layers of sky, the sounds of gavels and courtroom proceedings filled the entire city as human figures that looked exactly like each other walked along, figures made of shadows, crossing the cities and roads with stacks of documents in their hands, set to be sent to courts as evidence to punish or reward the convicted.
On another layer, buildings were filled with administrative officials, creating an endless list of rules and regulations every single moment, working tirelessly to make a perfect law, without any loopholes or vagueness to be found.
The second and the central of the three Section seemed to be covered in an ever-shifting grey mist, with barely anything visible. In that section, the living turned into unmoving statues, and the inanimate turned into the living, jumping around and talking as if they'd always been that way. Truth turned into lies and illusions turned into reality. Everything seemed to have become uncertain, but also a certain possibility in that mist-covered land.
Finally, in the first and topmost of the three Sections, deep shadows drowned the entire world in an eternity of darkness, and chaos reigned within all.
On one of the layers of the eleven skies, ruined, forlorn buildings stood amidst clouds of rolling grey smoke and mist, many of them engulfed in raging fires of arson. Crime and chaos ran rampant in the city, and shadowy figures moved across the streets, either in panic and fear or filled with wrath, avarice, and malice.
On another one of the layers, an infinitely vast, empty plain stretched across the horizon of dim twilight, with endless lines of faceless figures moving forward slowly. Their bodies were battered and their clothes ragged, and thick, unbreakable chains clutched their wrists and feet, forcing them onwards just like the figure in front of them and the one ahead.
Finally, at the highest layer of all the 33 layers of skies, a grand and majestic palace towered above all of existence, its walls seemingly made of pitch-black obsidian and flowing mercury.
And at the heart of this majestic palace, a magnificent throne stood amidst the sea of shadows, a promise of tantalizing, overwhelming power and authority.
But the throne remained empty, with no one to sit on it, the entire grand palace thick with the weight of silence.
Ashoka's eyes widened as he looked at the scene.
'Th-this!'
This was the Nation of Disorder!
The thirty-three heavens!
This was his Sefirah!
In the next second, he suddenly felt a vast and incomprehensible presence come into contact with his fragile soul, changing something deep and fundamental within it.
Attribute: [Quasi-Proxy of The Nation of Disorder]
Attribute Description: You are the quasi-proxy of the Nation of Disorder. Your aura is comparable to a king.
[Your aura is comparable to a king.]
The thread symbolizing his connection to the Nation of Disorder suddenly grew thicker, much more radiant, and much more real.
[Your aura...]
[Your...]
He suddenly felt his being overflow with incalculable majesty and authority.
[Your aura is that of a king.]
Attribute: [Proxy of The Nation of Disorder]
And just like that, the scene before him disappeared, and he once again found himself within the familiar uproar of the court.
And just beneath his palm, inches away, the elegant obsidian Crown suddenly shook, as if it had just come loose from a socket, making Eldrin tremble.
Ashoka's heart raced, and he felt the noise of the court blur away.
'This is it!'
His hand covered the final stretch of the distance and grabbed the Crown in an iron fist.
Something rose from deep within his soul, vast and eternal, unbreakable and irresistible in its harrowing majesty. In that moment, it seemed to tower above Ashoka's own soul, spirit, and even the entire world itself.
The entire Court was suddenly drowned in mysterious, strange shadows, forcing everything into quietness. At the same time, the majestic presence of the sefirah reached its own will and grabbed onto the Crown as well, mirroring Ashoka's own actions.
A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, eventually dropping to the ground.
Ashoka swallowed a breath, gathered all his willpower, and pulled at the Crown with all the might he could muster.
For a second, there was nothing. But as Ashoka's struggle continued, the Crown suddenly began to give, loosening even further.
Boundless excitement filled his heart. Seeing the success, he pulled harder, and just like before, the Crown's hold over Eldrin's head became loose.
'Yes!'
After the next attempt, only a few tiny edges seemed to still be connected, and on the next attempt, that too should disappear!
Finally, he gathered all his strength and pulled for what seemed to be the final attempt.
And then, he hit a wall.
Nothing.
He did not hit an actual wall, but just that all his attempts halted, as the Crown he was trying so hard to pick, the same Crown that had been so close to coming loose just a second ago, suddenly became just immovable.
No matter how much he tried, how much he strained his muscles, the Crown remained completely still, as if refusing to move beyond a certain threshold. It almost seemed as if an opposing force was resisting him, anchoring the Crown over Eldrin's head.
Even all the presence of the sefirah that he had been able to bring forward could not overcome this force.
Ashoka's heart sank in an instant.
He tried again and again until his fingers turned pale and his face turned red, but no matter how much force he used or how much will he put into it, the result remained the same.
'No... No, no, no, no!'
It felt like trying to push a monolith, to pull the earth beneath one's feet.
It was like attempting to do something impossible.
'Damn it!'
Amidst the sound of blood rushing past his ears, Ashoka heard a soft, meek voice call out to him.
"Is something wrong?"
He looked down, only to see Eldrin's face staring back at him, a solemn expression on his face as if he'd sensed something was wrong.
Ashoka opened his mouth, but no words came out. His lips trembled for a moment before he said in an inaudible voice.
"It failed..."
After everything he'd done till now, every drop of blood and sweat he'd shed, it had simply failed. All the weeks of planning gone to waste.
Eldrin's expression fell instantly.
"Wh-what now?"
Ashoka stared at him, an undecipherable expression on his face. Eventually, he looked up to gaze at the towering and majestic Brass pillar behind him, his face slowly turning impassive.
Right, why was this even a surprise for him? This was one of the few possibilities that he had thought of after all, that his innate ability would fail him because it had been sealed.
He had known it might happen. But expecting a failure and watching it unfold were two very different things, and his fists were shaking in the Crown's shadow.
Had he been too greedy? Had the cost, the effort he had put in not enough for what he wanted to achieve?
The words of Gaius appeared in his mind, but they were hurriedly filed away into some deep corner of his mind. He didn't want to think about that bastard now, and he still had a few weeks to try out his other plans.
He deactivated his innate ability, letting the shadows drowning the court dissipate. After 7 minutes of use, there were still 9 out of the total 16 minutes left before it reached the cooldown. He wanted to make sure if something went wrong, he'd still have the ability to channel and receive the power of a sequence 8 barbarian.
Finally, sucking in a deep breath, he turned towards Eldrin. At some point in time, the Ascended had come to stand beside him, hand on the crossguard of his sword.
"What now? Well, we'll have to go with plan B instead." He gestured at the Pillar of Brass behind him. "We just have to des—"
It was then that a ragged, agonizing shriek tore through the silence of the court.
It was a wet and grating—like iron grinding over splintering bone—that violently sheared the final word right out of his mouth.
Ashoka's breath caught hard in his throat, his posture instantly locking rigid as the echo of the scream clawed at his eardrums.
They both spun toward the edge of the dais, their eyes dropping down the grand steps of the throne.
Below them, the sea of people had ruptured. The dense crowd was frantically clawing backward, screaming and trampling one another to escape the center of the plaza. In the clearing they left behind, a human being was upright, transformed into a roaring, towering bonfire. Scarlet-hot flames licked furiously toward the vaulted ceiling, feeding on flesh and fabric alike. The figure thrashed violently, casting long, erratic shadows across the stone steps as its skin blackened and peeled under the sudden, unnatural blaze.
A cold chill ran down Ashoka's spine.
Still, he took a protective step in front of Eldrin and put a hand forward as if to shield him. He doubted he'd be able to protect much if things really went south, though.
His heart hammered against his chest, and the feeling of the flat and sharp stiletto pressing near his waist became clear to him.
Should he take it out, just in case?
Right then, the sea of people was parted, and two workers rushed in, carrying a bucket of water. One of them quickly stepped forward and splashed the water on the burning man, creating a cloud of steam around them. The attempt was all but fruitless, though, because the fire was barely affected at all. Seeing that, he stepped aside to make way for the other worker.
Perhaps in his hurry and the urgent situation in front, the other worker's focus was not focused enough, which was why he did not notice the small puddle left because of the previous worker and slipped, spilling all the water on the ground. But, in the process, he also accidentally spilled some on his arm.
In the next second, the man screamed, as if he were the one being burned alive instead of the bonfire of a human in front of him. His skin turned red and pink before melting away, and white steam rose from the injured arm.
Ashoka looked at the scene from atop the dias, his eyes opening wide. From so far away, he could see the scene in its entirety, and he saw that steam was also rising from the spilled pool of water as if it had been boiling.
A question appeared in his mind. Why had the workers brought boiling water to extinguish the fire?
The question soon changed.
Had they really brought boiling water?
He clearly remembered not seeing any vapor when they were bringing the buckets through the crowd.
Suddenly having a strange premonition, he looked down at his palms, only to see them covered in sweat. Not just that, but his entire body beneath the layers of clothes was drenched in sweat as if he'd been in a sauna.
Had it always been this hot today?
No, this was clearly an anomaly. Something was terribly wrong.
Just then, another scream echoed across the walls of the court, and another person somewhere else in the crowd spontaneously caught fire, without any explainable reason or cause. A second later, the worker who had been wailing in agony also turned into a torch.
Ashoka took an unsteady step back, face paling.
"Wha- what the hell..."
In the next instant, deafening explosion thundered outside the Royal Palace, somewhere too distant, yet still making his ears ring and the ground below him tremble.
Dust fell from the ceiling like rain, and the silver banner hanging from grand pillars of black and white marble fell down on the crowd of people.
He looked up, only to see thin cracks running across the opulent ceiling, quickly growing wider.
Ashoka cursed.
'Damn me and my cursed luck!'
Right at that moment, a terrible groan shuddered throughout the entire palace, and the breaking of stone resounded in the vast hall. A net of cracks appeared on one of the massive, incredibly tall column and quickly spread to its base. Shards of stone flew in every direction, and the column began to topple.
Then, like an Avanlache, the entire ceiling above them began to fall down on the crowd below.