not the sky but danger was a dutiful exchange
Fen had never liked standing still.
Unfortunately, destiny appeared to enjoy it.
He stood at the edge of the Ascendancy Arena, boots planted on stone older than most civilisations, while the surrounding air vibrated with the hum of power. This world wasn't magical in the usual way; instead, it contained enchanted weapons that pulsed with energy, along with incantations, symbols, and something more profound and fundamental. It felt as though reality itself had tightened and tuned itself to a higher tension
Godhood ascension
The stones beneath his feet were responsible for that, the world, even a position such as that was for the taking.
With two fingers in his coat pocket, Fen felt the stone he had already collected.
It hummed in response.
Not audibly. It wasn't so much as… agreement.
He suppressed a shiver.
"Stop poking it," Ayger murmured beside him. "You're going to trigger something."
Fen withdrew his hand. "It started it."
Ayger snorted softly but didn't look away from the arena. His twin's gaze moved constantly, cataloguing details: the spacing between contestants, the pattern of runes etched into the floor, the faint distortions in the air that suggested layered barriers rather than a single field. Fen had learned long ago that when Ayger went quiet like this, his mind was running faster than speech.
They were identical in appearance—dark hair, lean builds, sharp features—but only to those who didn't know them. Fen carried his emotions openly, even when he tried not to. Ayger wore his like armour, tucked away behind logic and restraint.
The towering spires of Chrysalis rose around the arena, a fusion of medieval stonework and impossible technology. Crystal veins ran through buttresses and towers, glowing faintly as they siphoned energy from somewhere unseen. Fen could feel it flowing, redirected, processed. Chrysalis wasn't just a city.
It was a machine.
And today, I was watching them.
The Contest of Ascendancy had drawn competitors from dozens of realms—some primitive, some advanced, some so strange that Fen doubted their inhabitants experienced time the same way he did. They stood now in a wide ring, spaced evenly apart, all facing inward toward the heart of the arena.
No one spoke.
That alone was unsettling.
Fen shifted his weight. "Still think this is voluntary?"
Ayger's lips twitched. "Define voluntary. We weren't forced to come. We were just… heavily incentivised."
Fen glanced around. Armed warriors, robed mystics, constructs of living stone, beings that flickered like heat haze. All of them radiated intent. Hunger. Fear. Ambition.
"Yes," Fen said. "Nothing says 'free choice' like an omnipotent system dangling godhood in front of you."
Ayger finally looked at him. "You're not backing out."
It wasn't a question.
Fen smiled thinly. "Of course not."
He wasn't lying. But neither was Ayger when he said nothing in response.
They both knew the truth.
Earth had taught them games. Systems. Exploits. Feedback loops. Progression ladders that rewarded optimisation and punished complacency. Whatever this Contest was, it followed rules. Complex ones, hidden ones—but rules nonetheless.
And rules could be learned.
A tremor ran through the arena. Runes etched into the stone flared to life, lines of light snapping into place like a circuit completing itself. The hum intensified, resolving into something almost like a voice—no words, just presence.
Fen's stone pulsed sharply.
Information spilt into his mind.
Not a message. Not instructions.
Constraints.
He staggered slightly, catching himself before he embarrassed them both. Ayger noticed immediately.
"You felt that too," Ayger said quietly.
Fen nodded. "Not rules. Tendencies. Like… gravity, but for power."
Ayger's eyes gleamed. "Good. That means it's consistent."
Before Fen could respond, the arena floor shifted.
Invisible walls rose between contestants, isolating them into individual platforms of stone and light. Fen felt a brief resistance, like walking through thick air, and then—
The world changed.
The arena vanished.
Fen found himself standing in the middle of a ruined battlefield beneath a grey, unmoving sky. Broken weapons littered the ground. Banners lay torn and half-buried in ash. The air smelled of iron and old smoke.
A construct stood thirty paces away.
Stone and bronze, shaped like a knight twice the height of a man, its surface etched with the same runes that marked the arena floor. Its eyes were dark.
Inactive.
Fen swallowed.
"So," he muttered. "Trial one."
The stone in his pocket grew warm, as if amused.
Fen closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.
Think.
This wasn't a duel. Not exactly. The construct hadn't attacked yet. That meant something. Systems rarely wasted opportunities for information gathering. If it were meant to test raw strength, it would already be moving.
Which suggested assessment?
Fen took a step forward.
The construct's eyes flared to life.
He jumped back just as a massive stone blade slammed into the ground where he'd been standing, sending shards skittering across the battlefield.
"Assessment confirmed," Fen said breathlessly. "Aggressive."
The construct advanced with heavy, deliberate steps. Each movement was precise, economical. No wasted motion.
Fen's mind raced.
He had no spells. No enhanced strength. Just the stone—and whatever latent advantage it provided.
He focused inward, on the hum he'd felt earlier.
The stone responded.
Not by granting power outright, but by… aligning something inside him. Fen suddenly became acutely aware of his balance, his muscle tension, the exact timing of the construct's steps. Possibilities unfolded in his mind—not predictions, but probabilities.
Useful ones.
Fen darted forward, then veered aside at the last moment as the construct swung again. He felt the wind of it pass centimetres from his face.
"Okay," he muttered. "So you reward initiative."
The battlefield shifted subtly. The ground beneath the construct cracked, its footing momentarily unstable.
Fen smiled.
He wasn't stronger.
He was learning.
Across another fractured layer of reality, Ayger faced his own trial—and smiled for an entirely different reason.
Where Fen's battlefield was physical, Ayger's was conceptual.
He stood in an empty chamber, walls covered in floating symbols that rearranged themselves constantly. At the centre hovered a single stone, suspended in midair.
A puzzle.
Ayger's favourite kind.
Information pressed at his mind, not forcefully, but insistently. The system wanted interaction. Reaction. Decision.
Ayger crossed his arms and observed.
Patterns emerged. Symbol clusters. Feedback loops. The stone reacted to attention, not touch. Interesting.
"So you're measuring comprehension," Ayger said softly. "Not obedience."
He stepped back and deliberately ignored the stone.
The symbols stuttered.
Ayger smiled wider.
"Yes," he said. "That'll do nicely."
The Contest of Ascendancy had begun.
And neither twin intended to lose—not to monsters, not to gods, and certainly not to each other.