The seafloor tavern in the depths of the Atlantic Ocean, where those who perished had unceremoniously resided as their final destination, became known as the hidden refuge of these Ascended who had cast aside their livelihoods to pursue the truth above everything else. Their purpose of shredding their prestigious standings in this realm paled compared to the prophecy foretold.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me like this! I’m sure the Temporeans have educated you extensively on conduct, haven’t they?”
Candice removed her mask, throwing it onto the seafloor beneath her–only for the solid reality to twirl and transform into a greyish-red vortex, absorbing the prop she threw down in anger. She has not been pleased with her comrade’s attitude since returning to his homeland.
“Temporean, didn’t Weaver say get rid of the terrorist and leave? Why did you overexpose yourself to Newton? I would appreciate it if you gave me an answer.”
Andrew ignored her and walked past Candice toward where their undisputed leader resided.
“You leave me no choice.”
The corridor, illuminated by the sun from several miles above sea level, signified the start of a new dawn. There were also the bodies of the fallen from eras long before she had entered this domain. These bodies had retained their final state upon death, suspended by a mystical power defying the laws of gravity even she could not comprehend.
Without changes in his trajectory, Andrew realised he had arrived at square one, next to Candice, when the pathway ahead would bring him to their leader’s domain.
“I’m not in a good mood.” Andrew hissed.
“So, I finally got your attention. Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Unveiling his sapphire eyes hidden beneath by throwing his mask to the seafloor, Andrew grabbed Candice by the collar and screamed at her.
“You know why I’m angry, Spashiong! Where is my son?! Didn’t Weaver say–”
“I don’t have to answer you.”
A definitive tone. It was as though a fellow Ascended did not deserve to know anything.
“So you’re my boss now?”
“What are you going to do about it?”
Andrew drew his lightning rod swiftly from his belt, ready to strike–
“Enough. Settle your differences. Immediately.”
A commanding voice echoed in the depths of the Abyss, quelling both Ascendeds from their heated exchange. As though the voice’s owner possessed the powers of the universe and every possible element unknown to the material realm, both Ascendeds magically teleported into his domain.
“Temporean, Spashiong. Welcome back. I have observed the events from here. I did not expect Atlantea to go down this path but who are we to judge them?”
With an air of authority gained from his decades of experience on the battlefield, the might bestowed by the hidden masters and the brute force he wielded from years honing his craft in solitude, Weaver carried an aura that exuded immediate respect from the Ascendeds. The surface’s light danced upon his magnificent presence with the backdrop of ancient mammals’ skeletal remnants forming an ash-white throne.
“Thank you for the warm gesture, Weaver.”
“Thank you, Weaver.”
“Sometimes I can’t help but wonder. Will modern Atlantea have scholars publish works on philosophy? Is there anyone with a wondering mind that remained uncorrupted by the status quo’s comfortability and can see the forest for the interconnected trees?”
The beautifully drawn mask he wore reflected the calm, piercing, thin ray of light as it bounced onto a nearby seashell ornament.
“I just want someone to surprise me. Forget it. I’m just bantering at this point. I’ve spent way too much time reading. Sometimes, I would desire to leave this nest…”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Both Ascendeds bowed to their leader, who carried a torn book from a bygone era. Tossing it into the air, Andrew watched the piece of matter transform into dust and absorbed into a teal-green portal.
“I hope spending that much time back in Atlantea didn’t make you lose your composure, Temporean. The thing about going home…is nostalgic. Your conduct earlier was unacceptable. However, I understand. That place, Atlantea…”
Weaver paused as though he had recalled an old memory, but his voice did not waver once.
“Such a shame it has come to this. If only…”
Another momentary pause.
“Never mind.”
Andrew had become curious recently after learning the origins of Weaver’s mask. For Candice, her mask symbolised the colours of her pearl-pink eyes and her familial ties to House Spashiong in the Drazen Empire. As for himself, the mask represented the Nimbus he wielded.
And for Weaver, he had discovered the origin of its design by chance. The design had inspiration from a far distant land mired with praise for its rise as a supernation in less than half a century. To this day, it still exists as a destination of eternal paradise.
“I need to be honest with you. Why did you decide to–”
“Excuse me!”
Andrew desperately sought an answer, but his comrade could not wait for her turn.
“Spashiong, mind your–”
Andrew averted his gaze uncomfortably, hanging his head out of mutual respect.
“...You should have known better.”
“E-erm, I’m sorry!”
Candice pleaded as she tried covering her exposed legs with her hands. Weaver had flipped her upside down, leaving her in a compromised state.
“Are you sure you are, Spashiong? This unpardonable behaviour is not the first time. And I highly doubt it will be the last too…”
“Yes, I am–”
“Then, promise me you will never interrupt Temporean again. I understand you have never served in the military like us, hence your inadequate manners. However, I am aware of your roots in the Empire. Imagine what your ancestors would think when they learned about your unsatisfactory behaviour. You would embarrass House Spashiong and your ancestors watching over you from the divine realm.”
“I promise! I’ll never do that again!”
“I will hold you accountable for your words, Spashiong,” Without turning to face Candice, Weaver reverted her back to normal. “The next time you do that again, I’ll send you to the killer whales outside.”
“Ok. I’m sorry.”
Weaver walked forward, admiring the school of underwater fish swimming around his dimension. These species remain undiscovered by laughable, lukewarm researchers to this day.
“Temporean…”
“Yes, Weaver.”
“...I know. You want answers. We all do, don’t we?”
“Yes, why not my son, but–”
“Because he hasn’t suffered enough. The time is not ripe.”
“...What do you mean? It’s been fourteen years.”
“Temporean, you must understand something. Your son has a larger role to play. You must trust the plan.”
“...I understand.”
“Thank you, Temporean. Now, let’s address something of more importance.”
“Wh–”
A motionless body manifested beside Weaver as though he could create bodies and fill them with souls. However, this vessel was different. That distinct pale-white features of a woman born from the Tundralands and the face of an adopted child he had not seen since that day.
Andrew gasped at the sight of Candice’s hostage victim. “What…How?”
“I have instructed Spashiong to retrieve her instead of your son. It is because of her genetic sequence…”
“I understand now.”
All became clear in an instant. Every shred of doubt dissipated once he shook Weaver’s hand as the schools of underwater fish and the suspended bodies of the fallen awaiting their final destination surrounded them, acknowledging the cause he pledged himself to on that cursed island.
“We shall commence with the next part of the plan.”
“Neptune Smith…”
Andrew couldn’t comprehend the trepidation in his veins when he almost landed the final blow on that boy, only to miss it by a small margin. He felt his primordial genetic makeup had awakened something in him to purge the evil in his sights.
Forget it. It’s too late now.
The Federation would never stand a chance against the Drazen Empire’s undisputed strength in brutality and conquest. Only a genius with the intellectual might would carry this failed regime on its back to craft the blueprint for victory via scientific means. Unfortunately, as the United Atlantea Federation stands as it is, that day would take too long to come.
Little did he know, he had unknowingly underestimated the boy’s potential.
