《The Ninth Ascender》


 Prologue

    Jincheng, Northern Province¨CYear 38 of the Reclamation era.


    The snow fell in silence, like it feared being heard.


    In the shadow of the Red Mountain Temple, a boy sat alone on the orphanage steps, a silver charm wrapped tightly around his shivering fingers.


    He was barely fifteen¡ªa little small for his age, thinner than most, his dark brown hair dusted with melting snowflakes. His name was Jude, though few ever used it. The charm around his wrist bore the inscription, but in this place, names meant little. The orphanage preferred numbers.


    "009." That was what they called him.


    Numbers were easier to forget. Easier to abandon.


    He didn''t know who his parents were. He didn''t know where he came from. And he didn''t know why the visions had started.


    They were uncannily real, he once woke up drowning in the middle of an empty sea. That was the first time he had ever died; it wasn''t his death, not really, but what he felt in that moment, he couldn''t describe it.


    It had been a few weeks since they began. But this morning had been different.


    He didn''t wake up cold and hungry. He had woken up¡­ vitalized.


    Powerful. Composed. And disturbingly distant, like watching the world through a pane of glass.


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    He had been sitting on the orphanage steps for hours now. The cold no longer bit. His breath fogged the air like smoke, but inside, deep in his gut, a warmth had begun to grow.


    The monks hadn''t said anything, but he saw the way they looked at him. The way their steps slowed when passing. The way they whispered when they thought he couldn''t hear.


    A bald monk finally gave voice to what the others feared:


    "He''s starting Harmonization."


    The Harmonized were rare¡ªone in ten thousand, maybe less. Most lived and died without ever awakening.


    They were born beneath constellations that aligned at the moment of their first breath. Or so the scholars claimed. Whether chosen by fate or punished by it, no one could agree. What was certain, however, was this: when the soul aligned with a celestial constellation, something awakened.


    That awakening was called Harmonization.


    The first signs of harmonization were harmless¡ªemotional spikes, loss of appetite, surges of strength. For some, it took weeks. For others, a single night.


    Each soul resonated with one of the 88 Constellations.


    They were categorized into three types: combat-type, support-type, and specialized-type.


    Jude had very little knowledge of the world outside the orphanage. The little knowledge he did have, he had learned by sneaking out the orphanage.


    He had never seen someone harmonize, but that morning, he instinctively felt his body changing.


    The air around him felt heavier. Thicker. Even the snow seemed to slow as it fell, reluctant to touch him.


    He should have been terrified.


    But all he felt was clarity.


    The bell rang from the tower, a deep toll that rippled across the temple grounds like the breath of a sleeping god.


    A bald monk approached him, his robes rustling softly. His voice was firm but not unkind.


    "Listen carefully, 009. Standard procedure in the Northern Province is to surveil your symptoms. In ten days, you will be transported to the nearest Astra Sanctum entrance."


    Jude said nothing.


    The Astra Sanctum. The place where Harmonized were trialed, or disposed of.


    It was what he dreaded most.

 Refractions

    The visions came again without warning.


    The metallic stench of blood and the sharp tang of gunpowder sucked away the winter''s chill.


    I wasn''t really there. I knew that. Still, it didn''t make the experience any less vivid


    I stood on the deck of a gigantic warship, the planks slick with seawater and blood.


    The chaos was overwhelming. Screams echoed across the water as men fought, their cries lost amid the deafening symphony of violence.


    I stumbled backward, my boots sliding on the blood-slicked deck as the ship heaved and rocked from the onslaught.


    A sailor''s dismembered body landed next to me, his arm missing, the stump spurting blood in an uneven, horrifying rhythm.


    Bile rose in my throat, but I couldn''t look away.


    This wasn''t my death. Not my war. But the fear felt real enough to leave me trembling.


    Focus. Breathe. This is not your death.


    Although the words weren''t mine, they settled in my mind as if they had always been there. A weird calm broke through my panic. I felt serene, even as death surrounded me.


    The world was pure chaos. Some crew members were yelling in a language I didn''t know, their words swallowed by the constant cannon fire. Others fought to stay on the ship. The deck looked like a graveyard, filled with broken bodies.


    The stench was unbearable


    Then-light split the sky.


    The air vibrated like a plucked bowstring.


    A powerful burst of white light with streaks of golden orange flashed across the battlefield. I barely saw the other ship explode before the deafening sound hit me.


    Everything fell silent for a heartbeat. My pulse, my breath¡ªgone.


    The madness around me became a blur; flames moved without noise, and pieces of wreckage floated slowly.


    Then, just like that, reality crashed back in.


    Wood splintered, flames burst upward, and debris rained like meteors as the opposing ship broke apart.


    A chunk of burning timber landed where I''d stood moments before, my breath caught, and my body tensed on instinct. I barely had time to take it all in before my eyes were drawn to a man standing on the ship''s railing.


    He wasn''t triumphant. He didn''t even look interested.


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    He stared at the carnage, indifferent.


    He walked across the ship''s rail, bathed in the same white-gold light that had torn through the enemy vessel.


    His posture was rigid and commanding, his blond hair streaming in the wind. His hazel eyes swept the chaos with calm precision. They were familiar eyes¡ªeyes I''d seen before.


    My eyes.


    My heart slammed against my ribs, cold sweat beading on my brow. The officer shouted out a command or so it appeared, his words cutting through the chaos. His sailors obeyed without hesitation, reloading cannons and readying weapons, sweat-stained and grimed with soot.


    And for a brief instant, our gazes met.


    A cannonball screamed toward us. He flicked his wrist, blasting it mid-air with another surge of that white-golden energy.


    Then¡ª


    "009!" The voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline. My body jerked. My eyes snapped open. The morning sun blinding me


    The warship was gone. The blood. The fire. The vision.


    I was back on my cot in the orphanage, breath ragged, shirt soaked with cold sweat.


    That''s the third vision this week. At least I didn''t die in this one.


    I swallowed hard, trying to shake away the stubborn sensation.


    "009!" The voice called again.


    I spun around, my heart still racing. Matron Lin stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, a cigarette in her mouth. Smoke curled around her lined face as she narrowed her eyes at me.


    "You ready to be shipped to Asheng?" She said, grinning.


    I blinked at her, my brain still catching up to reality.


    Asheng.


    Of course, it was tomorrow.


    I swung my legs over the edge of the bunk and ran a hand through my hair. Damp.


    I probably look like a wet dog.


    "I''m coming," I muttered, rubbing the fatigue from my eyes.


    Matron Lin sighed, clearly unimpressed with my lack of urgency. She disappeared down the hallway, leaving a cloud of dissipating smoke behind.


    I dressed in silence, the others had already left. Most had been avoiding me anyway, like Harmonization might be contagious.


    I couldn''t blame them, I was just as clueless as them about this... condition.


    I wasn''t ready for Asheng. Or the Astra Sanctum. And whatever came after that.


    But ready or not, I was being sent there.


    Breakfast was a steamed bun and a glass of milk. Matron Lin didn''t speak much¡ªjust stared at me between drags of her cigarette, eyes squinting through smoke.


    Finally, she exhaled. "The envoy''ll be here tomorrow at dawn. You want to say goodbye to anyone, do it now."


    Goodbye?


    There wasn''t anyone to say goodbye to. Not anymore.


    My one faithful companion in this place had long since left, following the same fate as me.


    I left my tray where it was, stood, and walked out into the courtyard without a word.


    It was a beautiful morning; the evening snow still dusted the cobblestone pavements of the temple.


    As I trekked up Red Mountain, trying to clear my thoughts, the wind bit a little less than usual.


    I sat on an old shrine overlooking the temple, the orphanage, and the quiet village of Asheng beyond them. Somewhere down there, my name was being recorded in some dusty Sanctum ledger. Another Harmonized to be catalogued, trained, and used.


    But I wasn''t sure I wanted to go.


    That thought had been brewing in my head since I noticed signs of my harmonization. The idea that I didn''t have to follow the path laid out for me. That maybe, just maybe, I could run.


    There was an old storage shed near the western wall of the temple. I knew when the monks patrolled that area.


    Would they even miss me?


    I suddenly felt a wave of guilt. Matron Lin would be questioned. The senior monks would be sent out to search for me. The government may even send soldiers.


    But the thought of entering the Astra Sanctum¡ªbeing experimented on, used, controlled¡ªfilled me with a cold dread I couldn''t ignore.


    I knew what awaited me in Asheng, and I didn''t want any part of it.


    I wasn''t ready to sell my soul to the government and become their weapon.


    I stood and dusted myself off. Tomorrow, they''d come looking.


    But they wouldn''t find me.


    Not if I left before dawn.


    Not if I ran tonight.


    Even if I had no idea where I would go.

 Boiler Room

    I lay there on my bunk, nervous and undecided.


    Am I really doing this?


    The thought clung to me like fog, thick and stubborn, refusing to clear.Sleep had already abandoned me, stolen by the slow burn of uncertainty.


    I glanced toward the small window above my bunk. The night was still, unnervingly so.


    The moon, veiled behind a drifting shroud of cloud, seemed hesitant to reveal itself,


    as if even it was reluctant to witness what I was about to do.


    It was time to go.


    And yet, I had no idea where I would go.


    No destination. No promise. Only the agonizing knowledge that staying meant dying. There was no way a skinny orphan like me could survive the Astra Sanctum.


    I was shedding the last thread of normalcy my life had ever offered.


    I moved silently, wrapping the thin cloak around my shoulders as if it could shield me from what waited beyond the door.


    The air was smoky and colder than it had been yesterday. Or maybe that was just my nerves.


    My boots fell to the floor. I slowly walked to the door and finally past the threshold.


    The corridor was empty, but it didn''t feel safe. Every step I took echoed off the wooden walls, betraying my presence to shadows surrounding me.


    I had bribed a kitchen boy for a key whose worth he hadn''t known. Yet, with every heartbeat, I still wondered if some ancient curse of the Sanctum would awaken, dragging me back to my bunk to cast me into its depths.


    The walls here were etched with religious sayings, my eyes flicked up to one of them.


    "He who walks the spiral of truth treads with quiet feet, but the one who twists his path against the stars shall find the constellations bearing witness¡ªand judgment always descends."


    Huh, that''s pretty fitting.


    I pulled my hood deeper over my face and pressed on.


    I reached the end of the hall. I was only a few metres away from the exit, one step closer to being free.


    A soft chime echoed¡ªlike metal touching metal. I froze, breath locked behind my teeth.


    Footsteps.


    Not heavy enough to be a guard.


    Lighter. Measured.


    Another orphan?


    Or something else?


    I scanned the corridor in a quiet panic, eyes flicking for cover. To my left¡ªa shallow alcove, narrow and half-swallowed by shadow. It wasn''t much, but it might be enough to shield me from whoever else prowled this hallway.


    I slipped in, heart pounding in my throat.


    The footsteps passed. Whoever it was, they didn''t pause. Didn''t hesitate. They walked like they belonged here¡ªlike they had purpose. Like they weren''t afraid of being seen.


    Then came another set.


    Faster this time. Unsteady.


    I risked a glance past the edge of the alcove.


    Flames.


    A flicker of orange light rounded the corner, licking across the far wall. Then came the shouting¡ªpanicked, echoing, chaotic.


    The orphanage was on fire.


    Smoke began curling down the ceiling like spectral fingers. I could already hear the dormitory doors being thrown open, the thunder of boots, the shrieks of terrified children.


    A flood of movement surged into the hallway, bare feet, nightclothes. Adults barking orders they couldn¡¯t enforce. Children dragged each other by the wrist, screaming names to no avail.


    I stood still as it all rushed past me, frozen.


    Something twisted in my gut¡ªguilt, maybe. Or something that used to be guilt, replaced by the crooked feeling of opportunity.


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    They wouldn¡¯t count carefully. Not tonight. Not here.


    A poorly funded orphanage wouldn¡¯t sweep the cinders for the bones of a boy no one cared for.


    I could disappear. An empty bed, scorched slippers, and a charred scrap of cloak¡ªenough for them to believe I had burned with the rest. Faking a death in fire was easy. Fire left no truths. Only ash.


    And in that ash, I could be reborn.


    No identity. No records. No name left in the Sanctum ledger.


    It''s not like they''ll mourn me anyway.


    I slipped into the crowd, blending in just long enough to vanish down a side corridor. I could feel the disapproval of the stars weighing on me.


    Coward, they whispered. Traitor.


    I didn¡¯t disagree.


    The east wing was already half-consumed. Roof beams sagged overhead, creaking under the fire''s slow burn. Smoke rolled along the ceiling in waves, instantly burning my lungs. I ducked low, drawing the cloak tight across my mouth, and moved.


    A hallway. A prayer room. Another hallway. I passed a cracked mirror where the Ember Monks used to chant, now reflecting only smoke and flame.


    A wooden beam cracked behind me, then collapsed in chunks of burning wood. Scorching embers kissed the side of my face, too close; I had to hurry.


    I kicked in a door, one of the old storage rooms, and entered quickly. It was empty, save for a few broken crates, rotted linens, and a pile of discarded orphan uniforms. Perfect.


    I tore a strip from my uniform, hastily laying it out on the crate. Then I tried to drag the whole thing into the hallway, to make it look like I¡¯d collapsed trying to escape. It didn¡¯t budge. Too heavy. Maybe I was just weak.


    Another beam creaked and crashed behind me, sending a gust of embers into the air. That was my cue.


    I glanced back once at my improvised body double.


    It was half-assed, but that didn''t matter.


    The heat clawed at my back as I ran towards the nearest exit, my lungs desperately needing fresh air.


    And then¡ª


    A boy stumbled into view.


    Six, maybe five. Barefoot. Eyes red from the smoke. He was coughing so hard I thought he might collapse.


    He didn¡¯t scream.


    Just¡­ reached.


    I looked at him. Really looked.


    Thin. Burnt sleeve. One slipper.


    He shouldn¡¯t have been here. He should¡¯ve already been herded with the others.


    And now, he was going to die for it.


    My pulse spiked.


    I couldn''t stop. Not here. Not now. If I carried him out, he would remember me. If I stayed a second too long, I¡¯d burn with him. But if I just walked away¡ª


    I gritted my teeth, scanned the hallway.


    There¡ªa corridor branching right, the smoke thinner in that direction. It led toward the infirmary. I''d snuck that way once, months ago. It had a window, half-shattered, just wide enough for a small body to slip through.


    I turned and moved.


    The boy whimpered behind me.


    I kept running.


    But something twisted in me.


    I looked back at him.


    He had a look on his face like he''d already been forgotten. Like the world had decided he wasn¡¯t worth saving.


    It tore me, I couldn''t admit it, but I probably made the same face the day my parents left me¡ªthough I couldn¡¯t remember it.


    Ahh fuck this.


    I turned back.


    Making sure to keep my head low.


    I doubled back through the smoke and lowered myself beside him. Without a word, I lifted him by the waist and pulled him close. He was lighter than he looked.


    He clung to me instinctively.


    I carried him down the side corridor, every step increasingly difficult in the heat. The corridor narrowed. There, at the end, the infirmary''s window.


    I knelt.


    Lifted him.


    "Go out this way," I rasped.


    He hesitated. I pushed him through before he could change his mind.


    I heard a soft thud, he must have landed in the mud.


    I backtracked, running back to the storage room. I kept running, but every turn led to another dead end. The flames were faster than I¡¯d expected.


    Every exit was sealed, swallowed by the fire.


    I was being herded like prey.


    The smoke was thickening, it clung to my throat like hands choking me. The corridor ahead swam in and out of focus. The walls blurred.


    My legs buckled against a toppled bench, and I barely caught myself on the wall, still free from the flames.


    Behind me, another beam crashed down with a shriek of iron. The heat surged forward in a wave, blistering the back of my neck.


    I was running out of time.


    Out of air.


    Out of time.


    And I had no idea where the hell I was going.


    Regretting my stupid rescue attempt, I forced myself to calm down.


    I closed my eyes.


    If I was coming from the east wing, the basement stairs should¡¯ve been just past the storage quarter, behind the broken mural of the Zodiac constellations.


    The boiler room was below that.


    And the ventilation system, if it hadn¡¯t collapsed with the rest, led straight out to the cliffside of the mountain.


    I could use that.


    I would use that.


    It was a gamble. A desperate one at that.


    But it would have to be enough.


    I turned on instinct and made a beeline for the stairwell.


    Every breath felt like inhaling razors. My boots slipped on the ash-slick hardwood.


    I made it to the mural, the Twelve Zodiac constellations, carved into the stone like guardians of order.


    It was consumed by flames, Sagitta had disappeared. Draco was missing its head. The stars that once watched over us were bleeding soot, their light buried under ash.


    Somehow, that felt right.


    I descended, practically jumping the steps. I hit the bottom¡ªhalf-falling, half-diving into the corridor that fed into the boiler chamber.


    The door was already cracked open. Bent. It screeched when I pushed it, metal grinding metal.


    Inside¡ª


    Hell.


    A wave of steam burst through the doorway.


    I screamed.


    It wasn''t out of fear.


    This was raw, helpless agony.


    I stumbled back, feeling the scalds on my skin.


    The air glimmered.


    It was hard to tell what was real anymore.


    I pushed forward, blinking sweat from my eyes.


    There.


    The vent.


    I swiped the soot off the vent grill. It looked big enough, maybe.


    I crouched and began crawling. My knees scraped against the edges. My elbows throbbed with every inch. My breath echoed back at me, ragged and shallow.


    Behind me, the boiler let out a long, shuddering groan¡ªas if something had finally cracked.


    And then the pressure changed.


    A low boom.


    A wave of heat slammed through the vent, chasing me like a second skin.


    I bit down on my lip and pushed harder.


    Almost there¡ª


    The vent narrowed. My shoulders got stuck against the walls.


    Too slow.


    I couldn¡¯t go back. I couldn¡¯t¡ª


    I thrust my legs as hard as I could.


    One last desperate heave, ribs compressing, skin tearing.


    And then I was out.


    Tumbling through the exit, into mud and bitter, bitter rain.