Bastards Ascension: A Playground of Gods
Chapter 74: Revenge

Chapter 74: Revenge

Mira walked briskly through the castle corridors, her steps echoing with purpose.

This was the moment they had waited for—yearned for—for years.

If their people could finally escape the cursed lands, they would be free to explore the world again, to tame stronger beasts, and to reclaim their rightful place in the Elven Council—the position that had been unjustly stripped from them.

The thought alone made her heart race, her entire body buzzing with anticipation.

As she neared the towering double doors that led to the throne room, the two guards standing on either side gave her a brief glance before pushing them open.

The doors creaked as they swung apart, revealing the grand hall beyond.

At the far end, mounted atop an elevated dais like a mountain carved into the stone, was the throne.

And seated on it was Castan.

For once, his eyes weren’t closed in meditation or weariness.

They were wide open—sharp, focused.

As if he had been expecting someone.

His long golden hair flowed over his shoulders like liquid sunlight, and his piercing golden eyes locked onto her the moment she stepped into the room.

"Mira," he said, his voice calm and measured. "What brings you here?"

It was clear from his tone that she wasn’t the one he had been waiting for.

Mira paused before the throne, offering a respectful bow.

Though she was his sister, tradition demanded that all who entered the royal throne room show proper deference. Here, before the seat of power, blood ties meant little. One bowed to the king—not the man.

Castan didn’t acknowledge her gesture, nor did he speak until she rose again.

"Brother, why didn’t you tell me earlier?" she asked, her voice calm. "The Phoenix is back—is that why you didn’t allow any of our troops near the hill?"

Castan let out a quiet sigh.

"Yes," he replied. "The Phoenix has returned. That’s why I held back the troops. But it seems plans need to change."

His gaze shifted, thoughtful, dark.

The monkey perched on Mira’s shoulder rubbed its chin, mimicking the expression on Castan’s face—deep in contemplation.

"My beast will return from the gates soon," Castan continued. "I want you to take a small troop, find any intruders you come across, and bring them back for questioning."

Mira nodded. "I’ll take care of it, brother. But... that’s not why I came."

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching his.

"I came to ask if you still intend to go through with it. The Phoenix... I know she’ll resist, but shouldn’t you at least—"

"Enough!" Castan snapped, cutting her off before she could finish.

"That arrogant beast is far too stubborn to ever submit to me. She’s of no use. Don’t defend her, Mira. Never forget—she’s the reason we’re trapped in this cursed realm. She caused Father’s death!"

Mira flinched under his words, her expression tightening.

"But then how do you plan to open the gates?" she asked, voice rising slightly. "If you use her essence to create the Stone of Eternity, our people will remain trapped. She’s the only one who can truly unseal the gate—"

Castan’s eyes flashed with a dangerous glint.

"If I absorb her essence and forge the Stone of Eternity, I’ll transcend to the next level. No gate—sealed or otherwise—will be able to contain me."

Mira looked at him, and in that moment, she saw it clearly.

Greed.

Ambition.

Blind selfishness.

Her brother’s obsession had long crossed the line of reason, and now he was willing to risk everything on a gamble fueled by his pride.

But she had no power to stop him. Not yet.

"Very well," she said quietly. "I’ll carry out your orders."

Turning on her heels, she left the throne room in silence.

As the doors closed behind her, she let out a long, weary sigh.

’I just hope... it turns out the way you believe it will,’ she thought, her heart heavy with dread.

----

Meanwhile,

Kieran paused at the mouth of the cave, his eyes narrowing as three figures stepped out from within.

Leading them, as always, was Frank.

The moment Frank spotted the emblem on Kieran’s group uniforms—clearly not one from any of the Origin Families—a smug smirk curled across his lips. A mocking chuckle followed.

"Well, what do we have here? A bunch of losers."

Behind him, Jacob and Ben burst into laughter, echoing his condescension.

Kieran kept his head lowered, his face hidden beneath the shadow of his hair.

But it didn’t matter—not to them. Just the sight of that emblem was enough to spark their scorn.

Natasha clenched her fists at her sides, anger flashing in her eyes.

"Who are you calling losers, you arrogant brat? It’s not like you’re any better."

Frank’s gaze sharpened instantly, his grin vanishing.

Someone had dared to talk back to him.

And worse—it was a girl.

Her voice, her boldness... it reminded him of someone he was trying hard to forget.

Frank’s gaze darkened as he turned toward Natasha—only to pause when recognition flashed across his eyes. A mocking grin twisted his lips.

"Oh... Natasha Garmine. I didn’t realize traitors still had the nerve to call others arrogant," he sneered.

Then his gaze shifted to the figure beside her, and once again, recognition struck.

"Henry Ravenheart... hahahahaha!" he burst into cruel laughter, the two behind him echoing it immediately.

"I take it back. ’Bunch of losers’ might actually be a compliment. You’re all pathetic—embarrassments, useless and powerless runts."

His eyes flicked to Stan. He didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t matter. Just standing with them made him guilty by association—worthless in Frank’s eyes.

Finally, his gaze landed on the one with his head still lowered—Kieran.

"At least someone here knows his place," Frank said with a satisfied smirk. "Hanging your head in shame suits you."

He chuckled, convinced Kieran was bowing in embarrassment—completely unaware of the storm quietly building.

Frank turned his gaze back to Natasha, his smirk widening.

"But surely, we can’t just let you off after running that filthy mouth of yours," he said coldly, raising his hand.

A burst of flame erupted in his palm, roaring to life and casting a harsh glow that illuminated the area in a searing light.

"I’ll punish you al—"

He froze mid-sentence.

His eyes locked on the face in front of him—finally revealed under the dancing flames.

His breath caught.

It was a face he never thought he’d see again.

A face that haunted him.

Even Jacob and Ben instinctively stepped back, their bravado vanishing as if they had seen a ghost.

’W-What the hell is he doing here?’ Frank thought, his entire body trembling.

All three of them stared in stunned silence, paralyzed by the sight.

Henry and Natasha exchanged confused glances. Just moments ago, Frank had been brimming with arrogance, but now—he looked like he had seen death itself.

Kieran slowly lifted his head, his gaze calm.

Too calm.

A suffocating silence followed, thick enough to choke on. It stretched so long it felt as though time had stopped—and in that moment, he didn’t look like a mere student.

He looked like a god who had returned from the grave.

His dark eyes stared at them—cold, empty, merciless.

Frank instinctively took a step back.

"You... What are you doing here, you useless brat?! How did you get in?!" he barked, his voice louder than intended, a thin layer of fear bleeding through.

Jacob and Ben followed suit, slowly edging backward, eyes locked on Kieran like he was some kind of monster.

They couldn’t explain it, but something was different—deeply, undeniably different.

This wasn’t the same weak boy they had mocked, humiliated, and tossed into a realm gate without a second thought.

He had changed.

Completely.

Before, even when Kieran had dared to talk back, there was always a flicker of fear in his eyes—buried deep behind the defiance.

But now?

There was nothing.

No fear.

No hesitation.

Only silence—and a gaze that could freeze blood.

Kieran stood still for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words. He opened his mouth slightly, then closed it again. Finally, he spoke—his voice low and steady.

"What? You didn’t expect to see me again after what you did? You thought I died, didn’t you?"

Frank didn’t respond. His eyes flicked over every inch of Kieran’s body, searching—desperately—for any sign of injury. Any scar. Any proof that Kieran had suffered.

But there was nothing.

Not a scratch.

’How... how did he survive? Did he awaken his talent inside the realm? Could the conditions have been met in there?’ Frank thought, a cold dread creeping down his spine.

Even Ben and Jacob could feel it—an oppressive heat radiating around them. And it wasn’t from Frank’s flames.

’It doesn’t matter what happened,’ Frank told himself, forcing a breath. ’He can’t touch me. Not here. It’s against the rules. And he won’t do anything in front of his teammates. Besides... my family has my back. He’s got nothing.’

With that thought, Frank straightened up and stepped forward, trying to reclaim his composure.

"Well, it doesn’t matter," he said, flame swelling in his palm. "You better walk away now, before I do it again."

Kieran tilted his head, his voice eerily calm. "Oh? You should’ve remembered my promise... or don’t you?"

The words hit Frank like a hammer.

Suddenly, he remembered the cries—the agonized scream Kieran had made that day.

"I’ll kill you!"

The memory resurfaced like a ghost clawing its way out of his past.

"F–fuck you, creep!" Frank roared, lashing out with the ball of fire in a panic.

Kieran exhaled softly.

He raised his hand.

{Eyes of the Sun.}

The flame struck his palm—and stopped.

It danced harmlessly in his hand like a child’s toy, flickering and crackling, but doing no damage.

Everyone stared in disbelief.

Kieran took a slow, deliberate step forward.

"I don’t keep all my promises," he said, eyes dark and glowing in the firelight. "But this one—I’ll make sure I keep."

The flames lit his face in hues of gold and red, casting sharp shadows over his features.

At that moment, Kieran looked like no angel.

He looked like no god.

He was something else entirely.

A demon—risen from the pit, with vengeance burning in his heart.