The Transcendent Godslayer
Chapter 77: The face of Ascension

Chapter 77: The face of Ascension

Kallen’s cold eyes tracked Menelaus’s every move like a hawk.

Logically, he knew he wasn’t going to die—Menelaus wouldn’t dare kill him. But staying composed was hard when everything around him screamed otherwise.

From his vantage point, he couldn’t clearly see the contents of the grimoire Menelaus carried, but the flickering arcane symbols etched across its open pages were enough to unsettle him.

And then Menelaus stepped closer.

He held the knife in one hand, the grimoire in the other—and from somewhere within his robes, he produced a small glass vial.

Inside was an orb. Small, faintly shimmering, seemingly inert.

That is, until Menelaus uncorked the bottle.

The moment the seal broke, a wave of power surged through the chamber, flooding it like a tsunami. The orb slipped into Menelaus’s hand—and Kallen’s pupils blew wide. Every hair on his body stood upright, and his instincts screamed.

That orb—he knew what it was, afterall, he had harvested one before.

An Essence Orb.

But it wasn’t the object itself that shook him. It was the presence it exuded.

Saint.

It was the Essence Orb of a Saint.

Kallen’s mind reeled.

That’s impossible.

Menelaus was not remotely powerful enough, to defeat an exceptional Second Ascension ascendent... at least that was Kallen’s viewpoint, as even the Second Ascension servants of the Crimson family, gave off a more powerful and refined aura than he did.

If he couldn’t even contend with a competent Second Ascension ascendent...

Then how—how in the name of the Annals—could he stand up to a Third Ascension, let alone a Fourth?

Yet he held in his hand the Essence orb of a Saint?

No. Menelaus hadn’t harvested it himself. That was the obvious, and only logical explanation.

Someone gave it to him.

If someone powerful enough to casually hand over a Saint’s Essence Orb was involved, Whatever fragile protection Zephyrus’s name offered—it was nothing now. Nothing at all. He was a feather compared to this, as Menelaus now had an even more powerful backer.

Kallen’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.

However, if the plan was for Menelaus to kill him, he didn’t need this ritual. He wouldn’t need a Saint’s Essence Orb to do it.

So why use it? Why invoke a power far beyond him?

Kallen’s gaze flicked back to the grimoire.

It all clicked into place.

Was this a sacrifice?

---

Outside, the skies thundered, and lightning tore through the clouds, occasionally flashing in strange, shifting colors.

The sky had darkened as if it were about to rain, and the atmosphere had grown so thick that some people found it difficult to breathe.

An unseen pressure seemed to press down on everyone—from Ascendants of the First Ascension all the way down to ordinary humans.

The density of dynamis in the world had also surged dramatically. Even normal humans who had not yet embarked on the path to Ascension—including children in training and many who had never been able to sense the dynamis in the atmosphere, thus unable to awaken naturally—could now feel its thick, oppressive presence.

Although rare, there were individuals on Ares who had never walked the path of Ascension and remained as mortal as one could possibly be. Why anyone would choose such a life was unknown, as it was a path doomed to eternal slavery.

Being unable to awaken naturally was not considered a valid excuse, either. That limitation could be circumvented—by killing a beast, a person, or any living being at all. Taking a life, even that of another unawakened, was enough.

To some, the surge of dynamis in the air seemed like a rare opportunity to awaken. Sadly, many would seize that chance—and almost all of them would be doomed to die.

The dynamis now flooding the atmosphere was primal, volatile, and raging. Attempting to awaken under such conditions was suicide. At best, one would be crippled, their dynisis roots completely destroyed—a fate that, in some ways, could be even worse than death.

A crimson-haired man stared at the skies, his expression unreadable, his hair flowing with the wind.

He had the signature crimson eyes of the Crimson family—but his eyes held a certain depth, something that could only be likened to an ocean... or an abyss. The same fear one felt when drowning in the sea would be felt when looking into the depth of those eyes.

They also gave off the feeling of blood. And if one remained in his presence long enough, the faint scent of blood would begin to drift into their nostrils.

"Figured you’d be here," a voice called from behind.

His eyes flickered slightly, but his expression remained unchanged, and he didn’t turn his head.

Sixtus—Saint and Ancestor of the Crimson family, grandfather of Silas, and founder of the Morph Branch of the Crimson bloodline—came to a stop beside him and lowered himself into a seated position on the rooftop.

His ponytail-shrouded hair shifted occasionally with the wind, and he too joined in staring into the vast expanse above.

"It’s finally starting, after hundreds of years, huh? I still wonder what triggered it," he said slowly.

The man with twin oceans of blood for eyes, glanced at him briefly, then turned his gaze back to the sky.

Sixtus said nothing more for a moment. After a few seconds of silence, the other man finally spoke.

"It was going to happen sooner or later. We just happened to have been the catalyst."

He was silent for a few seconds, something stirring in the depth of his eyes.

"Ares wouldn’t ascend without blood spilling on its soil. That attack on us..." He hesitated. "... It spilled a lot of blood, and more than enough Essence for Ares to devour."

"It’s funny how for a world to ascend, its people have to die, and for its people to ascend, they have to kill each other..." Sixtus said with a sigh.

"The sudden spike in energy now... that’s the real mystery, huh?" he chuckled.

*RIIIPPPP*

The sound of forceful tearing, drifted suddenly into their ears, and they both looked up, their gazes seeming to pierce space and time itself.

Without a word, both of them shot out, their speed leaving sonic booms in the air.

All over Ares, Saints shot toward the same direction, the sky trembling in their might.