Ascent.
In the First Step of Ascendance, the first step leading to Godhood, there were nine ranks; from the lowest, the G-Rank, all the way to the peak, the Ex-Rank.
And each of these ranks had smaller sub-steps.
From Initial Assimilation, to Branching Root, to Purifying Replacent, and finally, Ascent.
Each step was endlessly complex, requiring long years of work, opportunity, research, and talent, each step laying the foundation upon which ascendants would stand in the future.
The First Step was the foundation of Ascendance, and thus was the foundation of Godhood.
Ascent was the last step of each rank.
Each rank had a vast chasm separating them, one that could only be bridged by doing a very simple thing; compressing the ’weave’, what most humans of the dungeons called their ’system’ or even ’status’.
Compressing the Weave would yield unseen yet tangible effects that would multiply the person’s power by a factor of ten at worst and a factor of a thousand at best, pushing them into the early ranks of the next rank—from the peak of the G-Rank to the early stages of the F-Rank, for example.
And the only known way to compress the Weave was through what was known as an evolutionary quest.
It could be anything, could have any difficulty, and couldn’t be avoided.
...
Uriel heard the ping and instantly frowned, caught between testing sessions to find the perfect temperature to maintain his sear and keep his blue cooking state.
He’d been at it for a while now and couldn’t seem to find the balance—the outer layers of the at would almost always burn or worse; if he lowered the temperature too much, letting the at cook over ti, it lost its blue rarity and beca too tender and sloppy, losing all firmness and taste.
By that point, he’d have to rely on spices to give it taste, and if he knew anything about beef it was that if the cooked piece needed spices to be loved, then it was a failure; the spices were supposed to build atop the at, not be its foundation.
He’d been at it for too long and he was losing his mind.
The notification only seed to push him closer to madness.
[Evolutionary Quest Triggered!]
"Tsk, of all tis this could’ve happened."
He let the quest unfold as screens appeared in front of him.
...
[•> Evolutionary Quest: Burgeoning Maestro’s Seed
~> Objective: To the world, the Young and Stubborn Maestro is mad, and perhaps he is, but to him, the world is simply wrong, beneath his feet and lesser than his vision—"If madness is recognising the flawed and imperfect creation of the gods, then, yes I am the most mad of all!" he’d scread at the skies, holding flesh and cutlery in hand.
>The Maestro must cook. The Maestro must taste. And the Maestro must be delighted, or else...
• Details: Let your heart blaze and create a dish worth the Maestro’s na, worth your na.
•> Rewards: {Rank Elevation}, {Elental Heaven Star Pill}, {Traveller’s Trusted Garb}, {Maestro’s Seed}]
...
’Maestro...’ Uriel caressed his chin. ’I like that na. It fits my culinary vision. I like it a lot.’
["If madness is recognising the flawed and imperfect creation of the gods, then, yes I am the most mad of all!"]
He smiled. ’I like the way he thinks.’
Uriel entirely ignored the reward section of the quest and focused on the task. In truth, part of him was quite surprised by the nature of his quest.
He’d expected his Weave to ask him to fully comprehend Resonance, or perhaps to sohow achieve a feat on par with his Pioneer achievents.
But it hadn’t.
’To let my heart blaze and create a dish worth my na, worth the title of a Maestro...’ His expression hardened.
Uriel turned to Mariah.
Noticing the sudden change, Mariah’s gaze panned up, eting his own. Seeing his serious expression, she found herself slightly shaken.
"Hello." Uriel spoke first.
Mariah nodded. "Hello. Is everything alright?"
Uriel shook his head.
"No."
Before she could ask what was wrong or even process what he’d said, he spoke once more.
"Tell , Mariah, what do you think makes sothing good? And what separates the good from the great?"
Her confusion deepened and she almost found herself at a loss for words. Yet his burning gaze dug into her so deeply that she found herself almost compelled to answer, her Will bending to his towering own.
"Precedence." She said. "I think what is ’good’ is what it is because it scales sowhere along a built map of expectations."
"You’re only good in relation to how others perform or are; your achievents are confird by those around you."
She took a breath.
"But the ’great’ create the scale, they create the map; they set a precedent to follow, they set a standard."
"I think to be Great is to push sothing forward rather than simply existing within the bounds of whatever it is."
Having given her answer, she fell quiet, almost startled by how deeply uncomfortable she felt beneath his gaze.
For so reason she felt like lost prey in a dark and humid forest of thick shrubbery, hunted and played with by a hunter she couldn’t lay eyes on.
The description was ridiculous, yet perfectly described what she felt.
"..."
Silence echoed.
The sound of sizzling at filled the void and the sll of burning at overflowed within the kitchen, rapidly becoming overwhelming.
From ti to ti, the Spiral House shook, tremors shaking the floors and walls as sand hamred into the structure.
"..."
Silence.
Uriel’s serious expression lted, his face twisting into a wild grin. He pointed a finger at Mariah and nodded.
"I like the way you think."
...
Uriel instantly then turned around to face his station, ignoring Mariah’s confusion and questions.
Words didn’t matter. Once he was done, his work would speak for him, and only then would she understand.
’She’ll understand.’
His hands shook and trembled, the maddening desire to slick his hair back consuming him whole, which he rapidly suppressed by cracking his fingers again and again.
He took a breath and closed his eyes just as an apron appeared from his abode mark and fitted over him, tightened by vines that sprung from the wooden floors.
’Let’s begin.’
He opened his eyes.
With a sweep, he cleaned his station, getting the burnt at and pastries off the fire and clearing his view. With a snap of his fingers, the overwhelming sll of burnt flesh vanished.
Uriel brought his palms together.
"Unfold."
He already knew how he’d forge his masterpiece.
User Comments
0 comments from readers