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Threat Level Zero: A Tale of Ascension

At the dawn of time, nine unique races were birthed from the ashes of all that used to be. The Nephilim was one of these nine races, and as their line was wont to do, bred with the other eight, until the bloodlines of the others were too watered down to utilize their Fragments of Creation. The Nephilim, now the humans, gained these powers, with certain lineages holding the potential to birth Manifestations. The descendants of the other species still have dominion over the Fragments of their ancestors, but unlocking this power is the work of millennia. All of them have the potential to return to the greatness of their ancestors, but only humans, the innovative creatures that they are, can become more. This story follows Fate, an assassin taken from his home as a child and subjected to sick experiments that awakened his Manifestation. With a new family, he aims to wipe the organization that subjected him to such treatment from the face of reality. But the Advanced have other plans.

Lolbroman25 · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
341 Chs

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"I can see an entire second into the future now," Venden said just as Fate opened his mouth to ask "stronger how?"

"I know I need to stop doing it, but it's kind of funny watching you get mad," Venden chuckled, answering Fate's question again. "I'll stop. It drains my Mana anyway." A flicker of Mana left his eyes just then, his eyes coming into focus.

"Rare for a Mage to receive such an enhancement to their Skill without advancing Stages," Alessandra commented. "Which makes me believe that this is a Spell you devised just now."

"Wise beyond your years, Principal Alessandra," Venden replied. "It is a Spell. As the Air Mana tore its way through my body, and as the antidote expelled it, I gained some insight into the Air Element.

"It's omnipresent, and generally considered the best Element for Physical (World) Skills for that reason. But Time is more omnipresent than even Air, so why can't I use that aspect myself?

"Then it hit me: I COULD use that. So now, I have this Spell that I guess I'll call The Test of Time. I can see up to a second of the future of anything within my aura, although it does double the Mana upkeep for my Skill.

"Thank you for saving my life, Lady Alessandra."

Fate couldn't make heads or tails of that explanation, but then again Spells relied on the user's comprehension, not the observer's. If this worked for Venden, whether or not he could explain it didn't matter.

"You were never in any danger of death," she reminded him. "That poison would have kept you unconscious, not killed you. The Black Dragon doesn't do torture jobs, so whoever paid them wants you alive."

"Why would your family want you alive?" Fate asked. "You said they'd want you dead."

"There had been talk of a demotion in the family's future," Venden said hesitantly. "It could be that losing an Academy student would harm their chances of staying an Earl family."

"I always said that basing a family's rank on such a concept was ridiculous," Alessandra said scornfully. "It promotes and encourages women to have more children just to advance their status.

"Now we see the consequences of such a decision. I only wish the Empress would reign in the wayward councilman that governs these things. Anyway, Venden, from now on you are not to leave the school grounds.

"If you need anything from town, ask me and I'll get it for you. I know it will be boring, but it's the only way to stop the Black Dragon from coming after you. They don't take failure lightly, and won't stop until you're in their hands."

"Yes, ma'am," Venden said respectfully. "Can I get that in writing, in case a professor has questions?"

"Of course." She grabbed a quill and scribbled a quick note. "Here you…"

She blinked, turning to Fate. "Where did he go?"

Fate frowned and turned to where Venden had been sitting. The seat was empty now, with no trace of the Journeyman. "I don't know. You don't think…?"

"That's the only explanation," Alessandra scowled. "The Black Dragon has disregarded my warning."

*Five minutes earlier*

The assassin checked his pocket watch, finding the time to be a little past eleven P.M. He hated being out this late, and this godawful rain refused to stop. It didn't cling to him, but the constant sound of water slapping against the ground was like a clock ticking down the seconds that he could have spent in bed.

But as his dear old mother always used to say, "smile, and the world smiles back." So he did. He smiled away his frustration, his fear of the consequences should he fail this job, and his regret of the many, many things he had done in his life.

And it worked. The longer he smiled, the happier he felt. It was a lie he repeated so many times that it became truth. Even now, all of those negative feelings were at the back of his mind, the positive thoughts refusing to give those horrid things the floor.

Instead, he thought about buying a new bed with the money he'd get from this job. His old one was nice, but the frame was starting to creak as he tossed and turned at night. His door also needed oiling, and he could really go for some steak sometime soon.

The teenager in the white robes with a Joy-Backed Hedgehog on her head and a Water Dracok at her side passing by had a similar cheeriness even in the dreary downpour. She gave him a friendly wave that he returned before offering her Academy map to the closed gate to get inside.

When the girl was out of sight, he turned his attention back to the Puppeteer's office, eyes looking through solid stone and wood like it was air as he watched his expensive poison be dealt with. The Puppeteer hardly broke a sweat, but that was to be expected from someone of her reputation.

He seized his chance when the Puppeteer and that troublesome dark-sclera teen looked away, hands grasping out at the air as they became dark voids. He tore the distance between him and his mark apart, and suddenly the young man was in front of him, landing on his ass.

A quick chop to the neck after stopping his Skill put Venden out cold, and the assassin slung the boy's limp body over his shoulder and disappeared. He moved erratically, a false randomness, just in case the Puppeteer tried to track him.

She knew where he was going. What she didn't know was that after she struck that deal with the Black Dragon, they had implemented numerous new ways throughout the city to get to where he was going. She couldn't watch all of them, especially the ones she didn't know about.

Going into an alley in the poorer part of the city – poor in this case being relative. The houses were still nice and well-furnished, just not the grand estates the nobles prided themselves on – he pressed an unmarked brick on the wall in, and a portal whirled to life, designed specifically to not produce light.

Instead, it was as dark as his hands were when he used his Skill.

He stepped through into a small, well-lit bar as the portal closed behind him. None of the patrons, many armed or armored to the teeth, spared him a glance, which was fine with him.

It was time to collect his pay.