Ascension of Chaos: A Skill Tree Assimilation LitRPG Apocalypse

Ashley

As soon as he finishes speaking, a System Notification appears in my vision.

A vote will now be held on the subject of the currency of Val that shall be converted into credits.

The following currencies have been detected as commonly used currencies within the world known as Val.

Please select one of the currencies as the currency to be converted.

Val Units

Cryptval

Gold Bars

“You may now discuss amongst yourselves which of these three currencies you wish to be converted into credits,” Chaos says with a broad grin on his face. “But remember. The other two options will be considered useless by the System and will not be tradeable for credits. Except possibly the gold bars, but those would merely be considered gold and nothing more than that.”

Silence fills the chamber.

“Now discuss,” he concludes, his voice echoing throughout the Planetary Council chamber like a thunderclap before he vanishes. Leaving nothing but his last words behind.

“I’ll be waiting for your answer. Take this time to get to know each other as well.”

A mere few seconds pass before Blake Sinclair, the Successor of Magic, floats off of his throne and out of his booth, into the air above the top layer. Then he begins speaking with his hands in his pockets in a way that kind of reminds me of myself, “Let’s discuss. But before that, I’ll introduce myself.”

I feel the edges of my lips beginning to tilt up ever so slightly at the sound of his voice for some reason. The man having the same calming effect on me now as he had before.

Maybe I didn’t have any problems with him before losing my memory? Maybe we were actually on good terms.

Doesn’t matter right now though. Not when interacting with him might mean memories will return.

“My name is Blake Sinclair, the Successor to the Primordial of Magic and publicly acknowledged highest ranking mage in all of Val,” the man states, surprising me for a moment that he didn’t say anything about our parents in that introduction. “I am also accompanying the Archmage of the Mage’s Tower faction of Val.”

That last part has me glancing at the two advisors in his booth. Both people who are wearing fancy blue robes.

They both bow when a bunch of other people look their way as well.

Then the Successor of Order floats up into the air as well and declares, “Then I’ll introduce myself as well, if you please.”

A brief silence fills the chamber.

“My name is Cedric Arran, the Successor to the Primordial of Order, and this is the Justice of The Order faction on Val,” the Successor declares while indicating the man who floats up next to him from his booth. One who has a white mask on his face with white robes on.

Everyone turns to look at my booth as if expecting some sort of introduction from me. But I just continue sitting on my throne without bothering.

“Are you sure?” Chaos’s voice echoes in my head, inaudible to others. And when I simply nod my head, he says, “Think about this over the course of the meeting, my dear daughter. Ask yourself, why are you so adverse to talking to others?”

That question has me blinking in surprise, but the people outside move on before I can truly think about it.

“My name,” a voice that sends a chill down my spine echoes across the chamber as someone begins to float out of their booth from the second layer in the corner of my eye, “is Sebastian Sinclair. But I’m sure you all know me by the title, the Black Enforcer.”

When I turn my head to see him, I feel my heart drop down to my stomach as my mouth parts open a little.

Then I close my mouth again, feeling a strange… disconnection… emerge in my mind.

As I lose all personal interest in anything here. In anyone here.

As I lose any emotion I feel in my mind.

“Well, shit,” Chaos’s words echo in my head. “Not what I was hoping for.”

I ignore him as his previous words remain stuck in my head like glue.

‘Why are you so averse to talking to others?’

Why am I averse?

The answer is easy.

Because of power.

Because of lies.

“The advisor I have brought with me,” the Black Enforcer continues as a woman with pointed ears floats up into the air beside him, “is the Guildmaster of the Adventurers Guild for our world.”

For as long as I’ve lived, I’ve lacked any sort of power, yet had to put on a show of having power.

Had to act like a puppet for others to pull the strings of.

Because I had no power.

“And my name,” another voice, this time a feminine and soft one that sends a cold spike through me as I turn to look at her, “is Catherine Sinclair. White Enforcer, and ally to the Guildmaster of the Hunter’s Guild of Val.” She finishes while nodding her head to the man floating up next to her. The two of them moving to join the Black Enforcer.

The reason I am averse to talking to others is fear. Fear of discovery. Fear of the lack of power.

Fear of their power.

Fear of their scorn.

One person after another introduces themselves from the second layer over the course of the next half an hour as I feel myself staring outside of my booth. My eyes locked on the two people who are supposedly my parents.

Even when two other people, each with the name Sinclair, introduce themselves, I don’t move my gaze.

“And now?” I hear Chaos’s voice carefully nudge in my mind.

Now?

When the last person on the second layer stands up from the seat within his booth to introduce himself, he surprises everyone by jumping straight up to the top layer.

“What sort of bullshit is this setup?” the man declares, long black hair billowing in the wind as he walks. “Just what is it? Some trumped up favoritism crap? Giving these three brats a better place standing over the rest of us just because they were chosen by Primordials?”

I turn my gaze away from the two people who are supposedly my parents towards this new person, feeling nothing in my mind. Not a single scrap of emotion and no doubt with an expression to prove it.

The man is wearing a long black and gray trench coat, and has a long scar on his face going over one eye. Yet when I identify him, his level is almost at my own level. And he has two hundred and fifty one potential skills of his own.

The Successor to Order focuses on the man as he states calmly and clearly, “We were chosen because of our power. If you wish to argue, then please leave it until after the introductions are concluded.”

“Hah!” the man lets out a loud laugh while smirking at Cedric. “You say that, but what about the Successor of Chaos?! She hasn’t even shown herself since this began, and the only skills she’s shown in the livestreams are basic crap anyone can do! You call that powerful?! Don’t make me fucking laugh!”

My eyes narrow ever so slightly at the man through the one-way barrier of my booth as I tap my finger once on my throne’s armrest.

The man spreads both of his arms out around him as the screen high above the top platform shows the man’s smug face. And without a scrap of respect for nearly anyone here, he says, “My name is Fredrick von Delfort, one of the few remaining nobles from the age of nobility and the enforcer with the title of Grand Enforcer for the City of Delfort. And I refuse to allow any of these silver spoon children to have such a position in this council! Who agrees with me here?!”

A couple of very quiet voices ring out in support, only for them to quickly grow quiet when they realize no one else is saying a word.

I tap my finger once more on my throne’s armrest, not taking my gaze away from this man known as Fredrick.

That’s right.

It’s different now.

“Ashley?” Chaos asks, sounding both cautious and curious about what’s going through my mind right now.

But I don’t care.

Not right now.

“Come on, are you all really going to let damned brats who were given their power and position by a damned god to-” the man begins only to cut off when a loud crash of thunder echoes out across the chamber. But he continues after it without missing a beat, “Are you all serious?!”

The man points towards the Successor of Order and shouts, “This guy isn’t even an enforcer, and you’re all just fine with him having a position like this?!”

When no one says anything, he turns towards my booth and says, “What about this brat?! She woke up from a damned coma just two weeks ago and is now suddenly at the top of the world?! She’s never even revealed to us what the fuck her ability is! And I sure haven’t seen anything powerful from her in those livestreams she’s been in all the fucking time!”

I tap my finger once more.

Then he finally turns to my twin brother, finishing his tirade with a simple, “And this fucking brat! He’s been spoiled-”

The moment I hear him say the word ‘spoiled’ in regards to Blake, something in my head snaps, and I feel a wave of memories flood me.

Memories of times with Blake.

Times where he would comfort me, and I would comfort him in return.

Because of the neglect our parents would send our way.

But then the memories vanish again just as quickly.

Leaving with it nothing but anger.

I raise my finger to tap it once more, only to pause. Then I lower it again.

Huh.

So this is anger.