The Infinite Ascent
Chapter 1: The Nameless One
The voice still lingered when I awoke.
Not a question this time, but an echo a faint hum reverberating in the recesses of my mind, as if the void itself still clung to me. I had already given my answer. I had already chosen to walk the Path.
For a fleeting heartbeat, I could still see the sky shattering, still feel the weight of eternity pressing against my chest.
But when my eyes fluttered open, there was no abyss. No broken heavens.
Only stone. Cold, unyielding stone.
The first sensation that cut through the dense, suffocating haze of darkness enveloping me was hunger.
It was not merely the hollow, familiar pang of a missed meal that stung my gut, but rather a ferocious, relentless void that clawed at my insides with the ferocity of a ravenous beast. It gnawed at me, insatiable and merciless, as if it sought to devour my very essence. My body trembled violently, frail limbs rendered weak and lifeless, the slightest effort to draw breath feeling like an arduous battle against the oppressive weight of my emptiness.
With painstaking resolve, I pried my eyes open, only to be met by a landscape devoid of comfort or solace. I found myself enclosed by unforgiving gray stone, the rough surface slick with unsettling dampness. The occasional, timid rays of dawn trickled through cracks in the ceiling above, casting a feeble light that illuminated the dismal scene before me.
Strung across the straw-littered floor were rows of children, some curled into themselves, others sprawled out in discomfort. Each form was shrouded in tattered rags far too thin to offer any protection against the insidious chill that permeated the air. The atmosphere was thick with the stench of mildew and decay, creating a heavy cloak of suffocation that seemed intent on enveloping us completely, as if the very orphanage sought to consume us, body and soul.
In this wretched place, names held no significance. We existed not as individuals, merely as nameless souls reduced to numbers, unfortunate mouths to feed, burdensome beings the sprawling city around us would rather forget. The walls stripped us of our identities until even our memories began to fade, leaving only the instinct for survival and the primal urge to cling to life.
Beyond the rotting gates of this oppressive institution lay the outer ring of Veyrith, a sprawling city starkly divided by its own calculated cruelty. From the depths of our filthy gutters, we could catch tantalizing glimpses of the gilded spires that soared into the sky in the inner districts, where banners emblazoned with the sigils of House Veyra fluttered proudly in the crisp winds, proclaiming prosperity and abundance.
But for us, the orphans confined to this realm of endless suffering, those glittering towers served only as cruel reminders of our plight. Their magnificence cast long shadows that felt like shackles against our feet. The futures that awaited us were bleak conscription or slavery, lost to militias or tossed into the hands of sects too feeble to matter.
Yet, despite the overwhelming weight of despair threatening to bury me, something stirred deep within my core.
A flicker. A whisper.
It was the voice.
It had lingered, haunting the fringes of my dreams, a soundless resonance reverberating through the vastness of the cosmos, as if the very stars had drawn close, straining to catch my response.
The Path.
Every child in the orphanage knew of it, woven into the fabric of our whispered tales. The nobles revered Pathwalkers, elevating them to unimaginable heights of power and glory. The common folk muttered cautionary tales of shattered sects, failed ascensions, and broken bodies left strewn in the dust. For us, the nameless, the Path had become little more than a distant myth a treacherous ladder we had never been destined to climb.
"Oi, nameless!"
The sharp snarl shattered the fragile veil of thought. A shove propelled me forward, my body stumbling against the cold stone floor. As I regained my balance, I raised my gaze to lock eyes with one of the older boys, a gaunt figure whose sneer was as jagged as the cruelty beneath it. Hunger had hollowed his cheeks, but it was the malice lurking in his eyes that sent a chill coursing through my veins.
"You're on kitchen duty today. If you slack off, you'll eat nothing," he spat, yellowed teeth flashing in a predatory grin.
Anger surged like molten lava in my throat, begging to be unleashed. But I swallowed it down. Here, violence reigned supreme, and I was nothing but prey. For now, submission was survival.
With my head bowed, I shuffled toward the kitchens, each step more burdensome than the last not solely from hunger, but from a deeper yearning that clawed at me. I craved more than food. I yearned for escape. For power.
The hearth awaited me, its rusty iron pot precariously balanced on unsteady stones. Just as I reached for it, resigned to my fate, the world around me shifted in an instant.
A shimmering wave rippled through the air, filling the space with an otherworldly pulse.
Letters, luminous and ethereal, flickered into existence before my bewildered eyes insubstantial as vapor, yet undeniably real.
[System Initialization Complete.]
[Welcome, Traveler.]
[The Path opens.]
The pot slipped from my trembling grasp, crashing to the floor with a clang that echoed through the chamber. Children burst into laughter at my clumsy misstep, their jeers sharp as daggers. The overseer's curses mingled with their taunts, his cracked jade talisman glowing faintly at his hip, stirred by an unseen force.
But their voices faded into the background, drowned by the blazing truth before me.
The Path had opened.
And I, the nameless one, was the only one cursed or blessed enough to hear its call.
In that moment, a brilliant light tore through the fog of my existence. This life of suffering, hunger, and despair was not my only narrative. It was merely the first step in a grand, unfolding journey.
The Infinite Ascent had already begun.
To be continued…