Madness is the ultimate form of expression.
— Western Province Assembly Ground, 127DM —
A crowd numbering tens of thousands gathered around the massive assembly ground, yet it was as silent as a graveyard. The entrance to the ground was barred and blocked by soldiers armed with assault rifles.
Within the assembly ground were several hundred youths aged eighteen, arranged into five lines. At the other end of the lines stood men and women dressed in lab coats, surrounded by soldiers.
They had a simple podium on which a hexagon-shaped crystal was placed. The youths gazed at these crystals with terror written all over their visages.
This was because today marked the yearly Ascension Ceremony held every December 31st—the final day of the year.
The Ascension Ceremony was regarded as God's Knighting Ceremony. It was believed that those who awakened through the ceremony were specifically chosen by the heavens to join the Armageddon Games.
In reality, the Ascension Ceremony was dreaded but compulsory. This was not the typical situation where everyone hoped to gain powers. No one wished to see their loved ones competing in the Armageddon Games—but there was no choice. Humanity needed Ascendants.
"Begin!" a soldier brandishing an SMG rifle declared, and the process began.
One after another, the youths were led up to the podium and forced to place their hands on the crystal. The first fifty people could not stir any reaction from the crystals. They celebrated loudly as though they had just won the lottery and hastily raced out of the assembly ground.
"Dennis Forman, step up!" one of the organizers yelled from her list.
A fat kid with messy red hair and oversized glasses ran up, gasping like a professional marathon runner who had just crossed the finish line. The organizer glared at him once before looking away and pointing at the crystal.
Under his gaze, the kid placed his hand on the crystal. For several minutes, there was no reaction. Just when the organizer was about to ask him to step back, the crystal shone brightly. A strange clover-shaped character formed on his forehead.
A wide grin bloomed on the face of the organizer, and he promptly bowed to the fat kid.
"WELCOME, ASCENDANT!"
"WELCOME, ASCENDANT!!!"
His words were repeated by all the soldiers, who bowed as well. However, a lady among the crowd cried out and fell to her knees, shaking her head in refusal.
"No! His father was chosen, and now he's dead. Do you want to kill my son as well?" she yelled.
Everyone within the assembly ground fell silent, their gazes filled with pity as they looked upon the kid who seemed petrified with shock.
The life of an Ascendant was one of pain, trials, and death. The fame and wealth that came with it were negligible since death was certain. Some just met it sooner than others.
This life was a death sentence—one everyone wished to avoid.
The fat kid was asked to step aside, and the testing continued. Out of several hundred youths of the Western Province, only four became Ascendants.
"Okay, wrap it up!" the organizer yelled after the last person was tested.
The team began packing up, but then a loud cry came from the crowd.
"Wait!"
A boy covered in blood and bruises tore through the crowd and staggered forward. Soldiers moved in to stop him, but he pulled out an ID with his bloody hands, proving his age.
"The test… hehe." He chuckled coldly. "I'm here for the test."
His grin revealed his bloodied, broken teeth—sending chills down the soldiers' spines. They stepped aside.
The organizer watched as the boy limped toward the podium. Without waiting for instructions, he grabbed the crystal with both hands.
Gasps erupted from every corner, and the world seemed to fall silent as a bright light shone from within the crystal. A clover mark appeared on his forehead.
"WELCOME, ASCENDANT!!!" The organizer bowed alongside several soldiers.
However, their greeting was met with a cold, chilling laughter and a request that terrified thousands of people.
"The government rewards all Ascendants with a wish, right? Right?"
He smiled faintly, his eyes bloodshot.
"A presidential pardon…"
"Can you get that for me?!"
—
Liam Wilfred was the only child of Charles Wilfred—a factory worker, an alcoholic, and a terrible father. His mother died in labor, earning his father's resentment, which eventually bloomed into physical abuse.
Charles remarried, and the abuse doubled. On December 31st, 127 DM, Liam fought back, killing his father and stepmother in cold blood.
He was promptly arrested and taken in for questioning.
On January 1st, 128 DM, Liam Wilfred received a presidential pardon. News outlets broadcasting the case abruptly went silent, and Liam was released with a fat check of $30,000 for "inconveniences."
As Ascendants, they were entitled to privileges most people envied—but the price for it was certain death. It was not a matter of how, but when.
Every Ascendant died—either in the Tower of Heaven, in the War Against Angels and Creatures, or in the Armageddon Games. No one had managed to escape all three. Not even Alister White, the greatest Ascendant who won Earth thirty years of peace—only to die in his fourth Armageddon Game.
He became a legend among Ascendants. Alister's statue could be found in nearly every city in the country.
"Serial Killer Ascendant. 18-year-old Liam Wilfred murders father and mother in cold blood. He receives a presidential pardon a day after, leaving the people distraught. Should parricide be overlooked due to Ascendant status?"
Liam read the morning newspaper with a blank expression and a dull voice. He wasn't surprised that there were still news outlets pushing for his trial and conviction.
Knock, knock!
"It's open," Liam yelled lazily.
A lady entered the building, dressed in a black blazer and dark shades. She had an air of nobility and class.
"You're the talk of the town and leave your front door open? Brave or stupid?" Madam Ruth asked sharply.
Liam lazily shook his head, his eyes never leaving the newspaper.
"They're afraid of me."
Ruth blinked, a tinge of surprise flickering in her eyes. She observed Liam carefully for a moment before coming to a conclusion.
This child was a psychopath.
The worst of the bunch.
She pulled out an ID and dropped it on the dining table before sitting opposite Liam. He had a cup of black coffee, three slices of bread, three fried eggs, five rolls of sausages, and five pieces of bacon.
All looked barely seasoned, and the egg yolks were mostly raw.
"I usually feel bad when a kid your age becomes an Ascendant," Ruth muttered, "but in this situation, I feel kinda happy."
Liam froze, lifting his eyes to meet Ruth's gaze. She frowned upon seeing the thin, slit pupils he had—it felt like a wild animal was staring at her.
"Just give me everything I need and leave. I'll handle the first trial on my own."
"Huff!"
Ruth shut her eyes tightly and inhaled deeply. Something about the boy killed every mood—positive or negative. He seemed to drain the life out of everything.
She sighed in defeat and opened her eyes. Her job was to guide Liam until the call of the Tower of Heaven, which would arrive in three days.
She didn't really need to tutor him; she could simply give him all the vital information and leave.
"Yes… yes… I believe that's the appropriate punishment for scum." Ruth looked Liam straight in the eyes as she spoke.
In her opinion, it was one thing to murder one's parents due to abuse—but something entirely different to carve out their hearts, gouge out their eyes, and cut off their tongues.
The autopsy revealed signs of torture. It suggested that he had overpowered them with a dangerous weapon, stabbed his father, tied them up, and gone on to torture them for several hours before killing them—and then carving out their hearts, eyes, and tongues.
This boy may have
been abused, but he was not the victim here. In her eyes, he was an evil soul that needed to be quenched before it burned the nation.