Rebirth: Necromancer's Ascenscion-Chapter 97: Ash Between Trees

[Soul Trait Unlocked: Adaptive Resilience]

You have endured and survived against overwhelming force. Your body learns. Your flesh remembers.

You can learn and adapt to the moves of your opponent]

Ian blinked.

Then smiled—just a little.

———

The world beyond the temple was quieter—too quiet.

Ian walked alone through the desolate, crumbling landscape, every step stirring pale dust and ancient ash.

The ruins fell away behind him, swallowed by shadow and memory. Only the red sky remained above, bleeding. The air had grown heavy, dry and metallic against his skin, as though it remembered blood.

As though it could taste it.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t think. His body moved, but his mind was distant, hollowed by something colder than grief and older than fear.

But the silence didn’t last.

It never did.

It began as a whisper. A breath too close to his ear.

"You shouldn’t be here..."

Ian stopped.

Turned.

Nothing.

No footsteps. No shapes. No shadow but his own.

The wind moved wrong.

Like it had fingers.

Like it brushed the side of his neck, testing his warmth, wondering what he’d taste like or sound like if he screamed.

He kept walking.

His cloak dragged behind him, stained with demon blood, caked and heavy.

The road—if it could even be called that—wound through protruding stone and scorched soil, broken and twisted. The bones of trees jutted from the earth like ribs cracked open beneath a corpse.

He passed a burnt body that looked almost human.

Then another.

Then more.

Then even more.

Each one faced away—but somehow, he felt their eyes on him.

Not physically.

Not visibly.

But like a presence clung to them. A watching, waiting hunger.

[Corruption: 21%]

The number appeared suddenly in the corner of his vision, faint and cold-blue. He froze.

It hadn’t been there before.

He blinked hard. Nothing changed.

"Darkmist," he muttered under his breath.

No response.

Just flicker. Static.

Like a candle about to die.

His jaw clenched. He kept going.

More whispers now. Layered. Tangled with laughter.

High. Mocking. Familiar.

He rounded a bend between two crooked obsidian pillars—and stopped.

A boardroom.

Glass walls overlooking a glittering skyline.

Leather chairs around a polished black table. The hum of artificial air. The scent of antiseptic and cologne.

And at the head of the table—

Mark.

Smiling.

"You’re late to the meeting, Ian," he said, voice slick with condescension, eyes glittering like glass over oil.

Ian said nothing. His jaw locked. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"I see you finally learned to show up. A bit too late now, though. It’s all gone."

Mark stood, walking slowly around the table. His suit perfect. Tie centered. Hair freshly cut. The kind of detail that made Ian’s stomach twist.

"Honestly, we knew you’d crack eventually. You weren’t built for pressure. Not like us. Always the quiet one. Always... brittle."

The windows behind him darkened.

The skyline bled. Buildings warped and twisted, bending like heat-drunk metal.

[Corruption: 25%]

Ian blinked.

And the room vanished.

Back to ash. Stone. Silence.

But the laughter lingered, curling around the base of his skull. It smelled like expensive cologne—and blood.

He moved faster.

His boots scraped along black gravel. Every step echoed wrong, like walking through a memory instead of a world.

The landscape twisted. Rocks blinked. A tree exhaled.

Then he saw her.

Standing in the distance, still.

Hair the color of dusk.

Back turned.

She wore the same dress she wore the night she said she loved him.

He stopped.

"...Emily?"

She turned slightly. Just enough for him to see her eyes.

Green?

Dead.

Smiling.

She held out a hand. Behind her, Mark emerged from the mist, shirtless now, grinning, his mouth pressed to her throat.

Ian’s chest tightened.

His hand twitched toward his dagger.

Not real. Not real. Not real.

But it felt real.

Too real.

They kissed, and her eyes never left his.

Then she spoke. Quiet. Final.

"You weren’t enough."

[Corruption: 29%]

The words hit harder than a blade.

He staggered, breath caught. Something inside frayed. Unraveled.

He turned.

Ran.

Smoke swallowed him—and he was a slave again.

The Affinity test.

Cold. Silent. His palm on stone. Nothing stirring.

Dozens of hollow eyes watching.

The instructor’s voice: "No Affinity."

Not even a pause. Just judgment. Finality.

No mana. No power. No worth.

Then Mark again.

"We should’ve left him."

Laughter now. Real and cruel.

From faces Ian recognized. Co-workers. Friends. The ones who used to ask him for help on projects. One by one, their faces emerged from the gloom—drawn long, hollow, crying black tar.

"Useless."

"Burden."

"Broken."

He exhaled.

And the world cracked.

Gone.

Back to ash.

Back to breath.

[Corruption: 34%]

He dropped to one knee as his vision swarmed.

Hand flat against warm stone.

His dagger hand shook—not from fear. freēnovelkiss.com

From weight.

The place wasn’t trying to kill him.

It was trying to undo him.

To peel apart the self he’d built piece by piece.

To leave nothing.

He closed his eyes. Took a slow breath.

Let it in.

The images. The lies. The wounds.

Then exhaled.

They weren’t truth.

They were echoes.

He’d bled. Suffered. Been broken.

But he was still here.

Still standing.

Still him.

He rose again.

The path straightened. The laughter faded.

With each step, the illusion lost hold.

Until only the red sky remained.

And the forest he now saw ahead.

He stopped at its edge.

Black trees loomed—immense, bark cracked and glistening. Their branches clawed at the sky, each one pulsing faintly with magic darker than night.

A thick mist blanketed the roots, clinging like breath on a mirror.

It smelled of damp ground, rot, and something odd.

Here, the wind stopped.

So did the sound.

No birds.

No life.

Only breath.

His.

And something else.

[Corruption: 36%]

He glanced back.

The road behind him was gone.

Twisted. Burning. Forgotten.

He turned forward again.

And stepped into the woods.

The trees closed behind him like a mouth.

As if accepting a sacrifice he was unaware he’s made.