The True Ascension
Chapter 27: The Decision

Chapter 27: The Decision

"I’ve stayed in bed long enough. I’m getting up now," Aziz declared, rising from his sheets with a strangely renewed vigor—stronger than ever before. Yet something lingered in his chest... a kind of cold that had nothing to do with his body.

"Alright then," Astrid replied, standing beside Isis.

After washing their faces and dressing in suitable attire, the three walked down the palace corridors towards the dining hall.

Seated at the breakfast table were Stella, Sofia, and Sylvia, already waiting.

"Hmph! You kept us waiting again, Aziz," Sofia teased with a mischievous grin—more playful than genuinely upset.

"That was on me... I overslept again. Really sorry," he replied, offering a sheepish, slightly embarrassed smile.

"Hahaha, it’s fine. No need to feel bad about it, Aziz. Now, have a seat. Let’s eat," Stella intervened gently, easing the moment.

Aziz nodded his thanks and sat between his mother and Isis. The breakfast was as delicious as always. They ate, chatted, laughed at trivial things—small fragments of everyday normality.

But Aziz wasn’t entirely present.

At times, when he blinked... he saw a crimson glimmer. A crack. Or he imagined hearing a tone that didn’t belong to this world—as if silence itself had teeth.

Something inside him pulsed. A strange hunger. A fierce, uncontrollable instinct—an unspoken urgency to become stronger. He found this sudden need curious—intense and unexplained—but chose not to question it. He decided to trust his instincts, as if guided by something ancient.

And indeed, his mother—who always observed him with more than just her eyes—had noticed. Astrid glimpsed an absence in her son’s gaze. She held that thought in silence.

Isis had noticed as well. During breakfast, amid one of Sofia’s silly remarks, she cast him a brief but attentive glance—as one who recognizes the calm before a storm.

The rest of the day passed quietly: casual conversations, lazy strolls through the palace halls and gardens, intimate moments between Aziz, Astrid, Isis, and even Sofia, who seemed less competitive than usual.

By late afternoon, they were all gathered in the garden.

The sky was serene, painted in gentle hues of gold and lilac. A soft breeze brushed his face, and the warmth of Astrid’s fingers stroking his hair should’ve calmed him... but something inside still roiled. It was a peace that felt strange, almost unreal—like waking from a too-perfect dream.

Lying with his head in Astrid’s lap, Aziz gazed through the tree canopy and broke the silence.

"How about dinner out tonight? It’s been a while since we went to the restaurant."

"Sure," Isis replied, gently massaging his legs as they rested in her lap. "If my young master wishes it, of course I’ll join."

"Hmm... I too have nothing demanding my attention at the palace right now," commented Stella, crossing her legs with elegance.

"Tch. Then let’s go! I’m not letting you leave without me," grumbled Sofia, arms crossed—her spirit still pricked by the thought of Zia being there.

Astrid and Sylvia nodded, and the group made their way to the palace hall housing one of the Teleport Circles linked directly to the restaurant. A luminous glow enveloped them.

In the blink of an eye, they found themselves inside the private dining room Stella had reserved for Sofia.

The room was bathed in light from floating crystals, shifting hue gently with the room’s mood—a rare, refined decorative enchantment. Handmade rugs muffled their footsteps, while animated paintings displayed shifting landscapes, like windows into other worlds.

Each took their seat around the table. The atmosphere was exquisite, scented with magical essences, and hushed—sensitive enough to capture even soft footsteps.

They opened their hovering, arcane-engraved menus and placed their orders.

Moments later, a soft knock echoed.

The door opened slowly.

"Hehe... it’s been a while, my dear patrons," Zia said as she entered, pushing a cart laden with steaming dishes. Her tone was familiar—sarcastic, warm, unmistakable.

Initially unaware that Stella was among them, Zia assumed only Sofia, Sylvia, Aziz, and his family were present.

It was only upon seeing the imposing silhouette of the six-tailed fox seated at the head of the table that her posture shifted. She straightened her back, softened her smile, and adopted a tone of respect.

"Ah... Lady Stella. My apologies for the informality. I wasn’t aware of Your Excellency’s presence," she said with a slight bow.

Sofia lifted her chin, satisfied—this meant Zia would curb her usual antics tonight, which felt like a minor victory.

Zia placed each plate on the table with graceful skill, like a priestess offering a sacred feast. Once done, she stood respectfully by the door, awaiting any further requests.

But Aziz watched her silently.

"Zia," he called, voice measured.

She turned, surprised. "Yes?"

"Why don’t you join us?"

Zia hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Stella, seeking silent confirmation.

Lady Stella offered a serene smile.

"Please, have a seat, Zia. I see no issue with it."

Sofia frowned, discomfort flickering across her features, but she remained quiet. Her gaze locked on Aziz, betraying a blend of uncertainty and distrust.

Zia offered a small nod of thanks and pulled a chair between Sofia and Sylvia, maintaining poise even in this unusual position.

The dinner continued. The food was flavorful, discreet laughter punctuated the silence, but Aziz remained distant. His eyes followed the conversation, but his mind floated elsewhere.

Astrid watched him. Isis did too.

Both sensed that something lay heavily on his heart.

Sometimes, the stillness seemed to warp—as if someone, or something, observed them from beyond the veil.

When the dishes were cleared and wine poured, Aziz raised his hand softly—drawing everyone’s attention.

"I have something to say."

Conversations halted.

All eyes turned to him, taken aback by the gravity in his tone.

"I’ve decided... I want to return home today."

Sofia reacted instantly, standing with force—her chair scraping behind her.

"What?! Why?!" Her expression was more hurt than angry. "You didn’t even give notice... just leaving like that?"

Even Zia, normally so sarcastic and light, looked deflated.

"Ah... already?" she murmured, eyes cast downward.

Aziz raised a hand to still them. He wasn’t finished.

"I came here today—because this is where we met," he said, locking eyes with each in turn. "But the truth is... I’ve realized I’m weaker than I thought."

He exhaled deeply.

"I’ve grown complacent. Yes, I’ve been training—but not with my full strength. I know so little about this world. And the future... well, the future waits for no one. I want to be prepared. For whatever comes."

And deep in his soul echoed that distant voice—woven of starlight and abyss.

*’He’s coming.’*

Sofia clenched her fists, hurt flickering in her eyes. But before she could protest, Stella leveled a stern gaze at her.

A wordless command.

Sofia sat back down, lips pressed, eyes lowered—as if even she hadn’t realized how deeply she’d grown attached to Aziz.

Aziz offered her a gentle, understanding smile. He turned back to her.

"You and Zia are welcome to visit me anytime." He glanced briefly at Astrid, seeking subtle approval.

Astrid nodded softly, her silent consent forming a bridge. Their home would remain open.

Sofia lowered her gaze, shame flickering subtly over her expression—regret for having reacted too quickly.

Then Astrid leaned in, her voice soft.

"Was that what had weighed on your mind today?"

Aziz looked at his mother, surprised.

"You noticed?"

She replied with tender warmth.

"Darling... I always pay attention."

Her tone was sweet, but for a moment—only a fleeting moment—something almost dangerous lurked in her gaze: a possessive glint. She again cleared her throat lightly, disguising it with a gentle smile.

Isis—sat beside her—knew that look well. As a lifelong friend of Astrid’s, she recognized it instantly. A knowing, amused glance escaped her.

Aziz, for a moment, hesitated. He felt confident he’d glimpsed something unsettling in his mother’s eyes—but since she masked it so naturally, he wondered if he’d imagined it.

He let the thought go.

They lingered a while longer, carried by the undertones of farewell.

When at last they finished, Zia leaned forward and hugged Aziz warmly.

"Leaving me here with this spoiled brat?" she teased, nudging Sofia gently.

"Shut up," Sofia muttered, arms folded, cheeks flushed.

Zia winked. "Good luck, friend."

Despite the joke, sadness flickered behind her eyes. She clung to him for just a moment longer—reluctant to let go. Aziz returned the embrace sincerely, offering a soft smile. Although unspoken, his heart ached at the thought of missing her—even if they would meet again.

Thus, hearts heavy, they returned to the palace the same way they’d arrived—through the teleportation circle, enveloped in soft, enchanting night light.

And as the luminescent swirl closed around them, one final impression lingered in Aziz’s consciousness: an eye. Not physical. But present. As if the void behind them... still followed.

——

Hey, it’s the author again.

I need to share a real (and traumatic) behind-the-scenes moment from this Chapter.

While I was writing the fight between Sofia and Aziz — one of the most important scenes for me so far — I, being an inexperienced author and desperate to make things feel realistic, ended up... getting way too into it.

I was sitting on my bed, fully focused on the writing, when I started to second-guess the choreography. Like... would that thrust really work? Would the scythe come from the left? Did the spin make any sense?

That’s when the madness began.

I stood up. Grabbed a broomstick. Closed my eyes. Took a deep breath. And began to act it out. I spun, slashed at the air, tried to imagine Sofia’s movements, Aziz’s counterattacks... like I was choreographing an anime battle in the middle of my bedroom.

In my head, I was a genius.

Then I opened my eyes.

And there she was: my mom. Standing in the doorway. Staring at me like she had just walked in on some kind of live ritual of secondhand embarrassment.

I froze. She looked at me for, like, two eternal seconds. Then just said:

"Are you okay?"

Man... I wanted to disappear. My soul left my body. I needed a dimensional rift to crawl into and never come back.

All that, just to write a scene that you — dear reader — probably have no idea how much of my dignity it cost.

So please, if you’ve read this far, if you’re following Aziz’s journey...

don’t let this shame be in vain.

Send a golden ticket, a power stone, anything.

Help me turn this humiliation into fuel to keep writing (and maybe buy a door with a lock).

Thanks for reading — truly.

See you in the next Chapter.

— Izatt