Rebirth: Necromancer's Ascenscion-Chapter 94: Your Time Will Come

Ian’s breath hitched as he stared.

The eyes—familiar and haunting.

That smug smile, carved in arrogance. That stance, relaxed yet coiled like a serpent waiting to kill.

It couldn’t be.

It shouldn’t be.

Yet the man who stood amidst the cracked flagstones of the ruined temple was none other than Mark.

"Mark..." Ian’s voice was little more than a whisper, heavy with old hate.

Mark, or the thing wearing his face, tilted his head with a grin. "Still wearing that scowl, I see. Some things never change."

Ian’s hands twitched.

Mark raised his arms in mock surrender. "Easy, brother. We’re both alive, aren’t we? Isn’t that something?"

Ian stayed silent.

The memories poured in like poison. Even in this new world, his freedom was in reach, yet Mark and the others had left, leaving Ian behind to die.

Mark’s grin widened, almost as if he could read Ian’s mind. "When we were freed of our chains, back when we first came to this cursed world, we were told, weren’t we? That unlike you, we could make something of ourselves. Become someone in Esrad. Demon Subjugators. Slayers of the abyss."

He paced a slow circle, boots crunching against broken bone and ash.

"You were always the lagging one. I bet they loved that about you." He chuckled darkly. "But you were too stubborn to see the big picture. You still are."

Ian’s fists clenched.

"I left you, yes. I won’t deny that. But look at you now," Mark gestured vaguely at Ian’s dark form, his armor adorned with sigils etched in soulflame. "You survived. You made it. Hell, I’d say I helped you become this."

Still, Ian said nothing.

Mark’s tone sharpened. "And yet, here you are, with murder in your eyes. Still blaming me. You think this world was going to reward us both? There wasn’t room for two of us. There never was."

He stepped closer.

"I did what I had to. Same as you’ve been doing ever since. Tell me, Ian—how many have you killed since then? How many souls have you swallowed? How many bodies lie buried beneath your rise?"

Ian’s eyes narrowed.

"You want vengeance?" Mark asked with a smirk. "Fine. Swing your blade. Spill blood. But know this—I’m still ahead of you. I’ve already reached the Second Reach. I’ve seen things you couldn’t dream of."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "The deeper you go, Ian, the more you lose. Your name, your soul, your past. You’re not the man who fell in chains anymore. You’re just another beast trying to crawl up from the pit."

Then he laughed again, the sound cold and hollow in the ruined temple.

"But I must say—it’s good to see you again. Truly."

That was it.

In a blink, Ian moved.

One moment he stood still, the next he was at Mark’s side. His dagger had appeared in his hand like it had always belonged there.

"You’re not Mark," Ian said coldly.

He stepped back, blades sliding effortlessly into place beneath the crossing hilts on his back. "The real Mark would know better than to stand before me waffling, and not be ready to die."

The temple exploded.

Not in fire—but in motion.

The nearest pillars were shredded in clean, invisible cuts. The very stones beneath their feet cracked from the shockwave.

The air shimmered with leftover blade energy.

Ian had sliced it all in that single motion.

The Mark-thing jerked violently—its form splitting, ripping, unraveling.

It bled not red, but sludge—grey and thick, like oil mixed with ash.

The illusion cracked. The face distorted.

The skin peeled. One after another, it fell into itself in clumps of writhing, slithering slurge, until nothing remained but a greasy smear against the temple floor.

Ian exhaled slowly, shoulders rolling back.

His shadows shifted around him, emerging silently from the dark edges of the room. The two soulbound constructs, the Rats, knelt before him, their inky forms shaped vaguely like cloaked men.

"My liege," they said in unison, their voices a whisper carried by the void.

Ian didn’t look at them, his eyes still fixed on where the fake Mark had stood.

"Report."

The one on the left hissed, its form warping slightly as it spoke. "The grounds beyond the ruins are dead, my liege. Nothing but stone and shadow... but..."

"But?" Ian asked, eyes narrowing.

The other stepped forward. "There are sentries. Imp-ranked demons. Feeding on the boundaries. Low intelligence, but aggressive. They roam in packs."

Ian nodded, finally turning to face his soulbounds.

The hellscape was beginning to take shape.

"So the temple is a staging ground."

He turned back toward the ruined altar and stared out toward the broken horizon. The sky above was still blood-red, clouds like torn fabric drifting over a dying sun.

Grey ash swirled in the air. It clung to his skin, to his armor, to his soul.

The silence lingered.

Then Ian spoke, almost to himself. "Don’t worry, Mark. Your time will come. All of you. No need to rush it."

The Rats stood still, awaiting further orders.

But Ian said nothing more.

He walked past them, descending the cracked steps of the ancient temple, his eyes scanning the broken world ahead.

This place was different than the battlefield.

This wasn’t like the arena or the streets of Esgard. Hellscape had a presence. It bled memory and hunger and old, festering oaths.

And now Ian was part of it.

He paused once more at the bottom of the stairs and looked into the red sky. Somewhere out there, Caelen and Lyra would be navigating their own path.

And the Church? The Church had made it clear—they would kill him here if they could.

He grinned faintly.

"Just thinking about it...excites me."

———

Far above, beyond the reach of ordinary sight, a presence shifted.

High atop a spire of bone and crystal, a Seer cloaked in imperial violet watched the temple through a veil of magic. Her lips parted slightly, her fingers twitching against a glass orb filled with shifting red mist.

"He’s here," she whispered to the shadows in her chamber. "The Oathbound... the Whisperer... he’s finally entered the First Reach."

A voice answered from the dark.

"Do we proceed?"

She hesitated, then closed her eyes. "Not yet. Let him bleed. Let him remember. If he survives this first trial... only then will the true test begin."

Back in the temple grounds, Ian stood before the edge of a black chasm, marking the way forward.

Behind him, the temple crumbled slowly. ƒreewebɳovel.com

Before him, demons waited.

He took one final breath—and stepped into the ashes.