Amongst the Ascent, four paths to the Apex of power exist, each as viable as the other; Aura, Augment, Body and Technology. Known as Chasers, beings who follow these paths are many. Immensely so. Some choose to wholeheartedly chase one, while others mix and match, hoping to reach previously unseen heights. Needless to say, this variety breeds conflicts between ideologies and beliefs within the Multiverse, something the Great Machine seems to find rather amusing.

The Biography of Goro Zekaam, the Multiverse’s Apex Tech Chaser.

**

“You’re getting closer.”

Brock didn’t deign to respond, only clench his eyes shut more tightly as he envisioned the molten stream of his Augment in his mind’s eye. It was a raging torrent of crimson power as it flowed through his pathways, and as he willed it to twist together and braid itself, those very same pathways bulged and flexed from the force. Almost instantly afterwards, his paths tore, and a fiery burst of energy exploded out the side of his forearm. Blood sizzled from the wound.

He cursed and Fon told him once more that he was getting close, though he paid it no mind, mostly because he knew she was wrong. From what she had relayed to him about what she could see, her energy vision couldn’t parse apart the exact happenings within the Inner Self well at all, only a vague outline of the energy signatures.

Of course, this was still undoubtedly helpful, but as his pathways were located within his Inner Self, which somehow also seemed to be an extension of his physical self based on the fact the energy damaged him when it broke free, she was lacking critical insight into exactly what was happening.

Certainly, he had managed to use his considerable control of his Augments to force it into a braid, albeit a messy and loosely bound one. Even then, it still wasn’t reliably capable of clearing his pathways, and even if it did, he knew it would just unravel the moment it was projected outward into a cone of misguided flame.

As for the reason it always bulged and stretched his pathways? Originally, he had thought it was due to a lack of pathways durability, something that he knew could be fixed by the Aetherweb since it had gifted a similar effect before. If not for the fact he hesitated to spend any of his accumulated Stars, he wouldn’t have realised it was a matter of efficiency.

It wasn’t that his pathways weren’t strong enough, it’s that his braid was too big for it. The gaps between each stream were considerable, and he predicted that because of it, the braid took twice the space it should normally. That was his issue. It was greatly sacrificing power and useability that way.

Either way, he was making progress, and even if he didn’t do it today, he would given time.

“Fuck I’m hungry.” Brock eased his eyes open and winced as the morning light attacked his pupils.

Beside him, Harry gave a pronounced sigh, “Yeah, me too.”

It was morning in Sanctuary and the air was oddly cold despite the arid landscape that it was sat upon. Due to the expansive amount of free housing following the rapid deaths of their owners, Brock, Harry, and Fon were all offered their own separate homes for the time being, courtesy of Margo.

They had picked three close together, and as it was with those with higher Vitalities, they had decided to forsake sleep, as they really hadn’t needed it that night. Brock’s Vitality hadn’t grown much since his time in the outback, although he could still skip a few nights of sleep and be fine. Fon could only go for one and even then, she was a bit groggy the next day.

Harry on the other hand. His Vitality was in the 400’s, and he hadn’t slept in almost a week.

Instead, they had better spent their time with Augment practice. Under Fon’s watchful eye and guidance, Harry was coming along nicely, and was at least able to somewhat influence the location his Augment centred around, accelerating the speed of infection even further. She herself was making strides toward getting her own, as with each moment her understanding of the strange powers grew.

Harry had called it quits an hour before Brock had, but it had still been a night long session, nonetheless. In fact, while Brock wasn’t exactly surprised, he was rather impressed that they had persisted the practice all the way to mornin-

His head snapped to the side, and he stared at the rooftop above him. Brock narrowed his eyes and held his gaze for several tense seconds. He… could have sworn he felt that someone was watching him. Fon raised a brow at him, and he shrugged stiffly as he eventually looked away, “Thought I saw a magpie.”

Maybe I’m just paranoid or something…

Brock walked over to the jeep Fon had been lounging in for the past eight hours and she handed him his leather jacket as she jumped out. He shrugged the jacket back on and disappeared the vehicle into his spatial ring, making it flicker from existence. Groaning, he stretched his body to the sky, hearing it pop satisfyingly.

Together, all three of them made their way over to the cafeteria, which was populated by no more than sixty people, mostly warriors but a few civilians too. All the early birds, Brock assumed. They were digging into a serving of meat, the same as what he had seen them making last night when he went on a tour with Margo.

While it did indeed look like a dog had eaten its own shit and vomited it back up into the crude clay bowls, the scent that wafted through the building was utterly delectable. Let alone Harry, even Fon’s mouth was watering slightly. Idly, Brock wondered if there was such a thing as the Augment of Seasoning and if it was being used currently.

They assumed a place in the line - only a dozen or so people coming back for seconds, all warriors – and waited until they were right at the front. Pre-emptively, Brock just asked for three bowls of the stuff, while Harry asked for four and Fon two. The server had given them all a weird look, sizing up their physiques, but supplied the food either way.

Just as it smelled, it was fucking delicious. He didn’t even know what kind of meat insect meat was, but it tasted like a mix between beef and lamb and pork all combined, and it was incredible. It was grill cooked and slopped into a bowl, sprinkled with a dark green seasoning. All the fatty oils pooled down in the bottom of the bowl, and they tasted almost as good as the meat itself.

Cholesterol: the drink.

Brock snorted.

It was somewhat troubling that at only F-Grade he needed to eat this much food, assuming that F-Grade wasn’t the height of power, and Brock feared that people far more powerful than him in the Multiverse needed to eat a literal city’s worth of food a day just to sustain themselves. It’d probably take most of the day to eat it all too.

Midway through their breakfast, Margo walked into the cafeteria and obtained her own serving, along with a nod of respect from the chefs and servers, though it seemed new to them, and oddly awkward. She spotted their group immediately after she turned around, and after some hesitation, decided to join them.

“Morning.” She said as she sat down and placed her bowl atop the stone bench.

Brock nodded at her, “G’day.”

She received a wave from Harry, his mouth already more than full, and Fon gave a curt ‘good morning’. The last time Brock had spoken to the woman had been the day before, almost right after the clean-up had finished. While she didn’t know exactly what a Tyrant was, she had understood his findings after he had explained the severity of it.

The woman had been in quiet deliberation for the rest of the day, even when guiding them to their homes, and Brock didn’t bother to ask if she was ok. He knew she just needed some time to think on the issue. And as she was sitting here now, he assumed she had had enough time.

“You thought about what I told you?” Brock looked up and asked, before taking a mouthful of meat and chewing it with relish.

Margo licked her drying lips and gave a slight nod, “Yes. You made it out to be an extremely dire problem, but I feel you are confident in dealing with it?” Her tone toward the end was almost hopeful, and he noticed the tension brewing in her shoulders ease up when he chuckled.

“If you’ve done something once, you can do it again, I guess.” His famous quote in the making was punctuated at the end by a loud slurping as Harry drank the remaining oils from his second bowl of meat.

Sanctuary’s acting leader glanced his way and the corners of her mouth quirked up, although her expression stayed neutral, “That’s a relief to hear. The horde usually comes around midday, so you guys are free until then.”

Her eyes widened marginally, and she frantically added, “I-if you want to help that is. We aren’t forcing you.”

“We’ll be there.” Fon smiled kindly, and Brock was surprised to see that woman calmed down considerably. Promptly, she schooled her outburst, despite her cheeks blushing profusely, and bid them goodbye.

Brock watched her dirty blonde hair sway as she walked, her figure hidden by the overhang of her plaid shirt, and absentmindedly, he was reminded of Carrie. He hadn’t seen her in… four months, if Margo’s words were correct. Five, counting his time spent in the jungle. He hoped she was doing ok.

Shit. It’s been five months since the System already? Time flies by when life’s kicking you in the nuts repeatedly, huh? He snorted humorously at his own thoughts. He sighed immediately afterwards.

Swiftly, the breakfast talk began between the trio and even swifter it moved to Harry’s issue of breaking past level 49. Even after the hundreds upon hundreds of insects he had slain, he was yet to become level 50. He had described a feeling like energy was building up in his chest, and Brock wondered if it was possible that the 50th level was a threshold much like the 20th percentile for Augments.

It would be an interesting mechanism if that was the case. A good way to weed out those with determination and those who had gotten there with just luck alone. It did make Brock worry, however, as if even Harry couldn’t break past with all those kills, would he be able to with the rate he managed to accumulate experience?

All he could do was begrudgingly let the matter go, as he wouldn’t know until he reached that point of power. Fon was also closing in on the threshold pretty quickly, already sitting at a respectable level 34 after managing to assist in the ranged efforts the day before. Hell, she might even reach the forties after they helped today.

After breakfast ended and their conversations died out, they strolled through the desert town in all its earthen glory and approached the war front. Among a grouping of warriors atop the wall was a woman raising her arms to the sky. She was brunette, with pale skin and a slim figure, and judging by the scrunched up expression on her face, whatever she was doing was quite a taxing affair.

Idly, Brock noticed the ground rumbled faintly underneath him, and he quickly moved to join them.

The woman, who Brock assumed to be Erin based on the fact the earth was quite literally bending to her will, was intently focused on her task and didn’t so much as spare him a glance, instead tensing up her shoulders. He paid it no mind, too preoccupied with the nervous glances the warriors around her threw his way. To his side, Harry was standing still, his eyes unmoving from her form.

Brock smirked and nudged him in the gut, “You’re staring.”

Quickly, the boy caught himself and glanced away, “No I’m not.”

Chuckling at the teenager’s reaction, he didn’t comment further and leaned over the wall, surveying the work the earth manipulator was undertaking, namely the creation of stone spikes to ward away the horde. He didn’t think they’d be all that effective against their hard chitin, but he didn’t say anything.

“You’re making spikes?” Fon apparently had no qualms about it, and she spoke out to the woman.

Brock was surprised to see the woman jolt and almost fall off the wall before one of the other combatants caught her. The rumbling of the earth stopped, and the girl looked back at them in shock, “It’s… you guys!?”

Swiftly, the girl – Erin – nonchalantly shrugged off those who had saved her from a spikey death and dashed toward Brock, her hand outstretched. Before he could react, she clasped his own and shook it avidly. Her grip was pretty weak, but he could tell she had probably specced into Intelligence or Dexterity or something along those lines.

Brock nodded her way, “Brock.”

“Erin, but I think M already told you.” She beamed. From the corner of his eye, Brock could see Harry narrow his eyes at him in barely hidden jealously. The man resisted the urge to piss himself laughing.

Instead, however, he furrowed his brows, “M?”

“Yeah, Margo. M, you know? Her nickname.”

Brock nodded in understanding, “Fair enough.”

They ended up talking for a while longer about this and that – mostly Brock’s own exploits in the past few months - and while it was faint, he was certain she held a bit of a Texan accent to her voice. Erin was a cheery girl, from what he’d seen, and surprisingly enough, a bit insensitive. Still, her enthusiasm was a welcome sight in the apocalyptic wastes, and he could see why Harry had been caught staring at her several times by him.

The kid had so little stealth that he’s lucky she didn’t catch him first. Brock did admit, her looks were quite charming, but he felt her personality far outshined it. Good luck to you, Harry.

She seemed to be around his age anyway, so it was possible for the boy.

In the end, however, they left the lady to her job, and he led Fon and Harry further along the wall before they gazed out to the dusted horizon. The insects came somewhere from out there, he knew that much. He pondered on whether he should pay it a quick visit, but in the end decided against it. He’d rather not catch the full brunt of the horde himself if he took too long investigating.

Instead, he’d wait until after the attack had been dealt with and assist the warriors down on the ground. Ranged combat just wasn’t for him. He liked to move his body. It was a far contrast to how he had been back in the jungle, he thought. From avoiding battles to letting them come. Outlooks on life change over time, I guess.

The swarm came hours later, and oddly enough, there were quite a bit less of the weaker Spawn. Rather, there was a considerably larger amount of the goliath insects, or Swarm Hunters as they were called officially by the name overhead, and it certainly made the battle far more pitched than before, if not blessedly shorter.

Losses were minimalised due to the presence of Brock and Harry on the frontlines, down to only two unlucky mishaps that resulted in a casualty. The most powerful man present had even earned a brutal gash across his front, having put his jacket in his inventory just in case it got damaged and took a blow in his stead. Never again would he do that. The cut was deep as shit and hurt like fuck.

He attended the ensuing funeral of sorts, helping with the matter of burying them and sending them off. Afterwards, as the clean-up efforts began in full, Brock told Harry and Fon to help the townsfolk while he himself immediately set out to locate the theorised existence of a hive.

The arid landscape appeared to stretch on endlessly, looking almost identical in every direction. If not for the fact that there were tracks left behind by the creatures, he feared he would have gotten lost and headed in a completely wrong direction.

The tracks didn’t end even kilometres away, and he couldn’t see Sanctuary from where he was, the distance obscured by the rippling sight of a mirage. It wasn’t until he sprinted for another ten minutes that it all just abruptly stopped. The tracks, the faint trace of the horde’s auras. Just nothing. Arid desert in all directions, endlessly.

“Well fuck. I’ve been bamboozled.” Clicking his tongue, Brock spread out his aura to its full range and intensity and scoured the area for any traces of life, but there was well and truly nothing. The place was a dead zone, devoid of any sign of prior inhabitancy.

Only the faint oppression he felt from the residue Augment that had scoured the landscape was here to accompany his lonesome. Softly, he sighed.