《Crownless Ascension》


 Chapter One: The Shard of Destiny

    Arin crouched low behind the crumbling wall, his sharp gray eyes scanning the piles of discarded junk that littered the outskirts of the noble district. The faint glow of the capital¡¯s golden towers loomed in the distance, a constant reminder of what he couldn¡¯t have. A cold wind bit at his ragged clothes, but Arin ignored it, focusing instead on the faint glint of metal buried beneath a mound of broken artifacts.


    "Finally," he muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a smug grin. "Something worthwhile."


    He darted forward, his movements silent and practiced. Years of scavenging had made him quick, careful, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªinvisible to the Crestborne guards who patrolled these streets. Nobles were too busy preening in their lavish homes to care about the refuse they threw out, but their trash often held treasures for someone like Arin.


    Arin reached the pile and began digging, his hands deftly brushing aside shattered trinkets and cracked glass. What he uncovered made his heart skip a beat: a shard of something ornate, faintly pulsing with an otherworldly light. It was jagged as if torn from a larger object, and its surface shimmered with an iridescent glow that seemed to shift and dance in the dim light.


    "Well, aren¡¯t you pretty?" Arin whispered, picking it up. The shard felt warm in his hand, almost alive. Most relics from the noble district were dull and lifeless, their magic drained or too faint to be useful. But this¡ªthis was something else entirely.


    For a moment, he just stared at it, a mix of curiosity and greed bubbling in his chest. Then his instincts kicked in, and he slipped the shard into his satchel. Something this strange was bound to be valuable¡ªif he could figure out how to use it. Or sell it. Either worked.


    "Hey! Who¡¯s there?"


    Arin froze. The sharp voice of a guard cut through the quiet night, followed by the heavy clink of armor. Of course they had to ruin his moment. He glanced around, spotting two Crestborne guards walking down the alley, their torches casting flickering shadows against the walls.


    He could run. He could hide. But where was the fun in that?


    Instead, Arin pressed himself against the wall and waited. As the guards passed, their heavy boots crunching on the cobblestones, he slipped behind them with practiced ease. His fingers brushed against the coin purse dangling from one guard¡¯s belt, and with a quick flick of his wrist, it was his.


    "Idiots," Arin muttered under his breath as he melted back into the shadows. The guards continued their patrol, none the wiser. He smirked, the weight of the purse a satisfying reassurance. Whatever was in the bag would keep him fed for a week, maybe more.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Back in his hideout, a ramshackle loft tucked into the upper floors of an abandoned warehouse, Arin pulled out the shard. The faint glow illuminated the small space, casting eerie shadows on the walls. He set it on a rickety table and stared at it, his mind racing.


    "Alright, shiny," he said, leaning closer. "What¡¯s your deal?"


    The shard didn¡¯t answer. Obviously. But as Arin reached out to touch it again, the glow brightened. He yanked his hand back, startled, but the light only grew stronger, filling the room with a warm, golden radiance. Then, without warning, a searing pain shot through his palm.


    "Ow! What the¡ª" Arin hissed, clutching his hand. But when he looked, he saw runes¡ªglowing, intricate symbols¡ªetching themselves into his skin. The pain was unbearable, like molten fire spreading through his veins. He staggered back, knocking over a chair, but the shard stayed firmly in place, pulsing in time with his racing heart.


    "Resonance activated," a voice whispered in his mind. It wasn¡¯t his voice, nor anyone he recognized. It was calm, almost clinical, but it made his blood run cold. "Bonding complete."


    "Bonding? What the hell does that mean?" Arin shouted, glaring at the shard as if it could answer him. But before he could say anything else, a flood of images and sensations overwhelmed him¡ªvisions of ancient battles, towering figures wielding unimaginable power, and a crown, shattered into countless pieces, scattering across the world.


    When the visions finally faded, Arin collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. His hand still burned, the glowing runes now etched permanently into his skin. He stared at them, a mix of fear and awe swirling in his chest.


    "Okay," he muttered, his voice shaky but tinged with defiance. "What the actual hell just happened?"


    By the time the sun began to rise, Arin had pieced together enough of the shard¡¯s story to feel both terrified and giddy. This wasn¡¯t just some trinket. It was a piece of the Crown of Origin¡ªthe legendary artifact that had once united the world¡ªand it had chosen him. Him, the Crestless nobody from the slums.


    Arin¡¯s lips curled into a smirk. The Crestborne nobility had spent centuries looking down on people like him, calling them worthless. But now, he held something they¡¯d kill to possess.


    He stood on the roof of his hideout, the shard glowing faintly in his hand. The grand capital stretched out before him, its glittering towers a stark contrast to the slums below. His eyes narrowed as he thought of the nobles who ruled over the city, their arrogance and opulence making his blood boil.


    "They call me nothing," Arin murmured, his voice low but laced with venom. "Fine. I¡¯ll make them regret underestimating me."


    The shard pulsed in his hand, as if in agreement. Arin¡¯s smirk widened. He didn¡¯t know exactly what he was going to do yet, but one thing was certain: this was the start of something big. And he¡¯d make damn sure the Crestborne knew it.

 Chapter Two: A Crestborne Problem

    Arin woke to the sound of someone pounding on his door. His head ached, his hand still burned from the runes etched into his skin, and the shard on the table glowed faintly, as if mocking his disorientation.


    ¡°Oi, Greaves! You in there?¡± a voice called, muffled but gruff. It was Jory, one of the less pleasant scavengers in the slums. ¡°I know you¡¯ve got something good. Word travels fast, you know!¡±


    Arin groaned, dragging himself off the floor. Jory didn¡¯t just sniff around for scraps¡ªhe worked for the Crestborne guards sometimes, passing along tips for a few silver coins. If Jory had heard about the shard, trouble was already knocking. Literally.


    He glanced at the glowing fragment, still sitting on his makeshift table. It hummed faintly, almost like it was aware of his dilemma.


    ¡°You¡¯re not helping,¡± Arin muttered to it before grabbing his satchel and shoving the shard inside. He paused, pulling his hand back. The shard might have been magic, but its edges were sharp, and he wasn¡¯t keen on losing any fingers today.


    ¡°Greaves! Open up, or I¡¯m coming in!¡± Jory¡¯s pounding grew louder. Arin sighed and slung the satchel over his shoulder. Time to make an exit.


    <hr>


    The back alleys of the slums were a labyrinth only someone like Arin could navigate. He¡¯d spent years learning every crooked corner, every hidden passage, every rooftop he could scramble onto when things got dicey. And they often did.


    By the time Jory kicked in the door to his hideout, Arin was already a block away, slipping through a narrow gap between two buildings. The shard pressed against his side, its warmth a constant reminder of the chaos it had already caused.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to get me killed, you know that?¡± he grumbled under his breath.


    The shard didn¡¯t answer, of course. But the faint pulse it gave in response felt suspiciously like amusement.


    <hr>


    Half an hour later, Arin found himself perched on a rooftop overlooking one of the slum¡¯s busier markets. The early morning crowd bustled below, vendors shouting over each other to hawk everything from stale bread to suspiciously sourced jewelry. It was the perfect place to disappear.


    But as Arin scanned the crowd, his sharp eyes caught sight of something that made his stomach drop: a group of Crestborne guards, their polished armor gleaming even in the dingy light of the slums. They moved in formation, their eyes scanning the crowd with purpose.


    ¡°Great,¡± Arin muttered. ¡°They¡¯re already looking for me.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t hard to guess why. Whatever the shard was, it clearly wasn¡¯t something the Crestborne wanted floating around in the hands of a scavenger. The nobles¡¯ iron grip on power depended on keeping relics like this firmly under their control.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Arin¡¯s mind raced. He couldn¡¯t stay here. But running would only draw attention, and he didn¡¯t fancy his chances against a squad of armored guards. He needed a distraction.


    His gaze landed on a nearby fruit cart. The vendor, a portly man with a thick mustache, was arguing with a customer over the price of a bruised apple. Beside the cart, a pack of street urchins lingered, their hungry eyes fixed on the fruit.


    Arin¡¯s lips curled into a mischievous grin. Perfect.


    He pulled a small slingshot from his pocket, loaded it with a pebble, and took aim. The pebble struck the cart with a loud thunk, knocking over a basket of oranges. The fruit spilled onto the ground, and the street urchins didn¡¯t hesitate. They darted forward, grabbing as many oranges as they could carry before the vendor even realized what had happened.


    ¡°Hey! Get back here, you little thieves!¡± the vendor roared, chasing after them. The commotion drew the crowd¡¯s attention, creating the perfect cover for Arin to slip away unnoticed.


    <hr>


    By the time he reached the edge of the market, Arin was feeling pretty pleased with himself. The guards were still distracted, and he¡¯d managed to snag an apple from the cart in the chaos. He bit into it, savoring the sweet-tart flavor. For a moment, things almost felt normal.


    Then someone grabbed his arm.


    Arin spun around, ready to fight, but stopped short when he saw who it was. The woman standing before him wasn¡¯t a guard or a scavenger. She was tall and lean, with sharp features and a hood pulled low over her face. But it wasn¡¯t her appearance that made Arin pause. It was the faint glow of the Crest etched into her hand, partially hidden by her sleeve.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been busy,¡± she said, her voice low and edged with amusement. ¡°The Crestborne are tearing the slums apart looking for you. Care to tell me why?¡±


    Arin¡¯s mind raced. Whoever this woman was, she wasn¡¯t just some bystander. And that Crest¡ªa swirling design that seemed to shimmer with energy¡ªmeant she was dangerous.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he said, his tone casual. ¡°I¡¯m just a guy trying to make a living.¡±


    The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. ¡°Right. And I¡¯m just a baker.¡±


    Arin opened his mouth to retort, but she cut him off. ¡°Save it. Whatever you¡¯ve got, the Crestborne want it bad. That makes you either very lucky or very stupid.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t I be both?¡± Arin said with a smirk.


    The woman sighed, releasing his arm. ¡°Listen, kid. I don¡¯t care what¡¯s in your bag. But if you don¡¯t want to end up dead, you¡¯ll need help. Lucky for you, I¡¯m feeling generous.¡±


    ¡°Generous, huh?¡± Arin said, narrowing his eyes. ¡°And what¡¯s that gonna cost me?¡±


    The woman¡¯s lips curled into a sly smile. ¡°Oh, nothing much. Just a favor. One you¡¯ll owe me later.¡±


    Arin hesitated. He didn¡¯t trust her, not for a second. But the alternative¡ªfacing the Crestborne alone¡ªwas worse.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he said finally. ¡°But if this gets me killed, I¡¯m haunting you.¡±


    The woman chuckled. ¡°Fair enough. Name¡¯s Kaelith, by the way. Try to keep up.¡±


    And with that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Arin to wonder what, exactly, he¡¯d just gotten himself into.

 Chapter Three: Allies and Intrigue

    Arin followed Kaelith through the maze-like streets of the slums, keeping a careful distance. Her movements were fluid, purposeful, and utterly confident¡ªthe kind of confidence that came from knowing you were more dangerous than anyone else around.


    ¡°So, are you going to tell me where we¡¯re going?¡± Arin finally asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. ¡°Or is this one of those ¡®trust me and I¡¯ll show you¡¯ situations?¡±


    Kaelith glanced over her shoulder, smirking. ¡°Patience, kid. We¡¯re almost there.¡±


    Arin rolled his eyes but kept following. He didn¡¯t have much choice, not with the Crestborne sniffing around like hounds. Still, he wasn¡¯t about to let his guard down. Kaelith might have saved him, but trust was a currency he didn¡¯t spend lightly.


    The two of them slipped into a narrow alley that opened into what could barely be called a plaza. It was more of a clearing between buildings, filled with rickety stalls and people haggling over everything from food to questionable relics. At the far end stood a building that looked like it had been pieced together from scraps of wood and metal¡ªbut it was sturdy, and it had a roof.


    ¡°Home sweet home,¡± Kaelith said, pushing open the creaky door. ¡°Well, for now.¡±


    Arin hesitated on the threshold. The inside was dimly lit, with mismatched furniture and a large table in the center covered in maps, documents, and strange tools. A fireplace crackled in the corner, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The room had the air of a place that saw plenty of secrets shared and plans made.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± Arin asked, stepping inside.


    Kaelith closed the door behind him and shrugged. ¡°Let¡¯s call it a safe house. For people like you.¡±


    ¡°People like me?¡± Arin raised an eyebrow.


    Kaelith walked over to the table and leaned against it, arms crossed. ¡°The kind who get in over their heads and need a little¡­guidance.¡±


    ¡°Gee, thanks,¡± Arin said dryly. ¡°Really boosts my confidence.¡±


    Before Kaelith could respond, a voice cut through the room. ¡°You¡¯re late.¡±


    Arin turned to see a man emerge from the shadows. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a scruffy beard and piercing green eyes that seemed to see right through him. He wore a battered leather coat and carried himself like someone who¡¯d seen plenty of fights.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Had to pick up a stray,¡± Kaelith said, nodding toward Arin.


    ¡°Stray?¡± Arin repeated, bristling. ¡°I¡¯m right here, you know.¡±


    The man¡¯s gaze settled on Arin, and he frowned. ¡°You¡¯re the one the Crestborne are after?¡±


    ¡°Apparently,¡± Arin said. ¡°Though I¡¯m still not entirely sure why.¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes flicked to Arin¡¯s satchel. ¡°It¡¯s what you¡¯re carrying. Isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Arin hesitated. He didn¡¯t trust these people, but he wasn¡¯t stupid enough to lie outright. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    Kaelith rolled her eyes. ¡°He¡¯s not the most forthcoming, but he¡¯s got potential.¡±


    ¡°Potential?¡± Arin snorted. ¡°That¡¯s a nice way of saying I¡¯m in over my head.¡±


    The man stepped closer, his expression serious. ¡°Listen, kid. If the Crestborne want what you have, it¡¯s either incredibly dangerous or incredibly powerful. Or both. Either way, you¡¯re not going to last long on your own.¡±


    ¡°And what? You¡¯re offering to help me out of the kindness of your heart?¡± Arin asked, folding his arms.


    Kaelith chuckled. ¡°Not exactly. Let¡¯s just say we have a mutual interest in keeping that shard out of the Crestborne¡¯s hands.¡±


    Arin tensed. ¡°How do you know about the shard?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯ve seen one before,¡± the man said. ¡°And if it¡¯s anything like the last one, you¡¯re sitting on a piece of something that could change everything.¡±


    ¡°Change everything how?¡± Arin asked, his curiosity piqued despite himself.


    Kaelith exchanged a glance with the man before answering. ¡°Let¡¯s just say the shard isn¡¯t just a relic. It¡¯s part of the Crown of Origin.¡±


    Arin¡¯s heart skipped a beat. He¡¯d heard the stories, of course. Everyone had. The Crown of Origin was a legendary artifact, said to grant immense power to whoever wielded it. But it had been shattered centuries ago, its pieces scattered across the world.


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding,¡± Arin said, though his voice lacked conviction.


    ¡°Do I look like I¡¯m kidding?¡± the man replied.


    Arin didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he reached into his satchel and pulled out the shard. It glowed faintly in the dim light, its runes pulsing gently. The room fell silent as everyone stared at it.


    ¡°Well,¡± Kaelith said after a moment. ¡°That settles it. You¡¯re definitely in over your head.¡±


    Arin sighed. ¡°You¡¯re not exactly helping my confidence here.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not here to boost your ego,¡± the man said. ¡°We¡¯re here to make sure you don¡¯t get yourself killed. Or worse, let the Crestborne get their hands on that.¡±


    Arin looked at the shard, then at Kaelith and the man. He didn¡¯t trust them, not entirely. But if they were right about the shard¡ªabout the Crown of Origin¡ªthen he couldn¡¯t afford to face this alone.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°But if I¡¯m sticking around, I¡¯m going to need some answers.¡±


    Kaelith¡¯s smirk returned. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ve got plenty to tell you. But first, you¡¯re going to need to learn how to survive.¡±


    The man nodded. ¡°Welcome to the resistance, kid.¡±


    Arin groaned. ¡°Great. Just what I needed. More problems.¡±