Shattered Sanity

’Descendant Of Surthur....’

Riven repeated those words over and over again within his mind, as though unable to accept them as the truth.

Of course, he knew who Surthur was.

Every man, woman, and child who had grown up in the northern reaches of the continent knew the name of the Storm God, as whenever thunder roared across the heavens or violent winds howled as though they wished to tear apart the very earth itself, it was to Surthur that the people prayed to, hoping to calm his divine rage before disaster befell them.

"Pride is the killer of many great men, Riven. Always remember that. No matter how powerful you become, Surthur will always be stronger."

Riven could almost hear his mother’s gentle voice echoing within his ears once more, as memories of a childhood bedtime story slowly resurfaced from the depths of his mind.

It was a tale that had been passed down through countless generations of northern families, one that every child had heard at least once before reaching adulthood, as it spoke of a magnificent kingdom known as Latelantis.

According to the legend, Latelantis was a prosperous kingdom built in the middle of the ocean, ruled by a courageous monarch known as King Meliodas the Brave.

Unlike kings born into royalty, Meliodas had earned his crown through countless battles, gradually rising through the ranks as an ordinary soldier before eventually seizing the throne through his own strength and achievements.

However, as often happened to men who possessed great power, success eventually gave birth to arrogance.

One evening, while intoxicated during a grand feast, Meliodas proudly proclaimed before his entire court that there existed no warrior beneath the heavens capable of matching him, boldly declaring that even if Surthur himself descended from the skies, he would gladly challenge the Storm God in single combat.

However, although he thought at the time that they were but empty words, and that, surely Surthur was never going to come down to challenge him.

Unfortunately for him...

Surthur did indeed descend from the heavens.

However, he did not descend for Meliodas alone, but rather the whole of Latelantis, as when Meliodas made that claim, the people present there did not refute it, but rather laughed alongside their king, and sang praises of his bravery instead.

And so, with nothing more than a single flick of his wrist, Surthur summoned a tidal wave so unimaginably vast that it swallowed the entire kingdom within moments, reducing one of the greatest cities ever built into nothing more than another forgotten ruin resting beneath the sea.

Men, women, children, the elderly, the crippled, none were spared.

Even the royal palace itself disappeared beneath the raging waters, leaving behind no trace that King Meliodas or his glorious kingdom had ever existed.

The story was never told to glorify Surthur’s wrath.

Rather, it served as a reminder that no matter how powerful a person became, there would always exist someone greater, while pride remained the first step towards destruction.

Yet, despite remembering every lesson his mother had tried to teach him through that story...

It was not the moral that occupied Riven’s thoughts.

It was the Imperial Anatomist’s words.

’Descendant Of Surthur...?’

He repeated silently, unable to hide the disbelief spreading across his face.

’Me?’

The idea sounded utterly ridiculous.

The Children of Storm, as they were known throughout history, were legendary figures whose names filled the pages of ancient records, individuals blessed with extraordinary talent who repeatedly rose to become heroes, conquerors, generals, and warriors capable of shaping entire eras through their existence alone.

Yet his own father had been nothing more than an ordinary hunter.

A simple man.

One who had ultimately died at the hands of an unskilled brute like Brakk.

If his family truly possessed the blood of a god, then how could such a thing have happened?

’I can’t be a descendant of Surthur... surely not.’

Riven thought, unable to reconcile the stories he had grown up hearing with the reality of the family he had known all his life.

However, what he did not realise was that the Imperial Anatomist had not been referring to his father’s bloodline at all.

His divine lineage came from his mother’s side.

And although it had been diluted across countless generations...

He was, without question, a Child of Storm.

"I think you have the wrong person," Riven muttered, his voice still strained from the agony coursing through his body. "I’m not a Child of Surthur."

He shook his head weakly before continuing.

"I haven’t even reached the Ember Rank yet. I don’t even possess an attribute."

His breathing remained uneven as another wave of burning surged through his veins.

"Surely... you can’t honestly believe that I’m a Child of Surthur."

"The gods haven’t walked this land for the past three centuries. If there were any Stormborn left, they would have died out long ago."

The Imperial Anatomist let out a long, disappointed sigh before slowly shaking his head.

"What a shame," he murmured.

"A boy who does not understand his own worth."

He looked directly into Riven’s eyes, his expression carrying something that almost resembled pity.

"Subject Eighteen... You truly are a strange child.

Most people in your place would rejoice upon learning that divine blood flows through their veins...

But not you."

He muttered, as Riven grit his teeth before glancing down at the countless tubes and needles protruding from his own body.

"If you had this many tools attached to your body, I doubt you’d be rejoicing either,"

He shot back.

"Especially if the man doing this to you happened to be COMPLETELY WRONG."

He said, as the Imperial Anatomist stared at him for a brief moment before turning towards Karen.

"Karen, dear," he said calmly.

"Would you do me a favour?

Please fetch Bob from the apothecary upstairs and bring me the Aptitude Testing Crystal.

I believe it’s time I showed this boy something."

Karen nodded immediately, seemingly understanding exactly what the Imperial Anatomist intended.

Without another word, she hurried from the laboratory.

Nearly two minutes later, she returned alongside a young store clerk carrying a thick glass container, within which a translucent crystal floated peacefully in a colourless liquid.

Taking the container into his hands, the Imperial Anatomist turned back towards Riven.

"Look carefully, my boy.

This is an Aptitude Testing Crystal.

Ordinarily, once an individual reaches the Ember Rank and enlists within the Valdrak Empire’s army, they are tested using one of these.

The crystal identifies the elemental attributes that resonate with their Soul Vessel, allowing the military to assign an appropriate foundational spell from the Imperial Library for ascension."

He then gestured towards the young clerk standing beside him.

"Bob here possesses an affinity for the Storm attribute, just like you, so observe what happens when he holds this crystal in his hands."

He instructed before carefully removing the crystal from the glass container and placing it into Bob’s open palm.

Almost immediately, faint strands of violet lightning began dancing around the crystal’s surface, tiny arcs crackling harmlessly through the air as the once-transparent crystal slowly illuminated with a soft purple glow.

"There," the Imperial Anatomist said before retrieving the crystal once more.

"You see it?"

He smiled faintly.

"Bob is what you would consider one of the weaker Ascendants.....

He possesses enough talent to awaken successfully, yet not enough to build a remarkable future."

"He will most likely never advance beyond the Ember Rank. Which is why he now serves as a store clerk, possessing just enough strength to defend the apothecary from the occasional thief or common thug."

He paused before slowly turning towards Riven.

"You, however..."

The Imperial Anatomist did not place the crystal into Riven’s hand.

Instead, he merely brought it close to the boy’s restrained arm, as before the crystal even came into contact with his skin... It erupted into a lightning storm.

CRACKLE

An audible voice spread through the laboratory as violent bolts of violet lightning exploded from within the crystal, crashing wildly against the inner walls of the glass container as thunderous sparks burst in every direction with such intensity that even Karen instinctively took a step backwards.

Glow

The crystal shone so brilliantly that the entire laboratory became bathed in flickering shades of violet, as everyone looked at it in awe.

The conclusion was obvious. The storm within Riven was much stronger than Bob, however, Riven still could not accept it.

"B–but you haven’t even touched me..."

Riven whispered, as the Imperial Anatomist simply smiled in response.

"You have already awakened the Storm attribute despite not yet becoming an Ascendant.

A phenomenon observed only amongst the strongest children of storm."

"There is no telling how many attributes your Soul Vessel may awaken once you finally reach the Ember Rank."

"However..."

"The Storm within your blood is already unmistakable."

He said, as he looked directly into Riven’s green eyes.

"You may choose to believe my words..."

"Or you may continue questioning them."

"It changes nothing."

"The truth remains exactly the same."

"You my dear subject eighteen are Stormborn. A true descendant of Surthur."