Ashborn Primordial: A Progression Fantasy Epic, page 1
ASHBORN PRIMORDIAL
©2024 VOWRON PRIME
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CONTENTS
Also by Vowron Prime
Ashborn Lore
Prologue
Arc 1
1. The End of Your World. The Beginning of Mine
2. Death of a Dream
3. The Village Life Of An Ashborn Primordial
4. Those That Hunt. Those That Hide
5. Into Darkness
6. Ekavir—Of Godshollow
7. The Four-Armed Giant
8. Rudvik—Of Brij
9. The Ghost of Godshollow
Arc II
10. New Beginnings
11. Riyan Savar
12. Man of Many ‘Talents’
13. Prana Scorned
14. The Energy of Life
15. Prana Vision
16. Rite of Passage
17. Art of the Gods
18. Kalaripayattu
19. Desert Cartographers
20. Maiya vs Vir
21. The Lost Chakram Arts
22. The Akh Nara Sends His Regards
23. Riyan’s Dome of Horrors
24. To Steal From the Reaper
25. A Tale of Ice and Wind
26. Cloaks & Daggers
27. The Northward Bound
28. A ‘Bumpy’ Ride
29. The Taste of Progress
30. The Road to Saran
31. Country Bumpkins
32. Until the End
33. The Culprit
34. A Sheen Tarnished
35. Old Man Bakura
36. Bumpy the Brave
37. Of Demons & Ashborn
38. To Play with Prana & Blood
39. Homecoming
40. A Mejai’s First Lesson
41. Beware of Gods Bearing Gifts
42. Equilibrium
43. Whiteout
44. The Prana Within
45. Leaps of Progress
46. Apex Predator?
47. Of Gods and Magic
48. Some Dreams do Come True
49. Clutch Rachna
50. Shardul the Vicious
51. The Aftermath
52. Dance of the Shadow Demon
53. Maiya Advances
54. Duel on the Dunes
55. Shifting Winds
56. Immortal
57. Breakers of the Chain
58. Riyan’s Dome of Powers
59. Talent vs Orb
60. Interdiction
Arc III
61. Regicide
62. Ekavir Goes to Daha
63. Vimana Hiranya
64. City of Blazing Wealth
65. A Bumpkin After All
66. Fateful Encounters
67. The Brotherhood of Mercenaries
68. Backstabs, Battles, and Betrayals (Maiya)
69. Of Jatu, Mahakurma, and Prana Swarms
70. Into the Sewers
71. The World Beneath
72. Executor Rising
73. Balar Rank Exam
74. Prana Rat Exterminator
75. Valaka Amara
76. Guaranteed Annihilation
77. To Wake From a Nightmare
78. Infiltration
79. A Day in the Life of Maiya (Part One)
80. A Day in the Life of Maiya (Part Two)
81. Acolyte
82. Ekavir Goes Shopping
83. Ravin – Of the Warrens
84. Murderer
85. Chala’s Knees
86. Treacherous Dealings
87. Empowered
88. Princess Assassin (Part One)
89. Princess Assassin (Part Two)
90. Princess Assassin (Part Three)
91. The Butcher and the Blight
92. To Fight Fire with Fire (Epilogue)
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ASHBORN LORE
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PROLOGUE
The Ashen Realm. Year 3744 of the Age of Realms.
Primordial Ekanai would live again.
They called him the Reaper, but as he crossed the gate between realms, Ekanai feared his own life would be reaped in this world of volcanoes and ash. Not in the warmth of his home, surrounded by family and fellow warriors. Alone, in a rocky wasteland of jagged peaks and barren plains smothered by soot.
Crowning this blighted landscape stood a jungle of dark and sinister towers that pierced the sky, disappearing into distant lightning clouds that raged eternally.
The ruined city of the gods.
Fabled, rumored, but never seen. Because those who laid eyes on it never returned to tell the tale.
Fate had not been kind to the lost city. For millennia, it remained abandoned—a mausoleum of an era long forgotten.
Ekanai was beginning to understand why.
Prana—the energy of life—was thick in this realm, and it grew heavier the deeper he went. It corrupted his body like ink bleeding through paper, suffocating him with each step. Whatever tragedy befell the gods had also tainted the very air, rendering it toxic to life.
Even so, Ekanai had not wasted lifetimes seeking this place only to turn back now. He persisted doggedly on, edging closer and closer to death’s door.
And then there were the wolves.
Pure black, with flames of prana that burned off their hides, their minds had broken long ago. No longer capable of intelligent thought, they swarmed Ekanai, driven only by instinct and addled hatred.
Not just one or even a dozen. Hundreds. Each powerful enough to end a warrior in an instant.
To a Primordial, they were merely insects.
Ekanai silenced the pain that ravaged his body and channeled his prana to the eight-spoked tattoo on his chest. The white symbol of the Akh Nara flared to life, powering his spell.
The Ash Wolves swarmed… and Balancer of Scales activated.
An invisible force pressed, crushing every living being within thirty paces of Ekanai. With their weight amplified a hundredfold, the wolves’ assault ended before it even began, leaving behind a ring of pulverized corpses.
The stragglers paid their fallen brethren no mind.
Ekanai’s tattoo glowed with prana once again, and Clarity gave Ekanai a glimpse into the next few seconds—two Ash Wolves approaching from behind.
He dodged, but his boots caught in the shin-deep ash. Ekanai allowed himself to fall and avoided a razor-sharp paw that could’ve decapitated him. Dance of the Shadow Demon activated, and instead of crashing into the ground, he sunk into the depths of his own shadow.
An instant later, Ekanai materialized from beneath the wolf, his katar’s dagger blade gleaming, piercing its heart as cleanly as splitting water.
The other Ash Wolf fared no better. A razor-sharp throwing disk between the eyes ended the beast even before its body hit the ground.
Ekanai placed his soot-blackened boot on the corpse’s tough hide, eyeing the beasts that circled him. His calloused, leathery fingers grasped his throwing disk, and with a firm tug, dislodged his trusty friend.
Then the poisonous prana finally took effect.
Ekanai may have earned his title as the Reaper, but time was unrelenting. As his heart seized, and his knees buckled, and agony ripped through his body, Ekanai was no different from any mortal at the end of their life.
With a vain hope, Ekanai’s fi
The ordeal distracted Ekanai, and he failed to notice a nearby beast before its bladed limb slipped through his back and out of his chest. His vision blurred… But pain was nothing to him. He thrived in pain. He consumed it.
Ekanai forced himself to his feet, and a slice of his prana-empowered blade bisected the beast that impaled him. The same prana density that was killing him supercharged Yuma’s Embrace, and though unable to purge the taint from his blood, made short work of healing his stab wound.
Step after step, he inched closer to the lost city through sheer force of will. He was so frustratingly close. Closer than any prior incarnation had ever come.
He fell to his knees, his body no longer obeying him. For the first time in decades, the icy grip of fear held him.
Ekanai had wriggled free from the bony fingers of death too many times to worry about his own life. But there were other, darker terrors he feared more. He’d seen the spatial ruptures himself—witnessed them corrupt the very fabric of reality.
There was nothing he could do against it. To do so was to defy Fate itself, and only the symbol on his chest possessed such might. And it was incomplete.
The tattoo yearned for the almighty power that lay deep within this city of the gods, buried under rubble and time. Power that made Ekanai’s current abilities look like child’s play.
Ekanai pressed his fingers against the tattoo. With each rebirth, the Primordial’s existence faded. His sense of purpose, once thick like blood, had diluted to water. If his successor failed to unlock the full potential of the tattoo, that would be the true end.
Not just for him, but for all.
Primordial Ekanai would live again. Yet his next incarnation would be the last.
ARC 1
1
THE END OF YOUR WORLD. THE BEGINNING OF MINE
Human Realm. Hiranya Kingdom. Five Hundred Years Later…
Vir tiptoed across the rickety wooden floorboards of his log cabin’s kitchen in the predawn darkness. With a single candle for illumination, he picked out a small log from a firewood bin, then reached into the cooler.
It wasn’t just the chill of the Magic Cold orb that sent shivers up his spine as he rummaged around for a banana, today was his fifteenth birthday—the last possible day for him to manifest a magical affinity. Today, he’d learn whether he was destined for greatness or doomed to mediocrity.
The chances were beyond slim—not after a lifetime without a drop of magic. Yet hope was merely a difficult flame to douse.
Tiptoeing back to the kitchen, Vir slipped the log into their clay stove. The oat porridge bubbled shortly thereafter, reminding him to give it a few stirs.
He gave the porridge a quick taste. “That oughta do it,” he whispered, careful not to wake his father. But Rudvik’s loud snores told him there was little risk of that. The big man slept as hard as he worked.
Transferring the sweet-smelling meal to a wooden bowl, he set it on the dining table alongside the banana, leaving the stove’s door open to radiate heat back into the cabin.
Vir basked in its warmth, but only for a moment. Grabbing his rucksack, he pinched off the flame, then felt his way to the door. Even from here, he could feel the bone-chilling draft from outside.
He carefully donned his shoes, ensuring he didn’t enlarge the holes that riddled the worn fabric.
“Have a great day at work, Father,” Vir whispered under his breath. There would be no breakfast for him—the recent famine hadn’t been easy on the village, and Rudvik needed the food more than he did.
The biting cold hit the young man with the weight of a woodchopper’s ax, and his worn shirt and frayed pants did little to protect him. He scarcely noticed, all thoughts occupied with his upcoming magic aptitude test.
“Neel!” he whispered to his canine friend. “Time to go, boy!”
The droopy-eared, brown-and-white bandy stepped out of its warm wooden kennel and nuzzled him. Neel’s beady eyes, squat snout, and pudgy legs didn’t paint a picture of agility, but the animal was deceivingly quick on its four paws.
Bandies were loyal canines, and Neel had been part of the family for years.
“Atta boy. We’ve got a big day today, so let’s hop to it!” Vir had long ago learned that the best way to get warm was to get moving, so he did exactly that.
Brij was rather large for a village, almost the size of a small town, and Vir’s home sat on its outskirts. The village itself was nothing to look at, but the Godshollow? Now that was a different story. The vast ancient forest was full of wonder and danger.
A solid ten minutes of walking past farms on a muddy dirt road put him onto the central village streets with its many spider-web-like alleyways. The angular, clay buildings grew taller and denser as he approached the village’s center where his destination—the temple—was located.
“You ready, boy?” he said, turning over the hourglass in his pocket. A makeshift thing that was always on the verge of falling apart.
Neel barked and wagged his tail.
He took a deep breath and sped up. Sweat flew from Vir’s brow as he bounded from crate to barrel to pole, leaping his way through the narrow alleys with deft footwork beyond his fifteen years of age.
Dawn was less than an hour away, and the sky had brightened with a beautiful blue glow. The village of Brij couldn’t afford Magic Lamp streetlights, but the occasional Magic Candle orb illuminated the path well enough. His night vision had always been better than the village kids. Especially useful for avoiding the many piles of Ash’va dung that littered the alleyway. Or running away from Camas and his lackeys.
Vir avoided the problem entirely—streets were too risky. He could do better.
This was the best part of his morning routine. Each day, he’d time himself through the obstacle course he’d fashioned along his route, always trying to push his limits. With every attempt, he iterated, refined, and optimized his handholds and his speed, ever in pursuit of that next morsel of time. In pursuit of safety from those who sought to do him harm.
For Vir, this wasn’t a hobby or something he did out of boredom. It was a survival skill.
He jumped onto a barrel and leaped off, grabbing a horizontal pole that jutted out above the alley. Using his momentum, he swung up onto the roof of a nearby trellis and sprinted over the narrow wooden beams with perfect balance.
From here, he had a few options. He could either hop across the balconies on the second floor of the alley, or he could push even higher to the rooftops. The rooftops were easier, but the balconies were shorter. Of course, he chose the latter.
Each balcony had a small railing that served as his balancing beam. He jumped from one to the other, then across the alley to the other side and back again. With his heart pumping full blast, all thoughts of the morning chill were forgotten.
