Ash Ascendant: Chapter 17

Hi all, 

Here’s the final chapter for the week. The facility reveals a shocking secret, and Ash starts training with Mustards’ body cultivation technique.  

Chapter 17

Ash sat across from Winona at Mustard's kitchen table. Steam rose from the bowls of beef stew he'd prepared, the chunks of meat and vegetables swimming in rich brown gravy. 

Winona ate with precise movements that seemed almost mechanical in their perfection. Each spoonful was measured, her posture remained ramrod straight, and she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin after every few bites. Her dining etiquette was a dead giveaway—she'd been raised in wealth or influence, someone taught to mind their manners at formal dinners. 

Ash had attempted conversation several times during the meal, commenting on everything from the weather to asking about her Pokemon. His efforts were met with either stony silence or single-word responses that killed any hope of dialogue. The awkward atmosphere finally drove him to break protocol.

"Do you need help?" Ash asked.

Winona looked up from her bowl, her violet hair falling across one eye. "Excuse me?"

"With that massive stick up your ass."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you looking for a fight?"

"No, but some conversation would be nice. It's a common thing around meal times." 

"I'm not much for conversation." 

"You talk to Mustard alright," Ash pointed out. 

"I've known him for a long time."

"I see. You're shy. It takes time for you to warm up to people."

Winona frowned. She didn't appreciate his assessment of her character.

"What's in the bundle that has the mayor so eager to take it for himself?" Ash asked, nodding toward the wrapped package she'd kept within arm's reach since arriving.

"I can't say." Her hand moved unconsciously toward the bundle.

"Come on. I think I've already proven that I can be trusted not to steal it."

Winona pursed her lips, but before she could respond, the distinctive sound of beating wings came from outside. Ash stood and moved to the window, pushing aside the worn curtain to see Mustard's massive Pidgeot landing in the clearing. The old master climbed down from its back, his usual easy demeanour replaced by an expression dark enough to curdle milk.

"What did the mayor say?" Winona asked as soon as he entered.

"I managed to convince him to leave you alone,” Mustard said, "but it was harder than I thought it would be."

"That's good.” Winona paused, searching his face. “But there's something you're not telling me." 

Mustard grunted. "The mayor kicked you out of the Rangers. That was his condition for leaving you alone."

"That's fine. After my conflict with the Rangers, I wasn't going to return anyway." 

"Why do you think the mayor isn't intimidated by you?" Ash interjected, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe it's that you're an ageing geriatric?"

"Shut it, brat. I'm not so old that I can't kick your arse." Mustard's familiar fire returned to his eyes.

Ash grinned. "For now."

"I don't know what's going on with the mayor," Mustard continued, settling heavily into a chair. "I think he may have a supporter from the upper floors that's giving him the courage to be so bold."

"Who do you think it is?" Winona asked.

"Wouldn't have a clue. I don't get involved in that nonsense, remember?" Mustard scratched his chin thoughtfully. "By the way, what are you going to do now?"

“I don’t know."

"You're welcome to stay here until you figure things out. You'll have to put up with the brat's presence, though."

A small smile crossed Winona's face.

"And that's my cue to leave," Ash said, standing. "Mum's going to be worried about me."

He was halfway to the door when Winona's voice stopped him. She crossed the room and pressed two compact disc-shaped devices into his hand. They were sleek and expensive-looking.

"What are these?" Ash asked.

"A gift. As a thank you for saving me. They're Pokenavs. They allow you to communicate with another person anywhere on the floor."

Ash raised an eyebrow. "These are expensive. I didn't save you in expectation of receiving a gift."

Winona reached for them.

"That doesn't mean I don't want them," Ash said quickly, pulling back. "I will humbly accept your gratitude."

Winona shook her head and turned back towards the kitchen, but not before Ash caught the ghost of a smile.

He looked down at the Pokenavs in his hand, hardly believing his luck. Each device probably cost more than eighty thousand pokedollars. He could give one to his mum, ensuring they could always stay in contact no matter where his training took him. 

The lower floors lacked cell towers, making communication devices both rare and expensive. They required powerful long-range capabilities to function effectively. It was similar to television. The sets themselves might be affordable, but accessing the upper floor channels costs a fortune in monthly fees that most residents couldn't dream of affording.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Ash returned to the city as dusk settled over Fortree, the fading light casting long shadows through the massive trees. As he approached his apartment, his enhanced senses picked up several presences inside, including a Pokemon whose power made his skin prickle. 

He pulled Giru from his bag and directed it to hide among the dense canopy. Though the robot's stealth capabilities worked well against weaker Pokemon, he wasn't keen to test them against whatever was radiating such intense energy from his home.

He nearly stepped on Blue as he entered. The Poliwag stood guard at the door, puffing himself up importantly like a miniature bouncer. Ash couldn't help smiling as he scooped up his mum's Pokemon. 

Following the sound of voices, he found his mother holding court in the living room with three elderly ladies. They sat on their newly acquired furniture, each dressed in clothing that probably cost more than most first-floor residents made in a year. James lounged by the window, twirling a rose between his fingers, looking completely at home among the society gathering.

"Ash, you missed dinner," Delia said. "Did anything happen?"

"Mustard had a task for me and it took longer than I thought it would."

Delia nodded, relief crossing her features. "I’m having tea with these fine ladies. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

“This is Lady Margaret." She gestured to a stern-faced woman whose silver hair was pulled back in a severe bun, her posture as rigid as a steel rod. 

"And here's Lady Carrington." A plump woman with laugh lines around her eyes gave him a gentle smile, her round face suggesting someone who enjoyed life's pleasures. 

"And finally, Lady Victoria." The last woman, tall and elegant despite her age, inclined her head slightly. 

Her perfectly maintained appearance and sharp eyes suggested someone used to being obeyed. A Liepard lay at her feet, its spotted coat gleaming as it watched Ash through half-lidded eyes. The Dark-type's power radiated through the room-—this was the presence he'd sensed earlier.

Ash observed the scene with mixed feelings. His mother was returning to her old habits of building social networks, just as she had on the first floor. She'd always had a knack for cultivating relationships with people, turning casual acquaintances into valuable allies.

He glanced at James, who offered a cheerful wave. Was this his doing? It shouldn't be this easy to get in these ladies' good graces without outside influence. Then again, his mother was a cultivator now, and that always brought a certain amount of status, even if she was just at the first stage of the Nascent Realm.

James followed him as he retreated to the kitchen.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ash demanded once they were alone, keeping his voice low enough not to carry.

"What are you talking about?"

"My mum and I should be keeping a low profile. There are too many bad elements in this city." 

"Well, your mother thinks differently," James replied. "She was the one who asked me if I could introduce some influential people to her."

"Why would she do that?"

"It's not a bad idea. There are still some good people in the city who would be good to have on your side if the shit hits the fan."

Ash thought about the mayor and his conflict with Mustard, realising James might be right. He needed to have more confidence in his mum. Besides, she looked happy. If anything happened, he could always take her to the underground facility and hide until things died down.

"I made sure to introduce her to people that won't take advantage of her. Well, not too much." James smirked. "I bet they already investigated Delia before they came here. Since you're a powerful cultivator, you might be asked to do some favours for them in return for their help."

Ash nodded. He was fine with that, as long as the favours weren't too troublesome. "Thanks. You can be useful after all."

"Damned with faint praise."

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. Ash went to answer it, then pulled back when he saw the aggressive woman from the garage standing there, her pink hair as gravity-defying as ever.

"Hello, little rat."

She entered without waiting for an invitation, her boots clicking against the floor.

"You're late, Jessie," James said.

"Of course, you know this woman," Ash muttered, eyeing her warily.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jessie demanded. 

"Nothing."

"I also invited Jessie here to meet your mum," James explained smoothly. "She has a lot of influence in certain areas of the city."

Ash wanted to ask what areas, but Jessie's threatening look convinced him to keep quiet. Some questions weren't worth the potential pain of asking.

Jessie walked into the living room, her presence commanding attention immediately. 

Ash dragged James back to the kitchen. "Why did you invite that hellion?"

"She may be a little abrasive, but she has a lot of connections. Don't worry, she won't hurt your mum."

Ash sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Is there any other reason why you came here today?"

James nodded, his usual playful demeanor shifting to something more serious. "Actually, yes. Jessie and I are planning an expedition to the eastern edge of the floor. We have a problem that needs solving. I want to invite you along. It should be happening in a few weeks."

"Why me?"

"Your mechanical engineering knowledge, mostly."

"What's in it for me?"

"Lots of money, naturally. I'll have more details as we get closer to the date. Interested?"

Ash nodded. Besides the money, he was interested in exploring more of the floor. The eastern edge was mainly agricultural land. What would be so important that they would need to travel there? He got the feeling James wasn't telling him something. But James had done enough to earn his trust by this point. Without him, he wouldn't have had the opportunities that he had now.

"How long will this trip last?" Ash asked. 

"A few days at most."

"I'll need to convince Mustard to give me some time off," Ash said. He paused, considering his next words carefully. "I've been meaning to ask you something about him."

"Oh?" James raised an eyebrow.

"How much does he charge for training? I'd like my mum to learn from him as well."

James twirled his rose thoughtfully. "Worried about her ascending to the third floor?" 

When Ash nodded, he continued, "His fees aren't cheap. Though he only teaches basic cultivation and martial arts to his students. The true prize—his body cultivation technique—he keeps closely guarded."

"What do you mean?" Ash's brow furrowed. "He's already agreed to teach it to me."

"Has he really?" James stopped twirling his rose, genuine surprise crossing his face. "Well, well. The old man must see something special in you. But regarding your mother, there might be a simpler solution. With the right influence, we can have her status as a cultivator... overlooked. She could remain classified as your dependent."

"You're telling me the Ascension System has loopholes for the wealthy and connected?" Ash asked.

"To some extent. Does that bother you?"

Ash considered it for a moment. "No," he admitted. "Not in this case. It means my mum won't have to fight at all."

The solution lifted a weight from his shoulders. He'd been increasingly worried about his mother's cultivation progress. Whether due to her late start or natural talent, reaching the Tempering Realm would take her considerable time. Even with cultivation resources, the journey would be lengthy. The prospect of spending years stuck on the second floor while waiting for her to advance wasn't something he could accept.

Besides that, there was the fighting itself. It wasn’t something that his mother would enjoy, and the thought of her getting hurt made his stomach churn. 

No, it was better for him to take the harder path so his mother didn’t have to worry at all. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Ash approached the hidden entrance. The Alolan Diglett were present, but they parted to let him pass uncontested. He placed the mask against his face, its interface materialising instantly. The elevator control appeared in his vision, and moments later the massive hatch opened with a hydraulic hiss.

Inside the facility, Ash headed straight for the factory floor. The automated machinery continued its endless cycle, building robots only to destroy them moments later. He snatched two more spherical robots from the conveyor belt before they could reach the melting station. They activated as soon as he connected to them through the mask.

"Right then," Ash muttered. "Giru One, Two, and Three."

“Giru!” Their single red eyes glowed in acknowledgement. 

The control centre beckoned. Ash spent an hour studying the various interfaces. The robot currently in production, designated R-06, was only one of several models. Schematics showed units designed for construction and maintenance. There was even a combat variant, though its design notes indicated it had never progressed beyond the prototype stage.

"Bit pointless with Pokemon around," Ash said, examining the combat unit's specifications. 

Once he understood enough about the system, Ash initiated the shutdown sequence. The factory's rhythm slowed, then ceased entirely. He wasn't certain the Arceus Fragment's energy was infinite, and he'd rather conserve it for more useful purposes. When he had more time, he would study the entire system in-depth and see what he could do with it. 

His next target was the locked doors he'd noticed earlier. The keycard granted access to the first one, revealing an elevator that plunged deep into the earth. The descent took several minutes, and the display showed they'd dropped hundreds of metres.

The elevator opened onto a vast mining complex. Enormous caverns stretched into darkness, their walls bearing marks of both mechanical and Pokemon excavation. Rail tracks snaked through the tunnels, leading to what appeared to be processing stations.

An office near the entrance caught his attention. Inside, he found technical documents detailing the mine's operation. The ore they'd extracted wasn't any metal he recognised. According to the specifications, it possessed unique properties that made it ideal for advanced robotics.

The technical name meant nothing to him, but the properties were fascinating. When properly refined, the metal could be programmed on a molecular level, allowing it to transform based on electrical signals. The robot's ability to cloak itself relied on this characteristic.

"So that's how the mask works," Ash said, reading further. "The metal responds to cultivation energy the same way it does to electricity."

The mining operation's scale suggested they'd extracted massive amounts of ore. Yet according to the production logs, they'd estimated that only a third had been processed. Most remained in storage, waiting for refinement that never came.

"Why'd they abandon all this?" Ash wondered, examining a map of the mining complex. "What happened that was so urgent they left everything running?"

As Ash rifled through the documents further, a security report caught his eye. Most of it was heavily redacted, but one paragraph remained legible:

"Sample 17-B displays anomalous properties distinct from standard ore extraction. Unlike the programmed responses of refined metal, this strain appears to possess inherent reactivity to cultivation energy. Dr Malcolm has requested all samples be transferred to [REDACTED] for further study. Security concerns regarding [REDACTED] require immediate [REDACTED]..."

"Bloody hell," Ash muttered. "Could this be talking about Steelium?"

He reread the passage carefully. The description matched what he knew about Steelium's properties. While the factory's metal required programming to respond to energy, Steelium naturally resonated with his cultivation.

"Worth testing," he said.

Ash held out his hand towards the nearest robot. He focused his energy the same way he did when manipulating Steelium outside his body. The robot shuddered slightly but remained in place.

Frowning, Ash adjusted his approach. Instead of trying to control the whole robot, he focused on its outer shell. This time he felt a response—not as smooth as Steelium, but definitely there. With considerable effort, he managed to lift the robot a few inches.

"Different, but similar enough to work with," he mused, letting the robot settle back down. 

As he headed for the elevator, Ash's mind raced with possibilities. If Steelium was somehow connected to this facility's technology, what else might he discover about its true capabilities?

His mind flashed to the museum's display cases filled with strange devices. What if they'd been designed specifically for someone with a Steelium Core?

The metal board he'd spotted next to the mask took on new significance. He pictured himself soaring through the air, surfing invisible currents while controlling the board with nothing but his mind and cultivation energy. The image should have seemed ridiculous, but after everything he'd discovered, it didn’t sound impossible. 

Back in the main facility, Ash pulled a notebook from his pocket and crossed off the first two objectives—shutting down the factory and exploring the mine. He'd accomplished more than expected, discovering the ore's unique properties and its connection to Steelium. But there were dozens more things to investigate in this facility.

The growing list of possibilities tempted him to spend days exploring the facility. He wanted to understand every system, test every artefact, and uncover every secret. But he couldn't afford that luxury. Mustard's training would suffer if he spent too much time down here.

"Have to be systematic about this," he muttered, tucking the notebook away. "One step at a time."

Ash approached his final objective for the day. The door loomed before him, its weathered sign reading "Burial Chamber." It may hold some answers to what happened to the people in the facility. 

He inserted the keycard but frowned when nothing happened. A panel suddenly slid open in the wall beside the door, revealing what looked like a scanning device. Before he could react, a blue light swept across his face. A soft beep sounded, and the heavy door began to grind open.

"Interesting," Ash muttered, touching the mask. "Another security layer?"

Why would a burial chamber need such specific security? 

Ash stepped inside. The burial chamber stretched into darkness, its true size difficult to gauge even with Ash's enhanced vision. Row upon row of metal coffins filled the vast space, each bearing a nameplate and date of death. Most of the dates clustered around a specific period to nearly two centuries ago, confirming his theory that something catastrophic must have happened. 

The Tower had existed for two and a half centuries. Which meant this facility had been around for most of the tower's lifetime.

At the chamber's far end stood a bank of consoles, their surfaces pristine despite the decades since their last use. Above them hung a massive screen.

"Let's see what you're hiding," he muttered, pressing the power button.

The screen flickered to life, bathing the chamber in a pale blue glow. Dozens of video files appeared, their timestamps spanning several years. One filename immediately caught his attention: "Before the Tower: Invasion."

Ash pressed play on the video.

A man's face filled the screen. He appeared to be in his late forties, with greying hair and tired eyes that spoke of countless sleepless nights. 

"I am Dr Isaac Malcolm," he began, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. "This recording is meant to preserve the truth of what happened to Earth."

Malcolm described the day everything changed. The ships appeared without warning, massive vessels that dwarfed the tallest skyscrapers, hovering over every major city across the globe. World leaders scrambled to respond, setting aside old rivalries in the face of this unprecedented event.

"We tried to welcome them," he said, his voice bitter. "Sent our best diplomats, prepared elaborate ceremonies. Like bloody idiots, we thought they'd come in peace. We rolled out the metaphorical red carpet. Smaller craft poured from the motherships by the thousands. But instead of conventional weapons, they released creatures that defied explanation. Pokemon, as they would later be called, emerged in overwhelming numbers.”

Ash paused the video, his mind reeling. 

Everything he thought he knew about history had just been upended. Did Pokemon invade this planet called Earth? Did that mean his ancestors had been part of that invasion force? Was this connected to the catastrophe that had nearly destroyed the Pokemon world? Had they been searching for a new home, or was there another purpose behind the invasion?

Taking a deep breath, he started the video again.

"The military response was a joke," Malcolm continued. "Fighter jets against creatures that could control the weather. Tanks against monsters that could tear through steel like paper. We threw everything we had at them, and it meant nothing against the more powerful creatures."

Malcolm went on to describe humanity’s resistance. They carved hidden bases into mountains, and bunkers buried beneath city ruins. Scientists worked day and night to understand their enemy, while the soldiers stood guard with salvaged weapons that grew more scarce with each passing day.

"We learned to capture them, eventually," Malcolm said. "Found ways to form bonds, control them like they did. But we were too few, too late. Humanity's numbers dropped from billions to millions, then to mere thousands. Those of us left went deeper underground, always running, always hiding."

His expression darkened. "Our facility focused on developing a weapon—something that could turn the tide. We were close, so bloody close. Then they found us. We should have died right there and then but something unexpected happened." 

Ash found himself holding his breath.  

"We woke up to an alien world, amongst a sea of trees. Half our people were dead, and the facility was gone. The Pokemon remained, but different. Wild, uncoordinated.” 

He leaned closer to the camera. "We discovered that we are some kind of massive structure now—this 'Tower' as the survivors call it. We now occupy this space with our invaders, stitched together from their old world. The few of us left are trying to understand what happened, why we were brought here.” 

Malcolm paused. “Humanity will rise again. These aliens may look just like us but we cannot forget what they did. We will rebuild the facility. We will finish our ultimate weapon. And we will have our revenge."

The video ended abruptly. Ash stared at the blank screen, his mind reeling from the implications. Everything he thought he knew about their world's history had just been turned on its head. 

Ash rose from the chair and made his way to the exit. He needed time to process what he had just learned. What was he supposed to do with this knowledge? How was he supposed to proceed?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The following week passed in a blur of agonising herbal baths and training. Each morning, Mustard examined Ash's meridians with sharp jabs that made him yelp, testing how his body was recovering from the damage he'd caused during his breakthrough.

"Stop being such a baby," Mustard said on the seventh day, pressing various points across Ash's chest and back. "A real cultivator wouldn't flinch at such light touches."

Ash wanted to smack him. "Light touches?" 

From her perch on the porch, Winona watched with poorly concealed amusement. Though still reserved, she'd begun showing more interest in Ash's training sessions.

Mustard's fingers found a particularly sensitive spot near Ash's spine, drawing a startled curse. The old master nodded with satisfaction. "Good news—your core has stabilised. The damage to your meridians has also healed." 

"So no more herbal baths?" 

Mustard nodded. “Beyond repairing your body, these baths will help accelerate the gains from learning my body cultivation technique. Any more would only give diminishing returns.”

Ash sighed in relief.  

Mustard stepped back, studying Ash critically. "Right then. Your body's ready to begin proper training. Time to establish your baseline with the Iron Echo Style."

"Iron Echo Style?" Ash asked, rubbing his sore muscles. "Did you come up with that ridiculous name yourself?"

"Quiet, boy." Mustard pulled out his pipe, tamping down the tobacco. "This cultivation method has been around longer than you've been alive. And as it happens, it's perfect for someone with your particular abilities."

The old master shifted his weight subtly, and suddenly his presence filled the clearing. Though he hadn't moved dramatically, something about his stance radiated an immovable solidity. "The core principle is simple—turning defence into offence. Using an opponent's strength against them."

From her seat on the porch, Winona straightened, her usual detachment replaced by keen interest. "You're actually teaching him that style?"

"You know about it?" Ash asked.

"I've seen Mustard use it before." She shook her head slowly. "But I thought you never took students for this style. You've turned down dozens of people who've asked."

"The boy has potential." Mustard's eyes fixed on Ash. "If he can learn to control his impatient nature. Now then, enough talk. Into the first stance."

Ash mimicked the position Mustard had shown, his muscles immediately protesting as he tried to hold the awkward pose. Sweat dripped onto the packed earth beneath his feet as Mustard circled him slowly, occasionally prodding his posture with a wooden staff.

"The Iron Echo Style isn't about raw power," Mustard explained, tapping Ash's knee to adjust its position slightly. "It's about reflection—taking what's thrown at you and sending it back doubled."

"But wouldn't it be faster to just overwhelm them directly?" Ash asked through gritted teeth as his legs trembled.

Mustard snorted. "That kind of thinking leads most cultivators to an early grave.” 

He slid smoothly into the Mountain stance, his feet seeming to root into the very earth. "Every position, every movement, must become instinctive. Your body needs to respond without thought."

"How long does that take?" 

"Years to master completely. But you'll see the first benefits within weeks if you don't slack off." Mustard transitioned into the River stance with fluid grace. "Each position flows naturally into the next, like water finding its path."

Ash struggled to maintain his form as the weights Mustard had wrapped around his ankles and wrists seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. The bands were infused with energy that somehow multiplied their mass, making them feel five times heavier than they looked.

"Channel your energy through your meridians," Mustard instructed. "Let it reinforce your muscles and bones. This is the beginning of the Iron Echo Shell technique."

Ash focused, directing his cultivation energy as instructed. The familiar warmth spread through his limbs, but something felt different. Instead of the raw power he usually channelled, this was more controlled, more precise.

Mustard tapped Ash's elbow, correcting its angle. "To get the best out of this technique, you need to be solid enough to withstand those attacks."

"Is that why we're starting with all this stance training?"

"Exactly. No point learning advanced techniques if a strong breeze can knock you over. The Iron Echo Shell will eventually become your greatest defence, but it needs a proper physical foundation to build upon."

Ash nodded, understanding dawning. Everything Mustard taught seemed to emphasise this return to basics, rebuilding his cultivation from the ground up.

"Right then," Mustard said. "Transition to River stance. Slowly. Maintain your energy flow through the movement."

Ash began the shift, struggling to keep his balance as the weighted limbs threw off his centre of gravity. This was going to be a long day.

"Remember," Mustard called out as he headed inside. "Four hours in that stance. Then we'll start the real training."

Ash bit back a groan. Sometimes he wondered if Mustard was trying to kill him.

So, what do you think? In the next chapter, a time skip as Ash continues to train, and learn more about the facility's secrets. 

Thanks for reading.