The opening necklace, so long, so dramatic, with its length as close to the diameter of the sun, hangs on the great aristocracy. Everyone is there for that ascension ceremony, rarely. They are there by the central palace, where it is half hidden under the mushy forest. The middle class sits in the golden palace. There, they sit on their golden seats with their respect splashing up onto the aristocrats. The aristocrats in return, splash back their own arrogance to express their honor. The king appears to appreciate his aristocracy for, without them, there will be no continuous meetings exchanged between the three classes. 

Mariak, who is elected as the most prestigious of all the middle class, appears to be the most suitable to ascend as a new aristocrat. One flaw she possesses is that she pitied the peasants for their inadequate contribution to the empire. However, her pity does not mean pity, but it is viewed as an insult with no communications exchanged. It is then that she fails to perceive the foundations of the empires, which rely deeply on the peasants. Without them, the empire can no longer sustain its bankrupt economy. Without them, the existence of the empire will collapse instantaneously. There, Mariak fails to perceive this. 

Even though the peasants experiences torture, they hide their disapproval. For truly, they respect the upper classes. The peasants long to join the middle class. Ava, the leader of all peasants, greets the new aristocrat with her full respect, representing the entire lower ranks. Her desire is to use the ascension of a new aristocrat to then form a solidified alliance between the classes, which will not only benefit the empire itself, but also link up three classes. Therefore, the traditional sacrifices will soon be conducted also on the higher positions, instead of always biased toward the lower class. She desires to reach the goal that all three classes reach equality, where the peasants are not peasants, the middle class are not middle class, and the aristocracy are not aristocracy. Despite her lacking strength, as her position seems to be a particle of salt in the ocean compared to Mariak, she attempts to accomplish her goal. However, she does not perceive the extreme level of arrogance that Mariak possesses. She also fails to comprehend the arrogance of the empire will not only continue the tradition, but maximize the tradition to its ultimate heights. 

With the grandhall now chanting, rows of lower class humans rise up from the central stairs constructed on the ground. They are the chosen ones for this ceremony. Many are around a dozen of the same characters, of which are missing many of the major body components. Their bodies are cramped with the most repellent smell possible. From a distance, it can be interpreted that these “uncivilized humans" are mistreated severely. This smell pleases the aristocrats greatly, as it allows them to remember their noble glory back during their own ascension ceremonies. These poor victim’s facial expressions are seen as both frightened and impotent. 

“Please, spare our lives,” one pleases with a fragile voice. “We’ve done no harm! No harm at all!”

“This is unfair!” says a bald-headed man missing a leg. “How dare you watch us suffer while you devious artisticrats obtain everything you want! This is no justice! No justice at all!”

Most aristocats pay no attention to their remarks after all. Instead, they begin to take their remarks as hilarious jokes.  

“Look at them struggling, but can do nothing to escape! Instead, they only shake dreadful words up on our aristocrats. However, they do not know that these remarks only demonstrate their foolishness!” says a newborn aristocrat.

“Exactly!” comments another newborn. “If these limping humans are to be my house slaves, I will beg the gods to travel in time and strike lightning upon their holy ancestors, so that they may never be born at all!”

“You all are too generous! If I am in their positions, listening to our offending remarks, I will rather dispatch myself by not breathing, than experiencing these tremendous insults.” says the third aristocrat.

“Quiet!” yells Anastasia, the leader of the aristocrats, “You immature newborns. Do you not perceive that the ceremony is about to begin!” 

After these firm words are performed, the three young aristocrats swiftly return to their seat, settling their unruly behavior. 

The ascension ceremony is conducted when an aristocrat is too incompetent to serve in the nation’s top-tier positions. The ceremony will officially remove the old aristocrats and replace them with the most dominating member of the middle class, which is Mariak at this ceremony. Elizabeth, the retired member of the aristocracy, is too fragile to serve in the court. Her expression is like an industrious cow, laboring daily for its owner. Until the burden is finally too harsh for the cow, ultimately crushing its rustic back. Elizabeth served her determination for sixty years, until her decree was dispatched, which she immediately requested for retirement. After many requests were sent to the king himself, he reluctantly accepted the ascension ceremony. After years of affectionate service, the aristocrat does not resign in tears, but resigns with a bang of relief. The relief of finally achieving the internal peace that she deserves. Her job will proceed to the new aristocrat, Mariak. 

The new aristocrat seems to appreciate Mariak’s honor. She steps delightfully up on the spectacular platinum staircase leading to the king’s throne. The king dresses himself in the most extravagant banner possible: pieces of glittering gold cover on his shoulders, columns of sparkling diamonds emerge on his backs, and an ancient platinum hat sits on his head. His expression is an act of merriment. His eyes gaze at the ascending Mariak. They are amused, so amused to the extremity as if his eyeballs are to bulge out instantaneously. As Mariak proceeds further, the flawless magicians begin to chant loudly.

“We shall praise for the new aristocrat,

We shall rise the new femininity,

We shall festive our minds on the astonishing tranquility,

We shall contemplate the “uncivilized” perish under the glimpse of the full moon,

We shall extract the beauty of our foregoing aristocrat and descend the traits onto our contemporary aristocrat,

We shall perceive the wills of the king be accorded onto our dear Mariak.”

“Praise, our comrades,

Praise to our worthy Mariak, who accept this suffering duty,

Praise to our esteemed Elizabeth, who spends her life contributing with her own power.

Praise to our beloved nation, and let it fly with exceptional heights,

Praise, our comrades, Praise!”

As the words slowly dwindles, Mariak appears alluringly next to the king. Despite her arrogant behavior toward the depreciate peasants, Mariak expresses respect toward the king. The king glances at Mariak with a stern of elegance. The king is seizing this opportunity, the opportunity of corresponding with another charming youngster. He believes Mariak’s extravagant manners match the overall personality of the nation. It is almost as if he contains a particular feeling toward Mariak, a feeling of both attraction and adequacy. 

“Mariak, our honored aristocrat,” the king says. “Come to receive our most elegant gift!”

“Thank you, my most grandiose majesty,” says Mariak. “My most prestigious honor will be to receive such a high-ranking gift!”

“Oh, no nothing, a matured eagle is no doubt able to expand its most aggressive wings,” the king respondes gracefully. 

As the king opens the mysterious box, a magnificent glimpse of a golden necklace came into view. The necklace is a mixture between gold and diamonds. The gold is both ancient and heavy, simply touching it resembles a feeling of a powerful god. The diamond is prestigious in its own ways, the trillion cuts reflects the glory of a triumphed champion, returned to its nation after a lengthy battle. It is this spectacular necklace that will be presented onto Mariak, same to all other aristocrats. 

“After you receive this gift, you will officially become a member of the aristocracy,” says the king. “Beloved Mariak, do you possess such an optimistic mind to serve in the great aristocracy?”

“Fully! I guarantee a promise to everyone attending this ceremony, that I will guide this nation into reaching expansive heights!” pronounces Mariak.

“Very well then, let us welcome and celebrate our new eagle, the eagle that represents a new era! Let the ceremonial ritual begin!”

* * *

The ritual is initiated. Everyone observes with absolute silence. The prevailed silence is so widespread that one can perceive the sound of a falling needle from miles away. The aristocrats sit up in the gallery, luxuriously enjoying this performance. The middle class sit below the aristocrats; they too, are appreciating the show. The bottom most lower class sit with completely nervousness engulfed on their faces, with Ava still in desperate hopes. Their nervousness is caused by the reluctance to watch their own class suffer under this ritual. Further, their fears of being selected as the next victim for the ritual aggravates their nervousness. It was as if this entire ritual is biased toward the lower ranks, which turns their face purple. 

From a perspective, pot arises into sight. The pot is not particularly large, but instead is covered in multitudinous spiderwebs and cracks. Smokes of toxic chemicals lingered through the opening of the pot. If an animated bull were to be positioned inside the pot, it would disperse into pieces within momentary seconds. However, it is this particular chemical that serves as the baseline of the potion. Consequently, blocks of powerful forces begin to impel the “uncivilized humans” next to the pot. 

Many of them attempt to rebel against the force, but it is simply too strong to be challenged. Bruised faces, broken legs, and scraped knees cover the civilians. The stronger the force grows, the closer the humans are to the grand pot. Until there are no apparent spaces left between them, they finally cease the struggle. Now the force shifts its direction, blowing frosty, rapid air upwards toward the pot. The “uncivilized humans,” row by row, feel the compression similar to that of a black hole, about to gradually vanquish them into the pot. Seconds by seconds the height increases, minute by minute the proximity draws. Until suddenly, these humans are directly above the massive pot, hanging swiftly in the air. Except for one difference, their consciousness now ceases to exist; their once happy face once filled with joyful memories now disappeared. The only awareness they still contain is their destined fate to the paths of death. 

“Now, may the full potion construction begin!” pronounced Anastasia.

The initiation process is complete and the malevolent force shifts once again. This time, however, blowing hot wind straight into the poisonous pot. The pitiful “uncivilized humans,” unable to resist such coercion, are like moths compelled into fire, burning suddenly to death. One by one they drop into the pot, group by group sacrifices are committed, but not a single rejection is heard in the auditorium. Their already weakened skeletons, combining with the fatal chemicals in the pot, turns their bones into rich nutrients. The “uncivilized humans” no longer feel pain, no longer express hatred, and are no longer alive. Minutes and minutes escaped after other nutrients are thoroughly added: a drop of lion blood, a tail of a newborn tadpole, flesh from a deceased witch, and eyes from a ferry unicorn. All gradually dissolves into the now blue colored potion. 

While the machine thoroughly performs the stirring action, Mariak’s expression is as content as a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, reflecting joy everywhere in her body. Its arrogance now appears to its full strength, displaying pretentious gazes at the boiling pot. And this is also subsequent to her lack of pity, which also exceeds the supremacy. All the newborns feel the same as Mariak, as they contain no tranquility, no mercy, and no maturity. But the true hierarchical families? They are once arrogant, filled with rage and pitiless toward every natural being. Throughout time, however, their impulsive manners gradually diminishes, leaving the once unconscious behavior behind, and already undergoes a major enlightenment. The enlightenment of a new awareness, like they've gained a new perspective of the world. The matured aristocrats now question the purpose of this empire, the motive of this ceremony, and reason for their presence. They have sensed an irregularity to this system, but fail to perceive this contortion. But it is also strictly against the rule to question this common perception, for they will be the next victims boiled down in the pot. 

As Mariak begins to travel down the path of royalty, to receive her ascension potion, the machine has already finished the stirring period. And now, the principal element? The retired aristocrat herself, the almighty Elizabeth, now is excavated toward the direction of the pot. The old aristocrat’s expression is sullen, an expression without any fear nor concerns. For she, the ultimate supremacy, is the first to comprehend the true definition of the empire. The true laws and orders that are set in stone, after serving generations to come. Therefore, this new understanding now brought her no fear of death. 

Here the mysterious force approaches again, stronger and stronger by the passing of minutes. The fallen star does not protest, simply traveling with the drift, thinking of it as a compliment rather than a misery. As she slowly descends in the pot, the final ingredient solidifies, and the potion is complete. 

“Let the extracted nectar be the gold of the ceremony!” yells Anastasia.

Contentedness appears on Mariak’s facial expression. She hurries herself to the extracted nectar from the potion and begins gulping the “delicious” juices from the boiled ingredients. The nutrients in the dissolved pieces is the key component to the act of the ascension, for it represents a new replacement. 

“The fragrant smell of the potion attracts me to it!” says a newborn aristocrat. 

“Exactly! I am excessively jealous of Mariak’s position currently.” another aristocrat pronounces bitterly. 

The old aristocrats utter nothing; they have witnessed more ascension ceremonies than they can count. Their interests first pique as a newborn, then slowly diminishes as years pass, and is now starting to be replaced by dislike. 

The drinking continues for two minutes. As Mariak finally ceases, all three classes rose in union, applauding the final act of ascension. When Mariak sees herself in such honor, her excitement can not be described in words. As she slowly walks up the aristocracy gallery, a sense of tranquility still displays on her face. Yet her arrogance remains unrestrained, full and grand. 

Now the ceremony closes and here returns to normality. The opening necklace still hangs on the great aristocracy. The central palace still occupies the lush forest. And the wealthy aristocracy still splashing their arrogance. All seems peaceful. All is still. For only one difference though, the lives of thousands sacrificed will never recur, never come back to the empire again. But yet, this eminent cycle continues.