Is The Film Ascension Based On A True Story?

My uncle got obsessed with the Great Work, fasting and doing breathwork at home every day. After he passed out from low blood sugar, they also found a stone. He insisted it was the Philosopher's Stone, and that he was almost there. I spent three days working on him, got him to believe in science, and had the stone taken out. Once he was eating properly again, his labs came back into the normal range. Then he came across AI-generated videos about people achieving immortality in the modern world, and decided I was the one who'd ruined him. He drugged me with sleeping pills, and while I was out, he threw me off the roof. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they took him to the hospital. This time, I'm going to watch exactly how he ascends.

Maeve Thalorien spent five years in a cell for a crime she doesn't remember committing. They called her parents traitors. Said they betrayed the kingdom. And then they erased them. On the day she turns twenty, Maeve is released-not as a free woman, but as a weapon. Sent straight into Aetherion Academy, where bonded beasts choose their riders and the kingdom's deadliest heirs are forged. Some bond with phoenixes. Some with wolves. Some with creatures powerful enough to burn cities to ash. But the most dangerous bonds were the ones that vanished after the war. Maeve was taught they turned on humanity. That they were lost. Uncontrollable. Evil. She was taught a lot of things. And the sky has a habit of remembering what people try to forget. The moment Maeve steps into the academy, the lies begin to crack. Whispers follow her name. The Viremont heir watches her like a problem he can't solve. And something ancient stirs beneath the world-something that should not exist anymore. Because when the bonding ceremony begins... the sky remembers her. And so does what it was never meant to give back. Some bonds are chosen. Some are forced. And some were never supposed to return at all.

Ley Baler died. However, he later discovered that he has nowhere to go because a war of goddesses erupted in the world of the deceased and destroyed the kingdom of the dead! Poor him and his fellow souls! Thankfully, there was another kind and beautiful goddess who saved him, and even turned him into a Skyworld dweller. However, since he is not a natural-born deity, he would have to create followers and believers on earth, otherwise, his weak spirit will slowly wane till it reduces to not even a speck of dust in the great wide universe. The challenge though is that his powers have nothing to do with healing or anything useful. So how would he gather followers? What should he do when his abilities are more suited for construction sites?! Follow Ley's journey as he established his own church, discover why the kingdom of the dead was attacked, and attain real godhood through his weird, no, amazing abilities.

In a ravaged Earth where fallen angels and their offspring the Nephilim walk the world humans known as Hunters fight back. Their mission? To hunt and kill the Nephilim and save the women the angels are taking for breeding purposes. What happens when one Hunter finds herself captured by the enemy? Will the truth she finds bring society to its knees

As the only expert in the world capable of rescue dives below 3,000 feet, I received a once-in-a-lifetime salvage contract worth tens of millions of dollars. I had dived in those same waters over a decade ago. My son's research submersible had been damaged on the ocean floor. After his oxygen ran out, he suffocated in the dark. The grief nearly destroyed me. My husband, Griffin Lattimer, held me through it, staying by my side through countless miserable nights. I found out later that he had personally redirected the only rescue vessel capable of reaching the depths our son was at to save his childhood friend's daughter. That girl had merely choked on a mouthful of water in the shallows. I divorced Griffin and threw myself into deep-sea salvage like a woman possessed, diving over and over until I knew the undercurrents of those waters better than I knew my own home. I never wanted another child to die the way mine did. Today brought the same stretch of ocean, the same crushed hull, the same depleted oxygen, and the same impossible odds. When I opened the client's file, I went completely still. I recognized the name and face inside instantly. I would never forget either of them for as long as I lived. I smiled and slid the folder back across the table to my partner. "I can't take this one."

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.