The moment Hajun stepped through the final gate of the Tower, the world changed.
Gone were the twisted stairs and endless trials—replaced by a sky of golden lightning and floating islands veiled in divinity. The Divine Realm.
Each step he took echoed like a war drum across the heavens.
"...He's here."
Across the realm, thrones trembled. Celestial beings paused mid-prayer. The gods, once confident in their dominion, felt a sliver of unease creep down their spines.
One of them, cloaked in feathers and fire, whispered, "The Mortal returns…"
High above, a majestic temple stood—crafted from the bones of fallen stars and etched with the names of gods. Justine stood there, clad in divine white, eyes closed.
She felt the tremor in the realm. Her fingers twitched.
"Hajun... You really made it," she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of awe and dread.
Behind her, a lower god spoke in panic, "My Lady Justine, should we summon the pantheon?!"
She opened her eyes.
"No... He's come for me first."
A moment later, lightning split the sky.
Hajun descended.
His mortal frame burned with the system's glow—copy skills circling him like dragons, his gaze colder than the void between stars.
Justine smiled faintly, sorrow flickering in her golden eyes. "I thought I was ready to face you…"
He landed without a sound. The divine ground cracked.
"You're not," Hajun said.
And with that, the storm began.
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