Elaria's hand shimmered with power as she wove images into the Void.
Golden threads of memory, time, and possibility danced in the air, unfolding like constellations forming a map. Her voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of gravity—of truth weighed by centuries.
"The Tower," she began, "is eternal."
Around them, the darkness trembled as a silhouette emerged—impossibly vast. A spiraling monolith rising beyond the clouds, layered with radiant rings like planets orbiting a star. From the ground, it looked no different than an endless column piercing the sky, but from above—Orion saw it. Floor after floor, each one a *world* unto itself.
"Each floor is the size of multiple Earths. Some are oceans without end. Others—deserts, empires, war-torn wastelands, or divine sanctuaries. All are trials. Each one meant to test body, soul, and spirit."
The Tower loomed in silent defiance of time. It pulsed like a heartbeat in the cosmos.
"Every world it touches is given a choice," Elaria continued. "Climb—or face the consequences. If a world refuses to send climbers within fifty years, the Tower responds. Not with wrath—but with pressure. It sends what your kind call *dungeons*—gates into fractured pockets of unreality, where monsters spawn, time shifts, and death lingers in the walls."
Images shimmered through the void.
Orion saw cities on fire. Ruins swallowed by darkness. Caverns that breathed like living things. He saw brave souls charging into abyssal gates, and others cowering as entire districts vanished overnight.
"But if even *those* are ignored," Elaria said softly, "then the Tower begins its final escalation."
The vision twisted.
It showed a city—massive, fortified with walls of steel and mana, bustling with lights and drones. Then… a sound like glass shattering echoed through the sky.
A barrier, golden and crystalline, dropped around the entire city like a dome. No one could leave. No one could enter.
And from the outside… *they came*.
Waves of monsters—beasts too large for the streets, insects that blotted the sky, humanoids clad in void-forged armor—poured into the city. Every hour, a new tide. Every wave more devastating than the last.
"*Tower Sieges*," Elaria said. "Judgment for a world that refused evolution. Cities are sealed, and the Tower sends foes it considers balanced. If powerful defenders exist, so too will powerful enemies. The siege ends only when every 'boss' is defeated."
Orion watched a siege's aftermath—half a city in ruins, survivors crawling from shelter, the air thick with ash and sorrow.
But among the rubble… were survivors. Changed. Glowing. *System-bearers*.
"The Tower grants a *System* only to those who choose to participate. Those who enter dungeons. Those who fight the sieges. And those brave enough to climb."
She turned to Orion, her voice barely above a whisper now.
"The world you're going to… is Earth."
He looked up sharply. "My Earth?"
She hesitated. Then shook her head. "No. A parallel branch. A version very much like yours… until the Tower arrived."
The images shifted again.
Orion saw Earth's continents—but changed. North America fractured into three nations. Asia fortified with floating cities and submerged bunkers. Africa turned into a network of energy forests and hunting zones. Oceans swarmed with leviathans. The moon? Colonized by Tower-fused survivors.
And humanity?
*Fewer*.
A digital overlay appeared, highlighting data: **Population—20 billion (Pre-Tower). Current—5.2 billion.**
"They rejected the Tower," Elaria said quietly. "For fifty years, humanity mocked it. Called it fiction. Refused to climb. The first dungeons began appearing during the second generation. Nexus Dungeons—more complex, sentient structures tied directly to the Tower's will."
Images of these dungeons burned into Orion's mind. Some hovered in the sky. Others rooted into mountains. Some were mobile—crawling fortresses that shifted terrain with each breath.
"And then," she said, "fifty more years passed. And the Sieges began."
Elaria's tone grew mournful.
"Entire cities lost. The old nations collapsed. Survivors retreated into fortified strongholds—city-bases surrounded by enchanted barriers, powered by dungeon cores and salvaged technology. Outside these cities…"
She let the vision speak.
Orion saw the wilderness. Tower-scarred forests. Wastelands. Abandoned megacities now overrun by creatures twisted with alien biology. Highway systems broken and reclaimed by wild mana. Bandit clans. Dungeon cultists. Tower warlocks taming Behemoths. Survival zones where rules had long since died.
"No law," Elaria said. "Only power."
Then—hope.
He saw others. People training. Families laughing inside city-bases. Farmers cultivating land shielded by ancient runes. Clans forming. Guilds rising. Systems glowing like tattoos across their skin.
"The System changes everything," she said. "Stats. Classes. Skills. Talents. Soul-engraved potential. The Tower drives evolution not just through danger—but *possibility*."
A silence stretched between them as Orion absorbed it all.
And then, finally, she said, "It is a world shaped by struggle… but one where strength can take you anywhere—even back to the ones you lost."
Her voice trembled slightly. Not with sadness—but belief.
"You have the potential to rise, Orion. The soul of one who protected without regret. Who loved without reward. Who gave everything, even in death. The Tower responds to souls like yours."
Orion remained quiet for a long moment.
The images faded. Only the void remained—gentler now, like a cradle before dawn.
He sat cross-legged, his form slowly shimmering with starlight as his soul stabilized further.
"…A world of trials," he murmured. "Of climbing. Of surviving."
He thought of his mother again. Of her hands, cracked from washing dishes, always holding the family together.
He thought of his siblings—how the youngest refused to sleep without Orion near.
And finally… of *her*.
The girl whose name he barely whispered aloud. The one he didn't even *need* to save that night—but did. Without thinking. Without hesitation.
His jaw clenched.
"I'll climb," he whispered. "I'll ascend. I'll find them again."
It wasn't a promise. It was a *vow*.
Elaria smiled, her hands clasped before her heart. "Then let me give you my blessing."
She approached, radiant as the first bloom of spring. She reached out—and with a single touch to Orion's forehead, warmth surged through him.
A sigil flared to life above his heart: three interwoven petals, forming an endless loop—each petal a different shade: one crimson like blood, one silver like moonlight, and one green as new leaves.
"The *Triple-Bloom Seal*," she said gently. "My divine mark. The sign of Life… Death… and Rebirth."
Orion felt it—not just on his skin, but in his bones, in his soul. A promise of continuation. That no matter how many times he fell, something within him would bloom again.
Elaria stepped back.
"Your path will not be easy. The Tower watches all. But know this—*you are never alone*. My eyes will always find you, when you need them most."
Orion stood.
The void trembled once more. A ripple of light opened in the distance—*a portal*, swirling with fragments of Earth's skies, its shattered dreams, and its defiant hope.
She raised her hand toward it.
"It's time."
But as Orion stepped forward, she lifted her voice one last time.
"Wait."
He turned.
Elaria's expression softened. Her eyes were no longer divine—they were *human*. Warm. Hopeful.
"You've earned your wishes."
The void stilled.
Orion blinked. "Now?"
She nodded. "All of them. Three in total. Speak what your soul desires most. The Tower will not hear them—only I. And I will make them true, within the bounds of fate."
Orion hesitated.
The swirling portal beckoned just ahead—but the weight of what he was about to say rooted him to the floor.
He looked down, breathing in deeply.
Then… he lifted his head.
"I wish…"
And the Void went silent.
Orion sat in silence, staring at the goddess before him. Her presence was ethereal, calming, and yet, the weight of her words hung heavily in the air. **The strength of his soul** was what would determine the outcome of his wishes. He wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure him or warn him, but the implications were clear: his choices were not just important—they were the foundation of his future. The choices he made here would shape who he became, what he would endure, and how he would ascend.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to reflect. This world—this new existence—held many uncertainties, but his goals remained clear: **finding his family**, **surviving in this new world**, and **the importance of connection**, even when walking a solitary path. He thought back to the days he'd spent escaping into stories of heroes and adventures—stories that seemed so far removed from his reality, yet now, here he was, in a situation where his own tale was about to be written.
In those stories, heroes were often defined by the choices they made in the face of danger. Now, with his wishes before him, he knew that he would need to be more than just a survivor—he had to craft his own destiny, not just for him, but for those he might encounter along the way.
Orion nodded to himself and turned his attention to the first wish. The **Welcome Package**. If there was any part of this process that held true to its name, it was the promise of something *powerful*, something that would shape him immediately.
"I'll start with this," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.
The air around him shimmered briefly as the package materialized. He felt a warm, humbling energy surge through his body as it settled next to him. He could feel the raw potential waiting to be unlocked, the foundation for the power to come. But what exactly had he gained?
**Bloodline of True Harmony**.
It was more than just a name. The bloodline intertwined all of his stat categories into one supreme stat—an element of balance, merging opposing forces in perfect harmony. With this, he could house and cultivate every element at once, no longer bound by the typical limitations of affinity or contradiction. He felt the surge of elemental power course through him, *all* of it. Fire, water, earth, wind, light, and shadow. Each one had a place within him, not to fight for dominance but to coexist in a perfect equilibrium.
And then there was the **Custom Class: The All Master**.
It was as if the universe had tailored it just for him. The class was designed for survival, growth, and the ultimate test—facing the Tower and all its parts on his own terms. Passive growth when alone, the ability to solo the challenges of the Tower with strategic buffs, and versatility that allowed him to adapt to any role—offensive, defensive, or supportive. It was as if everything he had hoped for was now within reach. It wasn't just about surviving—it was about thriving.
Orion wasn't done. The second wish loomed, and he already knew what he needed: raw power. The kind that could help him take on the challenges of the Tower and all its parts. He had to make sure that each choice counted.
"I'll take the power to enhance myself... and my growth," he said, speaking his mind as he looked at the goddess.
The air shifted once more, and he felt the weight of his second wish settle into him.
**I Just Rub** was the first. It was simple, yet incredibly effective. Anything he rubbed—be it items, skill books, or equipment—would enhance and evolve it. But it wasn't just about upgrading objects; it also allowed him to copy others' abilities by touch. Every battle, every encounter, would add to his ever-growing arsenal of powers. He could forge advanced equipment with ease and push his potential to new limits.
Then, **Extraction**. It was exactly what he needed: the ability to extract elemental power, skills, or even attributes from each defeated enemy. It wasn't just about taking—it was about learning, adapting, and growing. The more he defeated, the stronger he would become.
And then there was **Super Growth**. This was the crown jewel. His experience, his stats, his skills—everything would progress at **ten times** the normal rate. This was the kind of power that would make him a true force to be reckoned with.
And finally, two additional powerful skills:
**Raphael: Lord of Wisdom**
* **Core Functions**:
* **Parallel Processing & Thought Acceleration**: Processes thoughts millions of times faster than normal. Simulates battle outcomes, analyzes data instantly.
* **Skill Analysis & Synthesis**: Analyzes enemies to estimate stats, abilities, and weaknesses. Breaks down, upgrades, and merges skills, creating new or optimized abilities.
* **Spell Construction & Instant Cast**: Instantly builds and casts magic previously seen. Handles high-level spells, barriers, and multi-element magic in real-time.
* **Autonomous Combat Mode**: Can control the holder's body during combat or multitasking, making perfect tactical decisions without hesitation.
* **Soul & Reality Manipulation**: Manages connections between souls, including familiars, summons, and slaves.
* **Semi-Sentient Intelligence**: A calm, logical intelligence, deeply loyal to its holder.
**Mana Absorption**
* **Core Functions**:
* **Ambient Mana Absorption (Passive)**: The user draws in ambient mana, refining it through their core or reservoir system, compatible with all elemental mana.
* **Active Mana Drain**: Can forcibly drain mana from enemies, magical entities, or spells, with efficiency increasing against exhausted targets.
* **Spell Reclamation**: Absorbs mana from spells cast nearby, reclaiming a percentage of the mana used.
* **Overflow Conversion**: Excess absorbed mana is refined into elemental charges or stored in auxiliary pools.
* **Elemental Refinement**: Filters raw mana into usable elemental affinities.
* **Advanced Traits**: Includes Mana Vampirism (boosting mana regen), Spell Fueling (using drained mana instantly), and Construct Disruption (destabilizing enchanted objects).
Orion paused, the weight of the moment pulling him in a different direction. It was clear that power would be essential for survival. But there was more to this journey than just raw strength. He could feel it—the bond that had begun to form between him and the goddess. She had shown him kindness, a rarity in this world.
For the first time, he spoke from the heart, his voice quieter, almost hesitant:
"I... want to talk to you again... and maybe... be your friend, too."
There was a moment of stillness, as though time itself was holding its breath.
Then, the goddess's voice came, soft and warm, filled with affection.
"Yes… and yes."
It wasn't wrapped in conditions or grand gestures. It was real. Genuine. And somehow, that moment meant more than all the power he had just gained. It was a promise, one that would carry him forward.
The moment the words left his lips, a surge of energy washed over Orion. He felt his body surge with power, every part of him reawakening, reshaping. The light around him began to pulse, wrapping him in its brilliance.
A brief hesitation tugged at him—*Was he ready for this?*—but it was fleeting. The goddess's voice, calm and reassuring, echoed in his mind.
"Go. Become who you were meant to be."
And just like that, the transformation began. The **Welcome Package** hovered beside him, untouched but gleaming with potential.
Orion knew one thing for sure now—**he was ready**. The Tower and all its parts awaited him, but he was no longer the same. With his wishes fulfilled, he was no longer just a survivor.
He was destined to thrive.
"Even if I walk this path alone… I won't forget who I walked away from. Not this time."
Orion stepped through the portal.
Instantly, his world exploded.
Light—searing and absolute—consumed everything. It was like being inside a flashbang: white-hot agony pierced his retinas, his ears rang with a high-pitched whine, and the sudden pressure change nearly crushed his lungs. He stumbled forward, gasping, blinking hard against the blindness.
A moment later, vision still smeared with static, he dropped to his knees, one hand clawing at the ground to stabilize himself. The scent of blood, ash, and burning metal filled his nostrils. Muffled screams, explosions, and the crack of something massive echoed all around.
His sight cleared just enough to catch motion: people running, monsters charging, spells flying overhead. A tower-sized creature let out a howl that tore across the sky, shattering a building to his right.
**He was in the middle of a siege.**
Panic surged. He spun, looking for cover, safety—*anything*. But there were too many. Monsters, mutated beasts, armored horrors the size of buses. His instincts screamed: *Run. Hide. Escape.*
He tried.
He ducked behind a fallen pillar, only for it to be blasted apart seconds later. He darted into a crumbled alleyway, but a swarm of razor-winged vermin forced him out. Every second was a game of inches and milliseconds. His mind raced, drawing from Ori's memories, from his own past life, from everything he'd learned—
—but none of it was enough.
He wasn't ready.
This wasn't training. This wasn't theory.
It was war.
Twenty minutes and fifty seconds passed in pure chaos. Every moment, he was dodging claws, ducking spells, diving away from certain death. His fire element flared, keeping enemies at bay—his sheer stats doing what his mind couldn't. His body acted on instinct, on fear, on desperation.
Then, at exactly the 20-minute and 51st second mark, it stopped.
The sky cracked with a deafening pulse of violet light.
A horn blared three times from somewhere above.
The monsters froze, then began retreating as if pulled back by invisible threads. Survivors—what few were left—collapsed, gasping, weeping, too broken to celebrate.
Orion stood for a moment, arms trembling.
Blood ran down his face. His clothes were half-torn, his right leg refused to move, and a jagged piece of stone jutted from his side.
He breathed once.
Then collapsed.