"They needed a god to save them. He needed no one."
---
The Tower was made to sanctify.
To elevate the worthy. To carry the faithful toward the heavens.
But it had never been pure.
Long before Jin, long before the gods turned their backs, the Tower had been a prison. A cage of false hope. A machine of suffering.
Now, something unholy had slipped through the cracks.
And it wore a mask.
---
Two Days Later – Tower Floor 3: The Crystal Rot
The trial was simple: survive.
Rot-infested beasts filled the cavernous ruins of a fallen cathedral buried within the Tower's third level. The air shimmered with infectious fog. Blessed rookies formed temporary parties, screaming orders, swinging blades, casting spells they barely understood.
Jin moved silently through the shadows of the broken pews.
He wore a black tailored suit—clean, formal, out of place. His face was hidden beneath the bird-like porcelain plague mask. The beak curved downward in elegant malice. Red lenses glinted beneath the hood.
No badge. No name. No class. No presence on any roster.
He was a ghost.
They called him "Hollow."
---
The name had started as a rumor.
A strange figure had cleared an entire floor solo.
Another group found their missing teammate crucified to a dungeon wall—alive, shivering, unable to speak of what happened.
One elite party was found weeping, kneeling in prayer, with no memory of why they fled.
The Tower's lower floors were infected now.
Not by monsters.
By him.
---
Within the Rot – A Hunt
Jin knelt beside the corpse of a corrupted knight-beast. Its body still twitched, spitting acid from where its skull had been crushed inward.
> [Corruption Gained: +8]
[Malice Saturation: Stable]
He felt nothing.
Not pride. Not disgust.
Just stillness. The hollow weight of a promise.
His mask filtered the air. But the fog whispered to him anyway.
It tried to show him things: visions of death, of his old comrades rotting, of gods laughing as they turned away.
But Jin's mind was far more poisoned than the Tower could ever hope to infect.
The whispers starved in his presence.
---
A scream.
He turned his head.
Half a dozen rookies. One of them already down. The others surrounded by crystalline tendrils reaching from the cathedral ceiling.
One boy cried out: "Please—! Anyone!"
Jin watched.
The creature descended. A rot-seraph—a malformed angelic horror with broken glass wings, dripping holy acid. It lashed out. A girl screamed as it shattered her blessing shield.
> Their gods won't save them.
Jin moved.
---
He emerged from the mist like something born of it.
The rookies gasped.
"Who—?!"
He said nothing. Raised one gloved hand.
> [Active Skill – Anti-Divine Field Lv. 1: Deployed]
The rot-seraph froze mid-strike.
Its divine flame dimmed. Its wings crumpled inward.
And then Jin was in front of it.
He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't need to.
He touched it—one hand on its chest.
> [Soul Brand: False Light – Activated]
The creature screamed.
And imploded.
Blood. Crystal. Bone. Gone in an instant.
The rookies fell to the ground, sobbing.
Jin stood over them.
One boy raised his head, his voice shaking: "...What are you?"
Jin looked down at them.
The mask tilted slightly.
> "No one."
Then he vanished into the fog.
---
Hidden System Response
> [Unique Title Progression – "Specter of the Hollow" unlocked]
Effect: Presence is erased below detection rank A. Immune to minor prophecy.]
> [Corruption: +10]
[Title Progress – "Godslayer"]: 5%
The Tower would spread the story.
The white mask. The black suit. The nameless figure who walked through divine monsters and unmade them with a touch.
No one knew his class. No one knew his god.
They only knew the mask.
They only knew one thing:
Hollow does not save.
Hollow judges.
---