"Alright—wait, slow down for a minute, alright?" Kealix threw up his hands, his voice rising slightly with the confusion building in his chest. "Why are you so casual about me being from another world? I mean—I'm almost sure that's what's going on here, but seriously, how can you just… act like this is normal? It doesn't make any sense."
His question hung in the air for a moment, silence settling like a weight between the three of them. The two strangers—no, his only guides in this unfamiliar place—exchanged glances.
Then Leo broke the stillness with a shrug, as if the answer were obvious. "Oh. Right. I guess you wouldn't know."
Kealix narrowed his eyes. "Know what?" he asked, suspicion and curiosity tangled in his voice.
Before Leo could respond, the girl—Thalia—spoke up, her tone unreadable.
"A lot of people from other worlds end up here," she said, brushing imaginary dust from her coat sleeve. "This place is the last safe haven in the Tower. Most newcomers go straight to the western regions, but... well, sometimes they end up here instead."
Wait… more people come here? What does she mean—'last safe haven'? And... the Tower?
Something about that term sent a tremor through Kealix's mind, like the distant toll of a bell in the fog. Tower… He could almost swear he'd heard that word before. Maybe in a dream. Or a half-remembered story?
Still half-lost in his own thoughts, he blinked and looked up. "This Tower... what is it, exactly?" he asked slowly, the weight of the question sinking into the space between them.
Leo turned to him, eyebrows raised so high he looked like Kealix had just confessed to never hearing of fire. "You're serious? You seriously don't know?"
Kealix hesitated. "I... don't?"
Leo groaned, dragging a hand down his face in theatrical frustration. "Thalia, please explain it to him. I'm too stupid for this kind of thing."
Thalia sighed, clearly accustomed to Leo's antics. She shifted her stance slightly, then turned her face to Kealix.
"It's basic knowledge around here," she said. "But I suppose if you're new, it makes sense you wouldn't know yet."
She paused briefly, then continued in a calm, measured voice.
"The Tower is everything. It's the collective form of all universes, multiverses, realms, timelines—everything that's ever been imagined, created, or dreamed. It's structured in layers, like an infinite stack of realities, one atop the other, each one shaped by its own rules, physics, and deities—or lack thereof."
Kealix stared at her, blinking slowly as the magnitude of what she was saying began to take shape in his mind. All of reality… layered? Imagined? His chest tightened with questions, his thoughts spinning like a compass gone wild.
Still, Thalia wasn't finished.
"Every time someone writes a story it creates a world, even if someone just imagines a fantasy in their mind, it manifests as a new universe—or sometimes, an entire multiverse—within the Tower. Each of those universes branches infinitely, spawning endless timelines and outcomes. Every possibility you can imagine? It exists somewhere. Every version of every decision. Infinite choices, infinite worlds. And they all exist within this Tower."
Kealix's mouth went dry. "That's… that's insane."
"It's complicated," Thalia admitted, her voice softening. "And it's not something outsiders usually get to learn. But for us—it's common knowledge. Our god… he was deeply connected to us. He taught us about the Tower, about how it all works, before he disappeared."
Kealix felt like the ground beneath him was dissolving. Stories becoming universes? Timelines diverging endlessly? A god who vanished after teaching them the truth?
He swallowed hard, his mind reeling as if the sheer scale of existence was pressing down on him.
"So you're telling me... I'm not just from another world—I'm from another layer of reality entirely?"
Thalia gave a faint nod.
"Exactly."
Kealix stood there in silence, still reeling. A hurricane of thoughts spun wild in his head, his understanding of reality now cracked open and spilling into chaos. The world—or worlds—weren't what he had believed. They weren't even close. He had always assumed the universe was big, sure, but this… this was something else entirely.
Layered universes. Infinite timelines. Gods.
His lips parted slightly, breath shallow. He didn't even know where to begin. The silence stretched, but Thalia didn't interrupt. She seemed to recognize that he needed the space to let the truth settle. To breathe.
After a few long moments, his voice found its way out, barely more than a whisper.
"How... how is the Tower even able to sustain itself?" he asked, his words trembling. "If there's an infinite number of universes inside it, shouldn't it just... collapse?"
Thalia turned to him, her expression unreadable behind the smooth surface of her mask. She lifted one gloved hand to the edge of it, fingers tapping lightly against the metal as if thinking. Searching for the right words.
"Let me put it like this," she began slowly. "There's something that flows through everything—everywhere. It's the reason anything can exist at all. It's called aether. I'm sure you've heard the word before."
Aether… The word echoed in Kealix's mind. He had heard of it—stories, myths, maybe. Back home, it had always been treated like some ancient energy source or a magical concept for fantasy books. But this wasn't a metaphor.
This was real.
Not just energy. Not just power.
The source of existence itself.
Thalia continued, her voice steady. "There are two types of aether: chaotic and harmonic. When a god is chosen to oversee a Tower, they absorb everything within it. They become... well, omnipotent. All-powerful inside that layer of reality. They can bend it, mold it, create or destroy at will. But their true responsibility is to keep the Tower balanced—to keep aether in a harmonic state."
Kealix blinked, trying to comprehend the sheer scale of that. "And... what happens if they fail?"
Thalia didn't answer right away. Instead, she lifted her hand again and pointed toward the distant edge of the clearing. Kealix followed her gesture, and then he saw it.
One of those pale, worm-like creatures slithered along the edge of a ruined stone wall, its translucent skin pulsing faintly with veins of dark purple. It moved wrong—like something that had once been alive but forgot how.
"That," Thalia said simply. "That's what happens."
She let the weight of the image settle before continuing. "When chaotic aether overtakes harmonic, life twists. Creatures and even plants mutate, grotesquely. Their only instinct becomes one thing—corruption. They seek to turn other aether chaotic. Spread the imbalance. After our god disappeared... this started happening. Slowly at first. Then all at once."
Kealix stared, a creeping dread wrapping around his spine. The creature—no, the abomination—made his skin crawl.
Still, more questions surged up inside him, pounding against the walls of his mind. He needed answers.
"Your god... why did he leave?" he asked, hesitantly.
Silence. Not awkward, but heavy. Like he had cracked open something sacred, something painful. Thalia's posture stiffened slightly, her eyes dim behind the mask's lenses.
"We believe he was killed," she said at last, voice quieter than before. "But that was four hundred years ago. And at this point… there's no use dwelling on it. He's not coming back."
Kealix's eyes widened in shock. His mouth moved before his mind could catch up.
"Four hundred years?!" he echoed. "Then how do you know all of this? How old even are you guys?"
Leo, who had been quiet for a while, gave him a strange look—half confusion, half amusement. He scratched the back of his neck, then grinned with that same easy confidence Kealix had come to recognize.
"I'm twenty-two," he said casually, jerking a thumb toward himself. "And my sister over there? She's nineteen."
Kealix blinked again.
Leo chuckled at his stunned expression. "Don't worry, you're not the first to ask. These are stories passed down for generations. Everyone learns them. They're not just history—they're survival."
Thalia nodded in agreement. "The truth is preserved because it has to be. If we forget what happened, we lose the only thing keeping us from falling apart entirely."
Kealix slowly exhaled. The world around him felt so much bigger than it had minutes ago. His life, his origin, even his body—it all felt small and fragile in comparison. He had stepped into something ancient, layered, and broken.
"Either way," Thalia said abruptly, cutting through the lingering silence like a blade. "Let's get back to your original question."
Kealix blinked, startled. Original question? For a second, he had lost track of everything—the flow of conversation pulled in too many directions. But then it clicked. Right—the Tower, the gods, the aether. He straightened slightly, tuning in with sharp focus, as Thalia continued.
"With the power to manipulate aether freely, like the gods do," she began, her voice calm, almost academic, "everything becomes relative. Time, space, matter—even antimatter. None of it holds absolute meaning to them anymore. They don't just control those forces..." She paused. "They are those forces. A god exists everywhere at once within their Tower—omnipresent, omniscient. They could make the Tower collapse into a single grain of sand, or expand it beyond the edge of infinity."
Kealix felt the floor tilt beneath his thoughts. His gaze dropped to the ground as he struggled to keep pace with the scope of her words.
"I... I need some time to take this in," he murmured, voice low and tight. His fingers curled at his sides, knuckles white. It felt like reality itself was slipping through his hands like water.
Everything is relative? The concept echoed inside his skull like a hollow drum. But their god disappeared. How does someone who's omnipotent just vanish? They thought he was killed... but how? Shouldn't that be impossible?
Questions swarmed his mind, but one burned hotter than the rest. No—two.
He looked up, eyes narrowing with a nervous urgency as he turned to face Thalia and Leo. "Then… is this place currently surrounded by chaotic aether?"
The question slipped out almost involuntarily, but it carried a weight in his gut he couldn't explain. Some part of him needed to know. Like the answer would change everything.
Leo was the one who answered, shaking his head.
"No, it's not," he said with surprising ease. Then he added, more seriously, "This world—this place—is the last remaining zone in the Tower where harmonic aether still exists in its pure form. Because of that, we get… visitors. From all over the layers. Aetheric beasts. Awakened humans. Broken gods. You name it."
Kealix barely paused before blurting out his next question.
"How is that possible?" he asked quickly—almost desperately—as if he were afraid the answer might slip away before he could grab it.
Thalia gave a slow, solemn nod. "Because of Abbynerr."
Kealix frowned. "Abbynerr?"
"Or more precisely," Thalia clarified, "the man Abbynerr once was. He was a hero—one of the last true ones. A human who somehow survived long enough to find the final fragment of our god. No one knows exactly how he did it. But he merged with that divine essence."
Leo took over the story, his voice dropping into something close to reverence. "He sacrificed himself. Willingly gave up his body, his humanity—everything. And in doing so, he became something else. A beast, yes. But not a corrupted one."
"An aetheric beast," Thalia added, "but aligned to harmony, not chaos. With that transformation, he generated a null force field around this world—a kind of barrier that prevents aether from becoming to destructive. Not only that, but he also created a harmonization field within it. It's the only reason this place still stands, it harmonizes the aether just like our god once did."
Kealix stared at them, mouth slightly open, heart hammering in his chest. A man merged with a god? Became a beast? And saved the last world by sacrificing everything?
The idea clung to him, heavy with meaning. Not just survival. Legacy.
He looked up at the sky, which now seemed infinitely deeper than before, as if it were holding back the chaos of an entire broken Tower just beyond the clouds.
"So we're alive..." he whispered, more to himself than to them, "because one person gave up everything."
Thalia nodded once. "Yes. That's exactly right."