The morning sun spilled across the gilded rooftops of House Veyren's estate, glinting against polished copper and painted banners that fluttered lazily in the gentle wind. From the balcony of the central keep, a boy watched the world with a quiet intensity, his dark hair shifting like shadows in the light. His name was Kael Veyren, though only a handful of people knew that the name carried a secret far older than the wealthy family that had raised him.
Kael's Talent, like all talents, had awakened long ago. But unlike others whose abilities blazed visibly with elemental fire or physical prowess, his was subtle, whisper-thin—a faint resonance that tickled the edges of perception. He could sense traces of things left behind, echoes of the past, but it offered little in combat. The servants called it useless. The tutors dismissed it. Even his adoptive parents, prominent in the world of Tower climbing and elite dungeons, treated him kindly, but with distant caution.
Today, however, the distant rumble of something unnatural stirred Kael's senses. The vibration was low, deep, impossible to ignore. The Tower, always looming on the horizon, seemed to hum with urgency—an energy that only the truly sensitive could feel. Kael's Talent pulsed faintly in his chest, as if responding to the Tower's call.
"Kael," a voice called from behind. His tutor, Master Doryn, stepped lightly onto the balcony, eyes sharp beneath heavy brows. "You've been staring at that… thing for hours. You know as well as I do that the Tower doesn't care for idle watchers."
Kael's lips pressed together. "I know, Master. But something is different today. I… I can feel it."
Doryn's gaze softened slightly, though a shadow lingered. "Many can feel it. Few understand it. And even fewer survive once they enter."
Kael's fingers clenched on the stone railing. Survival had never been a question at home. The Veyren name ensured that. But the Tower did not respect names, wealth, or lineage. Only talent—and the will to grow it—mattered.
In the distance, the first of the ultra-dimensional rifts shimmered like fractured glass in the sky, hovering above a newly formed dungeon near the outskirts of the city. The dimension leaked strange creatures into the world—Voidspawn, the survivors of failed talents, now twisted into monstrous forms. Hunters and adventurers from the Veyren estates had already begun assembling, gathering resources and weapons, preparing to venture into the dungeon and return with Talent Shards or Evolution Catalysts.
Kael's mind wandered. He was adopted, yes—but the bloodline he carried whispered to him. Kaelith, his true clan, thought erased, thought gone. But somehow, a spark of that ancient power still lived within him, unrefined, untested. The Echo of Origins—it had never been strong, never flashy—but in a world like this, subtlety could be as lethal as fire.
"Why do you linger here, Kael?" Doryn asked again, his voice firmer now. "The Tower calls to everyone. Not just warriors, not just your peers. If you wait too long…"
Kael turned toward the horizon, the Tower a silhouette against the morning sun, impossibly tall, impossibly alive. Its floors twisted across dimensions, shifting, reshaping, a living puzzle of realms stacked atop realms. He could see faint glimmers of resource nodes, floating pools of Essence Stones and Dimensional Relics scattered across the lower floors, already sparking conflict among the first wave of adventurers.
He took a deep breath. "I don't want to wait," Kael said softly. "I want to climb it. I want to see… if I'm worthy."
Doryn's eyes narrowed. "Worthy? Kael, you've inherited nothing but a faint echo. That Talent is weak, barely known. The Tower will chew you alive."
Kael's lips curved into a small, determined smile. "Then I'll have to make it stronger."
The first shrieks echoed from the dungeon below, followed by the clash of steel and the roar of creatures born from failed talents. In that moment, Kael realized something profound: the Tower wasn't just a challenge. It was a war. A war for resources, for legacy, for survival—and for the ultimate prize: to claim the Tower itself.
And though he was born into comfort, he carried within him the last spark of Kaelith—a lineage forgotten, a Talent underestimated, and a potential that even the Tower had not yet seen.
Kael turned his gaze forward, feeling the first ripple of power in his chest, subtle yet undeniable. The journey would be long. Deadly. Impossible. But he would climb.
Because the Tower called—and soon, the world would hear his Echo.