The silence in Apartment 42-B of the Helios Tower was so absolute it was almost physically painful.
After the acoustic chaos of the street—the screams of the dying, the roar of the Alfas, and the wet crunch of bones breaking under the weight of his new weapon—the stillness of this luxury refuge felt artificial. It was as if they were trapped inside a soap bubble floating above an ocean of ruin.
Kael lowered The Black Iron Tyrant onto the living room's Persian rug. The weapon, with its 180 kilograms of dense, abyssal metal, didn't just rest there; it sank, crushing the expensive fabric and slightly cracking the radiant marble heating beneath it.
"Watch the floor," Elena muttered, locking the reinforced steel door with three heavy deadbolts and activating a digital panel on the wall. "This place belonged to my uncle. He liked nice things."
"Your uncle won't mind," Kael said, his voice a low rumble as he let his body drop onto an Italian leather sofa. The furniture creaked loudly, the frame groaning under his increased mass. "He's likely already dead. Statistically speaking."
Elena didn't respond. She dropped her tactical backpack onto the kitchen island. She looked exhausted. Her skin was pale, dark circles bruised the skin under her blue eyes, and her silver ponytail was undone, plastered to her neck by sweat and grime.
"The emergency generator is running," she said, ignoring his comment about her uncle. "There's hot water. Food in the pantry. And a real first aid kit, not just dirty rags."
Kael looked at his own hands. They were caked in a dry crust of black, red, and brown fluids. His t-shirt was a rag that barely covered his torso, revealing the greyish, hardened skin underneath, and the fresh pink scar on his chest where the bullet had impacted hours ago.
"You shower first," Kael said. "I'll watch the door. I don't trust that the scent of blood won't draw something up to the 42nd floor."
"Are you sure?" Elena looked at him, hesitating.
"Go. If you take longer than twenty minutes, I'll assume you drowned or turned."
Elena nodded, grateful, and disappeared down the hall toward the master bathroom.
Kael was left alone.
For the first time in twelve hours, his mind wasn't focused on killing or surviving the next second. And that, paradoxically, was worse. Without the adrenaline masking his senses, the structural strain on his body returned. It wasn't the pain of injury—those healed fast—but a structural ache. His bones, forcibly densified by the System, pressed against his nerve endings. His skin felt too tight, like he was wearing a diving suit two sizes too small.
He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window that dominated the living room.
The view of Neo-Veridia was Dantesque.
From this height, the city looked like a short-circuited motherboard. Uncontrolled fires burned in dozens of blocks, painting the smoke in shades of orange and black. The streetlights were dead, but the violet glow of the Mana clouds illuminated the streets like a disco blacklight, making the fresh blood on the asphalt shimmer.
Kael saw movement down below. Swarms. Hundreds of black dots moving like ants over a carcass.
"The Night Horde," he whispered.
Vectors were more active at night. The sun seemed to weaken them slightly, or at least slow their metabolism. But under the moon and the Mana, they were frantic.
Kael pressed his forehead against the cold glass. His reflection stared back.
He barely recognized himself.
His eyes, once brown and nondescript, now had that permanent violet ring around the iris, glowing with faint bioluminescence. His jaw was wider, squarer. His neck was a trunk of taut muscle. He looked less like a human and more like a biological weapon wrapped in skin.
"What am I becoming?" he asked the glass. Not with fear, but with scientific curiosity.
[Status Query: User Kael.]
[Species: Human (Evolutionary Variant - Homo Predar).]
[Ascension Progress: 12%.]
[Note: Your DNA is rewriting species markers to accommodate Biomass density. Humanity is a starting point, not a destination.]
Kael dismissed the floating text. Homo Predar. A different breed. It was a fair trade-off for survival.
He heard the water stop in the bathroom. Ten minutes later, Elena came out. She was wearing clean clothes she had found in the closets: an oversized men's t-shirt and sweatpants. Her hair was damp and smelled of lavender soap—a scent so normal it felt alien in this new world.
"Your turn, big guy," she said, towel-drying her hair. "I left some of my uncle's clothes on the bed. He was a big guy, so maybe they'll fit. Though with those new shoulders... I promise nothing."
Kael nodded. He grabbed his massive sword—he had no intention of leaving it alone—and dragged it to the bathroom, leaning it against the marble sink.
He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, under the harsh, clinical white LED light.
He peeled off the remains of his shirt and the shredded pants. Naked, his transformation was undeniable. His skin wasn't just greyish; it had a subtle texture, like microscopic interlocking scales. On his elbows and knees, the skin was thicker, forming natural calluses that acted as biological impact pads.
But the most unsettling change was on his back. Along his spine, he could see faint ridges under the skin. Nodules.
"Bone plating," he muttered, touching one. It was hard as stone. "The Kong's DNA. It's trying to build natural armor over my spine."
He stepped into the shower. The hot water hit his skin, and the runoff swirling down the drain instantly turned black and red. Kael scrubbed his skin with a sponge, but the grime seemed embedded. He had to scrape hard, using his hardened fingernails, to remove the layers of foreign death.
He didn't feel the heat of the water like before. His heat resistance, acquired from the Pyromancer Magnus, made the scalding water feel barely lukewarm.
"Reduced sensitivity," Kael noted. "Another price to pay."
He stepped out, dried off, and put on the borrowed clothes. Grey cargo pants and a tight black t-shirt. They were snug across the thighs and chest, restricting movement slightly, but it was better than being naked or in rags.
He returned to the living room. Elena was in the kitchen, opening cans with a tactical knife.
"We have peaches in syrup, tuna, and..." she held up a can with a grimace, "beef stew that expired a month ago. But cans last for years, right?"
"Calories are calories," Kael said, sitting at the table. He placed the heavy sword next to him, within arm's reach.
Elena served him a bowl of tuna mixed with peaches. It was a grotesque combination, but they ate in silence, with the voracity of the starving.
Kael chewed, but he felt no satisfaction. His stomach processed the food, extracted the chemical energy, but the fundamental deficit in his System remained. Normal food was... inefficient. It was like trying to fuel a nuclear reactor with dry twigs.
"Thank you," Elena said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Kael looked up from the bowl. "For what?"
"For the warehouse. With the Kong. You could have run while it was attacking me. You were faster than me in that burst."
"I wouldn't have gotten far," Kael said, his tone flat. "And I need someone to watch my blind spots. A shield without a sword is just a wall. Eventually, the wall crumbles. It was a strategic necessity."
Elena smiled slightly, toying with her spoon.
"You're terrible at accepting compliments, Kael. But... thanks also for the bus. With the slavers."
Kael tensed. He remembered the feeling of the leader's skull collapsing under the flat of his blade.
"I didn't do that out of kindness, Elena. I did it because they were blocking the road. And because slavery is inefficient. It wastes resources and creates enemies."
"You keep telling yourself that," Elena looked him in the eye, challenging him. "'I am a monster, I am pragmatic.' But you took a bullet for me. And you freed those people without asking for a reward."
"Fear is a better currency than gold right now," Kael countered. "Now those people know there is something in the city more dangerous than the bandits. That story will spread. 'Don't mess with the grey giant.' That reputation will save me energy in future fights. It's deterrence."
"Whatever you say, Mr. Villain," Elena stood up and stretched, yawning. "I'm going to sleep. My eyes are closing on their own. Shifts?"
"Sleep," Kael said. "I don't need as much rest. My system repairs fatigue faster. I'll wake you in four hours if I need relief."
"Fine." Elena walked toward one of the bedrooms, but stopped in the doorway. "Kael... try to relax. The sword isn't going anywhere."
"Just lock your door," he replied.
Elena closed the bedroom door.
Kael was left alone in the gloom of the living room. He sat on the floor, in a lotus position, with the Black Iron Tyrant across his knees.
It was time to take inventory.
He opened his interface. The blue letters glowed in the darkness of his mind.
[Status Update]
User: Kael
Available Biomass: 25 Units.
Level: N/A (Evolutionary)
[Statistics:]
Strength: 8.5
Agility: 5.2
Vitality: 9.8
Intelligence: 3.5 (Neural Processing)
Willpower: 6.0 (Mental Resistance)
[Active Abilities:]
Biomass Harvest (Innate): Max Level.
Adrenaline Burst: Level 1.
Heavy Weapon Mastery (Muscle Memory): Level 2.
[Passive Abilities:]
Iron Skin: Level 1.
Reinforced Bone Density: Level 2.
Heat Resistance: Level 2.
Night Vision: Level 1.
He had 25 points of Biomass. He could save them for emergency healing, or he could invest them now.
He remembered the fight with the Guild men. The bullets.
Yes, his skin had resisted a small caliber, but the impact still stung. And if he faced military assault rifles or armor-piercing magic, his Level 1 skin wouldn't be enough.
But there was something more urgent. The sword.
It was heavy. Even with his Strength of 8.5, swinging it required considerable effort that fatigued him quickly. If he wanted to wield it not just as a club, but with technique, he needed more raw power.
System, Kael thought. Assign 15 points to Strength. And 10 points to Neural Synapse Enhancement.
He needed to hit harder, and he needed his brain to process enemy movements before they happened.
[Processing upgrade...]
[Warning: Increasing Strength beyond 9.0 without improving support structure (tendons/ligaments) may cause self-injury.]
[Redirecting 5 Strength points to {Connective Tissue Reinforcement}.]
Kael grit his teeth, bracing for the sensation.
It wasn't a sharp pain. It was a deep, grinding pressure. He felt his tendons thickening, becoming like braided steel cables. His muscles compacted further, becoming so dense that a hypodermic needle would likely bend if it tried to pierce him.
His brain buzzed with static electricity. Suddenly, the sound of the wind outside decomposed into individual tones. He could hear Elena's heartbeat in the next room. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Slow and steady.
When the sensation subsided, Kael opened his eyes.
He gripped the handle of the sword.
He lifted it with one hand.
It felt... manageable. It was no longer an anchor. It was a heavy baseball bat. He could generate inertia, he could stop it mid-swing, he could change direction. It was no longer a burden; it was a tool.
"Good," he whispered.
He spent the next few hours not sleeping, but staring at the weapon, visualizing the flows of combat.
Around 4:00 AM, the atmosphere shifted.
Kael felt a disturbance. It wasn't a sound. It was a vibration in the air, a change in atmospheric pressure similar to the one that preceded the Global Announcement.
He stood up and went to the window.
The violet sky was swirling. The clouds formed a gigantic vortex right above the city center, about five kilometers away.
And then, something began to descend from the vortex.
It wasn't rain. It wasn't monsters.
It was a structure.
An immense spire of black obsidian and stone, decorated with neon blue lights that pulsed like veins. It descended slowly, crushing the skyscrapers beneath it as if they were made of cardboard. The sheer scale of it was impossible. It pierced the clouds and anchored itself into the earth.
The impact was silent at first due to the distance, but then the shockwave arrived, rattling the reinforced glass of the Helios Tower.
Kael watched, mesmerized.
The structure settled, towering hundreds of meters over the ruined skyline.
A new notification appeared before his eyes, and before the eyes of every survivor awake at that moment.
[World Event Initiated: The Tower of Babel (Floor 1).]
[Safe Zone period has ended. Domains have been established.]
[The first Guild to conquer Floor 1 will receive administrative control of the Neo-Veridia Sector.]
Kael felt Elena approaching from behind. She had woken up from the tremor.
"What is that?" she asked, her voice unsteady, staring at the black spire dominating the horizon.
"The next threshold," Kael said.
He looked at the Tower. It was massive. Imposing. Filled with threats that humanity couldn't imagine.
But Kael didn't feel fear. He felt a cold sense of purpose. The city was a scavenging ground, but the Tower... the Tower was where the real resources would be. High-density entities. Better gear. The materials he needed to push his evolution beyond the limits of this planet.
"It seems 'The Kings' were just the tutorial, Elena," Kael said, turning to her. "The main event just landed."
Elena looked at the Tower, then at Kael, and sighed, adjusting her oversized shirt.
"We're going to go inside that thing, aren't we?"
"Of course," Kael replied. "That's where the power is. Sitting here eating canned tuna won't keep us alive. Not for long."
Elena shook her head, but she went to retrieve her sword from the table.
"I hate that you make sense. Fine. We eat breakfast, we gear up, and we go see how people die in that thing."
"Not us," Kael said, hoisting the Black Iron Tyrant onto his newly reinforced shoulder. "We are the ones knocking on the door."
The sun began to rise, but its light was weak and sickly compared to the pulsating glow of the Tower. The first day of the New World had ended. The Age of Towers had begun.