When they opened the book, the first page was almost empty.
At the center of the page, a single number was written.
1
Below it, in plain letters, was one word.
MORTAL
For a moment, no one spoke.
Rita frowned. "…Mortal?" she muttered under her breath.
Rohit leaned closer, squinting at the page. "That's it? No explanation? Just calling us mortals?"
Arjun's expression tightened. "Looks like the Tower's way of defining our starting point."
Rita flipped the page quickly. "So we're already being ranked… from page one."
Only from the next page onward did the real information begin—rules, classifications, and explanations about the Tower, its floors, and the path of ascension.
Rita let out a slow breath. "So this first page isn't information…"
Arjun nodded. "It's a reminder."
"A reminder of what?" Rohit asked.
Arjun looked back at the word MORTAL, his voice low.
"Of how far we still have to climb."
According to the book
Once, the universe existed in peace.
Worlds drifted in harmony, untouched by corruption—until the Abyss appeared.
It did not arrive with sound or warning. It simply spread, devouring land, twisting laws, and poisoning life itself.
"To call it an invasion would be wrong," Rita read softly. "It's more like a disease…"
Arjun continued reading.
As the Abyss encroached upon existence, the universe sought a way to protect itself. From that desperate need, the Abyss Break Towers were born—structures meant to halt the spread, to stand as barriers between creation and ruin.
Rohit frowned. "So the Tower isn't a trial by choice. It's a defense system."
"But who built it?" Rita asked.
The book offered no clear answer.
Some believe the Towers were formed by the will of the universe itself.
Others claim a god—or something beyond gods— created them.
Arjun closed the book slightly. "Convenient. No creator to blame."
Rita shivered. "Or too terrifying to name."
One truth, however, was repeated again and again across the page, etched in heavy letters:
Without the Tower, the Abyss would spread unchecked—
Worlds would rot,
Life would be corrupted,
And living beings would be reduced to mindless monsters.
According to the information in the book, they currently belonged to a category known as Mortals.
Rita frowned, her fingers tightening around the page.
"Mortals…" she murmured. "That's what we are?"
Arjun leaned closer, scanning the lines. "It says this is only the starting point."
The text explained that once a Mortal grew strong enough—surpassing the limits of ordinary life—they would be recognized as Transcendents. And even beyond Transcendents, there existed higher realms of existence.
Tim let out a low whistle. "So this is just the bottom of the ladder?"
Rita flipped to the next section, her expression turning serious. "It's not just people."
The book listed classifications for everything in the world.
Mortal Weapons.
Mortal Metals.
Mortal Herbs.
"All items are ranked the same way as living beings," Rita read aloud. "What we use now… it's all considered mortal-grade."
Arjun closed the book slowly, a spark of excitement and unease in his eyes.
"That means stronger weapons, better materials, even higher forms of life exist."
"And to reach them," Tim said quietly, "we'll have to climb."
The Tower suddenly felt much taller than before.
The next section of the book shifted to a topic written in bold, unmistakable letters.
LEVELS
Arjun read the heading aloud. "So this explains what levels actually mean."
Rita leaned over his shoulder. "Isn't level just… strength?"
The book answered her question almost mockingly.
Levels are not a measure of strength.
They exist to break the limits of the body.
"…What?" Tim blinked. "Then what have people been bragging about all this time?"
Arjun continued reading, his expression slowly turning serious.
According to the book, a level did not directly increase power. It did not decide who was stronger or weaker in battle. Instead, each level acted as a limit breaker—a shackle placed on the body and soul.
A Mortal body could only withstand so much mana.
Without a level to reinforce it, pushing more mana into the body would cause damage—torn meridians, shattered organs, or complete collapse. Levels existed to expand that capacity.
"So leveling up is like… upgrading the container?" Divya asked quietly.
"Yes," Arjun replied. "Not the contents."
The book explained further.
True strength comes from cultivation.
Cultivation was the process of absorbing, refining, and controlling mana. The deeper one's cultivation, the stronger their spells, techniques, and physical abilities became.
But there was a restriction.
Without a sufficient level, cultivation could not progress.
A person could train endlessly, study techniques, and refine their control—but once they reached the limit allowed by their current level, growth would stop completely.
"That's cruel," Rita muttered. "You hit a wall no matter how hard you try."
"It forces balance," Arjun said. "Effort and advancement have to go together."
The book emphasized that every living being possessed levels—humans, beasts, monsters, and even plants. A herb's effectiveness depended on its level. A weapon's durability and potential were also bound by it.
"And cultivation applies to all of them," Rohit added, pointing at another line. "Not just people."
Every being that wished to grow stronger had to cultivate.
Even monsters refined mana instinctively. Even trees absorbed ambient energy over centuries.
Levels determined how much a being could contain.
Cultivation determined how much power they actually wielded.
Arjun closed the book slowly.
"So level is permission," he said. "And cultivation is the execution."
No one spoke for a moment.
For the first time, they understood something terrifying.
The Tower wasn't rewarding strength.
It was enforcing growth.
And anyone who misunderstood that difference… would never climb far
The next section of the book shifted again, the heading etched in firm, deliberate strokes.
CULTIVATION
Rohit read the title aloud. "So this is the real core of getting stronger."
Arjun nodded and continued reading.
The book explained that cultivation was universal, but the method differed for every type of being. There was no single path that applied to all life. The Tower enforced growth—but how one grew depended on what one was.
For humanoid beings—humans, demi-humans, and similar races—the process of cultivation at the Mortal level focused on the body.
"Strengthening the body…" Rita murmured.
At the Mortal stage, humanoid cultivators trained their muscles, bones, and organs to endure mana. But more importantly, they worked to open the acupuncture points scattered throughout their bodies.
These points acted as gateways.
Each opened acupoint allowed mana to flow more smoothly, circulate faster, and be controlled with greater precision. The more acupoints opened, the less strain mana placed on the body.
"So spells feel lighter," Divya said softly. "And techniques don't damage the caster."
Arjun nodded. "And that's why mana control improves naturally with strength."
They continued to read the book in silence.