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# Tower of Sovereignty: The Boy Who Walked Before God
## Chapter 1: The Uninvited Guest
The Tower had rules.
Rules older than memory, carved into the foundations of reality by contracts sealed in blood and written in starlight. Rules that dictated who could enter, who could climb, who could rise and who must fall. For countless millennia, these rules remained unbroken, unquestioned, as immutable as the cosmos itself.
The Tower stood eternal—vast and unknowable—its countless floors stretching beyond mortal comprehension, ruled by Zahard's laws and ancient pacts with beings beyond understanding. Within its impossibly vast structure lived entire civilizations, kingdoms and nations existing in carefully maintained hierarchies, all dancing to the rhythms set by those who had climbed to the heights of power.
Only the chosen may enter.
Only the worthy may climb.
The law was absolute. Until today.
At the outer edge of reality, where the boundary between what is and what might be grows thin, something impossible happened. The fabric of space-time rippled, then shimmered with iridescent light. Not a summoning. Not an invitation. Just... an arrival.
A boy stepped through.
Vegito stretched his arms lazily above his head, his wild black hair catching the strange ambient light of this new place. He yawned, a gesture so mundane it seemed almost sacrilegious in the face of what he'd just accomplished—the casual violation of dimensional boundaries and the Tower's most fundamental law.
His lean, muscular frame moved with unconscious grace as he rolled his shoulders and looked around with mild curiosity. His eyes—deep pools that seemed to shift between obsidian and a burning ultraviolet—took in his surroundings with casual interest.
"So this is the famous Tower, huh?" he murmured to himself, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Less impressive up close."
He wore simple clothes: dark pants that allowed free movement, combat boots, and an open jacket over a fitted shirt that revealed the defined musculature of someone born for battle. A pendant of unknown origin glinted at his throat—silver metal wrapped around what appeared to be a crystal that caught light from impossible angles.
But what truly distinguished him wasn't his appearance—it was how he moved.
Every step Vegito took seemed to ripple outward, like a stone dropped in still water. The very air around him bent subtly, reality itself adjusting to accommodate his presence rather than the other way around. This wasn't a technique or a power he activated. It was simply his nature.
Mastered Ultra Instinct wasn't his transformation—it was his essence.
The boy continued walking, hands in his pockets, whistling a tune that sounded both ancient and newly-invented. His path took him toward a massive stone doorway that loomed in the distance—the official entrance to the First Floor of the Tower. The stone seemed to watch him approach, ancient symbols etched into its surface flickering with awareness.
As fate would have it, another boy approached the same door from a different direction at precisely the same moment. This second youth moved with uncertainty but determination, his golden eyes reflecting both fear and resolve. Black hair framed a face that held both innocence and a strange, hidden depth. Bam, an Irregular in his own right, had been chasing after his friend Rachel, desperate to understand why she had abandoned him.
For a moment, the two boys stood on opposite sides of the entryway, unaware of each other's presence. Two Irregulars, two beings who would break the Tower's rules, brought together by the strange whims of destiny.
Just as Bam reached out toward the imposing gateway, a casual hand reached past him and pushed the door open.
"After you," Vegito said with a grin, startling Bam who hadn't sensed his approach.
Bam blinked, confusion evident on his face. "Who—"
"Actually, never mind," Vegito interrupted, reconsidering. "I'll go first. No offense, just excited to see what's inside."
And he stepped through, leaving a stunned Bam in his wake.
The moment Vegito crossed the threshold, the Tower trembled. Not physically—at least, not in a way visible to most eyes—but fundamentally. Deep in its core programming, in the ancient logic that governed its existence, alarm bells began to ring. Security protocols activated. Containment measures initialized.
All of them failed.
The Tower's system tried to reject the uninvited guest, to expel the foreign entity that had entered without permission. But something unprecedented happened: the Tower couldn't. It was like trying to push against a mountain that refused to acknowledge your existence. The rules bent. The system adapted. The Tower, for the first time in its long history, was forced to accept what it could not control.
In a chamber deep within the First Floor, a slender, rabbit-like being felt the disturbance and froze mid-movement. Headon, the Guardian of the First Floor, had never known fear. Until now.
"Impossible," he whispered, his perpetual smile slipping for an instant before reasserting itself through centuries of practiced duplicity.
He vanished from where he stood, reappearing in his test chamber just as Vegito sauntered in, followed by a hesitant Bam. Headon's robes settled around him, his long staff held carelessly in one paw-like hand, everything arranged to project his usual air of omniscient amusement. Only the slight tremor in his whiskers betrayed his inner turmoil.
"Welcome to the Tower," Headon began automatically, his voice melodious and practiced. "I am Headon, Guardian of the First—"
His words caught in his throat as Vegito's full presence registered. The being before him was... wrong. Not in a malevolent way, but in the way a color might be wrong if it existed outside the visible spectrum. His very presence was a contradiction—an entity that both belonged and did not belong, that both respected the Tower's rules and rendered them meaningless.
"Hey there," Vegito replied casually, glancing around the cavernous space. "Nice place you've got. Little dark, though. You should consider skylights." He approached one of the towering walls, running his fingers along the ancient stone as if testing its texture. "Solid construction, though. Good acoustics."
To demonstrate, he whistled a short sequence of notes that echoed melodically through the chamber, overlapping in harmonies that shouldn't have been physically possible in a space of that shape and size.
Headon's long fingers tightened around his staff. "You... are not supposed to be here." The words came out strained, a departure from his usual playful demeanor.
"Yeah, I get that a lot," Vegito shrugged, wandering over to inspect a mural on the wall that depicted ancient Tower legends. "Places, dimensions, realms of existence—they all have these complicated entry procedures. I've never been good with paperwork."
Behind him, Bam stood silently, golden eyes wide as he witnessed this bizarre exchange. His gaze darted between Vegito's casual disregard for authority and Headon's barely concealed distress, trying to understand what was happening.
"The Tower only opens its doors to those it chooses," Headon insisted, his voice taking on an edge rarely heard from the usually composed Guardian. "It is a fundamental law, established by the Administrators themselves at the dawn of creation."
Vegito turned, and for a moment, his eyes flashed with something ancient and unknowable. "And I open doors I choose." His voice remained light, but carried an undercurrent of absolute certainty. "Guess we'll have to figure out who gets final say, won't we?"
The air between them crackled with tension. Not hostile, exactly, but like the moment before a thunderstorm—electric and inevitable.
"Why have you come?" Headon finally asked, surrendering to the reality before him. "What do you seek from the Tower? Power? Immortality? Wealth beyond measure?" His tone suggested these were the only logical answers, the only things worth pursuing through such extraordinary means.
At this, Vegito laughed—a genuine sound that echoed through the chamber, somehow lightening the oppressive atmosphere with its sincerity.
"I heard this Tower gives you anything you want," he said, his eyes dancing with amusement. "I already have that. But I could use a view." He paused, then added as an afterthought, "And maybe some decent food. I'm starving."
The absurd ordinariness of this request—from a being who had just broken reality's most fundamental rules—left Headon momentarily speechless. He stood frozen, rabbit features locked in an expression of pure bafflement.
Before Headon could recover, something unprecedented happened. The floor beneath them began to glow with intricate patterns—ancient symbols activating for the first time in millennia. The chamber's temperature dropped, then rose dramatically. The walls themselves seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting as if the stone had suddenly become organic.
"What... what have you done?" Headon demanded, true alarm in his voice. His staff came up defensively, though what he expected to defend against remained unclear.
Vegito looked as surprised as the Guardian. "Not me. I just got here." He crouched down, examining the glowing symbols with genuine curiosity. "Pretty, though. Are they always this... reactive?"
But it was him—or rather, his presence. Deep in the Tower's forgotten protocols, a summoning node had activated. A contingency measure, created eons ago for a scenario that had never occurred: the arrival of someone whose existence transcended the system itself.
The air in the center of the chamber shimmered, then split. Not violently, but with a gentle inevitability, like curtains being drawn aside. Through this divide stepped sixteen figures, materializing one after another in a cascade of light.
Women.
But not just any women.
Heroic Spirits. Legends given form. Myths made flesh. Each radiated power that would have made Rankers tremble, yet each appeared disoriented, confused by their sudden materialization.
First came Artoria, regal and composed even in surprise, her golden hair catching the light as her armored hand instinctively reached for her invisible sword. Her emerald eyes quickly assessed the chamber, narrow with suspicion but undimmed by fear.
Next was Morgan, darkness swirling around her like a living cloak, her eyes immediately assessing the chamber for threats and advantages. Her pale features and silver crown gleamed against the shadows that seemed to cling to her form.
Scathach followed, crimson eyes narrowing as she took in her surroundings with the calculated precision of an immortal warrior. Her body tensed like a coiled spring, ready to unleash devastation at the slightest provocation.
Musashi materialized with both hands already on her sword hilts, before blinking in confusion at the lack of immediate danger. Her samurai armor clinked softly as she relaxed her stance, though her eyes remained alert.
And they kept coming: the golden-armored Gilgamesh (F), imperious and already irritated; the towering form of Tiamat, ancient beyond measure; the jewel-adorned Ishtar with floating gems orbiting her form; the digital-glitching presence of BB; the predatory grace of Arcueid with her crimson eyes; the knife-wielding intensity of Shiki Ryougi; the seductive danger of Kiara; the calculating Medea; the shadowy form of Kama; the stern-faced Nightingale; the theatrical flair of Nero; and finally, the multi-armed power of Durga.
Sixteen legends, pulled across dimensions not by choice, but by resonance.
For a moment, silence reigned. Even Headon seemed too shocked to speak, his ancient eyes darting between the newly-arrived spirits and Vegito, trying to comprehend what was happening.
Then, as one, all sixteen women turned toward Vegito. Their expressions ranged from confusion to hostility to curiosity, but all shared one quality: recognition. Not of who he was, but of what he was to them.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Gilgamesh, her golden armor catching the light as she stepped forward. The plates shifted like liquid metal, reshaping themselves with her movement. "Who dares summon the King without permission?"
Vegito, for once, seemed at a loss for words. He looked from the assembled legends to Headon, then back again.
"Uh... hi?" he offered with an awkward wave. "I'm Vegito. Nice to meet you?"
The absolute casualness of this greeting—in the face of sixteen potentially world-ending entities—somehow amplified the surreality of the moment.
Headon, if possible, looked even more distressed. "This... this is unprecedented. The Servant Summoning Protocol was never meant to activate. It was a theoretical failsafe, not a—"
"Enough babbling," interrupted Morgan, dark energy crackling around her fingertips. Her voice carried the cold authority of someone accustomed to absolute obedience. "Explain our presence here, creature, or suffer the consequences."
The threat hung in the air, palpable and deadly serious. Vegito tensed slightly—not in fear, but in readiness—his body automatically shifting into a subtle stance that would allow for instantaneous movement.
Before Headon could respond, Scathach stepped forward, her expression thoughtful as she studied Vegito. The immortal warrior moved with fluid grace, crimson eyes never leaving the young man's face.
"It's him," she said simply. "We're bound to him."
"Bound?" echoed several voices in unison, some outraged, others intrigued.
"I can feel it," Scathach continued, her voice carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. "A tether. None of us can move beyond..." she paused, calculating, "...approximately one hundred meters from him."
This announcement caused an immediate uproar. Gilgamesh threatened divine retribution, her golden armor gleaming with barely contained rage. BB began muttering complex algorithms, attempting to hack the system that bound her. Tiamat merely tilted her massive head, studying Vegito with ancient eyes that had witnessed the birth and death of civilizations.
Through it all, Vegito stood in place, scratching the back of his head with a bemused expression. His posture remained relaxed despite being the focus of so much potentially destructive attention.
"So," he finally said when the initial chaos had subsided somewhat, "does this mean you're all coming with me?"
Sixteen pairs of eyes fixed on him with expressions ranging from murderous to intrigued.
"This is unacceptable," Gilgamesh declared, golden ripples appearing in the air around her—the beginnings of her Gate of Babylon manifesting. "The King does not follow. Others follow the King."
"I am bound to no mortal," Morgan added, darkness swirling more intensely around her form.
"Fascinating," BB murmured, digital displays flickering around her as she analyzed their situation. "The binding appears unbreakable by conventional means."
Artoria, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "What manner of magus are you?" she asked Vegito directly, her voice steady and imperial. "To summon sixteen Heroic Spirits simultaneously would require power beyond human capability."
"I'm not a magus," Vegito replied honestly. "I don't even know what that is, exactly. I just wanted to see the view from the top of the Tower."
This simple, forthright answer seemed to give Artoria pause. Her emerald eyes studied him more intently.
"He speaks truth," Shiki Ryougi observed quietly. Her heterochromatic eyes seemed to see through physical reality itself. "He did not summon us deliberately."
"That's impossible," Medea interjected. "Heroic Spirits cannot be summoned without intent and ritual."
"And yet, here we are," Musashi noted pragmatically, shrugging her shoulders. "Bound to a boy who claims no responsibility."
In the corner, forgotten by everyone including Headon, Bam watched with wide eyes, shrinking back against the wall. His golden gaze took in the scene with growing bewilderment. This was not how entry to the Tower was supposed to work, not according to anything Rachel had ever told him.
Headon, seeing a moment to reassert some control over the situation, cleared his throat. "Perhaps," he began cautiously, "we should proceed with the traditional testing process. Since you have all entered the Tower, you must be evaluated before proceeding to the next floor."
"Testing?" Arcueid's crimson eyes lit with interest. "What kind of test?"
"A simple challenge," Headon explained, some of his customary smoothness returning. "Each entrant must defeat the guardian beast and pop the ball floating at the top of its cage."
"A... ball?" Gilgamesh repeated incredulously. "You expect the King of Heroes to participate in such a trivial game?"
"I expect nothing," Headon replied carefully. "But the Tower's rules are clear. None may proceed without passing the test."
Vegito nodded thoughtfully. "Seems reasonable enough. I mean, I did break in without an invitation. Should probably follow at least some of the house rules."
His casual acceptance of responsibility—so at odds with his earlier dismissal of the Tower's entry requirements—caught several of the Heroic Spirits by surprise. Artoria, in particular, seemed to reassess him slightly.
"So where's this beast?" Vegito asked, looking around expectantly.
With a wave of his staff, Headon caused a section of the chamber floor to recede, revealing a massive pit below. Within this pit stood an enormous cage, and inside the cage lurked something vast and serpentine—a White Steel Eel, its armored scales gleaming in the chamber's eerie light. At the very top of the cage floated a transparent sphere.
"Whoa," Vegito breathed, leaning over to get a better look. "That's a big fish."
"The White Steel Eel is among the most dangerous predators in the Tower," Headon explained. "Its hide can withstand strikes that would shatter steel, and its jaws can crush diamond."
"Cool," Vegito grinned, already climbing over the pit's edge. "So all I have to do is get past it and pop that ball?"
"That is correct," Headon confirmed. "Though few have succeeded. The beast is exceptionally—"
"I'll handle this," interrupted Gilgamesh imperiously, golden portals opening around her. "A mere beast is beneath the King's concern, but I shall demonstrate true power to this 'Tower' you speak of."
"No," Vegito said simply, the word carrying unexpected weight. "I'll do it."
Gilgamesh's eyes widened in shock. "You dare command me?"
"Not commanding," Vegito corrected, his expression friendly but firm. "Just saying I want to try this myself. Since I'm the one who barged in uninvited and all." He glanced back at the assembled Spirits. "Besides, I'm curious what this thing can do."
Before anyone could protest further, he dropped into the pit with casual grace, landing lightly beside the cage. Looking up at the startled faces peering down at him, he offered a cheerful wave. "Be right back!"
Approaching the cage, he examined the lock mechanism with interest. It was an intricate puzzle of moving parts that would have taken most people hours to decode.
"I should warn you," Headon called down, "the White Steel Eel is exceptionally dangerous. Even experienced warriors—"
Before he could finish, Vegito had already opened the cage door with a simple twist of his wrist and stepped inside. The massive eel, sensing prey, immediately lurged from its coiled position, jaws wide enough to swallow him whole.
Several of the Heroic Spirits tensed, instinctively preparing to intervene.
They needn't have bothered.
The eel's massive jaws snapped shut on empty air. Vegito wasn't where he had been a millisecond earlier. He wasn't anywhere visible at all. Then, a casual voice spoke from directly above the ball floating at the top of the cage.
"This thing's pretty quick. Good reflexes."
Vegito sat cross-legged on top of the ball, as if he'd been there all along. The eel, confused, twisted its massive body to strike again, undulating through the cage with surprising speed for something so large.
Once more, its attack met nothing but air. Vegito now stood on its head, balancing effortlessly as the creature thrashed.
"Hey, is it okay if I don't hurt this thing?" he called up to Headon. "It's just doing its job, right?"
The absolute casualness of this question—asked while balancing on the head of a thrashing monster that could kill most Tower residents instantly—rendered Headon momentarily speechless. Several of the watching Heroic Spirits showed similar reactions of surprise.
"The test requires popping the ball..." Headon finally managed.
"Yeah, but you didn't say I had to harm the eel." With that, Vegito patted the creature almost affectionately on its armored head, then seemed to flicker out of existence again.
A soft pop echoed through the chamber. The ball burst, not violently, but with the gentle pressure of a finger pressed against its surface at precisely the right point.
Vegito landed lightly outside the cage, closing the door behind him with a careful click. He looked up at the astonished faces above. "That counts, right?"
Sixteen Heroic Spirits and one Tower Guardian stared in varying degrees of shock, admiration, and—in a few cases—growing interest of an entirely different nature.
"He didn't even use a weapon," Musashi murmured, fingers still resting on her sword hilts.
"No magic, either," noted Medea, her brow furrowed.
"Pure physical ability," Scathach observed, a rare smile touching her lips. "And restraint."
"Fascinating," BB muttered, digital screens flashing around her as she attempted to analyze what she'd just witnessed. "His movement patterns defy predictive algorithms."
With a graceful leap that seemed to ignore gravity's proper laws, Vegito returned to the upper chamber, landing lightly beside Headon. "So, did I pass?"
Headon nodded slowly, rabbit features still registering shock. "Yes. You have passed the First Floor test."
"Great!" Vegito grinned. "What about him?" He gestured toward Bam, who had remained silent throughout the demonstration.
Headon hesitated. "He must take his own test."
"Nope," Vegito said cheerfully. "He's with me. Package deal."
"The Tower's rules—"
"Already bent for me, right? So they can bend a little more for him." Vegito's tone remained light, but something in his posture shifted almost imperceptibly. The air around him seemed to thicken, and for just a moment, an aura of intense power flickered around his form before vanishing again. "Unless that's going to be a problem?"
The question hung in the air. Not a threat, exactly, but a statement of how things would be.
Artoria, watching this exchange with keen interest, noted the subtle shift in Vegito's demeanor. For all his casual cheerfulness, there was steel beneath—the hint of someone who could and would enforce his will if necessary. It reminded her, oddly enough, of herself in her days as King.
Headon studied Vegito for a long, tense moment, then sighed—a strange sound coming from the rabbit-like being. "Very well. Both of you may proceed to the Second Floor."
"Awesome!" Vegito turned to Bam with a wide grin. "Hear that? We're moving up!"
Bam, who had watched Vegito's test with wide eyes, managed a small smile in return. "Thank you," he said softly, genuine gratitude evident in his voice.
"Don't mention it," Vegito replied easily. "Exploring is more fun with company anyway."
"The way to the Second Floor will open momentarily," Headon explained, tapping his staff against the floor. "But first, there is the matter of..." he gestured vaguely toward the sixteen Heroic Spirits, "...your companions."
Vegito glanced at the assembled legends, many of whom were still regarding him with suspicion, curiosity, or a complex mixture of both.
"Yeah, about that," he scratched his head. "I still don't really get what's going on. You said they're bound to me?"
"The Servant Summoning Protocol is an ancient failsafe," Headon explained carefully. "Created eons ago for... special circumstances. When someone enters the Tower who exists outside its normal parameters, the Protocol activates to provide appropriate... balance."
"Balance?" echoed Morgan skeptically. "Sixteen Heroic Spirits bound to a single master is hardly balanced."
"It is when the master is him," Headon replied cryptically, rabbit eyes fixing on Vegito with an unreadable expression.
Before anyone could question this further, a section of the wall slid away, revealing a glowing portal. "The path to the Second Floor," Headon announced. "The Floor of Tests awaits you all."
"Finally," Vegito grinned. "I hope they have food up there. I'm still starving."
As they prepared to depart, the sixteen Heroic Spirits found themselves naturally falling into formation around Vegito—not by design or decree, but by unconscious gravitation. Despite their powers, their legends, their pride and independence, they were beginning to orbit him like satellites around a star.
None of them understood why. Not yet.
But Scathach, with her ancient wisdom, began to suspect. It wasn't just the magical binding that kept them near him. It was something in his nature—an authenticity, a freedom from fear and pretense, a certain wild purity of spirit that they, with their complex histories and burdens of legend, had long ago lost or sacrificed.
He walked like a storm given form, yes. But also like a truth told without reservation.
And truth, even uncomfortable truth, has a gravity all its own.
As they approached the portal, Artoria fell into step beside Vegito. "You move with extraordinary skill," she observed quietly. "No wasted motion, no hesitation."
Vegito glanced at her, seeming genuinely pleased by the observation. "Thanks. You look like you know your way around a fight yourself."
"I was a king and a warrior in life," she confirmed with simple dignity.
"Cool," Vegito replied, earning a startled blink from the legendary King of Knights. Few had ever responded to her royal status with such casual acceptance. "What's your name? Since we're going to be traveling together and all."
"I am Artoria Pendragon," she answered formally. "Once King of Britain."
"Nice to meet you, Artoria," Vegito said with a warm smile that somehow reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. "Let's see where this Tower takes us, yeah?"
Despite herself, Artoria found her usual reserve softening slightly. "Indeed," she agreed. "Let us see."
Behind them, Morgan observed this exchange with narrowed eyes, noting the slight softening in her sister's usually rigid demeanor. Interesting. This boy was more dangerous than he appeared, if he could affect even the stoic King of Knights with mere moments of conversation.
As they stepped through the portal toward the Second Floor, leaving a befuddled Headon behind, none of them—not even Vegito himself—fully grasped how completely the Tower's dynamics had just been transformed.
The system hadn't merely bent.
It had been fundamentally rewritten.
And somewhere far above, in the highest reaches of the Tower, ancient beings who had long observed the unchanging patterns of ascension stirred with newfound interest.
Something new had entered their domain.
Something that did not play by the rules.
Something that walked before gods as if they were merely interesting strangers met on a casual stroll.
The Tower would never be the same.
## Chapter 2: Sixteen Legends and a View
The Second Floor of the Tower, also known as the Floor of Tests, was unlike anything Vegito had ever seen—and he had seen quite a lot in his sixteen years of existence. Vast stone architecture stretched toward impossibly high ceilings, illuminated by what appeared to be artificial suns embedded in the structure itself. Diverse beings from various species moved through the crowded halls and open plazas, most giving the unusual procession a wide berth.
It wasn't everyday one saw sixteen legendary women following a teenage boy, after all.
"This place is amazing!" Vegito exclaimed, spinning in place to take it all in. The movement was so fluid it seemed almost supernatural—like friction and momentum were suggestions rather than laws for him. "Like its own little world inside a world."
His genuine enthusiasm was infectious, drawing reluctant smiles from several of the Heroic Spirits despite their continued wariness of their situation.
"The Tower contains numerous environments," Bam explained quietly, having gained some confidence now that they were past Headon's test. "Each floor is like a separate country, with its own Administrator and rules."
"Administrators, huh?" Vegito mused, watching a group of blue-skinned humanoids pass by. "Big bosses keeping everyone in line?"
"They are fundamental forces," Artoria corrected, walking alongside him with perfect posture. Her armor had transformed into more casual attire—a white blouse and blue skirt that still somehow conveyed regal authority. "Beings of immense power who maintain the Tower's structure and govern the flow of shinsoo."
"How do you know that?" Vegito asked, genuinely curious.
Artoria hesitated, a small crease appearing between her brows. "I... I'm not certain. The knowledge seems to have been granted to us upon arrival."
"Tower download," BB interjected, adjusting her glasses with a smirk. Her digital form occasionally flickered at the edges, lines of code briefly visible before resolving back into solid appearance. "Our summoning appears to have included a basic informational package. Quite efficient, if primitive compared to Moon Cell protocols."
"Information transfer through dimensional resonance," Medea added thoughtfully. "Interesting technology, even by Age of Gods standards."
As they moved through a particularly crowded marketplace, Vegito noticed the stares they were attracting. Some curious, others fearful, a few unmistakably hostile. The people of the Tower clearly recognized something unusual about their group.
"Don't these people ever see new faces?" Gilgamesh complained, her golden armor reflecting the artificial sunlight brilliantly. She walked with imperious confidence, clearly expecting others to move out of her way. Most did.
"It's not that we're new," Scathach observed quietly. "It's that we're different. We don't belong to their system."
"We're Irregulars," Bam explained softly. "People who enter the Tower from the outside, rather than being chosen and called in. Irregulars are... feared."
"With good reason," Morgan commented, darkness subtly swirling around her form. "Systems fear those who operate outside their rules."
Vegito glanced back at her, a thoughtful expression crossing his usually carefree features. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."
Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly, surprised and perhaps a little unnerved by his perception. "I have some familiarity with challenging established orders," she admitted coldly.
"Well, established orders or not, I'm still starving," Vegito declared, abruptly changing the subject. "Anyone else see food anywhere?"
As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly enough for everyone to hear. Several of the Heroic Spirits couldn't suppress their smiles—it was such a mundane, human concern amidst the extraordinary circumstances.
"I believe there are dining establishments in that direction," Artoria pointed, her own expression suspiciously eager. Unknown to Vegito, the King of Knights shared his enthusiasm for good meals.
Before they could head toward food, however, a Tower official approached—a middle-aged man in uniform who eyed the group with obvious trepidation.
"You must be the... unexpected arrivals," he said, consulting a clipboard with shaking hands. "I've been instructed to show you to your accommodations."
"Great!" Vegito grinned, either oblivious to or unbothered by the man's discomfort. "Is there food? I mentioned I'm starving, right?"
"Provisions have been arranged," the official confirmed stiffly. "If you'll follow me."
As they followed the nervous official through several winding corridors, Musashi sidled up next to Vegito, studying him with unconcealed interest. Unlike many of the others who maintained a dignified distance, the swordswoman had no qualms about invading personal space.
"So," she began casually, "you move pretty well for a kid. Where'd you learn to fight?"
Vegito glanced at her, noting the way her hands never strayed far from her sword hilts. "Here and there. Most of it just comes naturally."
"Naturally," Musashi repeated skeptically. "Nobody moves like you did against that eel without training."
Vegito shrugged. "I did train, but it was more like... learning to control what was already there. My body just knows what to do before my mind catches up."
Musashi's eyes lit with genuine interest. "Ultra Instinct, you called it? The separation of thought from action?"
"That's a fancy way of putting it, but yeah," Vegito nodded. "No hesitation, no doubt, no thinking—just pure movement."
"The ultimate goal of swordsmanship," Musashi murmured thoughtfully. "Achieving mushin—no-mind."
"Exactly!" Vegito grinned, pleased someone understood. "Though in my case, it's just how I am. Been that way since birth, according to my parents."
"Fascinating," Musashi replied, a competitive gleam entering her eyes. "We should spar sometime. I'd like to see how my techniques fare against your... natural talent."
The prospect of testing himself against a legendary swordswoman seemed to excite Vegito. "Sounds fun! Though I don't really use weapons. Never needed to."
"Even better," Musashi smirked. "A true challenge."
Their conversation was interrupted as the official led them through a massive stone archway inscribed with intricate symbols. "This entire wing has been allocated for your use," he explained, gesturing to the corridor ahead. "Normally, Regular candidates are housed in dormitories, but given your... unique circumstances, exceptions have ## Chapter 2 (Continued): Sixteen Legends and a View
"...given your... unique circumstances, exceptions have been made."
The corridor ended at a massive door carved with intricate symbols that pulsed with subtle energy. The official pressed his palm against the center, causing the symbols to flare brightly before the door swung open with surprising silence.
"This entire section has been reserved exclusively for your group," the man explained, visibly relieved to be nearly done with his assignment. "I've been told to inform you that your first official test will take place tomorrow morning. Until then, you may... acclimate."
With that, he gave a stiff bow and practically fled, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he escaped the presence of beings whose power made the air itself feel heavy.
"Friendly fellow," Vegito commented with a grin, stepping through the doorway. Then he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening. "Whoa..."
They had entered what could only be described as a luxury compound—if compounds spanned several thousand square feet and featured cathedral ceilings. A vast central chamber with polished stone floors and crystal chandeliers branched off into multiple corridors, each leading to separate living quarters. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominated one wall, offering a breathtaking view of the artificial sky and the sprawling Second Floor cityscape beyond.
"This will suffice," declared Gilgamesh, inspecting the surroundings with a critical eye. "Though it lacks the splendor of my gardens in Uruk."
"It's perfect!" Vegito exclaimed, immediately making a beeline for the windows. He pressed his hands against the glass, taking in the expansive view with genuine delight. "Look at that! You can see for miles!"
His childlike enthusiasm for something as simple as a view drew various reactions from the Heroic Spirits—some found it endearing, others bemusing, and a few practically rolled their eyes at such ordinary pleasure.
"There appears to be a fully-stocked kitchen through that archway," Artoria observed, her keen eyes already identifying the most important feature of their new accommodations.
"Food!" Vegito spun away from the window and was across the room in an instant, his movement so fluid it seemed like he teleported. The kitchen counter was indeed laden with dishes from what appeared to be multiple cultures—some recognizable, others completely alien.
Without further ceremony, Vegito grabbed a plate and began piling it high with everything in reach. The Heroic Spirits watched with expressions ranging from disgust to amusement as he proceeded to devour enough food for ten people, eating with the single-minded focus of someone who hadn't seen a meal in days.
"His appetite rivals Saber's," Ishtar commented with a smirk, earning a dignified glare from Artoria.
"A healthy appetite indicates a strong life force," Nightingale observed clinically, moving closer to study Vegito's eating habits. "Though his eating methods present several choking hazards and potential digestive complications."
"Perhaps the boy would benefit from proper dining etiquette," Morgan suggested, her tone dripping with disdain. "One befitting someone who supposedly commands sixteen Heroic Spirits."
Vegito glanced up mid-bite, a drumstick halfway to his mouth. "Nobody's commanding anybody," he said cheerfully. "And I'm just hungry. You guys can eat however you want."
Between mouthfuls, he noticed the assembled women were still standing somewhat awkwardly around the room. "Aren't you guys gonna eat?" he asked, gesturing toward the food with his half-eaten drumstick. "There's plenty."
"We do not require sustenance in the conventional sense," Morgan explained, her tone suggesting she was speaking to a particularly slow child. "As Heroic Spirits, we are magical constructs sustained by mana."
"Oh." Vegito considered this while chewing thoughtfully. "But can you eat? For fun, I mean?"
This simple question seemed to catch several of them off guard.
"For... fun?" echoed Medea, as if the concept was foreign to magical beings of their stature.
"Yeah, you know. Because food tastes good." Vegito shrugged, picking up something that resembled a pastry with blue filling. "This thing's amazing, by the way. Like a blueberry pie but spicier."
There was a moment of collective hesitation, then Nero stepped forward with a theatrical flourish. "The Emperor shall join this feast! In Rome, we understood the value of communal dining! It is the mark of civilization itself!"
This broke the tension somewhat. One by one, the Heroic Spirits began to approach the food, some eagerly (Nero, Musashi), others with refined dignity (Artoria, who tried and failed to hide her enthusiasm), and some with obvious reluctance (Gilgamesh, Medea).
Bam, who had been standing quietly by the door, jumped when Vegito called out to him.
"Hey, Bam! Come eat something! You look like you could use a good meal."
The golden-eyed boy approached hesitantly, unused to such casual inclusion. When Vegito pushed a plate into his hands and began loading it with food, Bam's expression of stunned gratitude was almost painful to witness.
"I... thank you," he murmured, holding the plate as if it might disappear. "You don't have to—"
"Course I do," Vegito interrupted with a grin. "We're tower-climbing buddies now. And buddies share food."
As they ate, an unusual dynamic began to emerge. Despite the incredible power contained in the room—beings who had shaped history, slain gods, and commanded armies—everyone seemed to be unconsciously arranging themselves around Vegito. Not in deference or subservience, but in a subtle gravitational pattern, as if he were the center of a complex social solar system.
Arcueid, who had been quietly observing this phenomenon, finally approached Vegito directly. Unlike the others who maintained some degree of formality, she simply hopped onto the counter beside him, legs dangling casually.
"You're weird," she declared, red eyes studying him intently. "Not human-weird. Something else."
Vegito paused mid-chew, glancing at her with amusement. "Says the lady with red eyes and supernatural powers."
Arcueid grinned, revealing slightly elongated canines. "I'm a True Ancestor. Being weird is expected of me. But you..." She leaned closer, sniffing subtly. "You smell like possibility."
"Is that good or bad?" Vegito asked, seeming genuinely curious rather than unnerved by her proximity.
"Interesting," she decided, stealing a piece of fruit from his plate with lightning-quick reflexes. "Most humans who smell like possibility end up changing the world. Sometimes they break it."
"I don't want to break anything," Vegito said with surprising sincerity. "I just want to see the view from the top."
Arcueid tilted her head, studying him like a fascinating new species. "Simple goals often lead to the most complex journeys." She popped the stolen fruit into her mouth. "Tasty. You were right about eating for fun."
Across the room, BB was engaged in what appeared to be a heated internal debate, her digital form occasionally glitching as she processed calculations. Finally, she approached Vegito with determined steps.
"You're an anomaly," she announced without preamble. "I've run 1,274 predictive scenarios for your existence, and none compute properly."
"Sorry?" Vegito offered, not sounding particularly apologetic.
"Your movement patterns defy logic," BB continued, digital screens materializing around her. "Your reaction time exceeds human capacity by approximately 836%. Your energy signature fluctuates between registering as 'barely detectable' and 'system overflow error.'" She leaned forward, eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "What are you?"
"Just a guy," Vegito shrugged, popping another pastry into his mouth. "With really good reflexes."
"That's like saying a black hole is just a 'heavy spot,'" BB scoffed. "I could accept one statistical outlier, but you're a walking impossibility. Your very existence corrupts my predictive algorithms."
"Is that why you keep glitching?" Vegito asked, pointing to where her left arm was momentarily displaying code rather than skin.
BB's eyes widened in surprise. "You can see that? I'm processing at subsonic frequencies!"
"I've got good eyes," Vegito tapped the side of his head. "So what's all that about anomaly coefficients?"
"I'm trying to understand what you are," BB admitted, dropping all pretense. "You don't fit any established parameter."
"Told you. I'm human. Mostly."
"That is demonstrably false," BB countered. "Humans don't move the way you do. They don't bend reality by existing. They don't—"
"Generate a field effect that nullifies hostile intent within a three-meter radius," completed Scathach, setting down her cup. When everyone looked at her in surprise, she shrugged. "I've been testing it. Try to summon genuine killing intent toward him. You can't maintain it within that range."
Several of the more combat-oriented Spirits immediately tried—and found she was right. Each time they attempted to visualize harming Vegito, their thoughts seemed to slide away like water off glass.
"Fascinating," Medea murmured, approaching to join the growing circle around Vegito. "Some form of passive divine protection?"
"Nope," Vegito said cheerfully. "Just Ultra Instinct."
"Ultra... Instinct?" Musashi leaned forward, immediately interested in anything related to combat techniques.
"It's not something I do. It's just... how I am." Vegito seemed to struggle for words. "My body moves without thinking. My mind's clear all the time. I don't fight against things—I move with them."
"Born enlightenment," Shiki Ryougi spoke for the first time, her heterochromatic eyes studying him intently. "The state zen masters spend lifetimes pursuing."
"I guess?" Vegito scratched his head. "I just know I've always been this way. My parents said I was born during some kind of celestial alignment. Super moon on a solstice during a meteor shower or something. They named me 'Vegito' because it means 'victorious arrival' in some old language."
This explanation, casual as it was, sent a ripple of recognition through several of the Heroic Spirits. Born under a convergence of cosmic phenomena. Named for victory. These were the classic markers of a Chosen One narrative—the kind of origin that prefaced legends.
"And what brought you to the Tower?" Artoria asked, her voice carrying the gentle authority of a born leader.
At this, Vegito's perpetual half-smile faltered slightly. For the first time, something like vulnerability crossed his features.
"I've always been... different," he said after a moment. "Strong without trying. Lucky when it shouldn't be possible. People either want to use me or fear me. There's nowhere I really belong." He shrugged, the moment of seriousness passing as quickly as it had come. "I heard about this Tower that gives people what they want if they reach the top. Figured I'd check it out."
"What is it you want?" Bam asked quietly, speaking up for the first time in a while. "If you reach the top?"
Vegito looked at him, then out the massive window that offered a view of the artificial sky. "Nothing specific. Just... a place where being me makes sense. Where I don't have to hold back all the time." He grinned suddenly. "And a good view. I like being able to see far."
Something in this simple, honest answer seemed to resonate with many in the room. These were beings of immense power, legends who had often lived in isolation because of their abilities, their destinies, their differences from ordinary people.
"A place to belong," Artoria murmured, almost to herself.
"A place without the need for restraint," added Scathach.
"Acceptance without fear," Arcueid said softly.
Gilgamesh scoffed, breaking the moment. "Sentimental nonsense. Power creates its own belonging. Its own rules."
"That why you're stuck following me around?" Vegito asked with a mischievous grin.
The King of Heroes bristled visibly, golden armor clinking as she straightened. "This temporary binding is a mere inconvenience. One I shall overcome in due time."
"Sure, sure," Vegito nodded agreeably, which only seemed to irritate her further. "Until then, we're roommates."
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You consider yourself my equal, boy?"
"Nah," Vegito replied, surprising everyone. "I'm just me. You're you. Why compare?"
The simple response seemed to catch Gilgamesh off guard. She had prepared for arrogance, for fear, for deference—but not for such casual dismissal of the entire concept of hierarchy.
Before she could formulate a suitably cutting response, Tiamat—who had been silently observing from the corner due to her massive size—made a soft, crooning sound. It was oddly maternal, a sound that seemed to bypass the ears entirely and resonate directly with something primal in the brain.
Everyone turned to look at the primordial goddess, who was gazing at Vegito with ancient eyes that held something almost like tenderness.
"What's she saying?" Vegito asked, genuinely curious. "Can she talk?"
"Tiamat represents primordial creation," Medea explained carefully. "The mother of all life in her mythology. Her communication is... different."
"She says you remind her of the first dawn," BB translated unexpectedly. "A force that simply exists without questioning its right to be."
"Oh," Vegito blinked, looking genuinely touched. "That's... nice of her."
He waved at the massive goddess, a gesture so casual and friendly toward a being who had once threatened all of human civilization that several of the Spirits couldn't help but exchange amazed glances.
Tiamat made another sound—this one almost like laughter—and gestured toward the remaining food.
"I believe she's telling you to eat more," Ishtar interpreted dryly. "Mothers, across all pantheons. Always trying to feed everyone."
"Works for me," Vegito grinned, grabbing another plate. "So, speaking of roommates... How are we going to work out sleeping arrangements? There's what, twenty rooms? And eighteen of us?"
"Seventeen," corrected Ishtar. "Sixteen Heroic Spirits, plus you."
"Eighteen," Vegito insisted, nodding toward Bam. "He's staying with us."
Bam's eyes widened. "I... I couldn't impose. Regulars are supposed to—"
"You're with me," Vegito said simply, in a tone that somehow left no room for argument despite being completely friendly. "We came in together, we're climbing together."
The golden-eyed boy looked stunned, then grateful, then overwhelmed all in the space of seconds. "Thank you," he managed finally.
Gilgamesh made a dismissive gesture. "The sleeping arrangements are irrelevant. As Heroic Spirits, we can enter spirit form to conserve energy when not actively needed."
"No way," Vegito shook his head emphatically. "That's no fun. Everyone gets a room. With a bed. And personal space." He looked around the group. "Unless any of you actually want to go all ghostly when you're not needed?"
His phrasing—deliberate or not—struck a chord. What Heroic Spirit, what legendary being summoned throughout history, hadn't at some point felt like a tool, a weapon to be wielded and then set aside? His casual insistence on their physical comfort, their personhood rather than their utility, was both disarming and unexpectedly touching.
"I would prefer a physical form," Artoria admitted. "And proper rest, even if not strictly necessary."
"Me too!" Nero declared dramatically. "The Emperor requires an appropriate chamber! With red decor, naturally. And acoustics suitable for poetry recitation!"
Scathach simply nodded her agreement, while Morgan looked thoughtfully at Vegito, as if reassessing something about him.
"I'm staying corporeal," Arcueid declared, hopping off the counter. "Physical sensations are half the fun of these cross-dimensional summonings."
One by one, the others nodded or murmured agreement. Even Gilgamesh gave a haughty inclination of her head, as if granting permission rather than accepting the arrangement.
"Great!" Vegito clapped his hands together. "Then everyone picks a room. First come, first served!" He paused, then added with a grin, "Except I get the one with the biggest window. I like the view."
This casual claim—not to the largest room or the most luxurious, but simply to the one with the best vista—further cemented the strange impression he made. Here was someone with the power to command legends, who had bent the Tower's rules without effort, and his greatest desire was... to see farther.
"I call the room nearest the training facilities," Musashi declared immediately, already heading down one corridor to investigate.
"I require proximity to water," Medea stated, moving toward another wing.
"The Emperor shall take the chamber with the finest acoustics!" Nero announced, her voice deliberately echoing to test each space.
Morgan and Gilgamesh exchanged a look of mutual disdain at the undignified scramble before both glided regally toward opposite ends of the compound, each determined to find the most suitable accommodations for their royal status.
As chaos erupted with sixteen legendary beings claiming territory, Bam stood uncertainly beside Vegito.
"You don't need to include me," he said softly. "I can stay in the Regular dormitories."
Vegito turned to him with surprising seriousness. "Why'd you come to the Tower, Bam?"
The question caught the golden-eyed boy off guard. "I... I'm following someone. A friend. She's all I have."
Vegito nodded thoughtfully. "And you think she's climbing?"
"Yes. She... she always talked about reaching the top. Seeing the stars."
"Stars, huh?" Vegito smiled. "Sounds like we're both chasing a view." He clapped Bam on the shoulder. "Then we're climbing together. Way more fun than doing it alone."
The simple acceptance, the casual inclusion without demands or conditions, seemed to overwhelm Bam momentarily. He blinked rapidly, looking away.
"Thank you," he said again, the words carrying the weight of someone unaccustomed to kindness.
"Stop thanking me," Vegito laughed. "That's what, the third time? We're friends now. Friends don't need thanks."
"Friends," Bam repeated, testing the word like an unfamiliar language.
Their moment was interrupted by a crash from down one of the corridors, followed by Gilgamesh's outraged voice:
"The audacity! This insect dares claim the chamber I had selected!"
"Uh oh," Vegito grinned. "Sounds like the room assignments are getting complicated."
He jogged down the corridor toward the commotion, Bam following hesitantly behind. They found Gilgamesh facing off against BB, golden portals shimmering in the air around the King of Heroes while digital barriers flickered around the Moon Cancer.
"This room has optimal data flow and electromagnetic resonance," BB stated matter-of-factly. "Essential for my functions. Your needs are purely aesthetic."
"Every space the King desires is by definition essential!" Gilgamesh retorted, a golden axe beginning to emerge from one portal. "Remove yourself, digital pest!"
"Hey, hey!" Vegito stepped between them, seemingly unconcerned about the deadly weapons manifesting inches from his face. "There are plenty of rooms. What's so special about this one?"
Both women pointed to the ceiling simultaneously. Vegito looked up to see an intricate crystal chandelier that refracted light in complex, beautiful patterns across the walls.
"It's pretty," he acknowledged. "But is it worth fighting over?"
"The King does not compromise," Gilgamesh declared imperiously.
"My systems require specific light frequencies for optimal operation," BB countered.
Vegito considered this for a moment, then brightened. "I've got an idea. BB, could you create a digital projection of this light pattern in another room?"
BB blinked, momentarily surprised by the simple solution. "I... yes, I could create a holographic simulation with 99.7% accuracy."
"And Gilgamesh," Vegito turned to the golden king, "wouldn't it be more impressive to have the original rather than a copy? Since you're the original king and all?"
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed suspiciously at this transparent flattery, but after a moment, she inclined her head regally. "Your reasoning, while simplistic, has merit. I shall claim this chamber, and the digital entity may create her pale imitation elsewhere."
"Perfect!" Vegito grinned, apparently oblivious to the fact that he'd just manipulated the King of Heroes with elementary psychology. "Problem solved."
As BB departed with surprisingly little protest, Gilgamesh examined Vegito with new consideration. "You have a certain crude cunning," she observed. "Perhaps not entirely worthless as a Master after all."
"Not your Master," Vegito reminded her cheerfully. "Just the guy you're stuck with for now."
"Such semantics are beneath the King's concern," Gilgamesh dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Your function remains the same regardless of title."
Before Vegito could respond, an alarm sounded throughout the compound—three sharp tones followed by a mechanical voice:
"ATTENTION ALL CANDIDATES. PRELIMINARY TESTING WILL COMMENCE AT DAWN. PREPARE ACCORDINGLY."
"Testing, huh?" Vegito's eyes lit up with interest. "Wonder what kind of challenges they'll have?"
Gilgamesh scoffed. "Whatever primitive trials this 'Tower' devises will hardly test the limits of true legend."
"Maybe," Vegito agreed easily. "But it might be fun anyway."
As they returned to the main chamber, they found most of the other Spirits had gathered after hearing the announcement. Discussions about what the tests might entail had already begun, with the more battle-oriented Spirits looking eager and others merely curious.
Musashi approached Vegito directly, her expression eager. "Finally, a chance to test our mettle! Will you fight alongside us, or do you plan to let your Servants handle everything?"
"Nobody's a servant here," Vegito corrected, his tone remaining friendly but with a hint of firmness. "And I don't plan anything. I just do what feels right in the moment."
"Improvisation in battle is a valid strategy," Scathach commented, joining them. "Though typically it requires extraordinary reflexes and situational awareness."
"Or Ultra Instinct," Musashi grinned, clearly excited by the prospect of seeing Vegito in action again.
Across the room, Morgan observed these interactions with calculated interest. Unlike most of the others who had gravitated toward Vegito's natural charisma, she maintained a careful distance, analyzing rather than participating.
"You find him curious as well," came a soft voice beside her. Morgan turned to find Shiki Ryougi had approached silently.
"I find the dynamics he creates curious," Morgan corrected coldly. "Power should inspire fear or subservience. He inspires neither, yet commands both."
Shiki's heterochromatic eyes followed Vegito as he laughed at something Arcueid had said. "He exists outside conventional patterns. I cannot see his lines of death."
This caught Morgan's full attention. "Impossible. Everything that exists has an end."
"Yes," Shiki agreed. "Which suggests either my eyes are failing... or his existence operates on principles beyond my perception." She glanced at Morgan. "Your magecraft senses nothing unusual?"
Morgan's lips thinned. "On the contrary. My senses detect everything unusual, yet nothing specific. Like trying to isolate a single wave in the ocean."
Their contemplation was interrupted as Tiamat suddenly straightened, her massive form tensing. A moment later, a section of the wall slid open, revealing a Tower official—different from the one who had guided them earlier. This one was tall and severe, with metallic implants visible along his jawline.
"I am Test Administrator Hansung Yu," he announced, cold eyes surveying the assembled legends with clinical detachment. "I've come to explain tomorrow's preliminaries."
All conversation ceased as attention focused on the newcomer. Even Vegito stopped mid-bite, turning to listen.
"Normally," Yu continued, "candidates would be tested on basic combat proficiency against each other. However, given the... unusual nature of your group, traditional methods have been deemed inadequate."
"You fear we would destroy your testing arena," Gilgamesh stated with smug satisfaction.
Yu's expression didn't change. "Precisely. Instead, you will face a series of specialized challenges designed to evaluate both individual capability and group coordination."
"What kind of challenges?" Vegito asked, genuinely curious.
"The first will test adaptability," Yu explained. "You will enter an environment where shinsoo density fluctuates unpredictably. Most beings find movement difficult or impossible under such conditions."
"Sounds interesting," Vegito commented. "What's the goal?"
"Reach the center and retrieve a specific item while the environment actively works against you," Yu replied. "Simple in concept. Nearly impossible in execution."
"Nearly impossible is just another way of saying 'really fun challenge,'" Vegito grinned.
Yu studied him for a moment, something like curiosity briefly flickering across his otherwise impassive features. "Your confidence is... noted." His gaze swept across the assembled Spirits. "You may select five companions for this first test. Choose wisely based on their abilities."
With that pronouncement, he turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. "One final note. While we cannot prevent you from proceeding as a group due to your... unique circumstances, your performance will be evaluated. Impressively subpar results may lead to... additional challenges."
The threat, thinly veiled as it was, hung in the air as Yu departed.
"Delightful fellow," Ishtar commented sarcastically. "Reminds me of certain underworld bureaucrats."
"He fears us," Scathach observed. "Fear breeds hostility."
"Who cares if he likes us?" Arcueid shrugged. "The challenge sounds fun. Unpredictable environment, active resistance—better than standing around this place all day."
"We need to select five companions," Artoria reminded them, ever focused on the practical matters. "Logically, we should choose those best suited to environmental adaptation and mobility."
All eyes turned to Vegito, who was back to eating again, seemingly unconcerned with the ominous warning they'd just received.
"So," Musashi prompted impatiently, "who are you choosing?"
Vegito looked up, surprised to find everyone staring at him expectantly. "Me? I figured you guys would decide amongst yourselves."
"You are our anchor point," Artoria explained patiently. "We cannot move beyond a certain distance from you. Therefore, you must be central to the mission, with the most suitable support arranged around you."
"Oh, right." Vegito scratched his head thoughtfully. "Well, who wants to go? I don't really know all your abilities yet."
This innocent question immediately sparked a flurry of responses:
"The King's treasury contains solutions to all possible scenarios—" from Gilgamesh.
"My rune magic offers versatility in shifting environments—" from Scathach.
"Digital manipulation allows me to hack unstable systems—" from BB.
Vegito held up his hands, laughing. "Whoa! One at a time, please!"
"Perhaps," Artoria suggested diplomatically, "each interested party could briefly state their relevant talents? Then you might make an informed decision."
"Or," Arcueid countered with a mischievous grin, "he could just pick whoever he likes best so far. Would certainly tell us something about his character."
"That's not a tactical approach," Artoria frowned.
"But it would be entertaining," Morgan commented with unexpected humor. "I'm curious who our 'Master' favors after mere hours of acquaintance."
"I'm not your—" Vegito began the now-familiar protest, then stopped and shook his head with a laugh. "Never mind. Look, how about this? Since we don't know exactly what we're facing, let's get a mix of different abilities."
He turned to survey the assembled Spirits thoughtfully. "Scathach, you mentioned rune magic? That sounds versatile."
The immortal warrior nodded, a small smile touching her lips at being selected first.
"BB, you said something about manipulating systems? That might help with whatever's making the environment go crazy."
The digital entity smirked triumphantly at being chosen.
"Musashi, you move really well, and I'm guessing you can adapt quickly in battle."
The swordswoman grinned broadly, already gripping her sword hilts in anticipation.
"And..." Vegito looked around carefully, "Arcueid, since you seem really eager for some action."
The True Ancestor bounced slightly on her toes in excitement.
"And finally..." His eyes scanned the remaining Spirits before settling on, "Bam."
This last choice drew surprised reactions from several of the legends.
"The quiet boy?" Gilgamesh scoffed. "What possible value could he add compared to true legends?"
"He knows the Tower," Vegito explained simply. "And sometimes local knowledge beats raw power."
Bam himself looked stunned. "Me? But I... I haven't even taken the official tests yet. I don't know if I have any useful abilities."
"You'll do fine," Vegito assured him with complete confidence. "Besides, how will you find out what you can do if you don't try?"
This simple logic, delivered with such casual certainty, seemed to straighten Bam's posture slightly. He nodded, a new determination entering his golden eyes.
"I... I'll do my best not to slow you down."
"Great!" Vegito grinned. "So that's our team: me, Scathach, BB, Musashi, Arcueid, and Bam." He looked around at the others. "The rest of you can... umm... cheer us on?"
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "We are bound within a hundred meters of you. We will be in the vicinity regardless, even if not actively participating."
"Oh, right," Vegito nodded. "Well, you can still cheer. Maybe bring snacks?"
The absolute casualness with which he suggested legendary heroes serve as his personal cheering section and catering service drew several incredulous looks, along with a few barely suppressed smiles.
"The King does not 'cheer,'" Gilgamesh stated flatly, though there was a hint of amusement in her crimson eyes. "But I shall observe your performance with appropriate interest."
"I'll prepare medical supplies," Nightingale declared, already mentally cataloging potential injuries and treatments. "Environmental hazards often lead to complex trauma patterns."
"I shall compose an epic to commemorate your first trial!" Nero announced grandly. "The ballad of Vegito and his chosen companions, facing the Tower's wrath!"
As the various Spirits began discussing tomorrow's challenge with increasing animation, Artoria approached Vegito quietly.
"You didn't choose me," she observed, her tone carefully neutral.
Vegito looked at her in surprise. "Did you want to go?"
"I am a knight and a king," she replied simply. "Battle is my purpose."
"There'll be plenty of challenges," Vegito assured her. "I just figured I should give everyone a chance to show what they can do."
Artoria studied him for a moment, then nodded. "A fair approach. Though unusual for one in a leadership position."
"I'm not a leader," Vegito shrugged. "Just a guy trying to climb a tower with some new friends."
"Friends," Artoria repeated thoughtfully. "Is that how you see us? Beings summoned against our will and bound to your presence?"
For the first time, Vegito looked genuinely troubled. "I didn't ask for any of you to be brought here," he said quietly. "And I don't want anyone forced to do anything. If there's a way to break whatever's binding you to me, I'm all for finding it."
The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. Artoria's expression softened slightly.
"In my experience," she said after a moment, "true bonds are forged through shared purpose, not magical compulsion. Perhaps these tests will reveal which we truly have."
With that surprisingly philosophical observation, she inclined her head and moved away, leaving Vegito looking thoughtfully after her.
As evening fell (or what passed for evening in the Tower's artificial day/night cycle), the excitement of arrival gradually gave way to the practical concerns of settling in. Rooms were claimed, sometimes after heated negotiations. Personal spaces were cautiously established. The strange, improvised family of legends and irregulars began the awkward process of finding their collective rhythm.
Vegito, true to his word, claimed the room with the largest window. It wasn't the most luxurious chamber, lacking some of the ornate decorations and amenities of others, but its vast window offered an unparalleled view of the Second Floor's false sky and the twinkling lights of distant structures.
As the others retired to their chosen spaces, Vegito sat cross-legged on the floor before the window, gazing out at the artificial stars. He didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching until a voice spoke from the doorway.
"May I join you?"
He turned to find Scathach standing there, her usual battle attire replaced by a simpler outfit that nonetheless did nothing to diminish her regal presence.
"Sure," Vegito smiled, patting the space beside him. "Window's big enough to share."
The immortal warrior moved silently across the room, lowering herself to sit beside him with fluid grace. For several minutes, they simply observed the view together in comfortable silence.
"The stars are different here," Scathach finally observed. "Artificial. Created rather than born."
Vegito no