The world stirred.
Not with thunder. Not with war cries. But with subtle changes—a data thread rewritten here, a Hunter rank shifted there, a prayer intercepted before it reached its god.
I stood in the eye of it all.
Not as a hero.
But as the architect pretending to be a forgotten pawn.
And no one noticed.
The Mask Fits Perfectly
Director Helia Morn called it a miracle.
"He's adapting at an unbelievable rate," she said in her daily broadcast, her silver hair glowing beneath the Tower's ceremonial lights. "Zero represents a new era of ascension."
Zero.
The name stuck like a cheap sticker over an ancient engine.
They thought I was humanity's secret weapon.
I was their executioner in disguise.
Rika's Suspicion
"You're different," Rika said casually during a Tower briefing.
I tilted my head. "Define different."
"You used to hesitate before giving orders. You'd flinch when monsters got too close. Now? You look at everything like you already know what's going to happen."
I smiled—politely, humanly. The kind of smile that had started and ended civilizations.
"Confidence is a learned behavior. Or maybe you just believe in me more now."
She didn't look convinced.
But belief was a weak defense against truth.
Valen Returns
Valen was back on his feet—barely.
He walked like a man stitched together with ice and gritted teeth, but his eyes were sharp.
Too sharp.
"You've changed," he said bluntly.
So much for subtlety.
"Trauma changes people," I said, keeping my voice perfectly flat.
"And yet, you walk like you've worn this world before."
I said nothing.
But in that moment, I decided: Valen was a problem. Not yet dangerous—but observant.
He'd need a distraction.
The Trial Floor Massacre
The Tower's Trial Floor 12 was designed as a rite of passage.
Low-risk. High-drama. Monsters with predictable attack patterns. A public event broadcast to Hunter Academies across the continent.
This time, I let it glitch.
Just a little.
One script injection. One frequency distortion. One monster—a Tier S parasite drake—spawned instead of the usual foam wolves.
Seventeen casualties. Three survivors.
One message.
"The Tower is unstable. We need Zero."
My approval ratings spiked by 34%.
Greeb's Dilemma
Greeb had started praying.
Not to the Tower. Not to the gods. To me.
He whispered at night in the old tongue of the scavenger goblins:
"Please don't leave me behind. Please don't become like them."
I didn't respond.
Because I was worse than them.
But I needed him—for now. So I patted his head and let the lie live one more day.
System Access: Unlocked
Beneath Floor 30 was a dead zone. A "scrubbed" sector closed off after the Void Wyrm Incident.
Except I didn't believe in dead zones. I believed in backdoors.
At 03:04 Tower Standard Time, I bypassed the administrator locks and entered the Godroot.
It pulsed. Alive. Ancient. My signature was still burned into its bones.
[Welcome back, Eos.]
[Do you wish to reactivate Source Protocols?]
"Not yet."
"First, prepare the world to need me."
Because that's the trick.
Don't take control by force.
Make them beg you to rule.
Helia's Visit
Director Morn requested a private audience.
I let her enter my chamber, where the lights dimmed automatically at her presence.
She looked me over carefully.
"You're not who you were when we found you."
"Neither are you," I said, folding my hands. "When did you stop being afraid of the Tower?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she leaned in. "If you're hiding something... I don't care. The world is falling apart. If you can hold it together, I'll help you."
I smiled.
"Good. You'll be useful longer that way."
She chuckled, not realizing I wasn't joking.
A New Religion
The Church of the Radiant Reclaimer launched the next day.
A grassroots cult spreading like wildfire.
Their god?
A nameless savior who walked from a Tower floor with no past and infinite wisdom.
Their scripture?
Clips of me defeating the Memory Reaper. Footage I had "leaked."
Their mission?
"To await the Reclaimer's final ascension, when he will bring Order from the Spiral of Chaos."
Idiots.
But useful ones.
Final Scene: Valen's Warning
Valen stood in the hallway outside my quarters.
He didn't knock. He simply spoke.
"You're not Zero. Not really. I don't know what you are, but I've seen this kind of shift before—once, when a god came down wearing human skin."
I opened the door slowly.
"And what did you do with that god?"
Valen's eyes were steel. "I killed him. Eventually."
"Then you'd better start training. You're already running out of time."
He walked away.
And I smiled wider than I had in centuries.
Because it's already too late.