The Proctor's childlike face showed no anger. Instead, his lips curved into a small, chillingly fascinated smile, the kind a serpent gives when it finds prey that might actually bite back.
He didn't speak aloud. His voice slid straight into Jade's mind, smooth and cold as black ice.
"An impressive spark. Don't disappoint me by burning out too soon."
Then his presence receded, fading into the white void like smoke into the wind.
Jade's focus shifted inward.
A calm, precise part of his mind, untouched by the manic thrill of his awakening, whispered one word:
Status.
A translucent screen flickered into view before him, lines of radiant blue code cascading across it.
<< SYSTEM STATUS >>
USER: Jade
TITLE: Self-Conqueror
LEVEL: 5
EXP: 1,250 / 2,000
RACE: Perfected Human (Evolving)
ATTRIBUTES
VITALITY: 18
STRENGTH: 16
DEXTERITY: 20
AGILITY: 22
MENTAL: 20
DIVINE AFFINITY: 1
<< ATTRIBUTE POINTS AVAILABLE: 5 >>
SKILLS
[RARE] Obliterate Lv. 2
A concentrated wave of destructive crimson energy.
Cost: High Mana. Can be used twice per fight without severe drain.
[EPIC] Observer's Eye Lv. 2
Heightens perception and predicts enemy movements.
Cost: Moderate Mental Energy. Active skill.
[UNCOMMON] Pain Tolerance Lv. 3
Suppresses neurological response to trauma.
Cost: Passive. Severe injuries registered but do not impair function.
[DIVINE] Neon Heart Lv. 1
Core system overhauled. Operates on [God's Essence].
*Effect: +100% Mana Regeneration. Stabilizes all other attributes.
Further functionalities locked. Await level threshold.*
[DIVINE] God's Essence Manipulation Lv. 1
Limited access to divine energy matrix granted.
*Effect: Imbue weapons with armor-piercing properties.
Note: Usable once per 24-hour cycle.*
<< SYSTEM ALERT >>
[WARNING]: User's growth pattern is anomalous. Divinity correlation detected.
[ADVICE]: Proceed with caution. The Tower adapts to threats.
Jade's eyes scanned the information, mind sharp and methodical. His attention snagged on the pulsing line: << ATTRIBUTE POINTS AVAILABLE: 5 >>
A reward for the first gate, he surmised. Or for reaching Level 5.
His gaze flicked across his attributes. Vitality was a buffer against death. Strength, raw power. Dexterity, precision. Agility, evasion. All crucial.
But his eyes settled on MENTAL: 20. It was his highest stat, the source of his Observer's Eye, the wellspring of his focus. The System's warning echoed in his mind: "The Tower adapts to threats." It wouldn't be a test of brute force. It would be a test of will, perception, and control.
With a mental command, he allocated all five points.
MENTAL: 20 -> 25
A sudden, crystalline clarity washed over him. The faint whispers from the floating weapons in the Armory sharpened into discernible concepts—thirst, honor, rage. The weight of the proctor's gaze felt more tangible, a physical pressure he could now almost measure. It was the right choice.
"'Divine'..." he murmured, the word tasting of both power and destiny. "So the System acknowledges hierarchy."
The common skills were tools.
The rare ones, weapons.
The epic---a masterpiece.
And the divine? Those were brushes meant to repaint reality.
The warning at the end only made him smile.
Let it adapt.
Then---like the world itself inhaling---everything vanished.
The silence that followed Jade's declaration was heavy enough to crush breath.
Fifty survivors stood frozen, eyes wide, as if the air itself refused to move.
A man at the back collapsed to his knees, choking.
A woman clutched her chest, trembling.
They weren't afraid of the Proctor anymore.
They were afraid of him---the white-haired boy who had laughed in the face of godhood and dared the heavens to answer.
The Proctor's lips twitched again into that eerie, fascinated smile.
"An impressive spark," his voice echoed faintly in Jade's mind once more. "Do not disappoint me."
Then, the white room shattered.
They blinked, disoriented, as a new world unfolded around them.
The ground beneath their feet was smooth obsidian, polished to a mirror's sheen. Above, a twilight sky stretched endlessly, streaked with nebulae and constellations no human eye had ever seen. The air smelled of rain, ozone, and old parchment.
It felt... ancient. Holy.
And standing before them was an old man.
He leaned on a plain wooden staff, robed in ash-grey. His face was a map of time, lined with wrinkles that spoke of centuries---but his eyes... his eyes burned like dying stars.
Power radiated from him---not violent, but absolute. The kind of power that didn't need to prove itself.
"Be at ease, my children," the man said. His voice was a warm, low rumble that carried the weight of mountains. Instinctively, every shoulder in the crowd relaxed.
"I am called the Curator. You have passed the first gate. You have shown the will to live."
He paused, tapping his staff once. The air rippled with gold.
"But will is a wild beast. To climb this Tower, you must leash it---forge it into a blade."
Golden motes appeared, swirling like lazy fireflies.
"This," the Curator said reverently, "is God's Essence. The Tower breathes it. You are breathing it now."
He explained---how their bodies had become filters, turning the Tower's ambient divinity into mana. How each life taken within its walls yielded a Soul Shard---pure essence, to be offered to the System in exchange for healing, weapons, or knowledge.
A shard shimmered above his palm, a diamond pulsing with inner light.
"You cannot drink directly from the river," the Curator warned. "It would burn your soul to cinders. Instead, you offer this. The System decides what you're worthy to receive."
Then his gaze found Jade.
It wasn't just a look---it was a weight pressing against his chest, right where the Neon Heart pulsed quietly beneath his skin.
The Curator's voice dropped.
"For most, the soul is a crucible. Slow. Safe. But legends speak of exceptions---beings who scorn the filter. They do not convert essence."
His eyes gleamed faintly.
"They devour it."
A murmur rippled through the survivors. None understood the words, but all felt the shift. The gravity of the moment bent toward Jade---the flawless boy with crimson eyes and the smile of a god in the making.
"You are all part of a celestial food chain," the Curator said softly. "Most will learn to scavenge within its rules."
Then, eyes locking on Jade's once more---
"And one or two... may yet learn to become the apex."
He turned, gesturing toward a stone archway carved into the mountainside.
"Even a king needs a sword. Through there lies the Armory of Beginnings. Inside, a weapon awaits each of you. It will not be one you choose---but one that chooses you. When you have shed enough blood to reach the tenth level, your path will solidify. You will awaken your Element---and the Class that defines your purpose in this war."
The spell broke.
A market shimmered into existence beyond the archway as if willed into being by their collective need—stalls bursting with weapons, potions, and vials of glowing essence. Figures moved behind the counters, their forms indistinct and shimmering with a golden, script-like light. They were not human. They were automatons, constructs of the System, their voices a chorus of emotionless echoes as they shouted prices in Soul Shards.
The other survivors, the fifty real, breathing humans, surged forward into this chaos. Their desperation was a tangible force, a wave of greed and hope crashing against the serene, unfeeling vendors. They shoved and bartered, clutching their few, hard-won Soul Shards.
But Jade didn't move with the crowd.
His steps were calm, deliberate---a straight line through the chaos.
He passed beneath the archway into the Armory of Beginnings.
The hall was a cathedral of silence and steel.
Weapons floated midair, suspended in shafts of pale light. Each one whispered its story---the honorable swords, the brutal war-axes, the elegant rapiers.
Jade walked past them all. None called to him.
Until he saw it.
At the back of the hall, half-swallowed by shadow, rested a scythe.
The blade was a crescent of black star-iron that seemed to drink in the light. The haft---pale and smooth as bone---gleamed faintly.
It wasn't a weapon for warriors. It was a tool for executioners.
Perfect.
He stepped closer, fingers curling around the haft. It felt alive---like something ancient recognizing its master.
A voice, cool and clear, broke the silence beside him.
"A scythe," she observed. "You don't intend to fight. You intend to end things."
Jade turned.
The woman was stunning. Her hair was a cascade of liquid moonlight, flowing over her shoulders to her mid-back. Her eyes, deep amethyst pools, held not just awe, but a sharp, analytical light. She stood with an innate grace, her form slender yet strong, hinted at by the subtle curve of muscle in her bare arms and the confident set of her shoulders. She was clad in the same simple tunic as the others, but on her, it looked like a royal garment.
She met his gaze without flinching. "They're all afraid of you now. You made sure of that. Was that the plan? To stand alone from the very start?"
Her words weren't praise; they were a dissection. A challenge. It was the most interesting thing anyone had said to him since he woke up.
Jade's smile was slow and dangerous, a sliver of madness barely contained. He lifted the scythe, its edge humming softly as it cut through the air heavy with divine energy.
"Alone?" he murmured, his voice low and magnetic. "It seems I'm not alone just yet."
He tilted his head, crimson eyes gleaming as he looked from her discerning eyes to the untouched weapons around them.
"They're afraid to stare. You're not. So tell me—"
"Are you going to keep analyzing my choices, or are you finally going to make one of your own and pick a weapon?"