For someone who had lived through countless lives and deaths, Reece knew that plans—no matter how foolproof—often had a way of crumbling. His knowledge, vast as it was, could only do so much. Despite being capable of saving entire worlds, preventing wars, and even foreseeing humanity's darkest hours, there was always something beyond his control. Something unpredictable.
Sitting at the breakfast table, Reece absently stirred his spoon in his coffee, his mind drifting far from his current present. He could, if he wanted, shape the future. He could warn humanity about the coming conflicts—about the creatures stirring beneath the earth, about the Therans hiding in their underground dimension, biding their time to strike. But he had learned the hard way that no matter how much power he wielded, no matter how much knowledge he had, some things were destined to fall apart.
The memories of his last regression were still fresh, particularly the bitterness of his failure. Back then, he had believed in humanity's potential for survival, for growth. He had put his trust in them, working to forge alliances between human factions, striving to prevent the bloodshed he knew was coming. He had even sacrificed his own time—time that could have been spent in the Tower of Eternity—to help stabilize the situation on Earth.
But all it took was a moment of distraction. A few months spent embroiled in the Tower's politics, and everything he had built outside came crashing down. Alliances crumbled, trust shattered, and the enemies he had tried so hard to defeat rose stronger than ever. The hybrid race of Therans, once on the verge of being overthrown, had turned the tables on humanity, enslaving what little remained of the population. It was a cruel, bitter twist of fate—one he had tried and failed to prevent, even with all his power and knowledge.
Reece clenched his fist, the spoon bending under the pressure. He remembered the look of blame in the eyes of the survivors, their accusations sharp and bitter. They claimed he had abandoned them, that he had left them to suffer while he lived in comfort within the Tower's protective walls. It didn't matter that he had fought for them, that he had sacrificed so much. In their eyes, he had failed them, and for that, he was unforgivable.
"This time they can all die for all I care," Reece muttered under his breath, his eyes darkening.
He wasn't a hero. He had long since given up on playing that role. Time and time again, he had seen what happened to those who were blessed by the so-called gods, those who were chosen to be the champions of humanity. They were sent to fight impossible battles, to face unimaginable horrors, only to be cruelly slaughtered or enslaved. And for what? So the gods could maintain their power through the faith of mortals? It was a sick, twisted game, and Reece had no desire to play along.
"All this happened because of the other races' fear of human potential…" he thought, the bitterness in his heart intensifying.
The gods didn't care about the mortals who worshiped them. To them, humanity was nothing more than a tool—a source of power to be exploited through prayers and belief. The collective thoughts of billions fueled their strength, and when that power was in danger, they would intervene just enough to maintain the status quo. They didn't care who lived or died, as long as they remained known, remembered, and revered. When their "batteries" of faith ran low, they would bless a chosen few, give them a taste of divine power, or send avatars to make a few bloodlines. It was all about survival—the gods' survival—and the mortals were none the wiser. The whole grand scheme of things was far darker than most could ever imagine. Even after living for millennia, Reece still found it unsettling.
"For now, such events are still two or three years in the future," he reminded himself, leaning back in his chair and exhaling slowly. "For now, I need to grow stronger and get Prima online." He had time. The global calamities he foresaw, the invasions, the betrayals—they would not happen immediately. But he couldn't waste any more time, either. There was too much at stake. If he wanted to be ready when everything began to unravel, he needed to regain his strength and ensure that Prima, his sentient AI, was fully operational.
He was about to delve deeper into his thoughts when he heard movement downstairs. The sound of chairs scraping the floor, footsteps shuffling, and the faint clatter of dishes indicated his family was gathering for breakfast. Reece forced himself to push aside the weight of his memories, knowing that he needed to play the part of a normal son, a normal brother, if only for a little while longer. As much as he wanted to remain detached from this life, there was still something grounding about these mundane moments. He had lived through countless regressions, and yet, no matter how many times he returned, this house, this family, always remained a source of warmth—a fleeting comfort in the endless cycle of death and rebirth.
Downstairs, his father was already seated at the table, sipping his morning coffee with a tired but contented expression. A retired climber, his father had once been an adventurer who scaled the Tower, facing its dangers and earning his place among Earth's few heroes. Now, he worked for the Adventurer's Association, handling commissions related to the defense and management of Earth's remaining territories. Most of the jobs involved defending settlements from mutated creatures that had emerged after the last world war, but occasionally, more dangerous threats would surface—monsters that came from the very depths of the planet.
Reece's mother, always the caretaker, was busy fussing over his younger sister, who had barely managed to drag herself out of bed and was sitting at the table, her hair a tangled mess. The sight made Reece smile faintly—it was such a small, ordinary scene, but one he would miss. As he quietly took his seat, trying not to draw attention to himself, his mind drifted once more to the past—specifically, to the Therans, the hybrid race that would soon reemerge as humanity's greatest threat.
The first wave of Therans had been a direct result of the Tower's arrival on Earth. When mana had surged across the planet, awakening the latent potential in humans, it had also triggered unexpected mutations. Those who were particularly close to animals or plants when the mana pulse occurred found their genetic codes altered, merging with the traits of the creatures around them. These early Therans were seen as either cursed or blessed, depending on who you asked. Some saw them as abominations, while others hailed them as humanity's next evolutionary step.
Unfortunately, humanity's initial reaction to the Therans had been less than accepting. Discrimination, fear, and hatred spread like wildfire, leading to mass arrests, exiles, and eventually a civil war. By the time the dust settled, nearly a quarter of humanity had evolved into Therans. Many were driven underground, hiding in sub-dimensions created by their strongest members, biding their time until they could return. Reece knew that time was fast approaching. In two or three years, the Therans would begin their assault on the surface, striking when humanity was at its weakest. And that would only be the beginning. First contact with the other humanoid races of the Milky Way would follow, plunging Earth into a new era of conflict.
"Son?" his father's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Now that you've completed your education, any thoughts on what you want to do for the future?"
Reece glanced up from his plate, meeting his father's expectant gaze. His mother, who had just sat down after taming his sister's unruly hair, was also watching him closely, waiting for his answer. It was a loaded question. For most people, graduation marked the beginning of adulthood, the time to choose a career, to settle down, or—if they were brave enough—to make the climb into the Tower. But Reece's decision had already been made, long before this conversation.
"I've decided to take a go at the Tower, Dad," Reece said, his voice calm but resolute.
The reaction was immediate. His mother sucked in a sharp breath, her face paling as her hand trembled slightly. "Why?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry. "Why do you want to go through such troubles when you can make it easy with the talents you have? Don't follow what your friends are doing—signing their death sentences. The Tower is no joke, Reece!"
Reece opened his mouth to respond, but his father gently interrupted. "Let the boy speak, dear," he said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. Reece appreciated his father's calm demeanor. He knew his parents were both worried, but they needed to understand that his decision was not made lightly.
"I've thought about it carefully," Reece began, sitting up straighter. "The talents I have for creativity are better suited in the Tower. I want to learn more than what the university can offer. The Tower, though dangerous, is a place where knowledge is in abundance. And I can't make it out here—not in the field of research I'm interested in. Out here, my ideas will eventually be thought of by others, and those with more resources will beat me to it."
His voice grew more resolute as he continued, "Climbing the social ladder here would be tiresome, and I'd be constantly at risk of having my work stolen or monetized by people I can't trust. In the Tower, under the neutral protection of the Adventurer's Association, I'll have the freedom to pursue my goals."
His mother frowned, her eyes full of concern, but his father nodded slowly, understanding the conviction behind his words.
"So, you've made up your mind no matter what, huh?" his mother asked, her tone resigned.
"I have," Reece replied firmly.
His father sighed, setting his mug down on the table. "I won't stop you, son. I climbed the Tower myself, and I know there's no turning back once someone's set their mind on it. But I have one condition."
Reece raised an eyebrow. "What condition?"
His father's gaze was steady, his expression serious. "Don't lose your humanity. The morals I've taught you, the values you've grown up with—keep them close to your heart. The Tower changes people. Power corrupts. But as long as you remember who you are and watch your back, you'll make it to the top. Maybe even higher than I did." Reece swallowed hard, his throat tightening with unexpected emotion. In all his countless regressions, it was his father's words—this very promise—that had kept him from losing himself to grief and anger, especially when the inevitable happened.
"I understand, Dad. I promise."
With that, he stood from the table, hugging his mother and sister before grabbing his coat. The time had come to pick up his graduation certificate and prepare for the trials of the Tower. His new journey was about to begin.