The final stretch of the Staircase of Trials loomed above Jobaer like an insurmountable peak. Each crystalline step shimmered faintly, their glow almost taunting in its beauty. The oppressive gravity, which had doubled with every step, now pressed down on him with a force so immense that even drawing breath felt like a monumental task.
The air was dense, almost suffocating, as if the Tower itself was testing whether he would falter in these final moments. Arrows continued to rain down sporadically, though slower now, their deadly points a cruel reminder that the trial would show no mercy.
The Final Ascent
Jobaer placed a trembling hand on the edge of the ninety-first step and pulled himself up with every ounce of strength he could muster. His muscles screamed in protest, his vision blurred, and his thoughts wavered between resolve and despair.
The illusions returned with renewed vengeance. As he climbed the ninety-second step, he was enveloped in a fog of guilt. Scenes of his past life flashed before his eyes: moments of failure, regrets, and choices he wished he could undo. The weight of his decisions seemed to manifest physically, dragging him down like invisible chains.
"You're not worthy," a voice whispered, echoing in his mind. "Turn back before it's too late."
But Jobaer gritted his teeth and pushed forward. The fog dissipated as he ascended to the ninety-third step, only to be replaced by a vision of burning rage. Flames licked at his heels, and figures from his life accused him of betrayal, cowardice, and selfishness.
"I won't stop," Jobaer whispered, his voice hoarse but resolute. He swung his sword at the illusions, the blade cutting through the fiery apparitions until they dissolved into embers.
The weight of the trial was no longer just physical—it was emotional, spiritual, and deeply personal.
By the ninety-fifth step, every muscle in Jobaer's body felt like it was on fire. His basic sword, chipped and dulled from endless deflections and parries, felt like a leaden weight in his hands. Blood trickled from countless minor wounds, and his knees wobbled under the crushing force of the gravity.
Still, he pressed on.
The Hundredth Step
As he reached the final five steps, the arrows ceased, leaving only the deafening silence of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Each step felt like an eternity, the Tower testing the last vestiges of his willpower.
At the ninety-ninth step, the gravity reached its peak. Jobaer's legs buckled, and he collapsed onto his hands and knees. The crystalline surface beneath him was cold and unyielding, offering no solace. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to give up, to rest, to let the pain end.
But a flicker of resolve burned deep within him. With a guttural roar, he pushed himself up, his arms trembling, his vision blackening at the edges. He gripped his sword tightly, using it as a crutch as he dragged himself to his feet.
Step by agonizing step, he climbed.
When his foot finally landed on the hundredth step, the world around him exploded with light. The oppressive gravity vanished, replaced by a soothing warmth that enveloped him like a gentle embrace. The staircase dissolved, leaving him suspended in a realm of radiant golden light.
Jobaer collapsed, utterly spent. His vision dimmed, and his consciousness flickered.
Healing and Awakening
Jobaer drifted in and out of consciousness, his body floating in a space that defied comprehension. The golden light of the Tower wrapped around him like a cocoon, each thread of brilliance sinking into his battered form. It wasn't just healing—it was restoration on a fundamental level. His broken bones knit themselves back together, his torn muscles reformed, and his frayed nerves hummed with newfound vigor.
For a moment, he felt weightless, suspended in a state between existence and oblivion. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the overwhelming brilliance of his surroundings. The space he was in was both magnificent and haunting—a surreal tapestry woven from opposing forces.
A Realm Between Heaven and Hell
The world around him was a kaleidoscope of contradictions. To one side, he saw endless fields of radiant light, lush with ethereal flowers that shimmered like jewels. Streams of liquid gold flowed through the landscape, their currents whispering melodies that stirred a sense of peace deep within him. Towering crystalline trees reached upward as though they were trying to touch the heavens, their branches glowing with soft, pulsing hues.
On the other side, the scenery shifted dramatically. Dark, jagged mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks wreathed in ominous crimson clouds. Rivers of molten lava carved paths through barren, charred earth, their fiery glow casting long shadows. The air on that side was thick with ash and the faint, mournful wails of unseen spirits.
The boundary between the two extremes was seamless, a breathtaking amalgamation of heaven and hell. It was as if the Tower sought to remind every challenger of the duality of their journey—beauty and terror, triumph and despair, all existing in perfect harmony.
Jobaer's gaze was drawn downward, and his breath caught in his throat. Below him stretched an abyss that seemed infinite, a swirling vortex of light and shadow. The ground he had climbed from was no longer visible, hidden beneath the churning chaos. He realized he was standing—or rather floating—on an invisible platform, suspended in this surreal realm.
"Is this... the Tower's heart?" he murmured, his voice hoarse and weak. He felt both insignificant and powerful, as though he was a mere speck in a vast universe but had been granted the strength to carve his place within it.
The Process of Awakening
As he turned his attention inward, the golden light intensified, concentrating around his chest and mind. It wasn't just repairing him—it was reshaping him, preparing him for what lay ahead. His body tingled with a strange energy, and he could feel his senses sharpening, his thoughts clearing.
Suddenly, a blinding flash enveloped him, and a translucent panel materialized in front of his eyes:
[Talent Awakening: Super Adaptation]
Description: Your experiences are your greatest strength. As you endure and overcome challenges, your body, mind, and spirit evolve to counter them with unparalleled efficiency.Abilities Unlocked:Adaptive Growth: Stats improve based on repeated exposure to adverse conditions.Environment Mastery: Gradual immunity to harsh environments (gravity, poison, extreme heat, etc.).Instinctive Adjustment: Enhanced reflexes and intuitive decision-making in unpredictable scenarios.
The panel flickered, its text glowing faintly before fading into his mind. He felt a shift within himself, as though a latent part of his being had been unlocked. His breathing steadied, and his vision grew clearer than ever before.
He clenched his fists experimentally. His strength felt different—not just restored but improved. There was a rawness to it, a power that was still unrefined but brimming with potential.
Taking in His Surroundings
Jobaer rose unsteadily to his feet, the lingering exhaustion making his movements sluggish. He staggered to the edge of the invisible platform, peering into the abyss below. The swirling chaos of light and shadow seemed to reach out to him, beckoning and warning all at once.
He looked up and saw the same blend of extremes. Above him stretched an endless sky of golden stars interwoven with streaks of crimson lightning. The stars pulsed rhythmically, like a heartbeat, as if the Tower itself was alive and observing him.
The space was vast yet intimate, overwhelming yet grounding. He couldn't shake the feeling that this realm was designed for him—a canvas painted with the struggles he had faced and the battles yet to come.
"It's... magnificent," he whispered, his voice tinged with awe. He reached out as if he could touch the golden rivers or feel the heat of the molten lava in the distance. His senses were heightened, and he could smell the faint metallic tang of the air, hear the crackling of distant flames, and feel the warmth and chill of the two opposing landscapes merging into one.
The Tower's Voice
As he stood there, trying to absorb the surreal beauty of his surroundings, a deep, resonant voice echoed through the space.
"You have endured. You have proven your resolve. But remember, this is only the beginning."
The words reverberated in his chest, both a warning and a promise. Jobaer nodded slowly, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he resolved to continue forward.
A Glimpse of His Rewards
The panel returned, this time displaying the rewards he had earned:
[Greatsword of the Abyss]
A colossal weapon of darkened steel, its edges glowing faintly with an otherworldly energy. Its weight felt immense as it materialized in his hand, but as he gripped it, the sword seemed to resonate with his will, becoming a natural extension of his body.
[Obsidian Armor of Resilience]
The armor materialized around him piece by piece, fitting perfectly as though it was made just for him. Its surface gleamed black with faint silver etchings, and he could feel its protective aura coursing through his skin.
As the weapons and armor settled into place, he felt a surge of strength. His stats displayed on the panel had increased significantly, reflecting his growth during the trial.
Preparing for What Comes Next
Jobaer turned his gaze back to the horizon, where the mixture of light and darkness seemed to stretch forever. He clenched his fists, his new gauntlets creaking softly as he did.
"I've survived this," he said softly, his voice steady. "And I'll survive what's next."
Though the trial had brought him to the brink of death, it had also awakened a fire within him—a fire that burned brighter than ever before. The Tower had tested him, broken him, and rebuilt him stronger.
For the first time since stepping into the Staircase of Trials, he felt ready to face whatever lay ahead.
In front of him was a teleportation circle . He enterd then everything became dark .
After the Trial
The air in the resting hall was filled with a mix of emotions—relief, joy, sorrow, and exhaustion. Jobaer stepped into the vast chamber, his body still aching despite the Tower's healing. The hall was unlike anything he had ever seen, a place that seemed to belong to a realm beyond mortal comprehension.
The Resting Hall's Enchanting Beauty
The ceiling of the hall stretched impossibly high, an endless dome of glistening stars suspended in a velvet-black sky. Each star pulsed faintly, casting a soft, silvery light that illuminated the space below. Delicate streams of golden light wove through the air like ribbons, their gentle glow calming the frayed nerves of those who had just emerged from their trials.
The floor was a mosaic of crystalline tiles, each one glowing faintly with shifting colors. When Jobaer stepped on them, they felt warm, as though they were alive, radiating a soothing energy that seemed to seep into his very being. Lush, otherworldly flora adorned the edges of the hall, their petals shimmering with hues no earthly flower could replicate. Some blossoms emitted a faint chiming sound when touched by the golden streams of light.
At the center of the hall stood a fountain carved from a single piece of translucent crystal. Water cascaded from its tiers, but it wasn't ordinary water—it sparkled like liquid starlight, each droplet breaking apart into a tiny burst of brilliance before rejoining the flow. The sound of the fountain was mesmerizing, a soft melody that seemed to wash over everyone, offering solace.
A Tapestry of Emotions
The hall wasn't empty. It was filled with people—those who had emerged victorious from their trials and those who had failed. Some sat on the ground, their faces pale and their eyes hollow, still processing the horrors they had faced. Others cried openly, clutching friends or strangers, overwhelmed by relief or despair.
There were those who celebrated, their laughter echoing through the chamber as they examined their rewards or hugged companions. A few stood silently near the fountain, gazing at their reflections in the shimmering waters, their expressions unreadable.
Jobaer paused at the entrance, his gaze sweeping across the scene. The energy in the hall was palpable—a living, breathing mix of humanity's rawest emotions. For a moment, he felt disconnected, as though he were merely an observer, but then the enormity of what he had achieved sank in.
Taking It All In
He walked slowly, his footsteps echoing faintly against the crystalline floor. Despite the warmth and beauty around him, Jobaer felt a chill deep in his soul. He wasn't sure if it was from the trial or the knowledge that he would never see this place again.
He stopped near the fountain, running his fingers along its cool, smooth surface. Looking down, he saw his reflection in the shimmering water. His face was gaunt, his eyes shadowed, and yet there was something different about him. Strength. Resolve.
He looked around again, taking in every detail of the hall. This was a place of endings and beginnings, where challengers rested after their first ordeal and prepared for the next. He wanted to remember it all—the ethereal flowers, the glowing tiles, the faint music in the air.
Conversations with Others
As he walked through the hall, he couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversation.
"I thought I was going to die when the floor beneath me collapsed," a man with a bandaged arm said to a group of listeners. "But then... I don't know, I just kept running. I didn't think I'd make it."
A young woman, her face streaked with tears, clutched a pendant in her hands. "It was an illusion," she whispered. "They made me think I'd lost everything. My family, my friends... but it wasn't real."
Jobaer approached a small group huddled near one of the glowing trees. They glanced at him warily, but he offered a tired smile. "Mind if I sit?" he asked.
One of them, a man with short, spiked hair, nodded. "Sure. You made it through, huh?"
"Barely," Jobaer admitted as he lowered himself onto the ground. "The staircase was... brutal."
The man let out a low whistle. "You chose the Staircase of Trials? That's no joke. I heard only a handful of people ever make it through the Heaven difficulty."
"What about you?" Jobaer asked.
The man grimaced. "I chose the Earth difficulty. Thought I was smart taking the middle path, but it was hell. I had to fight my way through endless waves of beasts. Each one stronger than the last. I barely made it out."
A woman in the group spoke up, her voice trembling. "I failed... I couldn't do it. My body just gave out." She looked down at her hands, her shoulders slumping.
Jobaer hesitated, then placed a hand on her shoulder. "You tried," he said softly. "That's more than most people would even dare to do."
Her eyes filled with tears, but she nodded, a faint smile breaking through her despair.
Saying Goodbye to the Resting Hall
After a while, Jobaer stood, stretching his sore limbs. He knew he couldn't stay here forever. The seven days of rest were ahead, and he needed to use that time wisely. But before leaving, he turned one last time to take in the resting hall.
The people, the fountain, the stars above—it was a scene he would carry with him forever. This place was a sanctuary, a moment of peace in a journey filled with danger and uncertainty.
"Goodbye," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, and turned to leave.
Reunion with His Grandfather
Outside the hall, he found his grandfather waiting, leaning on his walking stick. The old man's eyes lit up when he saw Jobaer, and he rushed forward as quickly as his legs would allow.
"You did it," his grandfather said, his voice filled with pride and relief. "I knew you would."
Jobaer smiled faintly, letting his grandfather pull him into a brief, tight hug. "Barely," he said. "I thought I was going to die more than once."
"But you didn't," his grandfather said firmly, stepping back to look him over. "And you've come out stronger for it."
Returning Home
The journey back to their home was quiet, the weight of Jobaer's experience settling heavily on his shoulders. His grandfather didn't push him to talk, sensing that he needed time to process everything.
When they arrived, his family greeted him warmly, their relief evident. His grandmother fussed over him, making him sit and eat while she checked for any lingering injuries. His uncle clapped him on the back, a wide grin on his face.
"You've done something incredible," his uncle said. "Not many people survive the Heaven difficulty, let alone awaken a talent like yours."
Jobaer nodded, though his mind was already turning toward the future. The Tower awaited, and with it, more challenges, dangers, and discoveries. But for now, he allowed himself a moment to rest, surrounded by the people who mattered most.
[Rest Period: 7 Days Remaining]
Jobaer stared at the panel, his thoughts swirling. Seven days of rest seemed like an eternity after the harrowing trial he had just endured, but he knew it would pass in the blink of an eye. Beyond this sanctuary lay the true Tower—a place where danger and opportunity existed in equal measure.
He glanced down at his new equipment. The Greatsword of the Abyss rested against his shoulder, its black surface shimmering faintly in the light. The Obsidian Armor felt light yet sturdy, its design elegant yet functional.
As he adjusted to his surroundings, memories of the trial flashed through his mind. The gravity, the arrows, the illusions—they had pushed him to his absolute limits. But they had also forged him into something stronger.
[Stat Update: Post-Trial Results]
Strength: 25Agility: 20Defense: 30Mental Power: 20Other Attributes Unlocked Through Super Adaptation: Environmental Resistance, Pain Tolerance, Combat Efficiency
The Tower had acknowledged his worth, but it had also issued its silent challenge. Rest now, it seemed to say, for greater trials awaited.
He had survived. He had overcome. And now, he was ready to face whatever the Tower threw at him.