The world just wasn't the same anymore.
Where once towering cities stood tall, now there were just the charred, skeletal remains of steel and stone. The ground was torn apart, scarred by countless battles that seemed to merge into one endless nightmare. It was pretty grim.
Crimson rivers carved their way through the shattered land, and the sky, which used to be a bright blue, was now low and suffocating, choked by heavy black clouds that rumbled without any sign of stopping.
And looming over all of this was the Tower.
This massive spire made of obsidian and bone had burst onto the scene, warping reality itself. It felt like it just stacked up floor after floor of untold horrors, trials, and wars, reaching endlessly into the sky.
The Tower wasn't just another structure; it was pretty much a loud statement that humanity's reign on Earth was over.
In the shadow of the Tower, the battlefield was eerily still.
Thousands of bodies—soldiers, mercenaries, and some awakened heroes—were strewn around like broken dolls. Their armor, which used to shine with pride, now lay rusted and shattered, covered in the grime of battle.
Weapons that were supposed to pierce the heavens were broken now, and banners that once rallied men were sagging in the dirt.
Above all this, the Harbingers floated.
These white, drone-like humanoids drifted silently, their porcelain forms glimmering in the dim, gray light.
They had no faces, no emotions, just a cold gaze that took everything in.
They were the ones who crafted humanity's suffering, messengers for the Lords ruling from the Tower.
Right in the middle of this wasteland stood a woman.
She was wrapped in a deep crimson cloak that billowed slightly in the tainted wind, the same red as dried blood. Her dark eyes showed no regret, just a quiet kind of satisfaction.
She had once been a commander—a leader among humanity's defenders. Trusted, respected, even feared. But now, she was the executioner.
"I guess the Lord's happy with the results," she said calmly, her voice slicing through the silence like a sharp knife.
One of the hovering Harbingers shifted. Its form elongated and stretched until it resembled something more human—but still not really human.
It was super tall and pale, with no real features except for the faintest hint of a face. Being close to it was like having the air sucked out of your lungs.
"Indeed," it rumbled in a voice like stone grinding against stone. "But, you know, it was… predictable. These mortals break way too easily."
The woman smirked a little. "The 12 Goddesses are still around. But trust me, it's only a matter of time. Sooner or later, even they will crumble before the Lords."
The Harbinger looked at her, considering her words.
"I led their proud Twelfth Legion straight into disaster. Their strongest battalion? Gone. They believed in me, followed me. Now, they're just rotting in the dirt." She chuckled—a cold, brittle sound. "I've earned my reward."
"So, what do you want?" the Harbinger asked.
Her eyes glimmered with greed. "My Lord, give me the same power as you held to nullify the Synergy!"
The woman, without hesitation, asked about the ability that was the strongest possessed by this Lord, making him invincible.
Considering that synergy was the very foundation of this world, with him possessing that power, no magic or energy seemed to pierce his body.
It was as if the very existence of these energies vanished and nullified upon touching the upper layer of his body.
If physical attacks were ignored, no one could touch him with any kind of energy-imbued attacks, which was the very reason he was Lord, and she wanted to covet that power.
Even though it was true that he was just one of the generals under the Supreme Lord, she wanted to grab the upper stair directly to ascend as the strongest.
"...."
There was a heavy silence.
The Harbinger didn't move, but the atmosphere felt tighter, pressing down on her shoulders.
"You mortals are never satisfied," it hissed. "Always reaching for more than you should."
She hesitated for a moment but then stood tall. "Isn't it within the Lord's capabilities?"
After a long pause, it replied, "...No. It isn't."
A pale, elongated hand rose up, darkness swirling around its fingers like a living shadow.
"I give you a part of my will," it said, "The power to nullify the very energy that built this world itself. With that, you will hold the title of Sub-Lord."
Dark energy spiraled into its palm, forming a sphere of shadows that writhed ominously. The very air screamed as reality seemed to twist around it.
She reached out with wide eyes full of anticipation—
But pain hit her first.
SHHK!
A sword, slick with fresh blood, just passed through her neck, instantly turning the world upside down in her vision.
Everything in that fleeting moment seemed to stop. Eyes once cold and calculating were now widened in shock, reflecting the whole world as she saw an image of a man.
His silver hair was matted with grime, and one arm was missing—harshly severed at the shoulder.
His remaining hand gripped the sword jammed into her back, and his face was a mask of rage mixed with pain, streaked with blood.
His blue eyes burned with rage, glinting on the battlefield, with the tattered suit he wore and a sword still embedded in his chest.
"You… traitor!" he roared, his voice ragged but booming.
The woman seemed to have her eyes widened, realizing she got her head severed, trembling eyes seemed to play even the millisecond of images.
But the dark energy that was meant for her started to spin out of control.
It spilled over, wild and chaotic, engulfing them both in its malevolent glow.
thud
But as her head landed on the ground, it vanished, eyes losing their color, becoming hollow as the light which meant to give her the strength she wanted vanished around her.
"Kuchk!—haa...Haa..."
The silver-haired man staggered back, his veins pulsing with dark energy as it tore through him. He tried to shake his head to bring back the remaining hint of consciousness, struggling to focus his gaze after being betrayed by the woman who had led them into this massacre zone, surrounded by enemies.
He fought until the end, but it was all meaningless for him, a man who possessed nothing and no powers.
The Harbinger just watched, still and impassive.
"Wasted," it murmured, sounding completely indifferent. "The gift has been given."
The woman's remaining headless body collapsed, utterly lifeless.
The man fell to one knee, gasping, dark power scalding his very soul. His vision blurred as alien strength coursed through him, changing him in ways he couldn't comprehend.
His grip on the sword tightened.
Slowly, he raised his gaze to the Harbinger.
And at that moment, something ancient stirred within him.
It wasn't submission.
It wasn't fear.
It was defiance.
The Harbinger tilted its head, intrigued.
"Interesting..."
"Hmm," the Harbinger, who was intrigued by how his will, which was a strength bestowed upon him by the supreme leader, was resonating with this man's body, narrowed his gaze.
Not that it mattered, considering his body state was already at the brink of death; he just tilted his head looking in the direction from where 12 light streaks, enormous enough to send the whole ground shivering, came, with his own legion trembling as a narrowed gaze looking toward the 12 goddesses moving in his direction," Stubborn women."
As if ignoring the man who was on his knees, waiting for the last moment, the Harbinger directly vanished, heading toward the direction of those twelve light streaks.
'Is it the end?' Aven, kneeling there with his body, clearly not keeping up with his mind. With a hand missing and blood rushing out, it was too much for him to even maintain fleeting consciousness.
"Haa...." With a heavy sigh, he turned his gaze in that direction, observing the 12 figures who possessed the strength to go against the Tower, now engaged in battle with the whole legion of Excovians, while he—who was merely a leader—lay there watching everything on his deathbed.
'If only I had any ability.'
Even though his mind echoed with this thought, in the end, it was simply that he wasn't the chosen one, not even an average person who had awakened any abilities.
He was just a mere human who, on the basis of his knowledge and capabilities under the human limit, had climbed until now.
Using his mind, he made his way to this floor only to meet his end in a way that was expected, as he had told everyone not to follow that woman, but in the end, he was just a mere leader, not the commander.
In a tower where strength took priority over the mind, he was merely a simple powerless man who was meant to be looked down upon.
He always thought about what people think at the end of their life.
And now that he reached that stage, he knew what he wanted.
'If I were a little stronger....'
Every loss he suffered, the loved ones lost in his journey were for nothing.
Survival doesn't mean satisfaction, and presently it was clear that his body was too weak to either survive let alone satisfcation he had with this journey.