The golden light rushed toward him, a storm of divine energy so overwhelming that space itself shattered in its wake. The Tower's power was absolute, a force designed to erase anything that defied its will.
Asher did not run.
He embraced it.
His shadow erupted upward, twisting violently, spiraling around him like living armor. The divine energy collided with the abyss, and the moment it touched him, it did not consume—
It was consumed.
The god hesitated.
It had expected him to fight.
It had not expected him to devour.
Asher clenched his fist. The divine energy folded inward, collapsing into his shadow, sinking into the abyss of his existence. He could feel it burning inside him, struggling, resisting, twisting against his very being.
But it could not escape.
Because it belonged to him now.
The golden runes on the staircase flickered violently, struggling to contain something they did not understand. The Tower had judged countless climbers before, erased those who failed, punished those who broke the rules.
But this?
This was different.
This was wrong.
The god stepped forward, its movements slower this time.
"You are an impossibility."
Its voice was no longer commanding. No longer absolute. There was something beneath it now, something close to hesitation.
Asher tilted his head, rolling his shoulders. His fingers curled, flexing as the divine energy settled inside him.
"Then stop me."
The god reacted instantly.
It vanished.
Not teleportation. Not speed.
It simply ceased to exist in one place and appeared in another.
A blade of pure golden light erupted from its hand, aimed directly at Asher's heart.
For any other hunter, any other climber—this would be death.
Asher moved.
The blade missed.
By an inch.
He was already twisting, already countering. His shadow surged forward, lashing out like a living weapon.
The god dodged, stepping back with inhuman precision.
But something was wrong.
It looked down.
Its arm was bleeding.
The first drop of golden ichor hit the stone floor, sizzling upon impact. The god did not react at first, its glowing eyes flickering as it processed the impossible.
Asher stood still, exhaling slowly.
He had cut it.
A god.
The lead entity of the Tower's judgment.
And it bled.
For the first time in the Tower's existence, something divine had been wounded.
A chime echoed through the air.
A notification appeared, not just for Asher, but across the entire Tower.
[The Impossible Has Happened.]
[A God Has Been Wounded.]
A ripple spread outward, breaking through the floors of the Tower, echoing through every trial, every labyrinth, every forgotten ruin.
The gods were watching.
And now, they were afraid.
The god looked at its wound, then at Asher.
"This cannot be."
Its voice wavered for the first time.
Asher smirked.
"Looks real to me."
The golden ichor on the floor began to shift.
The god exhaled, regaining its composure. The hesitation was gone. The uncertainty erased.
The Tower would not allow this.
The rules would not allow this.
It raised both hands. The golden gate behind it opened fully.
The light erupted outward, no longer a simple execution, no longer judgment.
This was desperation.
The Tower itself was intervening.
Asher narrowed his eyes.
Fine.
Then let it try.
The next few seconds were a blur of movement, power, and impossible speed.
The god attacked with a force that fractured the very air, golden blades forming and vanishing within instants, each one striking faster than thought itself.
Asher moved through them like a shadow, dodging, countering, striking. His instincts were no longer just human.
He could see where the god would be before it moved.
He could feel the divine energy before it struck.
And each time the god's golden light touched him—it did not erase.
It was devoured.
The fight escalated, the staircase collapsing into an abyss of endless sky, golden flames clashing against writhing shadow.
The Tower trembled.
The rules were breaking.
And then—
A second god arrived.
It descended from above, a colossal figure wrapped in flowing white robes, faceless, featureless, yet impossibly aware.
It did not speak.
It simply reached forward.
And Asher's world collapsed inward.
He could feel it this time. Not an attack.
An attempt to unmake him.
To erase him from the past, the present, the future.
The Tower was desperate.
And Asher grinned.
"Nice try."
His shadow erupted, expanding outward, crashing into the divine force like an ocean swallowing a dying flame.
It did not break.
It did not shatter.
It devoured.
The golden light cracked.
The new god faltered.
It had failed.
Asher had not just resisted erasure.
He had eaten it.
The second god took a step back.
The first god turned to it.
"We cannot stop him."
The second god hesitated. Then it turned its faceless gaze toward the heavens.
The gods above were watching.
Waiting.
Deciding.
And then—
A final notification appeared.
[The Tower has recognized the anomaly.]
[You are no longer bound by the floors.]
[You may ascend at will.]
The golden gate behind the gods flickered.
Then it shattered.
Asher stood among the ruins, exhaling slowly. His body still burned with divine energy, his shadow flickering violently, adjusting to what he had become.
He looked up.
Above him, the Tower's endless floors stretched into the abyss.
The gods had tried to erase him.
They had tried to kill him.
They had failed.
Now, he was free to climb.
But not as a hunter.
Not as a challenger.
As something else.
And the next time he reached them—
The gods would learn that even they could bleed.