The battlefield of the Fifth Floor had vanished.
The ruins, the corpses, the whispers of rebellion—all erased.
Only two figures remained.
Asher stood at the base of the endless staircase, his shadow flickering unnaturally at his feet, his body still thrumming with the remnants of divine energy. He had freed the Executioner, broken the chains that bound him to the Tower.
And now, for the first time, he was not climbing alone.
The Executioner exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted to his newfound freedom. His once-cursed greatsword now felt lighter, unchained, fully his own. He studied it for a moment before glancing at Asher.
"You really don't care about their rules, do you?"
Asher smirked. "Nope."
The Executioner chuckled, shaking his head. "I like you already."
A notification flared before them.
[The Tower is Recalculating…]
[Error: Unregistered Entities Detected.]
[Adjusting the System…]
Asher and the Executioner exchanged a glance.
The Tower was stalling.
It didn't know what to do.
For the first time in its existence, the system was failing to process an anomaly it couldn't control.
The Executioner sighed. "I spent centuries as a puppet to this damn thing. Watching, waiting, knowing I could never act against it."
He looked up at the endless staircase.
"But you? You broke it without even trying."
Asher stepped forward, placing a foot on the first step. "Then let's see what happens when I keep going."
The moment they ascended—the Tower reacted.
A chime thundered through the air, deep and overwhelming. The sky above them fractured, splitting apart like cracked glass.
A new notification flashed violently.
[Correction Protocol Initiated.]
The Executioner froze.
His grip on his sword tightened.
"They're sending something."
Asher grinned. "Good. Let them try."
The world collapsed.
The Sixth Floor: The Unseen Prison
When Asher's vision cleared, he and the Executioner were somewhere else.
The sky was gone.
The air was thick, oppressive, filled with something unseen. The ground beneath them was smooth stone, stretching endlessly into the distance, marked with countless golden runes.
Something about this place felt wrong.
Asher glanced around. There were no buildings, no ruins, no trial waiting for them.
Just an endless, empty space.
The Executioner's expression darkened. "I know this place."
He turned, his gaze sweeping across the horizon. His voice was quiet, strained.
"This is where they keep the things they don't want to exist."
Asher exhaled slowly. "A prison."
The Executioner nodded. "Not just any prison. The deepest part of the Tower. The Sixth Floor shouldn't look like this—it should be another trial."
He turned to Asher.
"But the gods aren't letting you climb anymore."
Asher smirked. "So they trapped me instead?"
"They trapped us."
The moment he spoke, the golden runes along the ground flickered.
And something moved in the darkness.
A whisper. A shift. A feeling of something unseen, pressing against their minds, clawing at the edges of their existence.
The Executioner went rigid.
"They're waking up."
Asher's grip tightened on his sword. "Who?"
The Executioner exhaled sharply.
"The ones even the gods fear."
The air split apart.
And the forgotten prisoners of the Tower began to rise.
The Gods' Desperation
Far above the mortal floors, in the hidden realm of the gods, a council stood in silence.
They had tried to erase Asher.
They had tried to kill him.
They had tried to trap him.
And he had defied them every time.
Now, the Sixth Floor had become his prison.
But even that would not hold him.
A god, wrapped in endless golden light, finally spoke.
"We cannot let him reach the top."
Another figure, shrouded in shadow, whispered back.
"Then let us see if he can survive our deepest nightmare."
The gods turned their gaze toward the Sixth Floor.
And for the first time, they prayed.
Not for victory.
But for something—anything—to kill him before it was too late.