Before the world existed, all was an endless void. No light, no darkness, no land or sky, no life or death. Then, from somewhere beyond understanding, the first beings appeared—the gods, powerful, unmatched, and absolute.
They had no beginning, nor would they have an end. They were the creators of all things. With a single gesture, they brought forth the sky and the earth. With a whisper, they summoned light and darkness. They shaped mountains, poured rivers, and carved waves into the seas. And when their world was complete, they were satisfied, sitting upon the highest heavens, declaring themselves the rulers of all.
But the world was still empty. No beings existed to admire them, to fear them. The gods wished to create life, and so they did. Trees grew, beasts ran across the land, birds filled the sky with their songs.
Yet one god was dissatisfied. He wanted to create something more.
"A race in our own image, but without our power."
The other gods looked at him, some intrigued, others amused. But the idea was more appealing than they had expected—a lesser race, but one with intelligence, capable of recognizing the gods' greatness. A race that would serve them, worship them, do their bidding without the need for divine strength.
And so, humans were born.
At first, they were nothing. Fragile creatures, walking on two legs, without claws, without wings. But within them lay something no other beast possessed: intellect.
The gods taught humans to speak, to farm, to build great temples in their honor. Humans learned faster than the gods had anticipated. They created their own language, recorded what they saw, and developed tools to make their lives easier.
And then, the unexpected happened.
A human stood up.
He looked at the gods and asked:
"Why must we kneel?"
The gods laughed. With a snap of their fingers—he was reduced to ashes.
But the question had been spoken. And once spoken, it could never be erased.
The Spark of Rebellion
Twenty years passed. Another human stood up, this time not with empty hands, but with mana—a power he had learned from the gods themselves.
"We are not tools. We are not slaves."
This time, he was not immediately destroyed. The gods were surprised to see a human manipulate mana, even if only a flicker. But their surprise quickly turned to anger. A rebellion ignited, and like before, it was swiftly crushed.
But humanity had changed.
The second uprising came within a few years. The third followed soon after.
Each time they were defeated, humans learned from their failures. They forged stronger weapons, mastered mana, and forged alliances with other races. Before long, the gods began to worry.
And when the first god was slain by human hands, they realized that their creation had gone far beyond their control.
They decided to end it all.
With their divine power, they unleashed catastrophic storms, submerged entire lands beneath the sea, scorched forests to ash, shattered the earth, and buried entire civilizations.
But it was too late.
Humanity had already grown too strong. And, more importantly, they had learned how to kill gods.
The War Between Gods and Men
The war raged for centuries. Human kingdoms rose, their grand cities rivaling the divine palaces of the gods. They formed empires, no longer bowing to their creators.
The gods knew that if this continued, they would be wiped out. So they changed their strategy.
"If we cannot destroy humanity, we will turn them against each other."
They created their own holy kingdom, where humans remained loyal to them. They taught these humans that the rebels were heretics, monsters, enemies to be eradicated. And so the war continued.
But this time, it was no longer gods versus humans—it was humans versus humans.
Centuries passed in an endless sea of blood.
The Rise of the Third Faction
Just as it seemed that war would consume the world forever, a new force emerged.
They did not fight for the gods. Nor did they fight for the rebels. They came from all races—humans, elves, dwarves, demons, and even gods who had turned against their own kind.
They had only one goal: to end the war.
But neither the gods nor humanity would surrender so easily. A final, cataclysmic battle erupted, greater than any before it. And at the climax of it all, the leader of the third faction made the ultimate sacrifice.
He cast a spell never before seen—a magic that shattered the very laws of the world.
Mana vanished from existence.
The gods lost their physical forms, trapped in a formless state. Humanity lost all magic. Every divine weapon, every warrior's soul, every ounce of power was drawn into a single place:
A colossal tower, so high that its peak could not be seen.
The leader had become the tower itself, absorbing all energy, all power, sealing it away within its walls. From that day forward, it was called:
"The Origin of the End."
The Hunt Begins
Centuries have passed. Humanity and the loyalists of the gods no longer wage war. Instead, they share a common goal: the tower.
They seek to reclaim the power that was taken from them. But entering the tower is nothing short of walking into one's own grave.
Those who once fought alongside the leader have become the tower's guardians, ensuring that none who enter will leave alive.
Who will be strong enough to venture inside?
Who will be mad enough to challenge the Origin of the End?
The true story has only just begun…
"That's what human outside the tower tell the tales?"
"Yeah, kind of."
"Huh... They really want the power from our tower even this tower is like 99% death rate..."
A creature with a human-like body but the head of a brown bear took a sip of honey lemon water. His eyes drifted upward, gazing at the man who had just told him this story.
The man had striking red hair, with strands falling over his eyes. He wore an archer-like outfit, predominantly white and red. At that moment, he seemed lost in thought before letting out a small yawn.
He was the guardian of the first ten floors—one of the few survivors who had made it into the tower. As for the bear-headed creature, he was a citizen of this place, residing on the fifth floor and working under the very man before him.
Suddenly, the bear-man spoke, curiosity lacing his voice.
"Hey, I was wondering about something..."
"What is it?" the red-haired man responded.
"Do you hate humans or the gods? After all... they played a part in slaughtering many of your comrades."
Hearing this, the man merely smiled, showing no hint of resentment or rage.
"Whether I hate them or not... I won't tell you, idiot. Now, get back to work."
With that, he stood up and made his way toward the door. Just as he reached for the handle, he paused. Without turning back, he spoke in a calm, steady voice:
"In the end, it was their choice. Whether their deaths were in vain or not, they helped put an end to the war. That's more than enough."
And with that, he left, leaving the bear-man standing in silence.
Watching him go, the bear-man murmured softly to himself.
"You still haven't forgotten their promises. Samuel"