Kalain’s request hung in the air like a final thread.

Before Kwon Su-Hyeok could even ask what kind of favor it was, though, a thin plume of dusky smoke rose from Kalain’s fingertips.

Kwon Su-Hyeok instantly recognized it as the smoke he had seen earlier, a shred of Kalain’s memories. Just like on the ninety-fifth floor, it wasn’t hostile and posed no harm to him. He met Kalain’s fading eyes as the cloud hovered between them. The reptilian irises, despite carrying a faint heaviness, steadily lost their light.

Hmm.

Aware that Kalain had little time left, Kwon Su-Hyeok hesitated only for a heartbeat.

Right, it isn’t dangerous. I see no reason to refuse.

He accepted the smoke, and Kalain’s memories unfolded vividly in his mind. They weren’t grand or momentous. They were simply fragments of a life before the tower, mundane days, a peaceful world, and a community living in quiet harmony. Those scenes stretched out like a long, steady panorama.

Through the clarity of the memories, Kwon Su-Hyeok realized just how deeply Kalain treasured them and how often he had returned to them, preserving them with unwavering affection.

So his mission lasting thousands of years ultimately led back to his life from before entering the tower.

The realization left Kwon Su-Hyeok silent. Kalain’s final desire was no different from his own. He had merely chosen to destroy everything in pursuit of it.

When Kwon Su-Hyeok exited the memory and opened his eyes, Kalain uttered, each word softer than the last, “When a mortal dies, the gods can bring them back. Their souls rest with us... But when we die, no one knows where we go. No god has ever returned. Not even the Primordial God...”

His breaths grew shallow and uneven.

Despite the faltering rhythm, however, he continued, determined to finish what he wished to say, “Mortals believe in heaven. But what are we supposed to believe in? Did the Primordial God... have something to believe in as well?”

Kwon Su-Hyeok could tell at once that this wasn’t merely a passing thought. It was an old fear, one that had taken root and lingered through ages.

“It frightens me a little, you know. As time flows on, even the fact that I existed will fade away. During that future endless stretch of years, I would like you to remember me.”

Through half-lowered lids, Kalain’s eyes still faintly glimmered. Kwon Su-Hyeok understood.

Kwon Su-Hyeok held that wavering gaze and gave his fallen opponent a slow, steady nod. “All right. I’ll remember you.”

Kalain shut his eyes with a small, peaceful smile, as if he had relinquished one last heavy weight. Even though his predecessor had closed his eyes, Kwon Su-Hyeok felt like Kalain was still looking upward toward the sky.

He raised his own head.

Night was nearing its end, a pale dawn foretelling the coming of day.

Kalain’s head slumped to the side. His body dissolved into black-shimmering fragments that drifted upward and scattered like dust into the air. The remnants of his power flowed into Kwon Su-Hyeok.

That was the end.

The first challenger to ever conquer the tower, who had nearly grasped the universe through four millennia of hatred alone, met his end at dawn on a solitary planet with only one witness.

That lone witness, the one who would become the next God, watched the drifting fragments in silence and let each glimmer settle into his memory.

From the horizon’s edge, the sun began to rise.

***

BOOOOM—!

The shock that rippled through the entire world finally tore me from the thoughts I had sunk into after Kalain’s death. Only then did I realize that the barrier surrounding the battlefield was beginning to fracture.

Because Kalain had insisted on facing me alone, the tower had placed the entire battleground under its protection. Now that the fight had ended, its power had dissolved without a trace.

The sky reappeared, and in the void above, I felt countless presences stirring. Every one of them was a god. They descended lightly into the realm, silent but oppressive. From the pressure they emanated, they clearly hadn’t come with anything resembling goodwill.

They were nothing more than scavengers waiting to take advantage of a weakened challenger.

“Fuck.”

I was practically in the worst imaginable state.

The backlash from my newly developed awakening skill wasn’t as catastrophic as Thunderbird’s had originally been, but it was still brutal enough to leave me feeling heavy and breathing raggedly.

My last remaining bits of strength had already been spent forcing myself to remain conscious long enough to speak with Kalain. After fighting for an entire day, I truly had nothing left in me for another battle.

I immediately reached out to the Tower of Ordeal. With Kalain gone, I needed to receive the Primordial God’s power. However, no matter how sharply I focused, the tower showed no sign of summoning me.

Will the tower need time to act?

Since this wasn’t one of the tower’s floors anymore, that was possible. Or perhaps the gods had interfered. I couldn’t tell.

Regardless, my vision was swaying, my limbs felt unresponsive, and my thoughts were moving at a snail’s pace, as if a thick haze had settled over my mind.

More gods gathered with every passing second, filling not only the ground but the sky above. Their presence was suffocating. Some hovered together in small clusters while others stood alone, an unmistakable killing intent suffusing the air. The tension in the air swelled.

The moment I blinked, they looked ready to rush me.

I gathered what little remained of my power and prepared myself for battle.

Yeah, I am definitely fucked.

If things continued like this, I would be forced to activate the Seed of Annihilation hidden within the battlefield and take them down with me. Just as that possibility crossed my mind, a streak of light tore across the universe. The dim remnant of night flared a brilliant gold.

I instinctively thought it was the tower, but to my surprise, it was a streak of lightning.

The massive bolt crashed down in front of me, and the silhouette revealed through the settling light was immediately familiar. My muscles fraught with tension loosened in relief at the sight of Thunder Axe’s broad, unwavering back.

Right.

If Kalain hadn’t bound Thunder Axe’s movements, then of course he would come for me. The tower likely hadn’t acted for that very reason. In my battered condition, however, I couldn’t think clearly enough to reach that conclusion.

Thunder Axe tilted his head just enough to glance at me. “Well done. Sorry for being a bit late.”

It was a brief greeting, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. We shared a faint, tired smile.

That wasn’t the end, either.

Hundreds of pillars of light rained down from the heavens in a vast circle around me. Just like Thunder Axe’s presence, they brought a sense of familiarity.

BOOM— Tak—

Heavy landings, light impacts, and soft gusts of displaced air echoed around me.

Paraktus, Fenrike, Azure Dawn Breeze, and Lung Shark...

These were gods I had formed a connection with during my climb up the tower.

Paraktus stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder. “It has been a while.”

It had been over twenty years since I had last seen this god of the orcs on the second floor, so yes, it had been a long time. He appeared different from before. Well, considering his imprisonment and re-ascension to divine status, it was only natural.

“It really has been a while. I never imagined we’d see each other here.”

“Didn’t I say I’d repay you someday?” He shrugged with an easy, playful gesture.

A vivid memory surfaced in my mind.

“Thank you... Liberator. One day, I will repay you. Until then... stay alive.”

As I quietly laughed, recollecting that, Paraktus burst into a hearty laugh of his own.

“Well, this alone isn’t enough to repay you, but we’ll keep helping you.”

He scanned our surroundings. Among the many hostile gods lurking nearby, many were far stronger than him and my other allies.

“To be honest, we shouldn’t be standing at your side, but we share a past. Take a look around.”

I spotted many familiar faces. Some I had seen in the Abyss, but plenty of them were new faces. Although I couldn’t place them all, their auras felt unmistakably familiar. They were likely Thunder Axe’s allies or perhaps hostile to Kalain.

Coming to save the day, the golden goblin, Fenrike, explained, “They’re all part of the Liberation Alliance.”

“The Liberation Alliance?”

“Those who follow the elder’s will. Thanks to you, many gods have gathered. They saw the possibility you carry.”

“I see.”

Even if he said so, I didn’t understand the politics of the outer world well enough to grasp everything.

“How’s Doppy?”

“He’s well. Actually, very well. He was worried sick about you.” Fenrike smiled broadly. “I just told him you’re fine. I can feel how thrilled he is.”

I couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at my lips. In the meantime, a soft radiance descended over my body. When I turned my head, I saw Master of the Five Carriage Wheels chanting midair. She left the spell incomplete, but I instinctively filled the remaining gap with causality. She seemed to have intended that, as the radiance deepened with the infusion of my causality. Master of the Five Carriage Wheels grinned.

The gods who had originally come to hunt me began shifting uneasily. Thunder Axe’s sudden appearance had changed the entire landscape. A high-ranking first-class god, along with countless others, was no longer a force they could beat easily.

However, something still didn’t make sense.

“Why did they even come here?”

“They were aiming for you. Why else?”

“No, I mean, I don’t understand why they’d behave like this when Thunder Axe is protecting me. Even if Kalain had won, Thunder Axe would’ve gone after him.”

Paraktus let out a small laugh. “Kalain left all the factions he’d been at a ceasefire with in a state of near-conflict. Once he defeated you, he would’ve immediately started a war.”

“Ah...”

“We struck first, during the opening. With Kalain gone, pushing forward was the best choice. We were monitoring things here, but even then, there was no avoiding a bit of delay.”

The gods who had come as reinforcements all radiated fierce killing intent. I had assumed they were enraged due to what they had witnessed. No, they had simply come straight from another battlefield. From their perspective, it was the correct choice.

Whether I won or Kalain won, war was inevitable.

Driving in while their leader was gone was the logical move. In the midst of a conflict between such enormous forces, it made sense that other gods would try to take advantage of the chaos. There were countless gods in the universe. Even gathering only the ambitious ones would surpass the assembled mob.

“How’re you feeling? Have you recovered a little?”

I nodded. “Yes. Enough.”

Master of the Five Carriage Wheels’s spell hadn’t simply healed me. With the causality infused into it, it wasn’t really restoring me in the normal sense—it was turning my time back slightly, like rewinding a frayed thread. Of course, that didn’t mean I was in peak condition. I had simply recovered enough to move again.

“Then we can proceed,” Thunder Axe said.

I glanced at Paraktus, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned in and whispered, “The battle.”

“Right now?”

“No. There’s no reason to fight these small fry. Maybe later.” He shrugged lightly. “Since you’re fine, we have our own battlefield to return to.”

“Oh.”

Right, they were in the middle of their own war.

Wait, does that mean they expect me to handle all these gods? No matter how I look at it, that seems—

Before the thought could finish forming, a surge of light filled with causality wrapped around my body.

The tower had called for me.

Paraktus and Thunder Axe both smiled.

“Then we’ll see each other again later. There’s much to talk about. Haaa, I suppose when that time comes, we’ll need to speak to you with more respect,” Thunder Axe muttered with a playful slump of his shoulders, half-joking and half-resigned.

They really don’t have to.

I tried to respond, but the summoning interrupted me. A gentle weightlessness wrapped around me, pulling me upward.

***

To my surprise, I hadn’t returned to the waiting room. Instead, I was in the same field from the hundredth floor. Soft and warm sunlight streamed down across the open plain, casting long shadows over the grass. There, standing beneath that gentle radiance, Cho-Yeon looked toward me.

“Is that everything?” I asked.

“Yes. Your journey through the tower concluded long ago, and all that remains is for you to receive the power of God. If you are feeling even slightly unwell, you may take as much time to rest as—”

“I’m fine.”

The years I had endured were long enough. I could barely move, and I didn’t want to rest for rest’s sake. If I were to rest, I would do it after seeing Ha Hee-Jeong again.

Cho-Yeon smiled faintly as if she had predicted my answer. “Then may I proceed with the transfer of power now?”

“Yeah.”

As soon as I replied, a thought resurfaced, the same one from our previous encounter, something I had nearly forgotten in the chaos.

“About that power.”

“Pardon me?”

“You should take half of it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m saying you should take half for yourself. Use it. Is that impossible?”