Regression of the Tower's Final Survivor-Chapter 31: Shadows on Earth

The Obsidian Cult operated from the cracks in Meridian City’s foundations, hidden in plain sight among the abandoned buildings and forgotten corners of the metropolis.

Dante moved through the industrial district at the edge of the city, following leads he pieced together from eight years of hindsight. In his original timeline, the Black Surge happened without warning, the Cult’s preparations invisible until the moment they struck, but this time he knew what to look for and the signs were impossible to miss.

Abandoned warehouses with suspiciously maintained power lines. Delivery trucks moving at night with no company markings. Everywhere, if you knew what to look for, the subtle corruption of dimensional energy leaked from places where reality was worn thin. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

He found their primary recruitment center in a converted factory that, according to city records, was condemned three years ago. The exterior was convincingly derelict, windows boarded and walls tagged with graffiti, but the locks were new and thermal imaging from his Tower-enhanced vision showed heat signatures inside that suggested active occupation.

’Forty to fifty people, some moving, some stationary, probably a worship service if the patterns match what I remember.’ He crouched on the rooftop of a neighboring building and watched, counting bodies and noting the layout.

He didn’t go inside, not directly, because that would have been suicide even for someone with his abilities. Instead, he found a vantage point on a neighboring rooftop and waited for something useful to happen.

The factory’s main doors opened around midnight, and figures began emerging in small groups with most wearing ordinary clothing, the kind of unremarkable attire that would let them disappear into any crowd. But a few wore robes that shimmered faintly in the moonlight, fabric woven with something that wasn’t entirely natural.

Priests, actual priests of the Archon, not just ignorant cultists who were fed promises of power.

He marked their faces, memorizing features that might be useful later: three women, two men, all of them moving with the unnatural grace that came from channeling dimensional energy. They weren’t Tower climbers, and their power came from something else, something given to them in exchange for service.

One of them paused at the edge of the factory’s parking lot, head tilting as if listening to something no one else could hear. Then, slowly, deliberately, they looked up toward the rooftop where he was hidden.

He stopped breathing and pressed himself flat against the roof, pulling his authority ability tight around him like a cloak.

The priest’s eyes were black, not dark brown or heavily shadowed but actually black, reflecting nothing of the light around them. They scanned the rooftop with predatory patience, searching for the watcher they could sense but not locate.

His authority ability flickered around him, bending perception away from his position, and it was a subtle skill that even most High Rankers couldn’t detect. But whatever was looking through those black eyes wasn’t human, and it didn’t play by human rules.

The moment stretched as seconds became minutes, and he forced himself to stay perfectly still, barely daring to breathe.

Then the priest turned away and followed the others into the night, and he allowed himself to breathe again as sweat trickled down his spine.

’They’re further along than I expected because the priests in my original timeline didn’t appear until a few weeks before the Black Surge. If they’re already here...’ He needed more information, and there was only one way to get it.

---

The cultist he selected was young and alone, walking home through streets that grew too quiet for the hour, and she was maybe twenty with the nervous energy of someone who recently discovered they were part of something larger than themselves.

Her robes were hidden under an oversized jacket, but he could see the telltale shimmer of dimensional fabric at her collar as she walked.

He dropped from the roof silently, landing behind her with barely a whisper of sound, and grabbed her shoulder before she could react.

"Don’t scream." His voice was flat, cold, stripped of anything that might register as human sympathy.

She spun, eyes wide, hands coming up in a defensive gesture that might have been instinctive or might have been the beginning of an ability, but he was faster and his hand closed around her throat before she could complete either motion.

"I said don’t scream." He pushed her back against the alley wall, pinning her there with just enough pressure to make his point. "I’m going to ask you questions. You’re going to answer them. If you lie, I’ll know. If you try to signal for help, I’ll kill you. Nod if you understand."

She nodded frantically, tears already streaming down her face as her hands clawed uselessly at his wrist.

"Good." He loosened his grip slightly, just enough to let her speak. "Now tell me about the Black Surge. When is it happening?"

"I don’t... I don’t know what you’re talking about." Her voice came out as a rasp, barely audible.

"Lie." He tightened his grip again and watched her face go pale with terror.

"Please, I really don’t—"

"The dimensional breach events your masters are planning." He cut her off, his voice still flat. "When are they scheduled?"

Her eyes widened with understanding and terror as she realized how much he already knew. "How do you know about that?"

"Answer the question." He squeezed slightly, a reminder of who held the power here.

"The Ascended One’s return," she gasped, the words tumbling out in a rush. "They say it’s coming soon. Weeks, maybe. They’re preparing the anchor points now."

"Where?" He eased his grip slightly, rewarding compliance.

"I don’t know all of them, just the one here, the warehouse." She shook her head frantically, desperate to convince him of her honesty. "There are others, seven total. They have to be activated together."

"And the priests? The ones with the black eyes?" He watched her face carefully, reading the fear that flickered across her features.

Her face went pale with a different kind of terror, something deeper than the fear of him. "The Chosen. They’re the ones who hear His voice. They’re the ones who will open the doors."

He processed this information rapidly: seven anchor points, activated simultaneously, opening doors to wherever the Archon existed outside reality. The Black Surge wasn’t random dungeon breaks at all. It was coordinated, deliberate, a wave of dimensional intrusion designed to weaken the barriers holding the Tower’s master prisoner.

"The Chosen priest who left the factory tonight." He kept his voice steady, controlled. "Where did they go?"

"I don’t know, they don’t tell us things like that." She swallowed hard, her throat moving against his palm. "We’re just... we’re just the faithful. We prepare the way."

He believed her because a low-level recruit wouldn’t have access to operational details. She was useful for understanding the structure, not for specific intelligence.

"Does anyone know you were at the service tonight?" He asked the question casually, like it didn’t matter.

"What?" Confusion flickered across her face, momentarily overriding fear.

"Does anyone know you’re connected to the Cult? Family, friends, coworkers?" He kept his expression blank.

"No, they told us to keep it secret." She shook her head again. "Sacred knowledge for the worthy."

’Good, no one to miss her.’ The thought came automatically, cold and pragmatic, and in his original timeline he would have killed her without hesitation because dead cultists couldn’t warn their masters that someone was hunting them.

But this wasn’t his original timeline, and he wasn’t the same person who lived through those eight years of loss.

"Listen to me carefully," he said, loosening his grip enough that she could breathe properly. "You’re going to leave the city. Tonight. You’re going to forget you were ever part of this, and you’re never going to contact anyone from the Cult again."

"They’ll find me, they always—" Her voice was shaking, desperate.

"They won’t." He released her throat entirely and stepped back, watching her sag against the wall as her legs threatened to give out. "Because by the time they notice you’re gone, they’re going to have much bigger problems. Run. Now. Before I change my mind."

She ran, stumbling at first, then finding her footing and disappearing into the night without looking back.

He watched her go and felt the weight of mercy settle uncomfortably in his chest. In his original timeline, he was ruthless, pragmatic, a weapon shaped by loss and hardened by failure. This time, apparently, he could still be something else, and he wasn’t sure if that was progress or weakness.

---

He returned to Yuki’s apartment as dawn broke over Meridian City, exhaustion dragging at his limbs and clouding his thoughts.

She was awake and waiting at the kitchen table with coffee already prepared, and she took one look at his face and pushed a cup toward him without speaking.

"The Cult is further along than I thought." He sat heavily, wrapping his hands around the warm cup and letting the heat seep into his bones. "They’re planning something within weeks, not months. I need to accelerate the timeline."

"What can I do?" She leaned forward, eyes sharp despite the early hour.

"Stay alert, and if you see anything strange, anyone following you or asking questions, contact me immediately." He pulled a small device from his pack, a communication crystal that worked across dimensional boundaries. "Tower tech. This will reach me even inside the floors."

She took the crystal and turned it over in her hands, studying it with the same intensity she brought to everything. "You’re going back today."

"I have to because there’s a dungeon I need to clear and a team waiting for me." He met her eyes. "I’ll be back before anything happens here. I promise."

"Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep." Her voice was soft but her gaze was hard.

"Too late." He stood, gathering his things and shouldering his pack. "Take care of yourself, Yuki. Train every day. Stay away from the industrial district. And if the Black Surge starts before I return..."

"Run. I know." She stood too and moved to embrace him in a gesture that felt achingly familiar. "Don’t die up there."

"I’ll do my best." He held his sister for a long moment, memorizing the feeling of having family again, then released her and shouldered his pack, walking out the door toward the portal facility.

The Tower was waiting, and now so was a deadline that gave him no room for error.