When The System Spoils You For No Reason-Chapter 62 - Sixty Two

"You have to keep moving forward, no matter what the cost. The Tower won’t wait for the weak." —

----

After Jude found himself in the house Zeke had built on the first floor, he stayed there for three years—absorbing everything he’d gained, meditating on power that tasted like ash.

In the third year, he rose from his meditation pose.

A single step carried him above the kingdom where he and his brothers had once lived.

He summoned a rain of swords.

Each blade fell with surgical precision, targeting every living thing in the kingdom below. New governance, new citizens—it didn’t matter. None of them would walk away.

After the last body fell, he began his climb toward the fortieth floor.

This time, he formed no faction. Every organization that had wronged him and his brothers—he found them. And he destroyed them.

---

Thirty years passed before he reached the fortieth floor.

By then, his hair flowed freely down his back—long, black, unbound. He wore dark robes that moved like smoke. He had become a reaper. Everything living became fuel for his growth.

On the fortieth floor, he decimated every group involved in his brothers’ deaths.

But he could not find the organization behind the hand—the one that had taken Zeke.

The lack of information didn’t deter him. He continued climbing.

Now he had two goals: become strong enough to revive his brothers, and strong enough to kill the origin of the hand—along with everything connected to it.

With renewed rage, he became unreserved. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

A one-man army. He destroyed legacies, toppled organizations, razed kingdoms. He plundered. He tortured for information.

Always about the hand.

On the sixty-sixth floor, he finally found a clue: the organization existed on the seventy-seventh floor.

It took him one hundred and seventy years to reach it.

By then, the forces arrayed against him had prepared. They fielded entities that could harm him—even kill him.

But he never died.

Not when he had a goal.

On the seventy-seventh floor, he finally found the organization.

After countless trials—after killing and destroying enemies, enduring the Tower’s own arduous challenges—he reached its heart.

It took three years to breach its defenses.

Ten more to kill the supposed leader.

And then he learned the truth: the owner of the hand had taken Zeke to climb higher floors. According to the dying ’leader’, Zeke held secrets beyond immortality. He was the key to passing the trial of the eighty-seventh floor.

The ’leader’ mocked him even as he bled out—praised the owner of the hand as the supreme of supremes. A chasm Jude could never cross, no matter how powerful his trait became.

Well, Jude promised to get the owner of the hand to tell him—The ’leader’ how he died.

---

Eight hundred years later, Jude found the owner of the hand on the ninetieth floor.

"Yo Jude. I always knew you could do it."

The voice echoed through the temple—the last structure standing on the ninety-ninth floor. Jude had killed the previous five survivors.

Only the owner of the hand remained.

Except the figure that greeted him wasn’t the faceless entity he’d hunted for centuries.

It was Zeke.

The same Zeke he’d gone above and beyond to save.

"How?" Jude’s voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

"How what?" The figure tilted its head, grinning with Zeke’s face. "How am I effortlessly handsome? How I haven’t changed in over a thousand years? Or how I’m here instead of the bad guy you wanted to see?"

Jude couldn’t answer.

"Well." The figure stepped closer, arms spreading wide. "Have you ever thought—maybe it’s not Zeke?"

Its smile widened.

"Or maybe I am Zeke. What better way to commemorate your final fight than facing the one you admire? You have to beat this chasm to fulfill your destiny."

It walked toward him, movements fluid and familiar—too familiar.

"Or is it the mannerisms?" It laughed. "I do behave like him. Or maybe I am him."

"I like riddles."

The grin sharpened.

"But what I truly like is your body. Your trait. Add it to this body’s talent, and I’ll finally reach the top of the Tower—especially since you’ve already killed my opposition."

It leaned in, eyes gleaming.

"Did it feel good?"

Silence.

"Answer me. I don’t like speaking to myself that much."

Jude spoke "Zeke liked the sound of his voice a little too much, you know."

Jude’s voice cracked. "And he liked to talk to himself."

He took a step forward.

"You will leave his body. Or I will destroy you."

BOOM.

Jude’s aura flared, power rippling through the temple.

"Careful, boy." The figure didn’t flinch. "You’ll break something. And who told you Zeke’s here? He’s dead. This isn’t even a shell—it’s mine. I’m him. He’s me."

It spread its arms in a T-pose, grinning wider.

"The final boss."

"Come on, boy. Show me what you’ve gained in all the years I let you live."

Jude’s fists clenched. "You shouldn’t have let me live."

He attacked.

---

Jude stood over the headless body.

Blood pooled beneath it, soaking into the temple floor.

[ YOU HAVE PASSED THE 90TH FLOOR’S TRIAL. ]

[ YOU ARE NOW THE LORD OF THE TOWER. ]

[ YOU CAN NOW USE THE POWER OF THE TOWER TO DO YOUR BIDDING. ]

Jude stared at the notifications, breathing hard.

"So he wasn’t lying. Anyone who passes the ninetieth trial becomes the lord of the Tower."

His voice was flat, empty.

"That’s what the six of them were fighting for."

He looked down at the corpse.

"But why have I completed the trial just by killing him?"

"That’s because you killed the qualified participants." A new voice cut through the silence. "There are no other contestants. And also—it’s your destiny."

Jude turned slowly.

Anton stood in the doorway, smiling.

"It is you."

"Yes." Anton stepped forward. "I know you must be wondering how I’m here."

"Indeed."

"Well, the Tower worked to fulfill your desires. I just happened to get here quicker." He gestured behind him. "Zeke’s enjoying his sleep—though he’s quite angry you beheaded his body."

Jude followed Anton’s gesture.

The headless corpse was whole again. Zeke lay beside it, eyes closed—but his lips twitched, suppressing a grin.

"He’s awake," Jude said. More confirmation than question.

"You weren’t even this happy when you saw me." Anton placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt.

"That’s because he’s spacing his outburst for us."

Two more voices.

Jude’s head snapped toward the sound.

Aaron and Kai stood at the opposite entrance, both smiling.

"You’re alive."

"Ah, it seems I can’t fake sleep anymore." Zeke sat up, stretching. "The gang’s here."

Jude stared at all of them, unable to speak. Tears streamed down his face.

"Okay," Anton said softly. "Group hug."

---

One thousand years later.

Jude woke in the house on the first floor—the same house Zeke had built so long ago.

His brothers waited for him in the living room.

"What’s happening?" Jude rubbed his eyes, still groggy.

"It’s time." Anton stepped forward, expression serious.

"Time for what?"

"We’ve waited long enough. The Tower has restored its livestock—it’s time for you to harvest them. We need to reach the other world and claim its Tower."

"What?"

"You’re a Tower Lord. Did you think you were the only one?" Anton’s voice was patient, measured. "There are others. They’ll come for you. You have to fight. Devour other Towers, grow stronger. But first, you must devour the residents of your own Tower. Only then can you gain new talents and increase your stats."

"That’s nonsense."

"Why do you think you were chosen?" Anton met his eyes. "Your trait makes you the perfect candidate. The Tower becomes a farm for you to grow your strength. You devour other Towers—this one gets stronger, the residents get stronger, and so do you when you devour them."

"That’s—"

"Nonsense?" Kai interrupted, stepping forward. "Do you want to see us die when another Tower Lord attacks?"

"Jude." Aaron’s voice was quiet. "You’re the only one who can do this."

"It’s your destiny." Anton’s tone hardened. "It’s why I was sent back to the past. Brother—do not falter."

Jude looked between them, something cold settling in his chest.

"You expect me to do this?"

"You did it before," Kai said.

"What I did was a necessity. I needed to revive you."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Aaron’s expression was unreadable.

"You already killed before then," he continued.

"Why do you think they died?" Zeke pushed off the wall, walking toward Jude. "Because you were weak? No, Jude. It was because you got a taste for the power your trait gave you."

"Not you too."

Jude stepped backward.

"You can’t run, brother." Anton’s voice was gentle. "It’s your destiny."

"Destiny?" Jude’s voice cracked. "Destiny?"

He looked at each of them in turn.

"You speak of destiny—what do you know of my destiny? You died before I fulfilled it. Then you come back and tell me about destiny?"

He pointed at them, hand shaking.

"You’re the reason I did all this. Now you want me to do it again?"

"Really, Jude?" Zeke’s voice turned cold. "Your brothers got killed because of you. We destroyed a kingdom because of you. Michael left because of you. Countless geniuses died so you could get a runestone—because of you. Anton died. I was captured, dragged from my lifestyle to become a vessel for a Tower Lord candidate. All because of you."

He stepped closer.

"And that’s not all. Zeke gave you an out—brought you back to this house. You rested for three years and began anew. Do you know how many innocent people you killed? And now you want to stop?"

"Now you have a conscience?" Kai’s voice was sharp.

"No." Jude’s jaw tightened. "None of it was right. But that doesn’t make what you’re asking of me right. I did it out of rage—in my quest to save you."

"A quest you caused," Aaron said flatly.

"You’re right. But two wrongs don’t make a right. I’m not saying I was right—but this is wrong. The war has passed. We’ve won. We’re back together. There’s no need to cause another massacre for conquest."

"You abandon your destiny."

"You’ve been saying destiny quite a lot." Jude’s eyes narrowed. "It makes me think—if it truly is my destiny, why are you telling me how to fulfill it? Destiny should be inevitable."

He took another step back.

"Every time you say it, it sounds like manipulation. Like you’re fueling me on for your own purposes. You never mentioned destiny when we were outside the Tower."

His voice rose.

"Worse—you came from nowhere and claimed to be my brother. Where’s the woman who proved our bloodlines? Where is she?"

"Maybe you killed her." Zeke shrugged.

"Don’t start that attitude now." Jude’s breathing quickened. "Something’s wrong. You would have found her. No—you wouldn’t support this nonsense. This is wrong. You wouldn’t let yourself be one-upped by that hand."

His words came faster.

"I shouldn’t let myself be one-upped by weaklings I revived. That’s not what Madara would do. That’s not what you would do. That’s not how you influenced us."

He turned to Zeke.

"You came into the Tower and became a different being. You never trusted Michael or Anton. Now you care that Micheal’s gone?"

He turned to Kai.

"Kai—where’s your sister? You didn’t look for your sister?"

"No," Kai said simply.

"You should stop what you’re doing now."

"Shut the fuck up, Anton."

"That’s no way to speak to your leader."

Jude’s eyes hardened.

"Tower—delete them."

Silence.

Then: [ DO YOU WISH TO DO THAT? ]

"What happened to the big font?"

Jude laughed—short, bitter.

"I’m going insane, aren’t I?"

He looked at each of them.

"Zeke would definitely mock me. I let you deceive me."

His voice dropped.

"This all started when I entered the Tower. Definitely a trial. How else would everything follow the tropes I love? No—fuck off. You lose, Tower."

"Are You Sure You Want To Delete Them?"

This time, all four spoke in unison—Kai, Aaron, Zeke, and Anton. Their voices overlapped perfectly, emotionless and synchronized.

"Of course, you bitch."

[ CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE PASSED THE FIRST FLOOR OF THE TOWER. ]

[ THIS TRIAL WAS DESIGNED TO HELP YOU UNDERSTAND THE TERROR OF YOUR TALENT—AND THE TERROR OF THE RESPONSIBILITY YOU’VE PLACED ON YOURSELF. WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO DO TO AVOID FAILING YOUR BROTHERS’ EXPECTATIONS? ]

[ THE TOWER HOPES YOU WILL REFLECT ON THIS AND LEARN. ]

[ YOU WILL RECEIVE YOUR REWARDS THE MOMENT YOU REACH THE SECOND FLOOR. ]

---

"Just die, you bastard."

Anton killed the seven-thousandth version of Jude.

A pool of black sludge materialized before him, shifting and reforming into his own shape.

"You heartless fool." The doppelganger’s voice was calm, mocking. "Why have you killed our little brother so many times?"

"Our?" Anton’s voice was low, dangerous.

"No, you bastard. He’s my little brother. Yes, I failed him—but you don’t get to be him. I didn’t go back in time to become the cause of his death again."

His fists clenched.

"I tried to help."

"I tried to help."

"I TRIED TO HELP, YOU BASTARD."

His voice cracked.

"Who knew those bastards were just looking for a reason. So shut the fuck up. He’s my little brother. I may have failed him. I’ve lived a thousand years with that pain."

He stepped forward.

"But I’ve been brought back. And this time, I’ll change his fate—or I’ll die trying."

His aura flared.

"But I’m definitely not falling at the first trial. So shut the fuck up and come on. I’ll kill a million of you if I have to."

"Haha. A million?" The doppelganger smiled. "Even if you do—even if you succeed—what are you going to do to help him? You know they’ll eventually get him. It’s inevitable."

It leaned closer.

"He’s the catalyst. You might have hastened it last time, but it still would have happened. What will you do, regressor? How will you change your fate?"

"I have friends, you bastard." Anton’s voice steadied. "I’m not just a mediocre branch member of House Aurelius. I’m fucking Anton—big brother to Jude. The fucking Singularity."

He met the doppelganger’s eyes.

"So tell me—why would we lose?"

"And even if we lose, my brother will not die an unworthy death. It will be one fitting of his destiny."

"Destiny." The sludge rippled. "I know someone who hates that word. Well—we both do."

Then it shifted.

The voice changed—deeper, older.

"Congratulations, child. I’ve found your resolve worthy. Your plan is stupid—but it’s not your plan I test. It’s your resolve."

The sludge dissolved.

"Regressor, stand. Change your fate. And change that fucking title—what do you mean, ’Singularity’? You shouldn’t let the owner of that title hear you say that."

"Huh?"

Before Anton could ask anything else, the world shimmered.

And changed.