When The System Spoils You For No Reason-Chapter 64 - Sixty Four

"Immortality means nothing when everything you love can die."

---

"Daddy!"

A young girl—seven years old, maybe—launched herself at a young man who couldn’t have been older than twenty-two. He was tall, 6’2", lean but defined, muscles clinging to his frame like they’d been carved rather than earned. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, abs sharp enough to grate cheese on. His skin was light bronze, unblemished.

His hair—deep black threaded with ashen silver—hung wild and shoulder-length, catching the orb’s light in shimmering beads. His eyes were piercing grey, like polished steel, glinting with equal parts amusement and apathy. His jawline could cut glass. His lips were... well. Not that he’d admit they were kissable.

He was Zeke.

Yep. That’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got into this situation.

To understand that, we’d have to go back hundreds of deaths.

Fuck you, Tower.

If you’re reading my mind—fuck you.

I’m done begging.

Who wouldn’t be, after dying this many times?

---

After the first revival—where I’d been reborn as an infant—I experienced more of the same. It became the new normal.

Mostimes I died before reaching eighteen.

Sometimes I was reborn in medieval times. Sometimes in the modern world. Sometimes in a strange industrial-medieval hybrid—a Peaky Blinders sort of thing.

That happened about twenty times before I stopped counting.

Then I hit a milestone: I reached adulthood.

Then I awakened. It seemed every world I was reborn into followed the awakening logic of my original world.

I’d thought I would awaken my immortality—all the abilities I’d had before.

That wasn’t the case.

I awakened Aaron’s umbrakinesis instead.

But I did have one of my traits: [ Reservoir ].

A D-ranked trait.

That life was a bust. I died just after my twenty-second birthday. I’d left my village to find greener pastures, heard about the Tower in the capital city.

I died to bandits.

Classic trope.

---

In the next rebirths, I awakened abilities from most people I’d met—and most of my traits and skills. Except immortality.

Sometimes I received two or more traits at once.

But I never got a new aspect.

I did awaken my original innate ability twice.

The first time, it was the initial form.

The second time, it came with my recent progression—and most of my traits. Except immortality.

That was the highlight of my rebirths. I had the trait [ Grand Archmage ].

I reached the fifty-fourth floor of the Tower before I died.

---

I came to a realization the second time I hit eighteen: every world I was reborn into had the Tower. And entering the Tower didn’t stop the trial.

Stupid of me to think it would.

Over the course of my rebirths, I lost a lot of people. I started living my lives purposely avoiding connections.

But it seemed I wouldn’t die unless I made connections.

The Tower couldn’t even hide its goal.

---

Then I began this session of rebirth.

At five, I left home. I wouldn’t give the Tower the satisfaction of killing off people I cared about—or killing me just when I’d started enjoying life.

At six, while making my way to the capital, I was mauled by monsters that had escaped a dungeon.

But seeing as I’m addressing this as my current rebirth, you can guess I survived.

I regenerated every injury. They scratched, I healed. They kept going.

Yes. I’d gained my immortality.

But I was at an impasse. What was a six-year-old supposed to do against E-Rank monsters?

I became a toy for them.

Stupid, I know. They should’ve gotten bored. I could’ve run away anytime.

Both things happened. But I still ended up in the hands of another monster.

---

I suffered the same fate for eleven years. I was pushed deeper and deeper into the forest until I was trapped with C-Rank monsters.

Don’t forget—I was a normal human with only immortality going for me.

I was a new iteration of Tarzan.

But that all changed the moment I turned eighteen.

Unsurprisingly, I awakened all the aspects I’d had from my original self.

The only thing missing was my rank. I awakened as a B-Rank.

---

By the established rules—with exceptions being me and the trio—depending on the rank of aspects one awakens, their initial rank changes.

From the biology and stats of a normal human, one’s body shifts to accommodate the awakened aspect.

I wasn’t higher-ranked in previous lives because I’d only had immortality when I awakened. It doesn’t drastically improve stats—only biological nature.

The moment I awakened in this run, I made sure to decimate the monsters that had traumatized me.

Then I finally made my way to the Tower.

---

I avoided human interaction whenever I could. But I’m a magnet for the weird.

As much as I claim to be unfeeling, I’m still human. And humans are social animals.

I enjoy solitude. But I wouldn’t reject unforeseen connections.

And it seemed the Tower was banking on that. Since I couldn’t die this time around, most connections I made ended up dead instead.

The number of funerals I attended in the thousand-odd years I stayed in the Tower...

I had to stop making connections. No matter how hard the other party tried.

I even earned a reputation.

---

Climbing the Tower was difficult. It wasn’t weird, considering Anton lived four thousand-odd years in the Tower before he died.

I don’t even know what floor he reached.

At least with my reputation, I should have made her detest coming close to me.

But what Hollywood love potion did she drink?

I think she gave me the same one.

How could I drive her away for three hundred years, and she still refused to leave?

Even a rock would fall in love with her.

But I had experience over the course of my lives.

I kept her at arm’s length.

---

But she wasn’t mediocre. She was a genius in her own right. Even if it took decades after I’d climbed to a higher floor, she’d catch up to me.

I had to take her with me. She was pitiful. Yes—it was pity. Nothing else.

We spent five hundred years together as teammates and reached the eighty-seventh floor.

There, I decided to rest.

I was immortal. She wasn’t. A time would come when she’d die. Before that happened, it would be better to fulfill her desires.

Yes. That was the rationale.

Eight years later, we now had this beautiful little bundle of joy.

Viora Grace Vaughan.

A parody of Jyu Viole Grace from Tower of God.

A name my core seemed ecstatic about.

---

I try to tell myself this is all an illusion from the Tower.

But I can’t.

Being a husband and a father—it’s the best thing to ever happen to me.

Love... is lovely.

---

"Daddy, why’s the sky red?"

Viora placed her small hands on Zeke’s cheeks, turning his face toward the sky.

"Hmm." Zeke’s tone was light, dismissive. "Just some unpleasant insects buzzing around."

"Mummy said not to open windows for this reason. Did you forget to close the window, Dad?"

"Aiya, it seems I did." He grinned sheepishly. "Don’t tell Mum."

"Nuh-uh. Mummy said to tell her everything. You have to bribe me."

"Didn’t your mom say not to accept bribes?"

Viora’s eyes gleamed. "It seems Mummy will get to hear something interesting today."

"Well, your dad isn’t bribing you. He’s just doing his fatherly duties." Zeke kissed her cheek with exaggerated affection.

"Heh. You’re right. Viora didn’t disobey Mum—you’re only fulfilling your fatherly duties."

"Good. Now run along to your mother. I have to go swat the insects before she finds out."

Zeke set her gently on the ground.

"Come back quickly," Viora said, crossing her arms. "Or I might say something."

"I’ll be quick." Zeke waved her off, then turned to face the sky, his expression flattening into something cold.

"After all," he muttered, rising into the air, "they’re just insects."

---

"The family man has arrived."

A voice taunted from above.

"Silvanus." Zeke’s tone was flat, bored. "It’d be best if you didn’t speak—lest I pay a visit to your forty-seventh grandchild."

"It’s a joke, old head."

"I’m not the one with grandkids."

"So." Zeke’s eyes narrowed. "Why have you caused this ruckus? Don’t tell me you’re craving a beating."

"Of course not." Silvanus grinned. "We wouldn’t disturb you if we didn’t have the confidence to kill you."

"Really?" Zeke’s voice dripped with mock curiosity. "So you’re the reason the list of immortals has been shrinking."

"We had to test it on weaker foes."

"We wouldn’t have tried if you were still, well, you. But now?" Gerrard smirked. "You’re just a dad."

"I understand Gerrard," Zeke said, voice soft and dangerous. "But you—who can’t keep his pants on—can’t really talk. And Silvanus, you even dote on a particular bloodline."

"It’s normal for me to have a heart," Silvanus replied smoothly. "But yours is unusual. You avoided having a weakness for a thousand years. We couldn’t touch you. Then you just had to go soft for eight years."

"Enough time," Gerrard added, "for us to finally find a way to kill you off."

"The &@#%$!"

"It’s so annoying when you say things like that," Zeke interrupted, grinning. "I can’t understand you, boy. English—do you speak it, motherfucker?"

Silvanus’ lips twitched. "Joke all you want. But you’re dying today."

"I’ve been told that a lot over the years." Zeke’s voice dropped. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep."

"Come out," Silvanus called.

"I was wondering when they’d show." Zeke cracked his knuckles. "The three of you couldn’t serve as appetizers. Well, none of you can. Let’s make this quick—I have a seven-year-old to bribe."

---

"This is infinitesimally boring." Zeke yawned. "What spell did you cast? You’re almost undying."

"Hah—you monster. You killed off three of us."

"Is that supposed to be an achievement?" Zeke tilted his head mockingly. "There’s still four of you. I don’t think I’ve done a good job."

"The fewer our numbers, the stronger our immortality."

"Immortality?" Zeke scoffed. "More like regeneration. I just have to put in more effort to kill you all."

"Regeneration is something your weak wife should be wishing for right about now."

Zeke froze. The air around him grew heavy, oppressive.

"What do you mean?"

The man smiled.

"I think you understand me."

"I underestimated you," Zeke said softly, coldly. "But you’ve underestimated me. Did you really think I’d come fight you without prep time?"

He appeared before one of the four men in a blink.

"I’m Batman," Zeke whispered—and plucked out his heart.

---

"Mummy, what’s going on? Who are these people?"

"They’re bad guys. Your father’s fighting them off. We have to hide."

"That’s not Dad." Viora pointed toward the figure battling the horde of monsters and humanoid attackers.

"I know. I wasn’t talking about your father’s clone. He’s fighting in the sky."

"He did say he was going to swat insects."

"Oops." Viora clasped her hands over her mouth.

"Viora..."

"Well, he told me not to tell you. And I didn’t tell you—the insects did. Right, Mum?"

"Only if the insects tell me everything that happened."

"Of course. The insects have nothing to hide." Viora beamed.

---

"Seems you’re the only one left, Gerrard."

Zeke held the man by his throat, squeezing.

"You really have a knack for flair and theatrics," Gerrard choked out. "Too bad—your confidence is your downfall. You should go down. Your family needs you."

Zeke glanced down—and his blood ran cold.

"You invited one of them?" His voice was venomous. "Pussy."

He snapped Gerrard’s neck.

Then, in a single step, he appeared in his house.

"Viora!"

"How sad. You only called for your daughter. What about your beautiful wife?"

The voice came from the next room. Zeke walked in—and saw a man holding his wife by her hair, his daughter clutched in his other arm.

"Is this a kink?" Zeke’s tone was flat, detached.

"You really live up to your reputation."

"Which one?"

"All of them. But I especially like this calm facade you put on."

"When you’ve seen the things I’ve seen, you tend to become calmer."

"I’m older than you, boy."

"Age is just a number. Haven’t you heard?"

"Heh. Maybe I should snap her neck—"

SHLIK—SPLRTCH!

The man’s arm fell.

"I’ll be taking my wife and daughter," Zeke said coldly.

"Really?"

Zeke found himself standing exactly where he’d been before. The man still held his wife and daughter.

"An illusion?"

"Maybe."

"Just showing me your illusion has made it useless against me." Zeke smiled thinly, reaching for his mimicry ability—

"Funny," the man said, "how you never thought to use your observation ability since the fight began. Not even against those fake immortals. Tell me—what if this is all an illusion? Or maybe... it’s my reality."

The world shimmered.

---

Zeke found himself impaled on a wooden cross, massive swords embedded through his body. His wife and daughter lay on the ground below, swords piercing them.

"Boy," the man said, smiling, "I’m a god. What gave you the idea I’d need grunts to weaken you? The moment I arrived, your end was written in stone."

"Your death became my reality."

A massive bell materialized, ringing mockingly.

"Reality Manipulation?" Zeke muttered, head down, staring at his family.

"Ding ding. We have a winner."

A giant bell appeared making ringing sounds.

’Reality Manipulation in a reality manipulated by the Tower. What a joke. Is this your plan, Tower?’

"Dad..."

"Aiya. A daughter calling for her superman dad. Can you save her? Or will you succumb to my reality?"

"Is that your quirk?" Zeke’s voice was hoarse but steady. "Tying everything to your ability? Reality this, reality that."

"As expected of the immortal. This still isn’t enough to tame your tongue."

"Leave my family out of this," Zeke said, voice breaking, "and I’ll let you do whatever you want to me."

"No." The man smiled wider. "I prefer breaking you down to crumbs."

"What an unlucky life." Zeke’s voice was soft now, trembling. "I could’ve stayed with you for a while if you’d agreed to let my family leave. But you had to go full villain mode. Still—I could’ve let you go on. Probably see if you could actually kill me. See what happens when you do. But I have a family. I actually love someone. I have a daughter. And my core is screaming not to let this life go like this. If I do, I might just regret it."

"Ramblings of a broken man?" The man laughed. "I wanted to break you more."

"Hahaha." Zeke’s laugh was hollow. "The Tower’s already broken me. Your little joke has no effect."

He looked up at the sky.

"Tower. You win. I give up. I know you have a way to save them. I don’t care what you do—save them. Now."

Silence.

"Save them. If you don’t—and I pass this trial, which I will—I will hunt you. And I will kill you. I will destroy you for ages to come. You know I can. And I will."

Silence.

"Please."

Tears fell.

---

"I didn’t beg when I died. I beg now—because they might."

———

"I think you should listen to him. We both know he’ll kill you."

"What about you?"

"Me? I’m his best friend. Why would he kill me? Especially since I’ll be directing him to you."

"I knew doing this according to your will would bring endless trouble."

"It’s inevitable. You know that."

"Just do it this way. If it happens any other way, your punishment will be steeper than if you earn his gratitude."

"I made him beg."

"That’s on you."

"You bastard."

"Heh."

"Isn’t that enough? Do you want to give them too much information? Change scenes, you fool."

The two figures conversed as one turned to address the empty air.

---

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

I’m back?

{Did you leave?}

’Zero?’

{In the flesh.}

"You guys are here."

Zeke turned toward the voice—and saw Anton. Then he turned around and saw the rest of the group.

"Did you beat us?" Michael asked.

"Hehe. I’m better than you."

"By one second."

"Better."

Zeke looked at the two bickering—and smiled.