The door was a thing of contradictions.It was carved from black stone yet shimmered like glass; it towered like a skyscraper but somehow fit perfectly in front of him, no matter his angle. Patterns danced across its surface — not just shapes, but miniature scenes: armies marching, suns collapsing, oceans boiling away. They shifted faster than his mind could fully process, leaving an afterimage in his thoughts.
The silver-robed woman gestured toward it with a casual grace, as though she was pointing to nothing more than a side entrance to an office building.
"Step through," she said. "And your reign begins."
Kael stared at the impossible door. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else, trembling but moving forward anyway.
As his fingers brushed the surface, the world folded.
First Floor: The Empty City
When Kael's vision returned, he was standing in the middle of a city… if you could call it that.
The streets were broad and perfectly clean, paved with pale stone that seemed to drink in the light. Buildings of impossible symmetry rose around him, their glassless windows like hollow eyes.
There were no people. Not a whisper of life. The silence pressed against his ears, heavy and absolute.
In the distance, a faint hum thrummed through the air — low, constant, like a single organ note that never ended. It vibrated in his bones.
Then, without warning, a voice spoke from directly behind him.
"Orientation Protocol: Engaged."
Kael spun so fast he nearly fell.
She was standing there — though she hadn't been a heartbeat ago.
This one was different from the woman at the Tower's base. She was shorter, younger-looking, with sharp, symmetrical features and hair blacker than the spaces between stars. Her eyes were a deep violet, glowing faintly in the dimness.
She wore no robe, only a simple fitted jacket with a silver crest over the heart — a crown encircled by a thousand-pointed star.
"Who—" Kael started.
"Lyra Veyran," she interrupted crisply. "Herald of the Tower of Babel. Assigned to guide you through initial authority acquisition."
She tilted her head slightly, studying him as one might examine an underwhelming museum exhibit.
"You're smaller than I expected."
Kael frowned. "And you're… ruder than I expected from a cosmic… assistant? Secretary? Whatever you are."
"Herald," she corrected. "And I'm not rude. I'm efficient."
Her gaze swept over him like a scanner. "Your Authority Level is zero. Your mortal physiology is… underwhelming. Your cognitive resilience, however, is within parameters."
"Parameters for what?"
"Survival of First Trial."
That made his stomach drop. "Trial?"
Lyra pointed toward the far end of the street. From the shadow between two silent towers, something began to emerge.
The First Trial
At first, Kael thought it was a shadow itself. But shadows didn't move like that — pulling and twisting like smoke trapped underwater.
It took shape as it approached: a tall, skeletal figure made of black glass, its limbs jointed wrong, its head a featureless oval. Its steps made no sound, but with each pace the hum in the air grew louder.
"Designation," Lyra said without emotion. "Hollow Arbiter. Tasked with determining if you are fit to hold even one fragment of the Crown's power."
Kael took a step back. "And if I'm not?"
"It will unmake you. Not kill. Unmake."
"Great," Kael muttered. "And I suppose you're going to hand me a sword or laser cannon or—"
"No weapons," she said. "First Trial measures judgment, not force."
The Hollow Arbiter stopped about twenty meters away. A voice — or rather, a thought that made itself into a voice — resonated directly inside Kael's skull.
One city. One King. Choose what remains.
Before Kael could ask what it meant, the buildings around him began to shift. Some crumbled into dust, others twisted into impossible shapes. The ground beneath his feet flickered between stone, grass, water, and empty air.
"Three choices will present themselves," Lyra explained calmly as though reading from a script. "Only one maintains stability. Choose incorrectly twice, and the Arbiter executes its verdict."
Kael's pulse hammered. "What kind of choices?"
The first appeared instantly — like the universe flipping a card.
Choice 1:
A. Preserve the tallest tower — a beacon of communication between realms.B. Preserve the oldest library — keeper of history and law.C. Preserve the central marketplace — heart of trade and exchange.
Kael stared at them, realizing instantly that this wasn't about saving a building. This was about setting a priority. Which foundation of a civilization mattered most?
The analyst in him kicked in despite the panic. Communication connected realms, yes — but without law and memory, it meant nothing. Trade created prosperity, but without communication, it stagnated.
"Library," Kael said aloud.
The city shuddered — and the oldest library solidified, its pale stone glowing faintly.
"One correct," Lyra said, almost sounding surprised. "Proceed."
The second choice came harder. Buildings bled into each other as if painted on water.
Choice 2:
A. Preserve the River of Glass — source of the realm's energy.B. Preserve the Garden of Suns — generator of life.C. Preserve the Spire of Edicts — enforcer of law.
Kael hesitated. Without energy, the city would die. Without life, the city's purpose ended. But without law, it would collapse into chaos.
Energy first, he decided. "River of Glass."
The Arbiter tilted its head. The hum sharpened.
"Incorrect," Lyra said, voice neutral again. "One strike."
"Seriously?" Kael snapped. "Without energy, nothing functions!"
"Without life, there is no one to use energy," she replied simply.
The third choice arrived like a blade poised at his throat.
Choice 3:
A. Preserve the Hall of Crowns — seat of governance.B. Preserve the Bridge of Worlds — connection to other realms.C. Preserve the Citadel Vault — repository of resources.
Kael's thoughts raced. Governance kept order. Resources kept people alive. But without the bridge, the city was isolated — trade, culture, reinforcements cut off. The first trial wasn't about what seemed powerful. It was about connections.
"Bridge of Worlds," he said.
The Arbiter froze.
Then — it bowed. Slowly, impossibly, folding its tall frame until its featureless head almost touched the ground. The hum faded into silence. When it rose again, it dissolved into black shards of glass that floated upward and vanished.
[Trial Complete – Authority Fragment Acquired]+0.1% Universal Authority UnlockedLaw Fragment: "Preservation Through Connection"
Kael exhaled for what felt like the first time in minutes. His legs trembled under him.
Lyra studied him for a moment before speaking. "Acceptable performance."
"That's it?" Kael asked, half-laughing, half-shaking. "I get a golf clap from the universe?"
"You get to keep existing," Lyra said, already turning toward the far end of the street. "Come. The Crown won't wait forever."
Kael followed — not because he trusted her, or because he had any idea what he was doing, but because somewhere deep inside, the puzzle had begun.
And Kael Ardent had never walked away from a puzzle.