"The Tower breathes. The Tower remembers."
The crimson wound in the sky pulsed once… and the world screamed.
Zero barely had time to raise his hand before the explosion of force tore across the void. The fragments of the shattered bridge were hurled away like dust in a hurricane. Kalen vanished behind a wall of crimson light, his shout drowned by the roaring energy that flooded everything.
Then—silence again.But it was not peace. It was the kind of stillness that comes before annihilation.
From the fissure above, tendrils of living light descended—streams of raw Tower essence. They twisted and writhed, connecting with the broken terrain, fusing fragments of reality together like veins in a monstrous heart.The Tower was reconstructing itself—and Zero stood at the center of its rebirth.
He lowered his sword slowly. "It's adapting."
A voice answered—not Kalen's, not anything human."Adapting to you."
Zero's head tilted upward. Within the crimson fissure, a new figure was forming—a silhouette tall and elegant, yet shifting constantly as if reality couldn't decide what it was supposed to be. Each flicker revealed a different face: sometimes a woman, sometimes a beast, sometimes himself.
It spoke in layers of tones that bled into one another."You erased an Arbiter. An error… corrected only by consumption."
Zero's eyes narrowed. "So the Tower sends a phantom."
"Not a phantom," it replied. "A reflection."
The entity stepped forward—its shape solidifying into a mirror image of Zero himself. Same height, same eyes, same weapon.But where Zero's aura burned gray-white, this one's flared black-red, rippling like fire trapped in water.
Kalen stumbled onto a floating shard of stone behind him, barely conscious. "Z-Zero… that's—"
"Me," Zero finished. His grip tightened on his sword. "Or what the Tower remembers of me."
The reflection smiled faintly. "No. What the Tower made of you."
Then it moved.
There was no warning, no buildup—just motion faster than thought. The two collided midair, their blades meeting in a burst of light so violent it bent gravity. The impact shattered the surrounding fragments, sending shockwaves rippling through the crimson void.
Steel sang.Energy screamed.Two Zeros—perfect mirrors of destruction—fought as if the universe itself depended on who would stand when it ended.
The reflection was precise, relentless. Every technique, every feint, every counter Zero had ever used—it knew them all. Every motion mirrored, every weakness anticipated.
Zero's blade slashed horizontally—met by an identical motion. He feinted upward—met again. Sparks cascaded like falling stars.
"You can't win against yourself," the reflection said calmly, voice identical to his own."You're limited by your own logic."
Zero's teeth clenched as he parried a thrust that nearly split his shoulder open. "Then I'll stop thinking."
He let go.
The air erupted around him as his control cracked—his calm precision giving way to pure instinct. The void howled in response. Each swing now carried raw force, unrestrained and brutal. The reflection faltered for a moment, forced to adapt to movements that defied its programmed understanding.
Kalen watched in awe as flashes of gray and red light ripped through the air like storms clashing. He could barely track the motion—only the sound of collision, echoing like thunder across the void.
The reflection leapt back, eyes burning brighter. "You fight like a beast when cornered. Fitting—for a fallen god."
Zero's breathing was heavy, but his stance remained steady. "Then let the beast rise."
He raised his hand. Power flooded his veins—energy not of this world, but older, deeper. The sigils on his arm ignited, crawling up his skin like living fire. The air bent inward around him.
The reflection's smirk vanished. "You would draw from that?"
"Why not? It's mine."
He slammed his hand into the air, and the void cracked.
A colossal surge of energy erupted outward, forming a storm of gray fire that expanded in every direction. Within that storm, Zero vanished, reappearing behind his reflection again and again—each strike faster, heavier, more unpredictable.
The reflection blocked two—three—then faltered on the fourth. Zero's blade carved through its guard, severing one arm. The creature staggered back, black ichor spilling into the void.
But it didn't die. Instead, it laughed—a hollow, echoing sound. "Good… now you remember. Now you bleed as we do."
Its form twisted violently, the wound morphing into dozens of black tendrils that lashed out. They struck like serpents, wrapping around Zero's limbs, constricting him with impossible strength. The reflection's voice deepened. "You cannot kill what was born from you."
Zero's reply was a whisper, low and cold. "Watch me."
He inhaled—slow, steady—and then his aura imploded inward before exploding outward in a blinding flash of gray flame. The tendrils burned away instantly, disintegrating into dust. Zero stepped through the flames, eyes glowing like molten silver.
The reflection lunged one last time—desperate, screaming—and Zero met it head-on.
Their blades crossed.Time slowed.Two halves of one soul—frozen in the moment of final judgment.
Zero whispered, "I'm done being what the Tower remembers."
Then he drove his blade forward, straight through his reflection's chest.
The mirror cracked.
A sound like shattering glass filled the void. The reflection screamed as its body dissolved into thousands of fragments of light, each piece containing echoes of Zero's past selves—the soldier, the tyrant, the god, the failure. All burned away in the storm.
When it was over, only Zero remained—kneeling, breath ragged, surrounded by drifting shards of light.
Kalen crawled to him weakly. "Did you… win?"
Zero looked at his reflection's fading remnants. "No. I remembered."
The light around them dimmed. The crimson wound above began to close, sealing itself like a healed scar. The air felt heavier now—more aware.
From somewhere deep within the Tower, that voice returned again."Cycle two: completed. Cycle three… begins."
Zero stood, tightening his grip on his sword. His gray eyes burned faintly with exhaustion and resolve.
"Then let it begin," he whispered. "I'm not done climbing."