The first few days were a blur of violet portals and shifting horizons.

  I had expected a sprint. I had braced myself for a frantic, breathless dash against enemies like Korg and Azrael, expecting them to be nipping at my heels with every cleared floor. I had planned contingencies for sabotage, for intercepting rival teams in the lobby, for complex geopolitical maneuvering.

  Instead, I found myself in a rhythm that felt less like a race and more like a very aggressive commute.

  My second target was Nexus Delta-14, situated in the ruins of what used to be a sprawling metropolis in the rainforest belt. Vayne’s initial orbital bombardment months ago had flattened the city, turning it into a cratered wasteland of glass and rebar.

  When I stepped out of the portal onto the cracked highway leading to the Nexus point, the air smelled different.

  It didn’t smell like ash anymore. It smelled… clean.

  The Tower had risen from the epicenter of the destruction, a spiral of white marble and living vine that pierced the smog clouds. Around its base, the System had manifested a “Sanctuary Zone” — a glowing dome of purification mana roughly ten miles wide. Inside that dome, the wild Essence was gone. The glass crater was overgrown with moss.

  Makeshift shanty towns were already popping up inside the perimeter. Refugees from the blast zones were clustering around the Tower like moths to a lamp, utilizing the clean water generated by the ambient mana overflow.

  “The System is stabilizing the planet,” Kasian observed through the link as I walked toward the entrance, ignoring the awed whispers of the refugees who recognized the black armor. “It is using the Towers as acupuncture needles. They aren’t just trials; they are localized terraforming engines. Every floor cleared increases the mana density and stability of the region.”

  “Efficient,” I muttered. “It turns the competition into a planetary repair protocol. The more we fight, the more the world heals. It creates a dependency on the strongest Warlords to maintain the safe zones.”

  I entered the gate.

  The theme of Nexus Delta-14 was Growth.

  Floor 1 wasn’t a dungeon. It was a jungle so dense the sunlight was green.

  I didn’t fight monsters here. I fought the geography. The trees were predatory, sensing vibration and lashing out with vines thick enough to crush a tank. The air was filled with spores that tried to take root in your lungs.

  By Floor 25, the difficulty spiked considerably. The beasts weren’t just aggressive; they were coordinated. Packs of Verdant Stalkers — panthers made of shifting leaves and shadow — hunted in perfect unison.

  By Floor 40, I wasn’t bored anymore.

  I stood on a branch the size of a highway, looking down at a forest floor lost in miles of mist.

  A notification chime interrupted the humidity.

  [EVENT UPDATE: LONG-TERM CYCLE ESTABLISHED.]

  [The Coronation Event Duration set to: 365 Standard Planetary Rotations.]

  [Tower Ownership will calculate Resource Tributes weekly.]

  “A year,” I realized, swiping the notification away. “Much longer than I initially expected, makes sense though as the towers get significantly more challenging. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. But that just means my early lead is even more critical.”

  I looked ahead. Floor 45.

  Here, the materials changed. The trees weren’t made of wood anymore. Their bark shimmered with metallic lusters.

  Ironwood. High-grade, Tier 6 conductive lumber.

  And higher up, near the canopy of the floor’s sky, the leaves were made of flexible solar-glass.

  “Look at that,” Leoric whispered greedily through the comms, watching my feed. “Do you see the sap on that Elder-Bark tree? That’s solidified Mana-Amber. One drop could power a shelter’s heater for a month. And the monsters… that beetle you just crushed? Its shell is a natural kinetic dampener.”

  I looked at the wreckage of the Tier 6 Goliath Beetle I had just pancaked with a localized gravity surge. Its shell was fractured, revealing an iridescent interior that pulsed with energy.

  It was worth a fortune. A king’s ransom in crafting materials lay dead at my feet.

  And I couldn’t touch it.

  “It’s annoying,” I sighed, kicking a chunk of carapace that was probably worth more than a pre-system bank vault. “It’s like walking through a vault with handcuffs on.”

  “Focus on the strategic value, Master,” Jeeves advised, his tone soothing. “Once we own the tower, these resources would be accessible. We can deploy mining teams. Farming teams. Nexus Delta-14 will become the primary source of bio-luminescent timber and reagents. This isn’t just a scoreboard. You are securing the economy of the next decade.”

  “I know,” I said, looking up at the gateway to the next floor. “It just hurts the hoarding instinct.”

  I pushed on.

  Floor 48 was beginning to become a challenge. The “local wildlife” consisted of Hydras that breathed varying elements. Fire, Acid, Frost. They regenerated faster than most people could damage them.

  I used [The Void-Star’s Hunger] to eat their breath attacks, converting their offense into fuel for my next step.

  Floor 50.

  The Guardian Room.

  This wasn’t a mindless beast.

  It was a Treant King, standing a hundred feet tall, crowned with lightning-struck timber. Its aura was suffocating, heavy with the weight of centuries.

  It looked at me with eyes that glowed like miniature suns.

  A Tier 7. The barrier to entry for the elite.

  Most factions would hit this wall and break. To kill a Tier 7, you needed a full raid team of high Tier 6s, perfectly coordinated, heavily geared, and lucky. Which is why I decided that Floor 51 would be a good benchmark to reach for each tower, confident that nobody else could surpass it.

  The Monarch swung a fist the size of a house.

  I raised my hand. [Domain of the Ashen Phoenix].

  I inverted the concept of “Growth” around the Monarch. My white-gold fire didn’t burn the wood; it aged it. Entropy accelerated. In seconds, the mighty oak arm withered, turned grey, and crumbled into dust before it hit me.

  “Ash,” I whispered.

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  The King roared, trying to pull mana from the soil to regenerate.

  I stepped into the Void, flickering out of existence and reappearing at the creature’s core. I drove a punch powered by the orbital mechanics of my internal star-cores into its chest.

  The Monarch shattered.

  [Floor 50 Complete.]

  I stood in the swirling dust of the defeated Guardian, breathing steadily. My mana reserves were down by maybe five percent.

  I looked at the gate to Floor 51.

  The pressure radiating from behind it was stronger. Denser.

  “I can keep going,” I analyzed, checking my internal clock. “But the time investment scales exponentially from here. The puzzle complexity and boss durability on Floors 50+ increase massively.”

  “Master,” Jeeves interrupted. “Current projections suggest that capturing width is currently more important than depth. We need to secure the territories.”

  “Agreed. Floor 50 is a good soft-cap. It establishes dominance without wasting weeks on a single climb.”

  I tagged the beacon. The Tower Delta-14 glowed on my mental map, turning gold.

  I left.

  One month passed in a haze of distinct biomes and shattered guardians.

  It became routine. Check the maps. Portal. Climb. Kill. Secure. And rest, if needed.

  Nexus Delta-8 (The Clockwork Spire):

  A tower of grinding gears and brass pipes located in an arid canyon. Theme: Order and Logic.

  Floors 30-40 were less about combat and more about terrifying precision. I had to dodge pendulum blades that moved at supersonic speeds. The enemies were automatons of brass and porcelain that calculated your dodge vectors.

  By Floor 48, the automatons were wielding focused particle beams. I wanted to salvage their cores — miniature mana-reactors — so badly my fingers twitched.

  I left that Tower with a newfound appreciation for precise timing and a deep desire to introduce Leoric to the tech inside.

  Nexus Delta-22 (The Abyssal Trench):

  Located in the middle of the Pacific, rising from the waves like a trident. Theme: Pressure.

  The entire interior was underwater. Gravity manipulation was the only thing that made movement bearable. The ambient water pressure on Floor 45 was high enough to crush a nuclear submarine like a soda can.

  The resources? Pearls the size of basketballs that generated large amounts of fresh water. Coral that healed wounds on contact.

  I cleared it to Floor 50 by boiling the water around me with my Domain, creating a cavitation bubble of superheated steam that acted as a localized shield.

  By the end of the month, I sat atop the precipice of Nexus Delta-4 (The Floating Isles), legs dangling over a drop into infinite white mist. I was eating an apple I had brought from Bastion.

  Six towers.

  I had personally cleared six separate towers to Floor 50.

  “Status check,” I said, wiping juice from my chin. “Let’s see the damage.”

  I pulled up the interface.

  The System window expanded, covering the vista of floating rocks.

  [GLOBAL LEADERBOARD: INDIVIDUAL STANDINGS]

  I. EREN (Void Star) - 6 Towers

  II. KORG (Iron Covenant) - 2 Towers

  III. AZRAEL (The Pale Dominion) - 2 Towers

  IV. LADY SOL (Solar Ascendancy) - 2 Towers

  V. SYREN (Azure Syndicate) - 2 Towers

  ...

  “Only two?” I chewed the apple thoughtfully. “After the initial start I expected Azrael to move faster.”

  “Quantity over quality, Master,” Jeeves’ voice floated through the connection. “Azrael is struggling with the puzzles. Most of his minions, other than a few scouted elites, appear to be mindless. He has to micromanage them on floors that require cognitive problem solving. He is bogged down in the intricacies of the trials. Brute force has limits.”

  “And Korg?”

  “Based on our intel, Korg seemed to have hit a wall at Floor 42 of his primary tower,” Jeeves reported. “Intelligence suggests it was a Psychic-Mirror boss. It uses the aspirant’s own aggression against them. Korg… is very… blunt. He likely knocked himself out.”

  I snorted. “Fitting.”

  I tapped the tab on the screen that I hadn’t looked at in days.

  [VIEW MODE: FACTION SUMMARY]

  The list reorganized. Individual names merged into banners.

  [GLOBAL LEADERBOARD: FACTION CONTROL]

  I. FACTION: VOID STAR

  Total Towers Secured: 10

  Territory Influence: 22%

  II. FACTION: THE IRON COVENANT

  Total Towers Secured: 3

  Territory Influence: 8%

  III. FACTION: THE PALE DOMINION

  Total Towers Secured: 3

  Territory Influence: 6%

  IV. FACTION: SOLAR ASCENDANCY

  Total Towers Secured: 2

  Territory Influence: 5%

  V. FACTION: AZURE SYNDICATE

  Total Towers Secured: 2

  Territory Influence: 11%

  “Ten,” I whispered, looking at the number.

  The tension that had been coiling in my chest for the last month — the fear that we were too slow, too small, too few — unraveled.

  Looking back at it, my multiple advantages should have made it obvious the competition shouldn’t put up a fight, but the high stakes still made it stressful. Now, however, our predictions were being confirmed. We weren’t just winning. We were dominating.

  Ten towers meant ten active nodes of immense resources. It meant we controlled the mana-flow of nearly a quarter of the planet.

  I opened the general channel.

  “Report.”

  “Rexxar is… muddy,” the lion’s voice boomed. “But the Tower of the Swamps is mine! I have claimed the fiftieth floor! The Boss was a Serpent of poison and sludge. I wrestled it! It did not enjoy the suplex! The local lizard-men are terrified and respectful! They call me the Mud-God now!”

  “Great work Rexxar, you can stop there and clear another tower since you are ahead of schedule. Also, please tell me you’re washing yourself before you come back to base,” I said dryly.

  “The mud adds texture!”

  “North is secure,” Freja’s voice was crisp, cutting through the static like a winter wind. “Nexus Delta-30 is frozen. We hold Floor 38. The Frost Giants at 39 are… problematic. But we are setting up a perimeter. No one else is entering this tower. It is ours.”

  “Floor 39 is excellent, Freja,” I commended. “Consolidate there. Don’t risk lives pushing for 50 yet. If your competition gets close to your floor then start thinking of pushing it further.”

  “Tower of Shadows secure,” Nyx whispered. “Floor 50 reached. It was… unpleasant. But I have the Key.”

  “You too? Feel free to push another like Rexxar, you guys are going above and beyond. And Anna?” I asked. “Central Plains?”

  There was a pause.

  “Floor 45,” came the reply.

  I stopped chewing. “Forty-five? You beat a peak Tier 6?”

  “The Guardian was a Sniper,” Anna said, her voice sounding exhausted but undeniably smug. “Mirror match. It tried to out-shoot me. I used [Final Word]. It couldn’t dodge a shot that had already hit.”

  “Good work,” I said, smiling. “Make sure to rest, Anna.”

  I leaned back on the rock, looking at the scoreboard.

  The gap was massive. But it wasn’t insurmountable. Korg and Azrael were behind, but they were adapting. The fact that the Azure Syndicate controlled the oceans was a concern for logistics, and the Iron Covenant holding three towers meant they still had a strong base.

  But for the first time since the Event started, I let myself feel a flicker of security.

  “Jeeves,” I said, standing up and dusting off the diamond dust from my pants. “What’s the closest contested Tower? One that isn’t on the allied list?”

  “Nexus Delta-35. The Volcanic Spire,” Jeeves replied instantly. “Located in the Ring of Fire. It is currently being contested by a coalition of mercenary groups associated with the Iron Covenant, though they haven’t formalized the claim. Leaderboard shows a fluctuating high score of Floor 22.”

  “Volcanic,” I mused, feeling the heat of the [Domain of the Ashen Phoenix] flicker under my skin. “Fire affinity. Thermal conversion opportunities. And stripping Korg of another potential foothold.”

  I looked at the portal platform.

  “Sounds like a vacation. Prep the coordinates. I’m going for number seven.”

  I stepped onto the platform.

  The anxiety of the chase had faded, replaced by the cold, calculating thrill of the harvest.

  We had the map. We had the momentum.

  And in eleven months, when the timer ran out, I intended to be the only one left holding the keys to the sky.