The Capital Sorriso was being rebuilt, brick by brick. Yet whispers of the Tower of the Unfortunate spread like poison through taverns and war halls.
Some claimed that, with Kyros dead and the balance between nations broken, the Tower’s gate already stood ajar.
Meanwhile, Lukas never rested.
His days were an endless cycle of training. At dawn, he sparred against Luiz dos Copas in a dust-covered courtyard. By dusk, he crossed blades with veteran captains. At night, he studied reports of the ancient Disasters, mapping bloodstains and rumors.
No one dared to interrupt.
Even Adriele avoided speaking much between sessions, watching her brother from afar with a mixture of respect and fear.
— “You’ll end up killing yourself like this,” she told him one afternoon, after Lukas collapsed from exhaustion on the ground.
— “I don’t care,” he gasped, eyes fixed on the sky. “I… promised no one else would pay for what I failed to do.”
For a moment, she said nothing. She only lowered herself and pressed her forehead against his, sharing the silence.
Around this time, unsettling reports began arriving:
- Entire groups of hunters vanishing near the Iron Mountain.
- Merchants driven insane after passing through the ruins of Sorriso.
- A black gate appearing in the mist — only to vanish in the blink of an eye.
In the war room, Luiz dos Copas spoke as he wrapped a bandage around Lukas’s arm after another session:
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
— “The Tower is waking. You know what that means, Lukinhas?”
— “That we’ll kill the rest of the Disasters,” Lukas replied, voice firm.
Luiz let out a low chuckle.
— “That stubborn way of yours… might just end up making me proud. But you won’t go alone.”
He looked up at the sky.
— “Valquíria and I have already climbed to the Fifth Floor. We know the taste of that darkness. Not everyone comes out of there with their sanity intact.”
— “I don’t care about sanity. I want vengeance.”
Luiz stopped. His gaze sharpened suddenly.
— “Sometimes I wonder if you’ll lose yourself completely before reaching the top.”
— “Maybe,” Lukas said, rising with a deep breath. “But I’d rather lose myself fighting than spend a lifetime on my knees, trembling in fear.”
— “Hahaha!” Luiz ruffled his hair. “That’s the little brother I love to tease. The Blood Demon with the soul of a martyr.”
That night, as the cold wind licked the castle’s parapets, a hooded figure watched Lukas from the highest wall.
Amber-colored eyes gleamed under the moonlight.
Morgana.
She rested her chin on her hands, smiling like a fascinated child.
— “So… it was you who broke me in that life,” she whispered, in a voice too soft for even the wind to hear.
— “Ah… Lukas Fernandes. You don’t know it yet, but you’re mine. You always were.”
She traced her finger across the blue rune glowing on her wrist.
The seal that bound her to the Tower still pulsed, threatening to expose her.
But she didn’t care.
Her heart raced with anticipation.
The reunion was drawing near.
At that very moment, Lukas — exhausted in his chamber — felt the strange sensation of being watched. But when he glanced out the window, he saw nothing but the silent wall.
And so, while the Empire raised new walls of stone...
...the true challenge was drawing closer, smiling from the shadows.
End of Chapter 11 — Echoes of the Tower