Sabrel and Vespera soared through the clouds on the back of the two-headed beast.
The wind howled past them like a living thing, sharp and cold, carrying the crisp, electric scent of high altitude and distant storms. Thick crimson clouds parted around them in slow, majestic waves, their edges glowing faintly with the blood-red light of the sky.
The beast's powerful wings beat with deep, rhythmic force, each stroke sending vibrations through its scaled body and stirring the air into turbulent currents. Vespera's dark crimson hair whipped wildly behind her like a banner of blood, while Sabrel's white hair flowed like strands of moonlight caught in the gale. The cold bit at their skin, but neither woman flinched.
Sabrel spoke over the roar of the wind, her voice steady and clear.
"It's not usual for the Silent Hand's underlings to attack so openly. It's not their style at all."
Vespera's golden eyes remained fixed ahead, calm and calculating.
"It could be because of the new era," she replied. "Or the ways of their work have changed."
Sabrel was quiet for a moment, then sighed softly.
"It's strange."
Vespera glanced at her.
"What is?"
Sabrel turned slightly, her white eyes serious beneath the rushing wind.
"It's strange how those warriors couldn't recognize my name. More importantly… Indura's. Something feels off."
Vespera looked down at the thick layers of clouds rushing past below them.
"I really haven't known much about what happened after the Great War. After the Dragon King disappeared. There hasn't been any kind of activity that could have caused this. Nothing cosmic."
She blinked, as if a memory surfaced.
"Actually… there is something else that could be the cause. Well… someone. When I looked into that warrior's mind, I felt something. An energy that does not belong to Chaos."
She turned to Sabrel.
"I think—"
She didn't finish the sentence.
An arrow shot through the clouds like a bolt of black lightning, striking the beast's primary head with devastating force. The impact was explosive — the head burst apart in a violent spray of dark blood, bone fragments, and shimmering scales. The force rippled through the creature's massive body like a shockwave.
Sabrel and Vespera didn't look concerned.
"They know we're here."
Vespera nodded, watching the beast begin to wither and dissolve.
"I liked this beast. Its end is unfortunate."
The creature's body crumbled into swirling crimson sparks and embers, fading away into nothingness as they continued their free fall. The wind roared louder now, whipping their hair and clothes violently as they plummeted through layer after layer of thick, blood-red clouds. The world below rushed up to meet them — a vast, pale landscape of gray dunes and cracked earth, silent and waiting.
They passed through the final layer.
And there it was.
The tower.
It rose from the heart of the Silent Plains like a blackened spear driven into the world itself — impossibly tall, its peak still lost in the clouds they had just emerged from. Ancient stonework covered in faded, glowing runes and jagged protrusions gleamed dully under the red sky. The tower stood utterly alone, surrounded by nothing but endless gray desert and an unnatural, devouring silence.
Sabrel gazed at the tower, her white hair streaming behind her like strands of moonlight caught in the gale.
"I have only heard stories of it," she said, voice steady over the rushing wind. "But seeing it in person… is something else entirely."
Vespera's golden eyes remained fixed on the structure, calm and calculating.
"Through the warrior's mind, I saw what seemed to be a hundred floors. The one we're looking for is likely at the top."
Sabrel nodded, her expression serious.
"The forces here are highly skilled and trained. They will use anything if it means stopping us."
Suddenly, a barrage of black arrows shot upward from hidden positions along the tower's walls — streaking toward them at blinding speed, whistling through the air like death given form.
Vespera and Sabrel simply tilted their bodies mid-fall. The arrows swept past them harmlessly, missing by mere inches, vanishing into the clouds below.
Sabrel's voice remained calm.
"Those arrows are made of Black Metal. A rare material used to slay titans and tear through armies. One arrow alone is powerful enough to blow apart a stone giant."
Vespera watched the next volley charging toward them. She spread her arm, veins and muscles bulging beneath her pale skin as her nails sharpened into deadly claws. With perfect timing and terrifying precision, she snatched one of the arrows out of the air. The black shaft cracked violently in her grip, dark energy sparking and hissing before she crushed it completely into glittering fragments that scattered into the wind.
She looked at Sabrel.
Sabrel said nothing. She simply smiled — a small, knowing smile.
Vespera's lips curved into a cold, confident smile of her own.
"I will remain out here. You find a way inside the tower."
Sabrel took a long, steady breath, her white hair whipping wildly as she stared at the towering structure.
"Be careful out here."
Vespera returned the smile, golden eyes gleaming with quiet power.
"Don't you know who I am?"
Sabrel chuckled softly, then shot forward in a powerful burst of mana, streaking toward the tower like a white comet cutting through the red sky.
Vespera watched her go for a moment, then slowed her descent until she hovered gracefully in the air. She turned her head slightly, scanning the silent expanse behind her.
...Where could he be?
---------------
Meanwhile, in a vast, desolate desert.
Pale gray sand stretched endlessly under the blood-red sky, forming smooth, rolling dunes that looked like frozen waves in a dead ocean. The air was bone-dry and utterly still, carrying only the faint, sterile scent of ancient dust and long-forgotten death. No wind stirred the grains. No distant cries of beasts or whispers of life broke the oppressive quiet. It was a land that had surrendered to silence centuries ago.
At the end of a long, dark blood trail staining the sand lay a single figure.
The warrior had not made it back to the tower.
His dark gray body was slumped against a small dune, one arm missing entirely, the stump crusted with dried blood. Yellow eyes stared lifelessly at the sky, mouth slightly open in a final, silent scream. His black tactical gear was torn and soaked through with blood.
Indura emerged from the distance in a blur of motion.
The dust around him was blown away by the sheer force of his arrival, swirling outward in a perfect circle before settling. He stopped a few meters away and looked down at the fallen warrior with calm indifference.
He sighed softly.
"You kept me waiting," he murmured to himself. "I couldn't stand it… so I decided to follow the trail. Only to find you… resting."
Indura turned his gaze toward the far horizon, golden eyes narrowing as he extended his perception across the quiet desert. His vision pierced through dunes and distance until he saw it — the colossal black tower rising like a spear driven into the heart of the wasteland, its peak lost in the clouds.
A small, satisfied smile curved his lips.
Suddenly, from the red sky above, several winged beasts descended, circling the area with wary caution. Their riders — more of the masked warriors — stared down at Indura, then at the bloodied corpse on the ground.
Indura looked up at them calmly.
The riders immediately wheeled their mounts around and fled at full speed, wings beating desperately as they vanished into the distance.
Indura watched them go without moving.
Then he began walking.
Unhurried.
Hands clasped behind his back.
As if he had all the time in the world. Which, in truth… he did.
The desert stretched before him in perfect, unnatural silence, the tower waiting patiently on the horizon like an old friend.
Indura's smile lingered as he walked toward it, each step measured and calm.
---------------
Back at the tower, Chaos erupted around it.
Hundreds of black arrows filled the sky like a deadly storm, all streaking toward Vespera with lethal precision. They whistled through the air, leaving faint trails of dark energy as they converged on her hovering form from every direction — a relentless barrage meant to overwhelm and pierce.
Vespera simply floated there, calm and unmoving, her dark crimson hair drifting gently in the high winds.
The arrows froze the moment they reached within arm's reach of her.
Hundreds of deadly projectiles hung suspended in the air, trembling violently as if struggling against an invisible, absolute force. The black metal shafts gleamed ominously under the blood-red sky, their razor tips inches from Vespera's body, quivering with suppressed killing intent. Time itself seemed to hold its breath around her, the arrows locked in a perfect, deadly halo.
She gazed toward Sabrel, who was already streaking toward the tower in a white blur of speed and wind mana.
Sabrel weaved through the arrows like a ghost, her white hair streaming behind her as she shot straight for the tower's massive walls.
The next moment —
She crashed hard against an invisible barrier with a resounding THUD that echoed across the plains.
Sabrel leaned back in the air, blinking in mild surprise. It didn't hurt, but she hadn't expected the hidden defense.
Her white eyes glowed brightly as her perception cleared. The barrier became visible to her — a vast, shimmering dome of concentrated mana that enveloped the entire tower, stretching all the way to the clouds above. Intricate, glowing runes pulsed across its surface like a living web, feeding power directly from the tower's core. The barrier was seamless, flawless, and impossibly strong — a masterpiece of defensive magic woven into the very structure of the tower itself.
Sabrel chuckled softly to herself.
"I understand now."
She hovered at the surface of the barrier and placed her palm flat against it. The warriors stationed along the tower walls — clinging to the stone like shadows — all paused, their masked faces turning toward her in unison.
Sabrel closed her eyes, feeling the barrier's foundation. Her thoughts were clear and analytical.
The barrier is made of concentrated mana. No... the barrier itself is mana… The master of this tower is surely the real deal.
She pressed her fingers harder against the surface. The barrier grew cold beneath her palm, frost forming instantly in delicate, crystalline patterns that spread outward like living veins.
Then she uttered a single word, voice calm and commanding:
"Freeze."
The barrier shimmered with brilliant light.
Ice exploded outward from her palm in a breathtaking wave — spreading across the entire dome in less than a second. The once-invisible barrier became a colossal, glittering structure of pure frost, every rune and contour frozen in perfect, deadly beauty. The entire tower was now encased in a majestic shell of ice that reflected the red sky like a mirror of winter.
Then, with a deep, resonant CRACK that echoed across the Silent Plains, the barrier shattered.
Millions of ice shards rained down from above like beautiful, deadly snowflakes, glittering as they fell in slow, graceful spirals before dissolving into sparkling mist.
Sabrel turned her gaze upward toward the tower's distant peak, hidden among the swirling crimson clouds.
She shot forward in a powerful streak of white mana, accelerating rapidly as she climbed higher along the colossal structure. The wind roared in her ears, cold and sharp, whipping her white hair like a banner of moonlight. The tower's blackened stone surface rushed past her — ancient runes pulsing faintly with violet light, jagged protrusions resembling broken dragon scales scraping the sky.
As she flew higher, she suddenly felt it — a powerful, unnatural pull emanating from the tower itself. The air around her grew heavier, dragging her closer to the blackened stone walls like an invisible, hungry current. The tower seemed to breathe, its stone subtly shifting as if alive.
In the distance, Vespera watched her ascent, golden eyes sharp and focused.
Then her eyes widened.
A fragment of the warrior's memory clicked into place in her mind. The tower wasn't just a construct. It wasn't merely a base reinforced with mana veins and ancient runes. That was what had sold it — the way the structure seemed to breathe, the way the walls pulsed faintly with life, the way the entire building felt aware, conscious, watching.
Vespera realized with chilling clarity:
The tower was alive.
The next moment, she focused her energy into her Spatial magic. A complex one-handed sign formed in the air — fingers weaving rapidly through ancient patterns that left faint crimson trails glowing in the wind. Space folded around her with a sharp crack.
In an instant, she swapped places with Sabrel.
Sabrel blinked, suddenly finding herself a safe distance away from the tower, hovering in the open air. The pull vanished instantly.
Huh?!... What?!
Meanwhile, Vespera now hovered directly beside the colossal structure. She coated herself in thick, protective layers of crimson mana, allowing the tower's pull to take hold. The living stone seemed to hunger for her, drawing her in with irresistible force.
The tower welcomed her.
---------------
At the very pinnacle of the tower, inside the grand, shadowed hall, the Master sat upon the obsidian dais.
A low, cold chuckle rolled out from behind the heavy silk curtains, rich and amused, echoing through the vast chamber like distant thunder rolling across a dead plain.
"It seems my guests have arrived," he murmured to himself, voice smooth and laced with dark delight. "And they seem far more violent than I expected."
He raised one hand lazily, fingers curling in a casual gesture.
"Second Unit."
Four figures materialized from the shadows in perfect silence, dropping to one knee in flawless unison. They were clad in sleek black armor and silver masks, their cloaks barely stirring, as if even the fabric feared to break the tower's sacred quiet. Their presence was sharper than the previous warriors — refined, lethal, radiating the cold efficiency of those who had long ago surrendered their individuality to a greater will.
The Master's voice remained calm and absolute.
"Go out and take care of the one outside. Bring it in alive."
The four figures inclined their heads once, then vanished without a sound, dissolving into the darkness like smoke returning to the void.
The Master chuckled again, deeper this time, clearly entertained by the unfolding events.
"First Unit."
Three new figures appeared — taller, their armor more ornate with additional glowing silver runes along the edges. Their masks were intricately etched with shifting patterns that seemed to watch the room. They knelt in perfect formation, awaiting orders with absolute discipline.
The Master's silhouette leaned forward slightly behind the curtains.
"An interesting one has entered the tower. Be careful with it… But bring it to me."
The three figures bowed their heads once, then vanished into thin air without a trace.
The grand hall fell back into absolute, crushing silence.
The Master's silhouette shifted as if he were finally rising from his seat. He murmured to himself, voice dripping with quiet, anticipatory pleasure:
"Things are finally getting interesting after all these years…"
The heavy curtains swayed gently, stirred by an unseen breath. The violet lights in the hall pulsed brighter for a moment, as if the tower itself was awakening in response to its Master's mood — hungry, aware, and eager.
---------------
Vespera walked through the dark corridor of the tower.
Fire torches lined the walls, their flames flickering with an unnatural violet tint that cast long, dancing shadows across the ancient stone. The corridor was narrow and oppressive, the walls covered in faded carvings — ancient languages and symbols that twisted and shifted when viewed from the corner of the eye, as if the stone itself was whispering secrets too old for mortal minds.
Mana veins pulsed faintly beneath the surface like living arteries, glowing a deep, sickly crimson. The ceiling seemed to breathe, the structure subtly shifting and contracting, as if the tower were not a building but the inside of a colossal, slumbering creature.
She kept walking, golden eyes tracing the patterns on the walls with quiet fascination.
At the end of the corridor, she stopped before a solid wall — a dead end.
Scribings covered the stone: rows of armored soldiers kneeling in perfect formation, all bowing toward a towering, crowned silhouette that radiated overwhelming dominance. Vespera leaned closer, studying the ancient depiction.
Suddenly... an arrow whistled out of the darkness behind her.
She tilted her head slightly. The arrow struck the wall beside her face with a sharp crack, embedding deep into the stone.
Another arrow followed immediately. She tilted again, and it buried itself inches from her other cheek.
Vespera turned slowly, gazing back down the dark corridor that produced no sound — no echo of footsteps, no whistle of incoming arrows, only perfect, devouring silence.
A third arrow shot straight at her face.
It froze mid-air, trembling violently just inches from her golden eyes.
She calmly reached out, plucked the frozen arrow from the air, examined it for a brief moment, then threw it back with casual force. The arrow vanished into the darkness with a faint, lethal whistle.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a choked, wet sound came from the far end of the corridor.
Vespera sighed softly.
This tower doesn't seem to lead me anywhere.
Suddenly, the walls shifted. The floor moved beneath her feet with a low, organic groan. Vespera felt herself being lifted upward as the entire corridor rearranged itself like living flesh. Stone slid and reshaped around her, the mana veins glowing brighter as the tower adjusted its internal structure.
The movement stopped.
She now stood in the center of a vast, circular arena.
The space was enormous, its walls lined with tiered seating long abandoned and covered in dust. Dim violet light illuminated the area from glowing crystals embedded high above. The floor was stained with old blood, the air thick with the metallic tang of violence.
Vespera turned her head slowly.
Two glowing yellow eyes appeared in the darkness across the arena.
Then more.
Hundreds of them.
Yellow eyes lit up one by one in the shadows surrounding the arena, going all the way up the tiers like countless stars in a blood-red night. The warriors — silent, masked, and deadly — watched her without a sound.
Vespera looked at them with bitter calm.
Then she smiled.
---------------
Outside the tower, the structure seemed normal for a heartbeat.
Then chaos erupted.
Blood-red spikes burst violently from the middle section of the tower — dozens, then hundreds of razor-sharp crystalline spikes exploding outward in every direction like the spines of an awakened beast. They stretched long and lethal, some piercing through entire sections of the tower walls. Several warriors were impaled mid-movement — one through the chest, another through the head, a third skewered through the torso and left dangling like grotesque ornaments. Blood rained down from the impaled bodies in thick streams, splattering against the tower's black stone.
Inside, the scene was even worse.
Blood dripped from the walls where the spikes had torn through, forming crimson rivers that flowed across the floors. The spikes spread everywhere like a nightmarish spider web, jagged and glistening. Groans and wet, choking sounds filled the air as warriors died in silence. Corpses lay scattered — some missing limbs, others pinned to walls or floors, their silver masks cracked and bloodied.
The sound of heels clicking against the stone echoed through the carnage.
Vespera walked out of the hall, calm and elegant, stepping gracefully over the bodies and pools of blood.
She materialized a crystal glass in her hand.
Blood from the corpses began to rise — thick, dark streams lifting from the floor, walls, and bodies, flowing smoothly into the glass until it was full to the brim.
She stopped for a moment, then took a slow sip.
The taste flooded her senses — rich, warm, metallic, alive with residual power. She swallowed, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
When she opened them again, a smile of pure delight — perhaps hunger — formed on her lips.
"I must try not to dive into my nature," she murmured softly. "I must resist it."
She took another sip. Her smile deepened.
"Oh no… I really must not."
She paused, savoring the taste.
"But it's... really tasty."
From the pools of blood on the floor, three warriors rose — the First Unit. They emerged seamlessly, armor glistening with fresh blood, silver masks untouched. They looked at the carnage around them without remorse, without hesitation. They simply drew their curved swords, mana rising from their bodies in dark, lethal waves.
Vespera looked at them, golden eyes gleaming.
For the first time in a long time… she felt truly thirsty.