chapter29 : Balck tower

Zen's car grinds to a halt as it reaches the guard stationed at the gate of the Black Tower. "Hold it right there; state your identity," the guard demands, his tone firm and authoritative.

Zen swings open the car door and steps out confidently. "I am Zen, the 99th son of the hero, here to fulfill my punishment bestowed upon me by the Wisdom Tower of the Academy," he declares with a hint of resignation in his voice.

The guard's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Ah, so you hail from the esteemed Wisdom Tower. It's not every day we see a hero's son facing punishment. What led you to this predicament? Typically, students from the Wisdom Tower manage to wriggle out of punishment using their status or wealth, especially the unruly ones," the guard remarks, his curiosity piqued.

"Follow me inside the tower; someone will show you the way," the guard adds, motioning for Zen to proceed.

As they step into the Black Tower, Zen is struck by the stark contrast in ambiance. The air is thick with the clang of metal being forged and the hiss of blazing flames. Students, adorned in crimson attire adorned with a star emblem, are hard at work refining various metals.

"These students are here to master the craft of forging tools and weaponry," the guard explains, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of activity. "With the impending battle of thrones, the demand for skilled artisans is at an all-time high. Consequently, refiners have been tasked with working overtime."

He continues, "The allure of lucrative earnings draws students from far and wide to this profession. I, too, was once a promising student at the Wisdom Tower. However, incessant bullying led me to pursue a career in the Refiner Tower. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't pass the rigorous exams, so I settled for the role of a guard. At least the pay is decent compared to the Smith Tower."

"Perhaps once you complete your tenure at the academy, if you entertain thoughts of waging war against enemy kingdoms, forging alliances with the Black Tower could prove advantageous," the guard suggests, a glint of ambition in his eyes.

Zen nods silently, intrigued by the prospect. Indeed, the hustle and bustle of the Black Tower evoke a sense of purpose and vitality that the academy should aspire to embody.

Approaching a ponytailed girl tasked with assigning missions, the guard gestures towards Zen. "Ira, look who's here. It's the 99th hero's son. Does the Black Tower have a quest to aid in his punishment?"

Ponytail girl: "Welcome, hero's son. We've already been briefed by the Wisdom Tower about your situation. Here's your mission quest token.

Your punishment is straightforward: supply the Smith Tower with five thousand units of low-quality wood daily for three months, or opt for ten thousand units of high-quality wood per month."

Zen furrows his brow, realizing the daunting challenge that lies ahead. "Five thousand units of wood? Even if I were to fell ten trees in a single night, it would take me more than three months. What's the disparity between the two, and why is high-quality wood priced so cheaply?"

She elucidates, "Sir, acquiring high-quality wood is no mean feat. One must venture deep into the perilous forest region, where danger lurks at every turn, to procure it. The forest is divided into four zones: Safe, Danger, Alert, and Death. The danger zone, in particular, teems with monstrous creatures."

Zen deliberates for a moment before deciding, "Very well, I'm in no rush. I'm prepared to gather wood for three months."

She hands him the quest token and issues a final warning, "There's one more thing. The head of the Black Tower has instructed us to inform you that meet her before leaving for mission and if refuse to meet her, we are authorized to apprehend you. What is your decision?"

Zen, feeling a twinge of apprehension, responds resolutely, "I'm ready to meet her." He casts a wary glance at the towering edifice before them. "Must we traverse this distance on foot?"

The guard offers him a choice, "It's up to you. If you fancy a workout, we could walk. However, if speed is of the essence, I have an alternative." With that, he activates his falme boots, propelling himself skyward with a burst of flames.

Zen watches in awe as the guard soars through the air. "Flame boots?" he exclaims, marveling at the spectacle.

"Indeed," the guard confirms, touching down gracefully beside Zen. "They're quite the invention, crafted by none other than the tower's head herself. I'm rather fond of magical contraptions; they're energy-efficient, tireless, and can be used for extended periods. The only downside is their exorbitant cost; I've depleted my entire five years' worth of earnings acquiring these pairs."

After traversing several floating magma rocks with five or six successive jumps, they finally arrive at the topmost floor, where a colossal gate adorned with intricate symbols looms before them.

Unlike the lower floors bustling with activity, this floor is shrouded in an eerie silence.

Guard: "From here onward, I can only wish you luck. I'd advise against ruffling the head's feathers. I've witnessed firsthand a high-ranking official being mauled until he bled profusely for speaking ill of her daughter."

Zen stands before the gate, a knot of unease forming in his stomach. "What have I gotten myself into? Trouble seems to follow me wherever I go. And now, what's with that fire-wielding woman?" Despite maintaining a stoic exterior, inwardly, he feels drained.

Gulping back his fear, a knock resounds on Zen's door, prompting an immediate response.

Creak, creak.

The door swings open, unleashing a blast of scorching hot air that reddens Zen's skin.

All the refiners pause their work in deference to their leader.

However, what Zen witnesses next leaves him dumbfounded. Two monstrous balloons engulf his face, leaving him gasping for air.

The red-headed woman, possessing a toned athletic physique, envelops Zen in a tight embrace, leaving him struggling for breath. Though he enjoys the sensation, he finds himself forcibly extricated from her grip.

Gazing up at her towering figure, Zen feels like a mere child in comparison.

Her flawless, sun-kissed skin exudes an enticing allure. "Ouch, why so cold? I've been eagerly awaiting the chance to embrace my best friend's son, only to be rebuffed. How cruel," she chides lightly, though her chiseled physique belies any true hurt.

Observing Zen's bewildered expression, she apologizes, "Forgive my exuberance; I neglected to introduce myself.

I am Alintha Ragnarok, the head of this tower and your 45th stepmother. But feel free to address me as Aunt Alintha; your mother and I were childhood friends."

Zen's eyes widen in realization, understanding why the tower's head seemed perturbed by his arrival.

"Zen Night Rider, at your service, Aunt Alintha. But my mother never mentioned you," he remarks.

She responds with a mixture of frustration and amusement, "That woman... she broke her promise to me, marrying the same man and

even forgetting about our friendship over the years. And now, to keep such a handsome young man hidden from me..." Aunt Alintha's voice trails off, a hint of resentment lacing her words.

Zen observes her frustration, noting the fiery sparks that seem to dance in her eyes. "How many women has that accursed golden undergarment ensnared? First an elf, and now a flame heart sapien species," he muses silently,

recalling tales from the Book of Radiant Gene Evolution Theory.

According to the ancient text, ordinary humans once found themselves stranded near a volcanic mountain during a radioactive shower. Forced to endure both the radiation in the air and the scorching heat of the magma, those who survived developed an unparalleled resilience and evolved over time.This led to the emergence of the first pure flame gene, encoded within their cells.

The descendants of these individuals, possessing the purest flame gene, came to be known as flame people. Their migration gave rise to various flame heart kingdoms, with the Ragnarok flame reigning supreme as the root origin of all flame gene elements.

Over the centuries, these flame heart sapiens sought to preserve their lineage, establishing their own kingdoms to safeguard their blood from outside contamination. Consequently, encounters with flame heart sapiens, particularly those of the Ragnarok lineage, became exceedingly rare outside their territories or unions with other sub-species.Moreover, the Ragnarok physique, renowned for its formidable strength, ranked among the top ten in the hierarchy of physical prowess.

On top of that, the terrifying Ragnarok physique ranks within the top ten in the list of physical physiques.

For Zen, with an ordinarily developed physique, painstakingly developing physical strength over eighteen years of arduous training is still not even remotely a match against the Ragnarok physique of a ten-year-old child.

Zen couldn't help but marvel at the intricate history woven into Aunt Alintha's lineage. Yet, amidst the tales of triumph and tribulation, he couldn't shake the feeling of being a pawn in a larger game, manipulated by forces beyond his comprehension."I begin to despise that cursed undergarment even more, now that I've discovered my ideal type of woman ensnared by its allure," Zen curses inwardly, his thoughts consumed by a mixture of frustration and bewilderment.