Prologue

Prologue:

The air at the top of the Tower was different — it was charged, heavy with the weight of unspoken promises and unshed tears.

I stood there, my breaths deep and ragged, facing the being that had created this hell. Greater Angel Michael.

His presence was overwhelming, yet I stood my ground, the echoes of my struggles climbing up the tower still ringing in my ears.

Michael's gaze was piercing, not just seeing me, but seeing through me — to every battle I'd fought, every pain I'd endured, every power I'd stolen.

His voice, when he spoke, was like a chorus of many, harmonious and resonant.

"Congratulations, you have surpassed all expectations," he began, his tone almost melodic. "In all my time watching over this place, I have seen countless humans succumb to despair, to madness. But you, you are different."

I clenched my fists, the stolen powers within me aching to be released. I didn't come here for praise or to be lauded as an exception among humans. I came for one thing only — revenge.

"Different or not, it doesn't matter," I replied, my voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions inside me. "I didn't climb this cursed tower to be greeted with congratulations. I did it for them, for my family... And for the justice they deserve."

Michael nodded, a gesture that carried a celestial grace.

"Indeed, your resolve is unlike any other. But with your arrival at this summit comes a choice, a choice that will define not just your fate, but the fate of many."

I could feel the weight of his words settling upon my shoulders. This was it — the moment where everything would either come together or fall apart.

"Tell me about this choice," I demanded, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

Michael's eyes seemed to glow with an inner light as he spoke of a path I could take.

Michael's voice filled the chamber, a symphony of solemnity and power. "You stand at the crossroads of destiny, a place few have ever reached and even fewer have had the courage to face the choice that now lies before you."

He stepped forward, his wings unfurling with a grace that belied their immense strength.

"The first path," he continued, "is one of regression — a regression to the time before your enterance to the tower, before the grief that now marks your soul. You will be reunited with your beloved family, with no memory of the pain that brought you here. But know this, your powers, hard-earned and fiercely wielded, will be sealed away forever. You will live out your days, ignorant of the battles you've fought and the strength you've gained."

A pause, as if the very air was holding its breath.

"The second path," he said, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that felt like the sun's focus, "is one of continuation. You may take all you have learned, all the might you have accumulated, and carry it into a future that is uncertain, fraught with the same pain and loss that has been your constant companion. However, in order for you to pursue this path, you must defeat me."

"Choose," Michael commanded, his voice now a whisper that seemed to echo endlessly around the room.

I almost laughed. After all I had been through, after all the monsters I had faced and the horrors I had overcome, he expected me to just give up my quest for vengeance?

"Cut the crap, Michael," I said, my voice hard as the steel of the tower's walls. "You think I climbed to the top of this nightmare just to lose all my powers and forget everything I've been through? No. I came here for a reckoning. I came here for my revenge."

Michael regarded me silently for a moment before nodding once more. "Very well. If it is a reckoning you desire, then a reckoning you shall have."

The room shifted, the atmosphere crackling with a new energy. I knew then that my final battle, the one that had begun the moment I stepped into this forsaken tower, was about to reach its conclusion.

I squared my shoulders, readying myself for whatever came next. This was for my family. This was for every tear shed and every drop of blood spilled.

"Bring it on, Michael. I'm ready."

Michael stood before me, his wings unfurling with a grace that belied the coming storm.

"Then let us begin," he declared, his voice echoing off the high walls of the tower's summit.

Without warning, he lunged forward, a sword materializing in his hand, radiant and sharp.

I reacted instinctively, summoning my first power. The first power of hell: Flames of Darkness.

A cloak of black fire enveloped me, shielding my body from the searing blade. The dark flames licked harmlessly against my skin, providing a protective barrier that absorbed the initial onslaught.

"Your tricks are impressive," Michael conceded, withdrawing slightly, "but they will not suffice."

He began to sing, a sound so pure it filled the air around us. The melody was hypnotic, and I felt my will waning.

I shook my head, fighting the enchantment with all my might. Using my 14th power 'Mind Shackle', a power I'd stole from The Siren Enchanter, I fortified my mind, breaking the invisible chains of his song and maintaining my clarity of thought.

With a clear mind, I launched an Arcane Bolt, a concentrated blast of magical energy, my 16th power that I had stolen from The Mystic Archmage.

The bolt shot from my fingertips in a surge of light and power, spiraling toward Michael. He deflected it with a swift motion of his hand, but the effort cost him. His focus wavered.

Seizing the moment, I unleashed the Spectral Chain, hoping to bind him and drain some of his celestial energy.

The ethereal links, a power stolen from The Ghostly Jailer, spiraled towards him. Michael, however, was quick, his wings beating a gust that disrupted the trajectory of the chains, causing them to clatter harmlessly to the floor.

I could not allow frustration to seep in; I had to be as relentless as he was divine.

Michael advanced again, his movements a blur. I waited until the last second, then executed the Phantom Strike, an ability I had stolen from The Ethereal Assassin.

My counterattack passed right through his defenses, striking him. A look of surprise crossed Michael's face as the strike, which should have been insubstantial, left a mark.

He retreated, reassessing me as an opponent. "You are full of surprises, human," he acknowledged, his tone now serious.

For a moment, we circled each other, the air crackling with the power that hummed from both combatants. I knew the next exchange could decide everything.

Michael moved like lightning, his sword aimed with divine precision. I countered with all the speed my power, Beast's Agility, afforded me, dodging his strike by a hair's breadth. I could feel the air shift where the blade passed, a whisper against my cheek.

Our dance of death continued, a battle between human determination and celestial might.

* * *

I stood there, my breaths coming in ragged gasps, watching as Michael, the final opponent, hit to the ground.

The golden blood seeping from his wounds seemed almost surreal, an otherworldly confirmation of my victory.

It had been three years—three years of climbing, fighting, surviving. And now, the end.

"You've... done well," Michael rasped. "Three years that you've climbed the tower of hell. Congratulations."

I scoffed, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "Feels longer," I replied, my voice devoid of the triumph one might expect.

"Guess I should feel something big, huh? Some sort of... overwhelming joy?" I looked down at my hands, almost surprised they weren't shaking. "But I don't."

Michael's gaze met mine, and there was a flicker of understanding in his dying eyes. "You've been hardened, more than most. The tower does that—strips away your humanity, layer by layer."

I nodded because it was true. Empathy, warmth, the very things that make us human, I'd lost them somewhere between the first floor and here. "Humanity's useless," I muttered. "It doesn't help you survive."

"Perhaps," he conceded, a shadow of pain crossing his features as the tower shook once more. "But survival isn't living. You've conquered much, yet you've sacrificed more."

The tower groaned, a sound like the death cry of a giant beast. I glanced around, aware that our time was running out. The tower was about to collapse.

"Before you go," Michael said, his voice urgent, "know this—outside this tower, the world is vast, and you are not the only one who have completed this tower. Others have endured, have emerged. And like you, they have been... changed."

"Changed how?" The question slipped out, a hint of curiosity breaking through my detached facade.

"They have become like you. Singular in focus, detached... dangerous," he said, the words punctuated by another violent tremor. "They will not be allies, but challenges. You must be ready."

I absorbed that, the reality of it. More fights, more climbing of different sorts. The thought should have exhausted me, but instead, it was the fuel I didn't know I needed.

"I'll be ready," I said, and I meant it. Because what else was there?

Michael's form began to disintegrate, his final breath a whisper lost to the chaos. "Find what you've lost," he said, and then he was gone.

The tower's collapse was all around me, but my mind was strangely clear. Three years, and I had won.

And it was now time for me to finally start my revenge.