[In the Tower of Babilim, no one can reach the top.]

Some entered the tower of Babilim to try their luck, seek out fortune or simply to play hero.

But others, the most unfortunate ones, were simply thrown there following the whims of some upper deity looking for entertainment.

Reincarnation, in-between world transportation, calamity summoning, world destruction....all of the later mentioned were but mere diverting games for the upper deities who ruled uncontestedly over the countless dimensions of the infinite Everythingness.

And for those new around here, we commonly address them by their godly names, 'The Numens'.

Numens were the creators, conductors and destructors of worlds and everything always went according to their will and disposition.

But don't fool yourself by thinking they are merciful rulers.

The eternity that defined their existence made them insensible, cold and unfeeling as they lack any regard for even their own creations.

Underworldly feelings or emotions, are beneath them. Why should one bother loving a toy when destroying it always proved to be more entertaining ? As such went their motto.

But in reality, I have always been convinced that Numens simply missed their emotions.

And as repulsed as they felt about them now, there used to be a far away time, in the beginning of space and matter, when Numens undoubtedly used to be able to feel all that was possible to feel and more.

But eternity caught up to them and drained all their emotions away, leaving only empty shells in its wake.

Well, that wasn't entirely true....Numens were occasionally able to feel emotions.

On particular moments that they seeked to reproduce over and over again, like a gods-only ambroisie nectar.

By being spectators of their creations going through intense predicaments and catastrophic damages to their worlds, they were rewarded with joy, entertainment and satisfaction, as if themselves had been the hero and heroines of these tales.

But these moments were short-lived, as creations tended to die early on, after all. Prompting them to restart their harvest all over again.

Devising challenges after challenges for their creations brought them a sens of purpose, a proof that their existence and individuality mattered to something or someone out there.

As such, some chose to stand with the Good, sometimes lending helping hands to those they deemed worthy, while others thrived in the Bad, unleashing chaos and death over their playthings.

Numens were very complicated and sad beings indeed.

Ok, drop the curtains. Enough with the depressing storytelling. Numens' business doesn't concern a mere inferior being like me.

How dare a staff working a desk job all day long badmouths her superiors?

It would only serve to get me fired and lend me back in the Netherworld's boonies, renting a crammed one-room apartment, eating only soggy noodles and working an even more underpaid job, probably in one of those Wako-nald's fast-food chains restaurant with their awful vomit green uniforms.

I shivered.

I definitely didn't want to go back to that life.

So if you were expecting, from the start of my narration, some type of epic "let's overthrow the gods that rule us" adventure saga, I will kindly redirect you the next story in the recommended section where you found this one.

I am but a disappointing minion in the under-layers of the power pyramid, and I have no intention to threaten the hand that feeds me (albeit very meagerly).

I already work more than my share of night shifts, so you must understand that I have to put bread on the table !

For me to consider treason would require at least to triple the miserable salary I get for working at the reception of the "Tower of Babilim- Numens' most prestigious champions' arena".

What a joke…

You would think that with such a pretentious title, they would think to up their staff's paycheck to live up to this fraudulent name.

While it is true that little Babilim (no need for honorifics anymore) was the biggest and most renown arena in all universes, with Numens bringing in their 'champions' to start ascending the many levels of the structure as the entertainment racked in major bucks, close to nothing went into the mere lower levels staff's pockets (really… mine were empty and had holes in them).

You could see it like a casino. Yeah, a gigantic infinity-levels casino. A gambling house where rich and powerful beings pitted their protégés against the tower and sometimes each other in a race to the top.

Most of these champions probably witnessed their whole world fall into doom, had to survive many trials, figure out how to survive and sometimes outlive the odds set by the cruel supreme masterminds just to have to re-do it all, this time willingly with the appeal of a reward (I call it bait) in the form of their world and compatriots' lives being recreated anew if they succeeded in defeating the Tower of Babilim.

Bloody idiots, they were.

You would have thought that any person lucky enough to survive a Numen's trial once, would have figured out that all Numens were pretty much con-artists by this point, but no, they keep getting fooled...

In the long (very long) existence of the Tower of Babilim, no one had ever reached the 999th floor, end goal of the climb.

Even the highest top rankers only ever reached the 55th floor, after many thousand of years and unceasing hard work.

Yes, thousands...Champions were granted temporary immortality as long as they remained within Babilim and could only die at the hands of the towers' trials. So this game could last for eternity for all I knew.

As a result, many simply gave up, choosing to live their eternal lives in the somewhat peaceful conquered lower levels of the tower while others, in the most depressing cases, chose to exit the tower at ground level and go back to their ruined world to live their last few mortal moments alone and in despair.

And then, there were the fools that just kept incessantly trying.

Here is the part that finally concerns me, my job and my daily sufferings.

The fools that never stoped challenging the tower and pushing the limits of what could be achieved by champions were a downward pain in my bottom.

And a mop of long silver hair, emitting smoke from its burned tips, coming in my direction was the first telltale of a long day at work.

I sighed.