Chương 359: Chapter 350 - Ash Upon the Snow

Jack froze. His eyes went wide, and his gut twisted so hard it hurt. The scenes in front of him didn't make sense. How… how the bloody hell could this happen? They'd just won! Millions of Xok'al wiped out, the world cheering, Alonso and the others standing like gods—and now this? What the actual fuck was this!? He fumbled for his phone. Alarms were flashing across every feed. Global alerts. Panic everywhere. Headlines screamed about the end of Gen-1. Others said The Tower was never meant to be beaten.

Religious nuts were losing it, preaching about Armageddon and the end of days. It wasn't just a bit of chaos. It was collapse. ASCENT reports came in—12 Gen-1 Climbers dead just like that. Snuffed out like damned candles without a shit they could do. That was more than 60% of them! A cold shiver ran down his spine. Then a ping. A message from security.

"Come towards the site and remain on standby." Jack's stomach dropped. He knew exactly what that meant. They were preparing for Alonso's return. He stared at the screen, his throat dry. This was bad—really bad. The kind of bad you couldn't joke your way out of. But then something else hit him. The visuals were still running. The Tower hadn't cut the feed. The boss was gone for the moment—so why were they still seeing Alonso and the others there?

Alonso's gaze was heavy as he stared at the pool of blood, the lone orb resting calmly on top—its hazy form almost judging them from beyond the grave. His blades hung low, their weight heavier than ever. The stench of death hit differently—it had names, faces, voices that were gone forever. He stared at his hands. He'd pushed himself so far. Trained until he broke. Fought until there was nothing left to give. And in the end, all he could do… was watch them die.

Now he stood among the ruins of the fallen, their final words echoing in his head like ghosts that refused to fade. How had it come to this? Was it never meant to be faced? A punishment for going against the script? A trap? Had they crossed a line they shouldn't have? Had they— Clap. The sharp sound snapped him back. He turned. Lukas stood there, jaw tight, voice low.

"The seven-tail will return shortly. We can't stand idle," he said.

"First thing—" his gaze cut to Chiara.

"Any survivors?" Chiara's expression was blank, her head barely moving.

"Alright… then the stairs. If they're still there, we move," Lukas said. The stairs? Right… maybe there was still a path forward. Yet the thought didn't bring much comfort. If they used the stairs, then what did all these deaths mean? Still, Lukas was right. They couldn't stop. Not here. Mistake or not, they had to move. They had to survive. They pushed on, Lukas keeping the healing link on Wang while Ayu tore through debris. The others joined, silent and hollow-eyed.

But as they cleared the last of the wreckage, the truth set in. The stairs were gone. Alonso felt the weight of it settle deep in his chest. They had made their choice. Now they had to bear it. Yet… somehow, the absence of a way forward felt almost right. As if The Tower itself was telling them to stop—to face what they'd lost. But… if the stairs had been there… would he have climbed them? Would he still have the will to keep going?

Or would the ghosts of the fallen drag him down, whispering his failure with every step? He wanted those deaths to mean something. These weren't enemies. Not beasts or rivals. These were people who had trusted him. Who had believed in him. Who'd fought beside him for months—shared campfires, food, stories of Earth. Talked about the things they missed. The lives they wanted back. The dreams they still clung to. He remembered Camila—Spain-born like him. She had a real band, a following back home.

Her younger brother was disabled, and every time she spoke of him her voice softened. All she wanted was to return and give him a life worth living. He remembered Ishaam—the youngest of them all. Barely out of his teens. He came from a quiet village, where his father waited for him to return and inherit the family farm. But Ishaam didn't want that life—he wanted to play cricket, to make his father proud in his own way. And Maurice—hard as steel on the outside, always grinning like nothing could touch him.

He was a mechanic before all this, from the outskirts of Lagos. Worked three jobs to feed his sisters after his parents died. Said climbing was his way of making sure they'd never go hungry again. Now… all those dreams were gone. Swallowed whole by The Tower. Alonso lifted his gaze, scanning what was left of them. Faces once lit with determination were hollow now—shadows of what they had been. Fear, regret, anger… all twisting together in the wreckage of hope. Only seven remained.

Seven against a world that didn't care. He locked eyes with Ayu. Her gaze was fixed ahead, jaw tight, but when she felt his stare, she turned. For a second, neither of them spoke. The silence between them said enough—grief, fury, and something deeper. Something that refused to die. Her eyes glimmered faintly in the dim light, blood streaked across her cheek, her hair clinging to her face. She looked like she wanted to tear the world apart just to make it fair again. Alonso's throat tightened.

He wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault. That they'd done all they could. But the words wouldn't come. Because deep down… he didn't believe them either. Instead, he just nodded. A silent pact between the broken. No more running. If the Tower wanted monsters—then monsters it would get.

"So we fight," he muttered, almost to himself. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The others turned to him. Their eyes said more than words ever could. Mei was pale, trembling, her hands clutching her weapon like a lifeline. The shock still hadn't left her. She had been close to those who died—closer than most—and the emptiness where the stairs should've been had pushed her further into despair.

Imani stood silent, his massive frame still, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. The calm, steady man Alonso had always known was gone, replaced by someone carrying a storm behind his eyes. And yet… he was the first to nod. Quiet, certain. Sharing Alonso's resolve without needing to say a word. Wang's breathing was uneven, his armour cracked, his gaze drifting like he was searching for something—anything—to hold onto. Still, when Alonso's eyes met his, he nodded too.

There was defiance in him now, the kind born from pain and the refusal to die without meaning. Lukas was different. The easy grin, the cocky tone—gone. His calm had shattered, replaced by guilt that hung heavy in his stare. For a moment, he closed his eyes, steadying himself. When they opened again, they met Alonso's with quiet understanding. No words, just that look that said, we keep going then. And then there was Chiara. Her expression was unreadable—cold on the surface, but behind her eyes something moved.

She wasn't paralyzed by fear. She was calculating, adapting, already searching for a way forward where none existed. The silence stretched, heavy and raw, broken only by the soft hiss of settling dust and the crackle of cooling metal. All around them, the world was ruin—jagged stone, shattered machines, and blood seeping into the snow. No one spoke. They didn't need to. Every one of them knew what came next. And so they prepared… and they waited. It didn't take long.

Alonso stood atop the shattered ridge of what had once been a mountain. The snow beneath his boots was dark with ash and blood. A cold wind howled across the ruins, carrying the faint, metallic scent of death. Then—he felt it. A pulse. The air ahead shimmered, and the wind broke apart in a violent ripple as arcs of blue-white sparks tore through the sky. The clouds twisted, the pressure dropping quickly. And then it appeared. The seven-tail. It didn't just return—it descended. Slowly, like a god made of hate.

The air around it warped with static, lightning crawling over its frame as its tails dragged behind, each humming with power. But what froze Alonso wasn't the creature itself. It was what it carried. A mass—no, an amalgamation—of bodies hung beneath it. A pulsing, grotesque mountain of flesh and metal suspended in midair by chains and jagged blades. Limbs twisted together, torsos fused by molten steel, faces still screaming.

Some were Ajnal soldiers—recognisable only by the tattered insignias half-melted into their armour. Others were Azcoyatl. Others still… beastmen. And some of them still moved. Half-alive. Eyes rolling. Mouths gasping for air they'd never breathe again. The mass twitched as if in agony, the chains creaking, blood dripping from it in long, slow trails that painted the snow beneath in dark crimson veins. A low hum rolled through the valley—a sound too deep to belong to any throat. Then the creature spoke.

"Behold," the seven-tail said in Xayen, its voice vibrating through the bones of the earth.

"Your race." And without ceremony… it let go. The chains shattered. The sky opened. Bodies fell like rain. They hit the ground in sickening thuds—wet, heavy sounds that echoed between the cliffs. Blood misted the air, spattering armour and stone. A severed arm struck near Alonso, followed by a torso still twitching. An Ajnal Sun Bearer landed headfirst on the rocks, his skull bursting open like a cracked fruit. A beastman, impaled by his own broken spear, convulsed once before going still.

Screams erupted—not from the living, but from the half-dead still falling. The stench of copper and burnt flesh thickened the air. It was slaughter turned spectacle. A rain of bodies. Then— A flash tore through the haze. A single projectile streaked across the horizon, whistling through the air faster than sound before slamming into the seven-tail's shoulder—the creature barely twisting aside to avoid a direct hit to the chest. BAM! The impact ripped through the air like thunder.

The joint burst open in a spray of sparks and black ichor, fragments of its metal-like scales scattering through the storm, clattering against the rocks like shrapnel. Even before the impact landed, Alonso was already on the move. He pushed Dual Overdrive to the brink, feeling Lukas' link surge through his veins—power, precision, clarity—all fusing into something greater. The air cracked around him, light bending as Path of Shards unfolded in full, shards of fractured reflections trailing his wake.

He held nothing back. His form blurred—a phantom of speed and intent—as he closed the distance and struck while the seven-tail was still reeling from Chiara's charged shot. He angled low, feinted with his left, then drove his right blade straight for the creature's shoulder. CLANG! The creature's claw intercepted cleanly, sparks screaming from the clash. He didn't stop.

He twisted, shifting his weight and flowing the recoil into another strike, and another, his blades flashing faster than breath, carving arcs of silver through the storm. Each hit chipped sparks off the creature's body but failed to pierce deep enough. The seven-tail's defences were inhumanly sharp, its reactions impossibly fast. Then— The creature screeched. Its body convulsed, muscles bulging as veins of molten light raced beneath its blackened skin. Fury.

The sound it released was unbearable—a grinding shriek of metal and thunder that ripped through the air, through flesh, through thought. Heart of Sparks. The air shook, the world splintered, and yet Alonso kept moving. He channelled everything—rage, grief, purpose—into each swing, studying the creature's rhythm, how its tails shifted to counter, how the wound slowed its left side. Then the world died. Everything went dark. His waves vanished—his senses cut off.

Instinct screamed, and he pivoted just in time to block a strike to his ribs. The impact sent him flying, his body slamming into the cliffside below. Stone cracked, snow erupted, and the entire ridge collapsed in a burst of dust and shards. Pain flared white-hot through his arms and spine. His breath caught—but he forced himself up, coughing blood, his grip never loosening on the hilts. Above, Ayu was already fighting it.

Her figure blurred, the spectral tiger around her roaring to life, its outline flashing gold and white as it clashed head-on with the abomination behind the seven-tail—a towering, spectral mass of souls and wrath. Two manifestations of will collided, warping the very air between them. Alonso focused, tracking every flicker, every movement. The creature's wounds were closing fast—the shattered shoulder knitting together with every heartbeat, black tissue fusing over the cracks. That darkness that had struck him…

it had to be Eclipse. It had thrown his rhythm off completely. He clenched his teeth. There had to be a way to counter it—something that didn't rely on vision or waves. Even as the thought formed, he was already moving. He rejoined Ayu, cutting through the debris, and together they pressed the assault under Lukas' link. And it worked. For the first time—they pushed it back. Their blades connected. Sparks became wounds.

He felt the pressure of its Primal Flow—a suffocating weight that clawed at his mind and body forcing him to submit—but Ayu's tiger blazed, its roar cutting through the suppression, letting him breathe again, move again. He felt it then. Through Lukas' boost. Through their rhythm. Through everything they'd lost. Maybe… just maybe… They had a chan— The world turned black once more. He focused on his other senses — sound, smell, touch, heat, the flow of the air — trying to map its movement without sight or waves.

However… it was not there. Suddenly, the world of black faded, and he was left suspended in open air, with nothing around him but Ayu. Without a second thought, he turned back and saw a trail of sparks — a huge sphere of darkness rushing toward Chiara and Lukas.

"No…" He pushed with all he had, surging forward, but the seven-tail was faster. They— The ground cracked in a violent boom as a large figure moved to intercept the dark sphere. Imani. And yet… despite the sparks and flare, there was no collision.

The dark sphere simply manoeuvred around Imani, avoiding him altogether, and then— A new darkness rose to counter it, born around Chiara, and for a moment — at the collision point — the edge between the two became barely visible, like the event horizon of a black hole, light swallowed all around it. And in that brief glimmer of light, Alonso saw it. The creature's claw — inches away from Lukas's heart.