Chương 364: Chapter 355 - Where Light Remained

Billions watched. Phones glowed in living rooms, cafés, offices, and subway stations. Smartglasses projected the feed midair while people stood frozen in streets that had gone eerily quiet. Children leaned into their parents, friends who had been laughing seconds ago simply stopped. Across the planet, the noise of life fell away, leaving only the faint hum of countless screens. The broadcast from The Tower shifted.

The monstrous silhouette of the seven-tail loomed across every display—a creature that had defied every known limit, one they believed could not be defeated. For a moment, the image seemed to fracture, the world holding its breath. Then light began to bloom. It was slow at first—a shimmer, like a reflection rippling through glass—and then it spread.

Spectral, blurry stars emerged, entire galaxies unfolding inside the feed, their light expanding until the sky looked less like a ruin of thunder and destruction and more like a universe being born. The storm that had devoured everything became a backdrop for creation. People gasped softly, not in fear but disbelief. The galaxies pulsed to a rhythm, the light flowing like music across the void. Every spark felt deliberate, alive, resonating with something deep and wordless.

The creature charged its last attack, but every spark dissolved into a river of starlight that bent and curved around a single figure at the center of it all. Alonso moved through that cosmic storm like a note within a song only he could hear. Every strike of his blades sent constellations spiraling outward. Every step carved arcs of light that connected and multiplied until the heavens themselves seemed to answer.

The impossible creature—the horror that had almost ended hope—was being torn apart by the dance of one man's will. In apartments, streets, classrooms, and crowded trains, people watched in silence. Someone dropped what they were holding and didn't notice. A child whispered, "It's beautiful." An old woman crossed herself. The glow from the screens painted faces in blue and gold, reflections of galaxies that shouldn't have existed. The final moment came like the breath after thunder.

The creature collapsed into a cascade of light, shattering into countless fragments that drifted across the image like a dying aurora. The feed stabilised, showing only Alonso's silhouette standing beneath the stars he had summoned, as they slowly faded. He was there, twin swords held in a firm grip. For a moment, he seemed suspended in the air by a will that refused to break. He had defeated the impossible. The ultimate disaster had been struck down by his very own hands. He had won.

For a long moment, no one moved. The world itself seemed to hold its breath, suspended between disbelief and awe. Then, quietly—almost as if speaking within a shared dream—people began to murmur his name. Alonso Shemson. They didn't know how he had done it. They couldn't explain what they had seen. But they knew it was something beyond strength or technology or evolution. It was something that touched the edges of the divine—a force that defied reason and rewrote what it meant to be a Climber.

And as the last of the light faded from the screens, one truth settled across the watching world. They had witnessed a man step beyond the bounds of man. They had watched will itself… slay a god. And yet, just as the original feed ended—minutes earlier than the live transmission—alarms blared across every space station, every control hub, and in the minds of every returnee strong enough to sense it. A signal. Simple. Coded. Unmistakable." Feat accomplished. Reward granted: Third Ascent begins in 77 days."

"You can… see our names and Stage Progress?" Chiara frowned. Alonso nodded.

"Yeah. And I'm guessing you can't?" Chiara shook her head. He glanced at the others—same reactions all around. So it really was just him. That probably meant—"So, you all got a single title? The Grade 01 one, right?"

"Yes, we got one," Chiara replied.

"But… Grade 01? What's that supposed to mean?" Alonso froze for a moment. So they couldn't see the title grades either?

"It seems my second title pushed me to a higher rank—Rank 1, something The Tower calls Observer. And now…" He glanced at the floating data before him.

"I guess I can see more than before." Chiara tilted her head, curiosity overtaking her calm.

"Observer… Identifiers. So, basically, your title has granted you a higher level of clearance—piercing another layer of the information The Tower holds and provides. Interesting." Ayu stared at Alonso, brows raised.

"So… that's good news?" He shrugged.

"Guess so. The more information we have, the better we can prepare for whatever's ahead. Still, this rank and interface… it feels, I don't know—like some kind of code, simulation, or even a video game." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Chiara rubbed her chin, her other hand resting on her waist, gaze distant and thoughtful.

"That possibility remains. This could truly be a virtual reality—we might all just be clones of our human selves inside some alien server. Possible, yes. But I don't think this new information makes that certain, or even clearer." Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"If there's one thing I am sure of, it's that either The Tower itself, or whatever exists behind it, has the tools, the knowledge—or let's call it what it is, power—to alter our perception of reality, or even what we call reality itself, however they wish. So let's not diminish ourselves or believe we're less than what we are." She smiled faintly.

"For all intents and purposes—prompts, ranks, titles, and whatever comes next—we are real." Alonso smiled. He hadn't expected such words from Chiara. And he agreed with her completely. No matter what changed, they were real. And every action, every step—had meaning. He took the moment to observe Lukas. He was paying attention, yet unusually quiet. Maybe Chiara had sensed that and taken the lead to keep morale up.

"Also, since you didn't get it—my second title boosts my Power of Will by 10%. Which, boost aside, is an official announcement that… well, Will exists, and it's a force within whatever rules govern The Tower," he said.

"It does that?" Chiara's eyes widened.

"So not only is it a force, but a quantifiable one, just like EM control or output… Fascinating." She paused.

"You mentioned earlier that our title was Grade 01. What's the grade of the second one you got?"

"Four."

"Not just two, but four? Three grades higher…" She folded her arms, thinking.

"Then it's clear. The Tower recognizes Will not only as a measurable force, but as one of higher hierarchy compared to EM. And after what we just saw," her gaze locked on Alonso, "I have no doubts."

"Damn, you got a boost to Will on top of all that power you showed in the fight?" Ayu grinned.

"How strong are you now, then?" Alonso chuckled. He wanted to know that too.

"Well, the other title's boost is actually much better than it looks," Chiara said.

"I just compared my current state with the one before the fight. My overall EM output has increased by more than 8. 56%. Cross-checking it with what the title specifies, I've concluded that the five percent boost doesn't apply to the final benefit—it amplifies every state. For instance, Extreme Pillar and Body used to give an 80% boost per State. Now it's 85%. Which means—""The benefit will keep scaling as we advance," Alonso finished.

"That's great."

"It is," Chiara smiled.

"Which makes it crazy how just a 10% increase in Will is valued by The Tower as something far beyond that." There was a moment of silence as they took that in—until,"Can you show us?" Ayu suddenly asked. Alonso stared at her. He had thought about trying somewhere alone first, to grasp it clearly. However… for some reason, he felt he didn't need to.

He wasn't sure if it was because of his Understanding of Self, or because his Fusion States allowed him to adapt faster to what he experienced, or if it was something deeper—something tied to the very nature of Will itself. But he felt— He looked down at his blades, watching his reflection in the metal. In his eyes, he saw a gaze that felt both foreign and familiar. Then he looked around. The devastation. The blood. The orbs of those who had fallen. He met Ayu's eyes and nodded.

"Alright, but… I don't think I can truly manifest my Will without a purpose. It's hard to explain, but—it's just a feeling. However…" He focused on his EM waves, magnetising the metal debris around him. The slabs and fragments of Mecha stirred, rising into the air and clearing the space. Smaller pieces trailed faint arcs of light as they drifted downward, each one touching an orb and drawing it toward him.

Thirteen orbs floated above the shattered structures, circling closer until both the metal and the orbs hovered calmly before him. Ayu, Chiara—even Lukas—watched now with a mix of curiosity and restrained awe. Alonso pushed his EM waves further. The magnetised structures began to heat under the strain, groaning as they folded and fused, until they mended into a single rectangular mass nearly ten metres long. The orbs were now buried within, no longer visible.

He stood still, blades steady in his hands, as his mind wandered. Wandered through memories—their faces, their voices, their fleeting expressions. Every interaction, every image he held became vivid, as if they stood before him once more. He projected that. The analytical part of his mind traced vectors, angles, and dimensions, pulling from that inner reservoir, but what answered wasn't just logic—it was emotion. It was feeling. He closed his eyes.

He focused on the rhythm of his heart, the cadence of his breath, the pulse thrumming through his veins. But more than anything, he focused on belief—pure, unwavering belief that he could do what he intended. That if he willed it, it would become. Then he opened his eyes. And forced the world to respond. The air around him shimmered. The region blurred as something deep within him resonated outward.

A haze took form—a human silhouette composed of countless stars and galaxies, their light and motion orbiting in slow, cosmic rhythm. He felt their pulse. Their heat. Their harmony. And he made that flow forward. He stepped—and felt the world flow behind him, guiding his wake. His swords flashed, cutting through the massive metal block. One, two, three—dozens of strikes unfolded in an instant, each movement aligned with something beyond projection, beyond control.

Each stroke answered his heart, as if it alone held and moved the blades. He moved faster. And faster. His mind surged further still. A prompt appeared before him—but he didn't need it. He already knew. He understood what it meant. What it was. Because it was him. It was his Will. And as his blades sang, his heart roared—his Will created. The tempo rose. Each movement grew faster, sharper—stars flaring in the wake of his strikes.

Trails of light rippled behind every cut, every motion tracing its own constellation in the air. The sound built—a storm of metal and will colliding. Each swing left a gleam that hung suspended for a heartbeat before fading into the next. The air itself trembled. The stars around him blazed brighter, their rhythm synchronised with his heart. Every step, every breath, every thought aligned into one unbroken flow—his Will turned motion, his motion turned creation. Faster. Brighter.

Until the world could no longer tell where the blades ended and he began. A stroke cut through the air, blazing with light, carving a path that lingered—a path of shimmering radiance that remained even as all else stilled. A path of what was left behind. Of what would always remain. A path of memories. The world quaked as his vision surged through the blades, through the starlight, through the very echo of their lives— Will Manifest: Path of Shards And then—there was light.

Countless cuts and pierces laced the structure, carving through it as if the memories themselves had etched their own stories into its form. The radiance dimmed slowly, settling into the metal's glow. Alonso exhaled. The last echo of his Will faded into silence. Before him stood the structure—no longer just metal, but sculpture. Thirteen human figures. Mei. Ishaam. Camila. Maurice. The rest—each captured in perfect detail, frozen in the moment they had been alive. Their faces serene, defiant, brave.

And in the centre of each chest, where their hearts once beat, a hazy orb shimmered softly beneath the light.