Chương 376: Chapter 366 - A Message

Viktor stared at the device before him. He sent his waves and felt the feedback flow back in a way that was impossibly smooth, fully synchronised with his brain's processing speed. He replayed the stored visuals as if watching a film projected directly into his mind, aware of just how complex the signal reconstruction should have been… and yet it worked flawlessly. Out of curiosity he forged a new signal, selecting which memories to store and how to arrange them.

The device rebuilt the output exactly according to his choices, ready to share with others without the slightest delay. He shifted his gaze between the device and Mei. This device… it was several generations ahead of their current model. And it required no surgical implantation or invasive setup at all. Yet this girl had designed it and built a working prototype in less than two days?

"This is remarkable, Mei," he said sincerely, turning the smooth casing in his hands.

"It will genuinely—" A signal cut through his thoughts." Sir, there is a new returnee." Viktor's eyes widened. They had received no updated visuals from The Tower, and yet someone had died? The new stage? Gen-1? He nodded quickly to Mei, offering an apologetic smile before heading back toward his office." Who is it?"" One of our own, sir. Cynthia Hanns. And… she is requesting to speak with you directly." Viktor frowned. Cynthia? She was part of The Shadows under Leonie Gruber's command.

If she had returned, then—what had gone wrong? And if it had been the seven-tails, there should have been visuals before this." Connect her." A brief moment passed before the transmission linked. The signal arrived clear, stable, and well-formed in his mind." Viktor Ivanov?"" Yes. I'm here."" I have a message from Leonie, sir. A message from Leonie and… from Gen-1." Viktor stopped walking altogether, his expression tightening as focus took over. He took a slow breath before responding." Go on."

Hughes was connected to the virtual reality system, letting the synthetic warmth and filtered sensations pour over him. After the hours of humiliating drills they forced him through, this was the only escape he had left. Every day felt like another insult, another reminder that they refused to see his "value." Gen-1 this, Gen-1 that, yet because he 'slipped' out of line back then they treated him like some filth.

For all their grand speeches about how Gen-1s were exempt from "misunderstandings inside The Tower," they sure had a strange way of showing it. Two-faced bastards, the lot of them. Acting as if he were some kind of danger, as if that girl back then had— A strange sensation brushed the back of his mind. Sharp. Cold. Out of place. He frowned, more annoyed than concerned. The feed flickered slightly and he reached out to stabilise it, thinking the system was lagging again.

"What—" He never finished. The world went black before he understood anything. His consciousness cut clean, without pain or warning. His head slumped forward, the rest of his body following with a dull, unceremonious collapse. The LED lights continued to shine in those lifeless eyes, their soft colours reflected in pupils that no longer focused. Seconds later, two military officers entered the room.

They exchanged no words at first, they simply assessed the body with professional detachment and unplugged the cables. Their movements were smooth and practiced.

"Neutralisation confirmed," one finally said into his mic. Irene flicked her wrist with practiced ease, letting the sofrito bubble just right before she added the paprika. The rabo de toro simmered quietly on the back burner, its scent filling the large kitchen with the comforting richness she loved. She hummed under her breath, wooden spoon tapping the pan as she tasted, adjusted the salt, then slipped the glove back on to handle the sizzling pot. Then the door chime rang. Cling—clong. She froze mid-stir.

She had not been notified of any visitor… strange. She frowned deeply, wiping her hands on the apron. She turned off the stove and pulled the gloves free. Footsteps approached lightly. One of the maids peeked into the kitchen.

"Madam Irene… you have a visitor."

"A visitor?" she echoed, brows drawing together.

"Who?" The maid hesitated.

"He says he… brings good news. A gentleman in a black suit." Irene's frown deepened. She walked through the hallway toward the entrance, wiping a small smudge of tomato from her wrist. The moment she stepped into view, the man straightened. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Tall. Impeccably dressed. Black suit, polished shoes, tie perfectly knotted. He bowed with crisp formality.

"A pleasure to meet you, Señora Shemson," he said, tone respectful enough to make the maid stiffen beside him.

"My name is Adrien Vale. I have come with a message for you." Irene's heartbeat slowed.

"A message?" she repeated, wary.

"From whom?" Adrien exhaled softly, almost as if preparing himself for the reaction.

"A message," he said with a faint smile, "from Alonso Shemson." Her breath vanished.

Irene hesitated as she stared at the small USB drive resting in her palm. A message from her son. Her fingers trembled. She was afraid of what she was about to see, no matter how gently the suited man had framed it as "good news." Fear had lived in her chest since the day she woke up from the coma, and now it stirred again in full. Afraid of what her son had become. Afraid he would feel distant. Alien. Someone shaped by violence and isolation instead of love and home. Afraid he would no longer feel like her boy.

But still… She closed her trembling hand around the drive and steadied her breath. Whoever he was now, whatever The Tower had turned him into, he was her son. That simple truth had anchored her through sleepless nights and months of uncertainty. She believed in him. She always had. She exhaled shakily and looked around the quiet room. She thought, for a brief moment, that it might be easier to watch it with someone—Jack, maybe—but he had received his own message, and this one… this was meant for her alone.

It only felt right that she watched it alone. She nodded to herself, decisive, and stepped toward the television. The room seemed to grow still with every movement. She connected the USB, the port clicking softly into place. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The screen flickered. Then a single frame sharpened into focus. And she saw him. Surprisingly he was wearing casual, sport wear, not very different from what he would wear here on Earth. There was no wound on him, or scars, or dirt or even weapons.

He was clean, well trimmed and in a better shape than he had ever been with such an athletic build it felt sculpted to perfection. His facial expressions were sharper, more refined and clearer giving him a very strong impression and presence. Yet more than his appearance it was those eyes that caught her the most. There was deepness in them, something heavy and… powerful. And then… he smiled.

"Hi, mom." Irene's breath caught. Her eyes stung instantly. Just hearing his voice again...

"I wanted to start by saying… I'm fine. Really fine," Alonso continued, rubbing the back of his neck in that same boyish way she knew so well.

"I don't know exactly what you've seen or what people are saying out there, but I'm doing pretty good here. Better than good, actually." He chuckled softly, the sound warm and real.

"I made good friends, and even some old ones showed up—Pablo included," he said with a small grin.

"And, believe it or not, I found a place where I actually feel like I… fit. Like I was meant to be here. I know that probably sounds strange after everything, but it's true." Irene covered her mouth with her hand as a quiet sob slipped out. He looked so different—older, sharper around the edges—but when he smiled like that she could see her boy in every line of his face. Alonso shifted the focus a little, and the background changed to a brighter room. He glanced to the side.

"Oh—right. I also met someone." A figure stepped into frame. A young woman. Irene blinked. Beautiful wasn't the word. The girl was stunning, almost unreal, with sharp eyes that held both warmth and fire, and a presence that felt strong even through a screen. Her hair framed her face in a way that made her look like a warrior in disguise. Yet she smiled shyly, raising a hand.

"Hello, madam," she said politely, bowing her head slightly. Irene's eyes widened in surprise. The girl radiated confidence and gentleness at once. Her son's taste… apparently quite impressive. Alonso clicked his tongue, nudging the girl's arm lightly.

"Ayu… you should probably say 'hello, mom' too at this point," he teased. Ayu's cheeks warmed instantly, and her lips curled awkwardly.

"Oh. Right. Um… hello… mom," Ayu said, her voice small and embarrassed as she made a second attempt. Alonso laughed, and the warmth in the sound eased Irene's heart like sunlight thawing frozen glass. Ayu shot him a sideways glance, rolled her eyes in quiet defeat, then turned back toward the centre of the visual projection with a shy, uncertain smile. For Irene, it was impossible not to feel touched. The girl's care for him was written in every soft movement.

"Mom," Alonso continued, his expression gentling as he faced the visual focus again, "I know this must feel overwhelming. I know you've probably been worried. I know you might feel lost with all of this. And… I know it's a lot to take in after everything that happened with me… with dad." His voice softened.

"But I need you to know… I'm really okay." Irene's breath hitched. Her throat tightened painfully as she pressed a hand over her heart, tears streaming freely now. Alonso's eyes softened further, as if somehow, through distance and through the impossible nature of the message, he could still see her.

"I want you to know that no matter how much things change here, I am and will always be your son. And you will always be my mom. Nothing in this Tower, nothing in the world, nothing can change that." He took in a slow breath, steady and sure.

"And I need you to know something else. I am not just surviving anymore. I am not just getting through each challenge. I am doing what I want to do. I am where I want to be. And I am pushing forward because I chose this path. Not because I am forced to, not because I am trapped, but because I want to keep going." His voice grew stronger, filled with that quiet, iron determination she knew so well.

"I will keep going, mom. I will keep climbing. I will meet everything this place throws at me, and I will overcome it." A grin spread across his face then, warm and bright and unmistakably Alonso.

"And we… will win." Irene covered her mouth as another wave of tears spilled down, her shoulders trembling at the sight of her boy smiling with such conviction.

"So," his grin widened, the edges crinkling like he was trying not to laugh, "sit back and relax. Enjoy life. Travel. Eat something good. Go see that place in Greece you always talked about. Do all the things you kept putting off." He tilted his head slightly, softer now.

"As for me, I am doing what I want to be doing. I am doing what feels right. And when all of this is over, when the climb ends, I will come home. We will meet again. And we will laugh about the whole thing together." He gave a small, almost playful chuckle.

"Promise." He leaned back slightly and stared ahead with a knowing, gentle look.

"So don't cry, mom. Smile. Be happy. Be proud," he said with a warm grin.

"Your son is exactly…" His expression softened with a quiet certainty.

"…where he is meant to be." CLIMBER RANK DATABASE Status: Synchronized Last Update: 00: 00: 02 ago GRADE: BLACK Ayu Narongsak Chiara Lin Lukas Gruber Leonie Gruber Pablo Manuel Garcia Raindo (Under Evaluation) Imani Okoro (Under Evaluation) Leonhard Krüger (Under Evaluation) Wang Jian (Under Evaluation) Stephen Langston (Under Evaluation) GRADE: PARAGON (Rank generated: 00: 00: 02 ago) Alonso Shemson