Aleron suspected that perhaps the human bloodline was inherently inadequate for true exploration of the world. This inadequacy, he thought, might have necessitated the concept of evolution.
"Does everyone follow the same path to evolution? Or are we meant to choose our own way forward?" he asked.
His curiosity had been ignited. Aleron's eyes gleamed with a hunger for answers, his gaze sharp and probing.
"The Tower of Heaven is said to know what suits us best. It selects our evolutionary path based on what aligns with our destiny," came the reply.
Just then, Aleron arrived at the third shop.
The interior was cluttered. Scattered across wooden tables and rough shelves were scraps of metal, assorted knives, gleaming swords, and a variety of strange, metallic tools.
The scent of iron and oil hung heavily in the air.
Standing in the center of the dimly lit shop was a middle-aged man. His frame was solid, his hands calloused.
The moment he noticed Aleron's gaze drifting over the merchandise, a faint smile curled on his lips. Then he spoke.
"Young man, looking to make a purchase? I have swords here—each enhanced slightly with technology. You won't find anything sharper or more reliable," the man said, his voice rich and deep.
Aleron stood still for a moment, caught off guard. That voice… it wasn't the one he had been hearing in his head. It was completely different.
Confused, Aleron's eyes shifted instinctively. From the corner of his vision, something drew his attention.
A pale youth was seated quietly in the back of the shop, working on a jagged piece of silvery metal. He couldn't have been older than fifteen.
There was something peculiar about him. His expression was sunken and bleak. A shadow lingered beneath his eyes.
Messy strands of dark hair obscured most of his face, but there was an eerie stillness about him—almost unnatural.
And yet… he felt familiar.
Before Aleron could process the feeling, a voice rang inside his mind again, soft and deliberate.
'Yes, that's me. Come over and purchase the sword I'm working on. Then, hand me the key discreetly.'
'Do not be afraid. I will protect you until you reach the gate.'
The tone was calm, even reassuring, but Aleron hesitated.
Still, after remembering he had three keys, he decided to part with the one of lowest rank. His instincts flared, but logic prevailed. If this pale boy meant him harm, the damage would already be done.
"May I come inside?" Aleron asked, keeping his voice neutral and steady.
The man blinked in surprise, but then nodded.
"Perhaps the items out front didn't catch your interest. It's fine. You're welcome to come in and look for exactly what you need," he said.
Aleron nodded politely and stepped inside, his movements brisk.
From the moment he had entered the underground, the dragon circling above had taken to the sky.
Ashkar was watching from above, scanning for threats, vigilant and alert.
Inside, Aleron moved quickly. He approached the pale youth, pretending to inspect the glowing metal sword in his hands. The blade shimmered faintly, silver threads of energy pulsing along its edge.
"I want this one," Aleron said plainly.
The man blinked, obviously surprised. He examined Aleron's expression as if to confirm he wasn't joking.
Aleron nodded again to affirm his decision.
"In that case, that'll be ten Origin Stones."
Shit! Aleron panicked inwardly. He had no Origin Stones. He didn't even know what they looked like.
He turned his head slightly, pretending to browse other nearby weapons. The faint glint of spears and daggers reflected off his mask as he casually stepped closer to the pale youth.
Quickly, while the shopkeeper wasn't watching, he summoned the key from his system and slipped it into the boy's hand without a word.
He marked the boy's face as he did so—every detail etched into memory.
There was also another reason he wasn't too worried about giving the boy the key.
Since the boy had shown him goodwill, his death was only a matter of time.
Although it was a heartless thought, Aleron had no choice.
The curse forced him to become slightly unfeeling.
The boy's death was inevitable, and it was only a matter of time.
He sighed softly and turned his attention back to the rest of the shop.
The other items looked compelling, strange artifacts and curious armors, but he wasn't here for shopping.
"I'll return later to look through the rest," he said with a faint nod.
The man's expression changed, his eyes narrowing with a hint of contempt. Without a word, he turned away, dismissing Aleron entirely.
Aleron didn't take offense. He simply turned and left.
'Head southeast. The others should be gathering there to enter the Tower of Heaven, the voice whispered once more.'
'It's almost time. The gate will open any moment.'
Raising a brow, Aleron glanced in that direction and immediately set off. His steps were swift, deliberate.
Above him, Ashkar soared, wings slicing through the air. The dragon studied the path ahead carefully. After confirming there were no ambushes, he relayed the information.
Aleron accelerated.
Within minutes, he reached the designated place.
A crowd was gathered, easily a hundred strong. Men and women stood in formation, their postures confident. The air was thick with the smell of perfume, armor polish, and the scent of arcane energy.
Aleron said nothing. He moved to the side, surveying the environment.
Not far away, a massive door shimmered—a pale, blue gateway radiating power. Runes covered its surface, and above it hovered a transparent screen, gently glowing with a list of names from one to ten.
'Those are the top performers of the Tower of Heaven. Whenever someone breaks a record or accomplishes a feat worthy of the tower's notice, their name appears briefly,' the voice explained.
Aleron's eyes widened slightly. How did the boy know all this?
But before he could think further, heads began to turn toward him.
Every gaze settled on him. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
They didn't recognize him as one of the aristocrats.
Even worse, some could feel his aura—he was merely an Origin Adept. Their frowns deepened. Who was this commoner, daring to approach the gate?
Fortunately, his mask kept his face hidden.
'Something's off,' Aleron thought sharply.
He was surrounded by Origin Experts, and some among them carried power that felt genuinely dangerous.
"You!" a young noble barked, pointing at Aleron. "What gives a lowborn like you the right to be here? Were you not informed? Only aristocrats and nobles may enter the Tower of Heaven."
Aleron's face darkened slightly beneath the mask.
He hadn't known that. But even if he had...
His thoughts were interrupted by a shift in the air.
He twisted instinctively to the side.
A deafening blast rang out. The air near him exploded in a shockwave. Someone had attacked him without hesitation.
Aleron's eyes flared.
'What the hell is wrong with these people?' he thought.
His chest burned with rage, but he forced himself to stay calm.
"What the fuck is your problem?" he growled.
The attacker—a smug, well-dressed youth—offered no reply, only a cold sneer.
In the next moment, several others from the crowd lunged toward him, blurring with incredible speed.
To them, he was just a commoner. Killing him was a mercy. Better to silence the rebellious than let them fester.
Aleron's heart pounded.
'Enjoy,' a familiar, mocking voice echoed in his mind.
His breath caught.
The pale boy. He had known. He had led Aleron here to die.
He had taken the key… and betrayed him.
So that was why the curse hadn't affected him.
There had never been goodwill.
A loud creak sounded as the Tower's gate began to shift. A blinding light spilled from its widening frame.
Aleron didn't hesitate.
'Ashkar, let's fuse,' he commanded.
High above, the dragon heard and responded instantly, diving at an impossible speed.
Just before the light could consume the field, Ashkar shot into Aleron's body, fusing with him in a flash of golden light and azure flame.
Aleron's body transformed. His bones cracked and his muscles surged and expanded.
His frame expanded until he towered over the others. He retained the mask, but nothing else was human.
"Monster!" one of the aristocrats' youth screamed in fear, seeing the towering frame of Aleron who still had a mask on his face.
Everyone was also filled with slight panic. An abomination had entered the city and wanted to take the trial.
What would happen if an abomination took a trial?
They didn't know, but if the abomination evolved then…
There was no need to think about it.
No one wanted to find out.
The rank 5 origin warriors quickly made a move.
Having transcended the origin expert realm, their strength was extremely formidable.
Before Aleron could react, he felt his chest cave in and he spurted a mouthful of blood.
The pain was unbearable!
This was the strength of rank 5.
One struck before Aleron could react. His chest caved inward, blood spraying from his lips.
The pain was excruciating.
Aleron staggered. He had considered fighting, but that hope vanished in an instant. These warriors weren't just powerful—they were evolved, beyond anything he had imagined.
His gaze turned toward the gate.
Wings burst from his back, stabilizing him midair.
Another whistle of energy approached, but this time he was ready. He roared, unleashing a searing torrent of flame from his throat.
The fire was blindingly hot, far more intense than anything he'd produced before. Even the Origin Warriors flinched.
Seizing the moment, Aleron shot forward.
Boom.
He vanished into the gate.
Smoke and dust swirled in the air behind him.
"He has run away?" someone muttered, and the others nodded as well.
They felt this was plausible.
After all, entering the tower of heaven would only be suicidal. How did Aleron hope to come out safely and roam the city?
Inside, Aleron was silent.
The ruins shimmered as he entered, and a line of text from the Tower appeared before his eyes.
But he wasn't focused on that.
A separate message, one from the system—its tone almost emotional, tinged with longing—appeared:
[Second forbidden dragon egg detected.]
[Veldora, the Dragon of Water, Pressure, and Calmness, has been found.]
[Host, please form the contract.]
[Welcome to the Tower of Heaven.]