The night was heavy like it carried secrets of the gods. The sky was black but sparkled like eyes was watchin from above. Coker stood still at the base of the Tower of Kings, breathin deep, his chest risin like it held storms. The Tower itself was tall like it pierced the sky. Some say it was built by the first god. Some say it was the graveyard of gods. Either way, no man had ever reach the top. S-Ranks entered and vanished. SS-Ranks got wiped on the second floor. But Coker wasn't no S-Rank. He wasn't even a rank anymore. He was unbound. His power didn't fit their system. He was something else. Somethin wild. Somethin ancient. Somethin divine. The power inside him pulsed like thunder waitin to strike. The Devourer of Fate... was climbin.
The massive doors creaked open with no hand touchin it. The tower knew he was comin. The air was thick with old magic. Runes flashed on the floor, glowin red, then gold, then white. The moment he stepped in, a cold voice whispered from the wall. "You dare enter, vessel of the forgotten god? This tower tests fate. But you... you consume it."
Coker didn't speak. He cracked his neck, his muscles glowin slightly with the fire of three devoured dungeon cores. His eyes burned with confidence, pain, and hunger. Not hunger for food... hunger for ascension.
The first floor was like a wasteland inside a castle. Bones of warriors lay everywhere. Some still had armor. Some still had weapons. But all of them had one thing in common — failure. A shadow beast dropped from the ceiling. Big like a house, black like a hole, with hundreds of red eyes blinkin. It screeched and charged. The average S-rank woulda screamed. But Coker didn't move. He raise his hand and the moment it touch his skin, the thing froze, then melted like wax. The curse around his body activated, the power of the god inside him thirstin. In seconds, the shadow beast was gone. Absorbed. Forgotten. The floor shattered. The tower groaned.
The system voice inside the tower screamed. "Unnatural! Unranked anomaly! Warning!" But it couldn't stop him. Nothing could now. Coker walked forward, each step pressin new fate onto the world like he was writin his own myth.
Floor two was a graveyard with swords growin from the ground like grass. Floating armor pieces began to fly toward him, holdin blades, spears, whips. A formation of twenty war spirits attacked him at once, all elite from different eras. Coker smirked. His skin burned red. The God Core activated again. Time slowed. Then, BOOM. He vanished. Reappeared behind them. He didn't need to fight slow. He needed to fight hungry. He devoured three of the spirits instantly, the others panicked. Could spirits even feel fear? These did.
His new skill unlocked: **Warrior Memory: Blade Echo** — a passive that let him fight with the experience of every warrior he absorbed. He was becoming a living weapon. And the tower started shakin. The tower's guardians weren't ready for somethin like him.
Each floor harder. Floor three? A full desert storm with sand beasts and death magic. Coker walked through it like wind couldn't touch him. He ate the storm. Floor four? A psychic maze with illusions of his worst memories. His dead parents. His brother standin on a throne. His village burnin. All fake. All illusions. But his pain was real. He punched the air and the illusion shattered like glass. His fist had become truth. His pain had become fuel. His hate had become power.
Floor five dropped him into a room full of mirrors. But each mirror reflected a different version of himself. One weak. One broken. One still E-rank. One where he died. The mirrors began speakin. "You'll always be trash." "Your brother was stronger." "You stole power you didn't earn." "You're cursed." "You'll destroy everything." He clenched his fists. The voice of the God returned in his mind.
"Fear is just fate trying to survive."
And with that, Coker screamed. A wave of raw magic exploded from his chest. All the mirrors shattered. The room broke apart. The tower had to repair itself as he walked to the next floor. The AI in the tower tried to calculate him, but it crashed. The rank system had no place for him. He was rewritein the rules.
On floor six, he met his first true challenge. A guardian knight named Khael, one of the original tower defenders. Not a beast. Not a spirit. A real warrior. Tower gave him form again just for this fight. Seven feet tall. Made of divine metal. Sword that once cut mountains. Khael bowed once. "I don't know what you are, but I must stop you here."
Coker didn't answer. He launched forward. The clash shook the room. Sparks flew. Khael's blade met Coker's arm — and was stopped. Not because of shield. Not because of skill. But because of **density**. Coker's body had become denser than divine steel. Every dungeon core he ate, every fate line he consumed, added layers to his existence. He wasn't normal matter anymore. He was becoming myth.
The fight lasted one hour. It was war. No magic tricks. Just raw power, raw speed, raw soul. In the end, Khael knelt. "I was born to protect this tower," he said, bleedin divine ichor. "But you… you're not the enemy. You're the storm."
Coker put a hand on his shoulder. "Rest." And with that, Khael turned into a statue of gold. A silent guardian forever.
The tower shifted. It was tryin now. Floor seven? The Curse Room. Every curse from history placed into one space. Madness. Poison. Rot. Blindness. Silence. One step in, and a thousand hexes shot toward him. But Coker, the Devourer, opened his arms. He didn't dodge. He took them. Ate them. The room trembled. His body screamed. But he absorbed them all. His veins turned black for a moment. His mind flickered. But he stood. Still walkin. Still climbin.
Floor eight? A kingdom. A whole world simulated inside the tower. He was crowned king instantly. The people praised him. They offered him food, drink, women, glory. "Stay," they said. "Rule." But he knew it was fake. A trap of comfort. A test of greed. He burned the throne. Walked through fire. Left the illusion cryin behind.
By now, the outside world was goin crazy. Magic screens across the continent showed his progress. Guilds argued. Gods trembled. Cults celebrated. Some feared he was the return of the ancient god of destruction. Some believed he was savior. But all agreed on one thing: **Coker was no longer human.**
Floor nine, the Tower of Echoes. The voice of everyone he killed came back. Screamin. Whisperin. Beggin. The dungeon beasts. The corrupted guards. Even the hero he once admired. They cried, "You devoured us. You took us." And Coker whispered, "I carry you." His back glowed. A mark appeared. The souls he took now engraved into him like tattoos. He was not runnin. He was carryin them. That's why he was heavy.
Then came Floor Ten. Final trial. No monsters. No illusions. Just a throne in the middle of an empty white room. On it sat... Coker. But older. Stronger. Eyes hollow. Muscles like mountains. The future version of him. The moment he stepped in, the clone spoke.
"If you sit here, you rule the world. All gods bow. No more pain. But if you fight me, you risk losin everything."
Coker smiled. "Then I'll fight."
And he did.
It was the longest fight of his life. Hours passed. Days maybe. They fought through dimensions. Through thought. Through fate itself. He saw every future. Some where he won. Some where he died. Some where he became the villain. But he never gave up. Not once.
In the end, his fist cracked the skull of his future self. Blood poured. And the throne vanished.
The tower voice screamed again: "Climber has reached the Pinnacle. Coker. Title granted: Devourer King."
Outside, the sky split. The gods finally looked down. One threw lightning. Another cursed him. But it was too late.
Coker stood at the top of the tower. Wind all around him. Eyes glowin. Chest burnin.
He whispered, "I didn't just climb your tower. I ate it."
And behind him, the tower began to crumble, floor by floor, as if it had served its final purpose.