Shin boarded the train before sunrise.
No mask this time. There was no need for a specific disguise in this kind of setting. He wore a black coat, a gray backpack, and an unbothered expression. He moved like a commuter—just another man whose name didn't matter.
Because right now, it didn't.
He slid into a window seat, set down his bag, and pulled out a thin black tablet. The train pulled away from the platform with a soft mechanical groan. The journey to Portugal would take the better part of the day.
Time to read.
The first headline blinked across his screen:
Four-Tier Dajin Danger Classification Reaches Global Adoption
He tapped it.
A short article unfolded. It had clean fonts and subtle urgency. He scanned through the text but stopped his gaze on the table at the bottom of the page.
Category 1: Supernatural
'Individuals who have cleared a tower but show no combat training. Considered low-risk unless provoked.'
Category 2: Ascendant
'Formally trained/experienced vessels capable of actively manipulating their dajin's power. Considered stable. Often recruited by private guilds or defense contracts.'
Category 3: Destructive
'Vessels with large-scale damage capacity. Often require elite teams to confront. Few exist. Some regulators consider them a public threat, and demand close monitoring.'
Category 4: Tactical (Unconfirmed)
'Rumored class. Said to hold battlefield-level influence—comparable to mobile war assets—no official documentation. Witnesses reported anomalies. Most did not survive.'
Shin tilted his head slightly. So they've started ranking power. That's pretty organized, but they're still mainly guessing. It's not yet a measurable resonance output like my compatibility system.
He passed to the next page.
Ascendant Guilds Legalized in Over 20 Countries:
'We can't regulate power that won't ask permission,' said India's High Minister during a press statement following the Guild Recognition Act...
He scrolled slowly.
The map showed clusters: Switzerland, Brazil, South Korea, and New Zealand. Nations that chose adaptation over containment.
In contrast, the EU and North America doubled down on oversight, building entire tower-survey departments and "Ascendant Compliance Units"—soft names for militarized agencies. However, even that is considered easy-going compared to some countries like China and Iran, which have completely locked down all towers, and the few private ascendants that happened to clear a tower have so far disappeared 'mysteriously'.
Shin marked the names mentally.
Make sense. Some adopt the new world, while others still think they can control it.
Another swipe.
Dajin Tower Materials Fuel Scientific Breakthroughs:
'A single shard from a cleared tower enabled superconductivity tests at room temperature.
Botanists report that fruit from Tower-growth soil carries regenerative stem behavior.
Multiple governments have launched tower-biotech fusion divisions, though complete research remains classified.'
A small image of a gnarled orange fruit with a bioluminescent peel, tagged "T-1218 specimen," was shown. Apparently, a single bite from that peel was enough to completely heal a person diagnosed with stage 3 cancer.
Shin exhaled softly through his nose. "Of course. Power's just one perk. Towers are basically miracle vending machines now." No wonder everyone's rushing.
He scrolled to a larger headline—Tower Types Categorized: Echoes, Beasts, and Spirits
Shin paused. Now that sounded interesting.
'Of the 412 confirmed cleared towers, nearly 300 involved humanoid dajins—dubbed "Echoes." These entities speak, reason, and often present psychological or moral challenges rather than a pure combat battle.'
"Well, so are sand spirits apparently," he murmured angrily.
'Beasts are rarer, but more violent—appearing as lions, wolves, or mythical hybrids. Their towers are full of monsters and beasts. You must either hide long enough or kill to survive.'
"Man, that sounds fun. Why must I be so unlucky to keep finding spirits?"
'Spirits are the most difficult. Seemed to be element-based. They rarely speak—their trials are cryptic and often lethal.'
"Yep. Cryptic and lethal is the perfect description. Glad it's not just me."
A chart followed: 3 columns, each with stats and tower outcomes.
Shin studied it in silence.
NEW: Tower Difficulty Ratings Reach 5-Tier Consensus Model
E-Rank: Can be cleared by normal civilians without special training.
D to B: Varying risks and dajin complexity. Unlikely to be cleared without a large trained team.
A-Rank: Catastrophic potential. Nine confirmed. Only two cleared—over 700 casualties.
A-Rank? I wonder if Wind and Lightning towers are considered A-Rank. He pondered about it for a while. Wait,but thinking about it carefully, the difficulty ratings seems a bit misleading—it only uses the number of people who died as a benchmark for the classification.
He moved on and scrolled to the following articles.
'Religion in Crisis: Are the Dajin Divine?'
'Polls show rising belief in a 'Tower Pantheon.' Meanwhile, traditional faith leaders caution: "Power does not equal purpose."'
'Vessel Theory Gaining Traction: Are We Sharing Space with Gods?'
'An anonymous user posted what appears to be footage of a Dajin speaking in ancient Greek—scholars are calling it 'a myth given mouth.' '
He sighed and set the tablet down for a moment.
Outside the window, the landscape slid by—green hills turning gold. The sun had risen over the horizon, casting pale warmth across the fields.
Inside the train, the voices grew louder. A child laughing, someone arguing over seating, someone watching a movie without headphones. Shin sighed and closed his eyes briefly. He pulled a pair of small earbuds from his coat pocket and slid them in. A soft audio cue chimed.
"You're listening to The Obelisk—bringing you truth from beyond the towers."
The voice was male and fast-talking. Confident, but a little over-produced.
"Our top story today: Five vessels seen in Cairo's Red Sector—no IDs, no affiliations. One eyewitness claims they broke through a rank-C tower without triggering a single environmental collapse. Are they guild-trained? Rogue? Military? We don't know. But someone's building power off-grid."
"Also today: New leaked photos from a Venezuelan cleanup site suggest tower residue might be chemically reactive. Are we talking weapon potential? Or biological fusion? Either way, the landscape is shifting—and not subtly."
"And finally—who's number one on the Obelisk leaderboard this week? Spoiler: It's not the golden boy from Seoul."
Shin tapped once, skipping ahead. Who cares about a power ranking if it was based on popularity? The voice continued—smooth, amused.
"...More people are clearing towers nowadays. But here's the thing: not all towers are equal. The Echoes? Easiest. They talk. They play games. You pass their trials with a riddle and a smile."
"The beasts fight. You need some ridiculous power to crack them."
"But what about the spirits? The ones who don't talk? Who tests your soul in silence?"
"Those… are either ghosts or gods. And there aren't many who can survive and climb them."
Shin's fingers drummed lightly against his seat's armrest. He looked out again—not at the world, but through it.
People seem to ignore the real problem. The danger isn't what the towers give.
It's the secrets they hide behind.
The voice in his ear kept talking—still polished, still curious.
"...But as always, the Obelisk ranks shift. And if you're out there—climbing towers, taking names—we're watching. Even if the gods aren't."
A small pause. "Stay sharp, Ascendants. Or don't stay at all." The video ended.
Shin pulled out the earbuds.
The train had slowed.
Sunlight streamed through the wide glass, tinged with coastal humidity. The overhead display blinked in three languages.
→ Porto, Portugal
He stood, stepped off the train, and walked calmly through the station without glancing back.
An hour later, he stood on a quiet street overlooking a residential block tucked into the hills. Warm brick. Hanging laundry. The faint sound of music was echoing from an open window nearby.
Shin stepped onto cracked pavement in a quiet coastal town. Portugal's air smelled of sun-warmed concrete and slow salt. No need to wander, he already knew where to find Thommo. Shin leaned against a low wall near the market, his eyes calmly watching the street. Then—a figure rounded the corner. Broad-shouldered. Easy posture. A bag of groceries in one hand. Humming.
"It's been a while," Shin said.
Thommo froze mid-step. Then grinned. "You're the Wind guy, yeah? Figured you'd show up eventually." Thommo led the way up a narrow road into the modest house at the outskirts of the village."
"Been a while since I was here," he said calmly.
Thommo smiled and dropped his grocery bag on the table. "Yeah, well, can't say I really wanted you back. Anyway, want something to drink? I got juice. Sort of."
Shin shook his head.
"Didn't think so." Thommo scratched his neck and leaned against the counter. "So. You tracked me down. I assume this ain't social?"
"Nope."
Shin studied him.
His build hadn't changed much. Still thick-boned, solid—like a man who worked hard, even when he didn't know why. The hammer was hidden, but Shin knew that it can be summoned with thoughts. Just like his own.
"You've cleared a tower," Shin said quietly.
"Yeah."
"Do you know what kind?"
Thommo shrugged. "It talked, and I fought stuff. I got out a day later. Hammer's been with me since."
Shin stepped closer. "Did the dajin speak with a name? A title?"
"It called itself Earth," Thommo mumbled. "Said it was one of the four old ones."
So it was the grand Earth dajin after all.
Shin tilted his head. "Do you feel stronger now?" Thommo blinked. "What do you mean? I mean, yeah, kind of. I don't lift buildings or anything, but… I'm better. Stronger. Still don't really know how it works though."
Shin nodded. "Yeah, I didn't think you would."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small sealed vial. The liquid inside was translucent with a slight gold shimmer—faint, and hopefully, unthreatening. Thommo stared at it. "That... looks expensive."
"It's not for sale," Shin replied. I need to test something, and you're probably strong enough to survive it. Congratulations. Now drink it, but don't overreact."
"Overreact to what?"
Shin didn't answer; he just handed the vial over. Thommo seemed suspicious, but held it after remembering the last time he fought Shin. He looked at it closely, as if inspecting the way it caught light. "What is it?" he asked eventually.
"Elixir. Divine energy suspended in fluid. Unrefined."
Thommo's brow creased. "Divine energy? Unrefined?"
"Don't worry about it," Shin said. "It's crude power. Pure enough to make even a rat tear through steel."
"And you want me to drink it?"
"Yep."
There was a long pause as Thommo considered again. He then sighed, popped the cap, and downed a mouthful. He winced. Shin stepped back slightly; he didn't want to be too close in case Thommo's stomach exploded.
Thommo grunted, his hand lying heavily on the counter—his skin flushed faintly. The divine pressure around him pulsed once—sharper now, more present. The air around him buzzed quietly.
"...Huh."
Shin raised an eyebrow. "Well?"
"I feel…" Thommo flexed his hand. "Warm. Kinda sharp, like my bones got cleaned or something. I feel I slept for ten hours and ran five miles simultaneously."
Shin made a quick note in his mind:
Low rejection. No overflow. Moderate resonance.
Compatible with bonded vessels.
Thommo blinked a few times. "That stuff's legal?"
"Would you feel better if I said yes?"
"Thought so."
Thommo set the vial down gently. Then he laughed once and crossed his arms. "Alright. I took your mystery drink. Are you going to tell me why you're here?" Shin met his gaze directly. "Because I'm building something. I need someone with power, but one I can trust not to sell what he doesn't understand."
"You trust me?"
"No," Shin said. "But I trust your limits,"
Not to mention, you are the perfect one to test things on.
Thommo grunted. "That's fair."
"When I walked with Anna," Shin added, "she mentioned your grandfather knew someone who worked at auctions." Thommo's eyes narrowed. "That's why you really came?"
"Both reasons matter. I have rare materials to offload. Quietly. Without governments realizing what they're worth."
"You planning to start a business or a war?"
"Yes."
Thommo blinked. "Oh." He looked at Shin, and his eyes were calm. Certain. "I'll help," Thommo said finally, exhaling. "But you owe me more of that shiny stuff. It makes my headaches go away." Shin allowed himself the faintest smile. "Deal."
Shin glanced at the vial one last time. The formula was still unstable. The plan was barely a sketch. But at least now he had two things: a "willing" subject, and a direction to aim.
It was enough to begin.
And sometimes, beginning was the only thing that mattered.