Nexus Delta-35, situated in the jagged maw of the Ring of Fire archipelago, was a fortress of geological violence. Ash rained constantly here, painting the armored transports of the Iron Covenant grey as they patrolled the perimeter of the volcanic crater.

  I materialized a mile out, shrouded in my [Nullifying Veil], but even without stealth, the Covenant’s blockade was… comprehensive.

  They had established a hard perimeter. Prefabricated energy walls hummed, creating a kill-zone between the jungle edge and the Tower’s obsidian gate. Heavy magitech turrets scanned the horizon, and squads of battle-mages in crimson heavy-plate stood at intervals, looking bored but dangerous.

  “Hold!” a guard shouted at a person attempting to get close enough to enter the tower, an entire squad instantly readying various weaponry.

  Probably just standard procedure. Intimidation by volume.

  “They are locking it down,” Nyx observed via the link, her voice tight. “They aren’t letting any neutrals in. Korg is trying to monopolize the ascent.”

  “Standard tactic,” I murmured, watching the mana signatures. “Block the gate, starve the competition, claim the prize. Effective against most.”

  Most.

  I walked forward.

  I didn’t disable the Veil, but I dropped the auditory suppression. My footsteps crunched on the volcanic glass.

  “Stop!” A scanner pinged. The nearest turret whirred, tracking my general location. Dozens of wands, staves, bows and rifles snapped toward me.

  “By order of Lord Korg and the Iron Covenant, this Nexus is closed for Reclamation. Identify yourself or be incinerated.”

  I kept walking.

  “Last warning!” The captain of the guard raised a gauntleted hand, his mana flaring hot and bright.

  I didn’t speak. I didn’t raise a shield. I just stepped… sideways.

  [Void Walk].

  I simply removed the concept of distance from the equation. One moment I was a target in their crosshairs; the next, the world blurred into grey streaks of the Lattice, and I re-emerged on the steps of the Tower, fifty yards behind the blockade.

  The air displacement of my arrival kicked up a cloud of ash.

  “Contact lost!” a sensor technician shouted behind me. “He… he’s inside the perimeter! Turn the turrets around!”

  The heavy guns groaned as they began to rotate.

  I glanced over my shoulder, offering a small, two-fingered salute.

  Then I willed myself to enter the Tower before they could even align the barrels.

  Nexus Delta-35 was, unsurprisingly, a vertical hellscape.

  Floor 1 was a sea of cooling magma crust where Fire-Newts spat globes of molten rock. The heat was oppressive, heavy enough to strip the moisture from your lungs in minutes if you weren’t shielded.

  I cleared the early floors with lazy gestures of [Apex Mana Authority], simply dictating the heat away or compressing the magma into harmless obsidian walkways.

  It was on Floor 22 that the real obstruction appeared.

  I stepped out of the portal onto a wide, basalt bridge spanning a river of liquid fire. Waiting for me on the other side was not a monster, but a phalanx.

  Ten cultivators. The Covenant’s elites.

  They wore the heavy, sigil-etched plate armor that was Korg’s signature — durability over mobility. Their shields were locked, glowing with unified barrier magic.

  “Stop,” the leader boomed. His voice was amplified, echoing off the cavern walls. He was a brute of a man wielding a hammer that leaked steam. “This Tower is claimed by the Iron Covenant under the Sovereignty of Korg the Unbroken. Turn back, now.”

  I walked to the middle of the bridge and stopped.

  “I’m not here for Korg,” I said, my voice cutting through the roar of the magma without shouting. “I’m here for the Title. Step aside.”

  “This Tower is ours,” the leader snarled, slamming his hammer down. The bridge shuddered. “It’s you isn’t it. You were the one who caused the alien bombardment. You brought ruin to the Cities. We will not let you corrupt this region with your Void-sickness.”

  “Ruin,” I repeated, tasting the irony. “You think I caused it? I stopped them from enslaving half the planet and draining the other half like mana batteries. But history is written by the guy with the loudest microphone, I guess.”

  I took a step forward.

  “Attack formation!” the leader roared. “Suppress him!”

  Ten staves and hammers slammed into the ground. A unified spell erupted.

  Chains of glowing red mana burst from the stone, aiming to wrap around my limbs. A gravity seal attempted to crush me into the floor.

  It was a good trap. Probably enough to stop a powerful Tier 6.

  “No,” I whispered.

  I didn’t try to counter their weaving using my own [Mana Authority]. Instead, I just expanded my [Domain of the Ashen Phoenix].

  A wave of white-gold fire washed over the bridge. It didn’t burn the stone. It burned the concept of their magic.

  The red chains turned grey and shattered into dust mid-air. The gravity seal unraveled, the mana finding no purchase on my reality.

  The fire washed over the phalanx.

  They screamed, raising their shields, expecting to be incinerated.

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  But the fire passed through them. It didn’t burn their flesh. It burned their active spells.

  Their glowing shields flickered and died. Their enchanted armor lost its hum, becoming just heavy, dead metal. Their weapons went cold.

  In a heartbeat, I had stripped them of their magical authority.

  Silence descended on the bridge, broken only by the bubbling of the lava below.

  The leader stared at his hammer, which was now just a lump of iron, stripped of its enchantments. He looked up at me, his face pale beneath the helm. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a visceral, trembling terror.

  “W-what…” he stammered. “What did you do?”

  “I turned the volume down,” I said, walking past him.

  I stopped next to him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his armor.

  “Listen closely,” I said, keeping my tone conversational. “I have no interest in ruling your volcano. Or your city. Or you. Keep your taxes. Keep your laws. But the Tower? The orbital keys? Those are mine. Because frankly, I don’t trust Korg to hold the umbrella when the rain starts again.”

  I gestured to the gate behind them.

  “Tell Korg that if he wants to stop me, he’ll need to climb faster. And stop with these silly little roadblocks, you won’t win by just shutting others out.”

  I left them there, sweating in the heat, clutching their useless weapons.

  I hit Floor 50 two days later.

  The climb from 40 to 50 had been grueling. The monsters shifted from mindless elementals to Ash-Demons — semi-sentient, tactical entities that used ambush tactics. But the [Void-Star] hungered for variety, and Fire Essence was a flavor I had always had an Affinity for.

  I absorbed the Core of the Magma Lord at Floor 50, adding more permanent thermal resistance to my physiology.

  Nexus Delta-35 was secured.

  Two months bled away like sand through an hourglass.

  The pace didn’t slow, but the rhythm settled into a grinding, heavy consistency.

  We weren’t just climbing anymore; we were managing an empire of verticality.

  I sat in the War Room of my Sanctum, reviewing the holographic map. The “Green Zone” — our territory — was spreading like a benevolent virus across the globe.

  “Status report,” I murmured, rubbing my eyes. Even with my seemingly infinite stamina, the mental load of managing 19 different tactical fronts was heavy.

  “We are... comfortably in the lead,” Jeeves replied, projecting the latest global stats.

  [GLOBAL LEADERBOARD: FACTION CONTROL]

  I. VOID STAR - 19 Towers

  II. SOLAR ASCENDANCY - 6 Towers

  III. THE PALE DOMINION - 4 Towers

  IV. THE IRON COVENANT - 3 Towers

  V. AZURE SYNDICATE - 3 Towers

  “We are leaving them in the dust,” Lucas noted from the communications station. “The Solar Ascendancy made a push in the desert regions, securing a few neutral zones with their Light affinity, but they stop and maintain control at Floor 39. They lack the punch to clear the Fourth Guardian.”

  “Rexxar and Nyx cleared their second towers efficiently,” I nodded. “Nyx mentioned the loot from the Mirror-Tower was exceptional. Illusory cloth. Good for the scouts once we can actually harvest it.”

  “There is… a concern,” Arthur’s voice was grave. “It’s Anna.”

  My focus sharpened instantly. “Talk to me.”

  “She is at Floor 48 of Nexus Delta-15. The Central Plains tower,” Arthur explained. “She’s been stuck there for three days.”

  “Forty-eight…?” I frowned. “Why is she pushing so hard…”

  “It’s Anna… she is... determined. The Floor Boss is a Phasing entity. A ‘Ghost-Wind Stalker’,” Arthur clarified. “It exists in a state of intangible mist until it strikes. Her arrows… they pass through it. Her [Final Word] dictates a hit, but if there is no physical substance to hit, the impact is negated. It’s a conceptual counter to her combat style.”

  I tapped my fingers on the table.

  “She wants to keep trying,” Arthur continued. “She is requesting we do not interfere. She says she has a theory on how to anchor it using her time-stasis edicts, but the timing is… precise.”

  “It’s dangerous,” I muttered. “One mistake against a Tier 7, even if it’s a weak one…”

  I thought about pulling her out. About portaling over there and killing the ghost myself.

  But that would not help her. She needed this win to prove herself.

  “Let her try,” I decided, but I pulled up a sub-menu. “However, Nyx, can you help her? Just sit at the gate of the Floor. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. I trust you can hold the Ghost if things go south.”

  “Understood,” Nyx’s acknowledgement flickered through the chat.

  “That brings us to the next target,” Jeeves said, highlighting the red zones on the map.

  We controlled nineteen. The allies and neutrals held another eight or nine loosely.

  The Solar Ascendancy had six. They were annoying — zealots of the Light — but mostly isolationist. They preached purity, not conquest.

  “The Board is solidifying,” Jeeves analyzed. “We have claimed the easy wins. Most of the friendly towers. Now, the map gets harder.”

  “We have to choose,” I said, staring at the patches of the Pale Dominion and the red of the Iron Covenant. “We ignore the neutrals for now. If they aren’t actively hostile, we can bring them into the fold diplomatically later.”

  “Iron Covenant is stalled,” Lucas pointed out. “Korg is struggling to maintain his grip on his own towers. Dissent is growing in his ranks after the display at Delta-35. People are realizing he’s not the strongest dog in the yard.”

  “The Pale Dominion, however,” Leoric interrupted, his voice laced with disgust. “They are expanding. Not claiming more towers, but the corruption around the towers they do hold is spreading. Necrotic influence. It is seeping into the land.”

  I looked at the black smear on the map in the Northeast.

  Azrael. The Necromancer who “saved” a city by killing it.

  “He’s the priority,” I stated. “Iron Covenant is just a Warlord playing king. Azrael is a real threat. Undeath is a corruption of the cycle. And strategically? If he gains access to the Orbital Defense grid, he could flood the atmosphere with necrotic miasma. Turn the whole planet into a phylactery. Besides, I am sure it’s a lot more acceptable for the population if we go against undead rather than fellow living.”

  “Tactical assessment confirms,” Jeeves agreed. “Neutralizing the Pale Dominion’s control over their Towers weakens their grip on the populace. If the Tower falls to us, the purification field will burn away the undead influence.”

  “Nexus Delta-33,” I pinpointed the largest cluster of dark energy. “His capital. The City of Bones.”

  I stood up. My armor, the [Abyssal Sovereign’s Carapace], seemed to darken, drinking in the ambient light of the Sanctum.

  “It’s time to pay the Graveyard King a visit. Prepping [Ashen Seeker]. Let’s verify if the dead can bleed.”

  “Good hunting, Master,” Jeeves bowed.

  I triggered the jump.

  There was no transition zone this time. No moment of orientation.

  The instant I materialized, the air tasted of rot.

  It wasn’t just the smell of decay; it was a psychic weight. The mana here was thick, viscous, and cold. It felt like wading through oily water.

  I stood on the outskirts of what used to be a major industrial city. Now, bone-white walls, seemingly grown from thousands of fused skeletons, circled the perimeter. Green witch-fire burned in braziers made of skulls.

  And the silence.

  There were no birds. No wind in the trees. Even the mana felt still, stagnant.

  A shiver of genuine revulsion crawled up my spine. This wasn't just spooky; it was an affront to my [Domain]. Entropy is change. Fire is energy. This place was... Stasis. Forced, unnatural permanence.

  The tension here was heavy, like a drawn bowstring.

  I looked at the distant Tower. It was shrouded in a swirling vortex of green fog, barely visible against the dark sky.

  “Delta-33,” I whispered, my breath misting in the sudden chill. “Let’s see what you’re hiding.”

  I took a step, and the ground crunched.

  I looked down.

  It wasn’t gravel. It was teeth. Thousands of them, paved into a walkway leading to the bone-gates.

  “Cute,” I muttered, sensing the hundreds of malicious signatures waking up in the ruins ahead. “Azrael really commits to the theme.”

  I flared my mana, a beacon of white-gold starfire in the gloom.

  “Wake up,” I challenged the silent city.

  The silence broke with a collective, rattling moan.