In 2035, humanity’s ordinary lifestyle fractured overnight when towering obsidian monoliths suddenly materialized across the globe. Concurrently, shimmering gates from other worlds encircled every major city, unleashing a relentless tide of monstrous creatures that flooded the streets without warning. Yet amid this apocalyptic chaos, an unexpected hope emerged: the rise of the Awakeners. These individuals—marked by an inexplicable genetic awakening—unleashed unimaginable abilities, their power increasing with each battle. As they cshed against the hordes, their strength grew exponentially, transforming them into legends. The cycle was clear: survival hinged on not merely fighting but evolving, turning every victory into a stepping stone against humanity’s darkest hour.

  By 2040, humanity’s fractured existence revolved around the enigmatic obsidian towers that dominated the skyline—each structure a byrinth of 100 floors teeming with deadly trials. Yet none had yet completed a full ascent. For those who dared to climb, every floor presented fresh horrors: hulking bosses guarding vaults of unimaginable loot, from swords capable of cleaving tectonic ptes to armor pting forged from molten starlight. With each victory, the Awakened grew exponentially stronger, their abilities transcending human limits.

  Their influence cascaded beyond battlefields. Cns emerged, amassing economic hegemony through traded relics and monopolized resources, reshaping global politics. The world’s obsession peaked when live streams of tower ascents went viral, fans dissecting strategies of warriors who became digital demigods—their faces pstered on billboards, their triumphs celebrated as cultural milestones. Yet fame came at a cost: reaching the upper floors meant trading humanity for myth, their very existence blurring the line between savior and catastrophe.

  The delicate bance of society shifted when the Awakened emerged, rendering ordinary humans obsolete. To the governments, a single high-ranker could be worth hundreds of "normals". Resentment festered like rot in their wake: Why should billions toil for crumbs when geniuses could snap their fingers get everything?

  Under the unyielding glow of the Awakened, lives shriveled into insignificance. Meanwhile, youth clung to fading hope, and some crumbled into despair as their dreams of awakening dissolved like sand in rain. Some drowned in the hollow echo of unlived lives; others spat venom at the gods they never became. The world split into two realms: those who were legends and those who were left to count the cracks in their shattered futures.

  I was a special case—a flicker of light in a world drenched in shadows. When my Awakening manifested, I was put into the abyss of F-Rank, the lowest tier beneath even the meager D-Rank "superhumans." To the outside world, D-Rank Awakened were respectable warriors; F-Rank? A punchline. A joke. Until it happened.

  Came the Ultimate Climber System—a cheat code etched into my soul the moment I unlocked its secrets. It mapped every hidden vault in the tower, revealed the monster’s weaknesses like a surgeon’s scalpel, and opened a VIP shop where even high-grade items could be cimed with a single thought.

  The system whispered promises: "You’re not a servant anymore." And damn if I didn’t start cwing toward the light. I fought countless battles, cleared some of the hardest floors and became a living god.

  ***

  The Tower of Ascension loomed over Seoul like a steel gargantuan, its obsidian walls shimmering with arcane runes that pulsed faintly in the moonlight. I, Sungwoo—Top ranked Awakened, Grandmaster, peerless among awakened warriors, the man with the most riches and the most bitches—stood at its base, my armored gauntlets clinking as I adjusted the straps of my legendary Hydra’s Fury set. The system had promised me glory here. Climb to the top, cim divine power, and ascend beyond mortal limits. Although, I didn’t care much completing the tower.

  I carved my path through another solo ascent—my signature style. I’d long rejected companionship; others only dragged me down. The only exceptions? Rarely, a chick with curves worth chasing. But today? Another routine scavenger hunt for rare materials.

  I towered over the competition, 10+ floors ahead of any rival Awakened. My collection of divine relics and forbidden tech was unmatched, hoarded in vaults only I could access. For years, it’d been a cycle: gather priceless fragments, sell them to bck-market tycoons, then spend the riches carelessly—luxury suites, exotic realms, decadent indulgences.

  Why bother with teams? Why risk splitting loot or sharing glory? I was the architect of this empire. And as long as the Ultimate Climber System hummed in my veins, no one could touch what I’d built.

  I materialized outside the tower. My test haul—a fistful of Celestial Shard Crystals and a fragment of the Void Dragon’s Scale—glinted in my pack. Should cover next month comfortably, I smirked, tossing the bag onto the passenger seat of my modified GT-R. But before I could even reach for the keys, a holographic interface flickered to life in front of me.

  A cold, digital voice sliced through the silence. "Tower Clearing Status: FAILED."

  “What?”

  I froze. The words glowed crimson in my face—a holographic window only I could see. My fists tightened. Failed? I’d dominated every floor, shattered barriers that even ancient immortals had faltered at. The system’s penalty flickered: "Host failed to clear the Tower before the countdown ended."

  “What the fuck is this?” The system’s usual calm tone had curdled into something cold, predatory—like a trap snapped shut on my throat. “The hell? I didn’t even know there was a damn countdown!”

  Another window fshed, bzing crimson letters that throbbed like a mortal wound:

  “UNWORTHY HOST: PLEASE TRANSFER THE SYSTEM TO A SUITABLE PLAYER, OR FACE PAINFUL DEATH.”

  My blood went cold. Unworthy Host. The system’s pulse in my veins stuttered, then surged violently, as if mocking me. I’d spent years hoarding secrets, climbing floors no one else dared—only to be kicked out like garbage because I’d missed some hidden rule? A countdown I never knew existed?

  My hands trembled as the car keys slipped from my grip. The system’s voice, usually a reassuring hum, now felt like a vice in my skull. This can’t be happening.

  "To transfer the Godly System, you must bear a child. Only a child may inherit the power through their mother. Initiating genetic compatibility assessment…"

  My body shivered as the system’s verdict materialized in my mind:

  "Genetic Incompatibility Detected."

  "What the hell?!" I roared, smming my fist against the window of my car. Sparks erupted from my gauntlet, but the voice remained icy, clinical. "Failure Penalty: System Transfer Activation. You will now undergo genetic reconfiguration to become fertile."

  Suddenly, a strange warmth bloomed between my shoulder bdes, like a hand pressing gently against my spine. I froze.

  “What the hell…?” My voice cracked as I shifted uncomfortably, but the heat spread faster than a spark. It crawled down my back, pooling in my gut, then surged outward—between my legs. A jolt shot through me, and I gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. My breath hitched as my testicles shriveled suddenly, sensitive and taut, before dissolving into a throbbing ache. A low moan escaped me, muffled by the car’s acoustics.

  Then came the swelling—a slow, voluptuous inftion in my chest. My shirt grew suffocatingly tight as my pecs softened, then rounded, swelling into fullness. The fabric strained against nipples that hardened violently, pebbled and aching. I gasped, arching my back involuntarily, the car seat creaking under the strain. “Fuck… what’s happening to me?!” My voice trembled, higher now, softer—a woman’s timbre.

  My hands flew to my chest, fumbling at the buttons of my shirt. The fabric split with a pop, cascading open to reveal my heaving breasts—plump and heavy, nipples flushed crimson. They jutted forward, throbbing with sensitivity, milk beading at the tips. I cried out, the sound airy and trembling, as pleasure crackled through me. My thumbs brushed the swollen peaks, and a shudder tore through my body.

  The tingling spread lower—my hips widening imperceptibly at first, then with a definitive click, my waist cinched until I could barely breathe. My thighs thickened, round and taut, muscles straining against the confines of my jeans. The denim grew impossibly tight, scraping against my new curves as I squirmed. “Shit—shit!” I hissed, but the word sounded foreign, melodic. Her voice.

  I gnced in the rearview mirror, breath catching. My reflection stared back—a woman in the making. My hips fred like an hourgss, my thighs swollen and creamy. The jeans hugged every inch of my ass, now plump and round, pressing against the seat with each shaky breath. My hands slid to my waist, tracing the narrow dip before cupping my rounded cheeks. They were full, heavy, perfect.

  My jawline softened, the sharp edges melting into a delicate curve. My short, buzzed haircut lengthened—strands cascading down to my neck, framing my face with wild, jet-bck waves. I tugged at a strand, feeling it slip through my fingers like silk. My hazel eyes widened, their depth shimmering with liquid amber, and my cheeks flushed crimson from my ears to the base of my neck.

  My lips parted, moist and swollen, and my tongue darted out to wet them—a slow, deliberate movement that mirrored the heat pooling low in my stomach. I bit my lip gently, the taste of blood sharp on my tongue, and gasped, “I… I don’t know what’s happening!” The words came out as a whimper, high-pitched and urgent.

  My pussy—now slick and throbbing—twitched against the leather seat. Juices seeped through my underwear, warm and sticky. I writhed, moaning into the steering wheel as the transformation crescendoed. My breasts swayed wildly, nipples aching for attention. I pinched one sharply, crying out, “Unnghh ~”—the sound raw and desperate—and a burst of pleasure radiated through my body, arching me backward.

  The car filled with the scent of my arousal—a sweet, musky perfume that made my head swim. My hands slid between my thighs, parting my folds to find myself already dripping. I rubbed clumsily, my clit throbbing under calloused fingers, and a scream tore from my throat—high-pitched and primal—as orgasm raked through me. My body trembled, breasts jiggling wildly, sweat soaking the seat beneath me.

  "New Designation: MILF (Mother of Divine Inheritance). Physical adaptations complete."

  The system’s ughter echoed in my skull. "Congratutions! You are now… feminine."

  My cracked front gss mirrored my fragmented reality—a jagged veil between who I was and who I’d become. My hands shook as I gripped the steering wheel, sweat soaking the leather. “This… this can’t be real,” I whispered, my voice trembling—higher now, softer, unfamiliar. The woman in the mirror was a stranger.

  I leaned closer to the rearview mirror, studying every detail. My jawline had softened, my cheekbones delicate. The stubble on my face had vanished, repced by smooth, fair skin glowing like moonlit porcein. “I look… pretty,” I muttered, half-ughing, half-weeping. The vulnerability in my hazel eyes felt alien—shy, yet magnetic. My hands instinctively cupped the swell of my breasts, fingers brushing hypersensitive nipples. A gasp escaped me, sharp and breathless. “This body… it’s like it’s alive, screaming for attention.”

  My mind raced. The system’s cold voice echoed in my memory: “Unworthy Host…” But there was no time—no going back. I needed answers. The guildmaster. The name surfaced like a lifeline. Kang Sung-hyun. A man in his 60s, but with the physique of an awakened warrior—broad shoulders, muscles etched like steel wire, and eyes sharp as a bde. The powerful leader of the Aurora Guild, he’d survived decades of transformations, turning weakness into strength.

  I have to see him, I decided, teeth gritting. The cracked windshield frustrated me, but it also symbolized my fractured identity—broken, yet still driving forward. The leather seat hugged my curves mercilessly as I cranked the engine. The radio bred static, but the hum of the road soon drowned it out.

  The highway stretched endlessly, taillights blinking like distant stars. My hands trembled on the wheel, thighs slick with arousal. Every bump in the road sent waves of pleasure through my thick, trembling legs. I bit my lip, stifling a whimper as my pussy clenched involuntarily. “Focus,” I growled, but my mind swam with contradictions—fear, curiosity, and desperate hope.

  The Aurora Guild loomed in the distance, its towering structure bathed in neon lights. I parked haphazardly, the car creaking on its cracked frame. The doors flew open before I could knock—but first, the lobby.

  The moment I stepped inside, eyes locked onto me like sharks circling prey. A receptionist girl with a clipboard nearly dropped it when I brushed past her. Her gaze snagged on the torn shirt clinging to my breasts, the sweat-slick thighs glistening under the fluorescent lights. “S-Sorry,” she stammered.

  “Wait—” I froze, turning back to her. My voice cracked. “Is… is Kang Sung-hyun here? Can I see him?”

  The girl blinked, startled by my boldness. Behind her, a group of lobby members leaned forward, phones forgotten. One muttered, “What’s with the dy?”

  “He’s in a meeting,” the receptionist said finally, but her hesitation betrayed curiosity. “But your clothes… are you okay?”

  I swallowed, my face burning. The truth hung between us—I’m not an Awakened anymore. I’m just… me. “Please,” I pleaded, my voice higher than usual. “It’s urgent. He has to help me.”

  The receptionist exchanged a gnce with another employee. Reluctantly, she nodded. “Wait here.” She disappeared into a side office, reemerging seconds ter. “He’ll see you. Third floor, elevator C.” Her tone softened, almost pitying.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, my cheeks burning as the lobby members smirked or shook their heads. The elevator doors dinged open, and I nearly collided with my own reflection in the polished metal—pale skin glowing, hair wild, lips parted. “Stop sweating,” I hissed at myself, but my hands trembled anyway as I pressed the button for the guildmaster’s floor.

  The elevator ride was a torture of proximity. My body hummed, every nerve alive—will he believe that this sexy woman was me? The doors slid open, and there he stood.

  Kang Sung-hyun.