"I think my legs just filed for divorce from my body," I gasped, collapsing on my back in a sweaty heap.

  Felix hit the stone beside me like a bag of wet cement, wheezing so hard I worried he might actually die. We'd climbed what felt like ten thousand steps, and every muscle in my body was staging a revolt.

  "I keep telling you to run with me in the mornings," Cassie scolded, standing over us like some kind of athletic goddess. She wasn't even breathing hard—just a light sheen of sweat that somehow made her look more badass instead of exhausted.

  "You're not human," I wheezed, staring up at her with something between admiration and hatred.

  She grinned wickedly. "I know. Now get up—we're almost there."

  She hauled me to my feet, and I nearly collapsed again when I saw what "there" actually was.

  The tower didn't just loom above us—it dominated reality itself.

  White stone and marble gleamed with impossible purity, climbing into the clouds like a spear thrust through the heart of heaven. Vines snaked along its surface, weaving through intricate carvings that seemed to breathe with ancient life. This wasn't just architecture—it was a monument to the gods themselves, a structure so massive it made skyscrapers look like toys.

  If the Tower of Babel had existed, this is what would have made God nervous.

  The waterfall behind it framed the structure in vertigo-inducing motion that messed with my balance. The constant roar filled my chest with thunder, and I could taste the mist on my tongue.

  Mana crackled stronger here—more than a tingle, electricity dancing across my skin like I was standing inside a Tesla coil. The building felt aware, like the stones might shift if I blinked wrong.

  For a moment, I forgot everything—the jungle, the creatures, even the coiled spring of danger in my mind. All I could do was stare, completely overwhelmed.

  This was Mount Olympus. Or something bigger.

  "Holy shit," I whispered, craning my neck back so far I nearly toppled over.

  My foot caught on uneven stone, and I hit the ground hard, staring up at towering spires that pierced the sky. Nothing on Earth looked like this. Maybe the pyramids when they were first built and covered in polished limestone. But this? This was untouched by time itself.

  Cassie offered her hand again, grinning at the awe plastered across my face. "Careful. We're not even inside yet."

  As we moved closer, details sharpened into impossible clarity. The carvings weren't just decoration—they were stories. Heroes locked in combat with monstrous creatures. Gods descending from the heavens. Entire civilizations rising and falling, all captured in stone with breathtaking precision.

  Every inch whispered of a history older than anything I could process.

  The people at the entrance were as diverse as the building itself. Bronze-skinned Florans caught light like living metal. Energetic Vildar darted between towering Gaians. And others—creatures with gleaming chitinous shells moving with fluid, insect-like grace.

  Languages buzzed through the air—some melodic, others harsh, and a few sounding disturbingly like perfect Mandarin.

  "Those shell people," I asked, curiosity overtaking awe. "What are they?"

  "Sentarians," Felix explained, frowning slightly. "Insect-kin. Harmless—dedicated to spirituality and hard work. Most only speak Eloquentia."

  I watched their jaws split into mandibles when they spoke, cat-like eyes tracking everything with unsettling precision. Their words were definitely Mandarin, but too perfect—like a politician with bouncy over-enunciation.

  One entered my aura range. They didn't seem to notice the effect, but I shuddered anyway.

  As we approached the tower entrance, Felix and I sighed in perfect unison at yet another set of stairs.

  "Wait." I sank onto the bottom step like a deflated balloon. "I need a minute."

  Cassie paused, concern flickering in her eyes. "What's wrong?"

  I gestured wildly at the impossible scene around us. "We were just in a tavern, right? Then a room with a talking mouse and a giant portal. Then a million stairs through a death jungle. If I walk through that door and find a desert full of more stairs, I might actually lose it."

  Felix chuckled knowingly. "Just a tower. No promises on the stairs though."

  "Maybe Gary can help when we're inside," Cassie added.

  I forced myself up, legs protesting every movement. A magical spirit named Gary ran a tower that defied physics. Why not?

  Curiosity won over exhaustion. Again.

  The massive doors stood slightly ajar, revealing glimpses beyond. As we climbed, the air thickened with electric potential. Each step sent energy rippling up my legs, as if the stones themselves were alive.

  Ancient wood stretched thirty feet high, covered in symbols and runes that pulsed with faint light, responding to our presence like we were expected.

  I stepped through the threshold, and static electricity washed over me. Hair stood on end, a shiver racing down my spine that had nothing to do with temperature.

  The room beyond stole what little breath I had left.

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  The ceiling soared impossibly high, supported by columns thick enough to house elevators. Intricate carvings of beasts locked in eternal battle adorned the walls. The floor was a mosaic of tiles arranged in complex patterns that seemed to shift when I wasn't looking directly at them.

  But the most striking feature was the circular door at the far end—or rather, a boundary. Energy hummed around it, making the air taste like copper pennies. An ancient vault door complete with a stone disc, standing twice my height. Beyond lay what looked like a grand hall bathed in warm light.

  Between us and that portal sat marble tables staffed by formally robed Vildar engaged in animated conversations with visitors. People lined up, talked, and then passed through the circular door.

  Otherworldly customs.

  The Vildar were cartoonishly adorable—earnest expressions and oversized robes making them look like children playing dress-up. But nothing childish about their professional efficiency.

  "Lady Cassandra and Young Master Aldertree!" an enthusiastic Vildar called out, waving with coffee-fueled energy. "Who's this? Where's Chas?"

  Felix stepped forward as I tried processing the grandeur. "Ben—Unbidden. Chas went on another adventure."

  "The Unbidden she mentioned," the Vildar said, pointing at me with a tiny finger. The gesture would've been cute except for how their expression shifted to weary resignation. "Any idea how much trouble you've caused? The paperwork alone..."

  Dramatic sigh. Then they caught my expression. "Don't look like that. I'm a door-mouse—it's my job. We're skipping steps for your friend. Time is of the essence!"

  Door mouse? Like Alice in Wonderland?

  "Skip steps?" Felix looked bewildered.

  "The… uh, Head Mistress wants to meet him. Before registration! Which is new, but she's the boss." Muttering under their breath: "She doesn't do the paperwork."

  The Vildar opened a passport-sized booklet, turning it toward me with practiced efficiency.

  "Place your hand on the Manascript."

  I touched the paper and felt a powerful tug—like when I'd hit the Glid with Winchester, but deeper. More invasive.

  Something in my mind asked, "Who the fuck are you?

  Gasping, I pulled back and watched words populate in real time, letters appearing like invisible ink under heat.

  Name: Ben Crawford (Unbidden)

  Origin: Uh, Earth?

  Designation: Dignitary - ???

  Underneath the designation line, haphazard characters spelled: "Piss off. Whatever I tell you to do, that's what you do."

  The Vildar snatched it back, glanced at the page, did a double-take, then waved us through with an expression suggesting this was far above their pay grade.

  "Just like that?" Felix asked.

  "Your mom runs the place," Cassie started.

  "Mother created most of these rules," Felix replied. "Have you met me? The guy who hates rules?"

  Everything felt surreal as we walked toward the portal. But when we stepped through—

  This wasn't just a tower.

  We stood on a mezzanine overlooking a vast circular atrium that stretched endlessly up and dozens of floors down. The space thrummed with activity—beings from every walk of existence moving with purpose.

  Marble floors gleamed like mirrors, reflecting floating orbs of light that drifted like lazy fireflies. A symbol—a circle with two crossing spears behind a glowing blue crystal—appeared everywhere: banners, stone walls, intricate tapestries.

  I gripped the railing with white knuckles, staring down at organized chaos. Each floor had its own purpose, every person contributing to this impossible complex's pulse.

  One level: a red-skinned Floran channeling fire into an orb while a Vildar adjusted controls. The orb grew white-hot, painful to look at directly.

  Another level: four people dueling with wooden weapons, moving with fluid grace. A Vildar among them fought with a staff, seeming to win while bouncing around like physics were suggestions.

  Real Master Splinter shit.

  "First time here, I couldn't stop staring either," Cassie chuckled, leaning casually against the railing. "Took days."

  "You were a kid," Felix corrected affectionately. "Now we need to get you to Mother's waiting room. Forty-eighth floor. Tower navigation is weird—floors move around."

  "Wait, what? How does that work?" My brain was already at capacity for impossible things.

  Several Gaians with massive bows brushed past, entering my aura range. I sighed. This was getting old fast.

  Felix grinned. "No idea!"

  "Good day, Ben Crawford," a presence popped into Bravery's range like it materialized from nothing.

  I staggered backward, the spring in my mind coiling tight.

  "Gaia's sweet tits!" Cassie shouted. "Why do you always do that, Gary?"

  I turned to see a bald, mustachioed man with uncanny valley features, wearing colorful green and orange robes like traditional Chinese Hanfu.

  "Because I can," he replied, voice smooth as silk. "I'm to bring you directly to the forty-eighth floor. This way."

  Gary motioned toward the wall, and double doors that hadn’t been there before faded into existence, swinging open silently.

  Beyond lay a massive chamber filled with white cloth sheets hanging from high ceilings, swaying in a jasmine-scented breeze. Through the gaps, I spotted a generous sitting area.

  We walked through, and the door vanished like it had never existed, revealing a wide stairwell with our room perched at the top.

  "Shit, more stairs. Thanks Gary!" I called down.

  "Of course, Dignitary Crawford," he replied, appearing behind me and nearly sending me tumbling.

  That was getting old fast too.

  Gary led us through billowing sheets into a seating area flanked by a massive balcony opening into the tower's interior. The view was dizzying—suspended in the middle of that vast atrium from a completely different angle.

  "Please sit," Gary motioned toward the couches and chairs covered in an abundance of pillows. "Eat." The table suddenly overflowed with fresh fruit, aged cheese, and cured meats that made my mouth water.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice!” Cassie swiped an apple and flopped into a chair.

  "My apologies, Lady Cassandra, but Master Sky requires a report about the Spirit Realm. You should change out of your armor. Your friend can rest here and decompress." Gary's tone carried authority despite polite phrasing, eliciting groans from both Felix and Cassie.

  "Fine," Cassie said, poking at the frayed leather with distaste. "We won't be long. Hopefully, we'll get paid."

  "I assure you, you'll return before your mother arrives," Gary told Felix.

  Then I was alone.

  For the first time since this ordeal started—since waking in that dark room, the tavern, the Glids, the jungle—I was truly alone.

  I could leave. But where? Back to the jungle with raptors? Down to explain to a door-mouse that I'd changed my mind about existing?

  I sank onto a couch, softness contrasting with hours of rigid stone. My body ached everywhere—from fighting, walking, so many fucking stairs.

  But my mind was worse. Information overload had triggered a tension headache that felt like my skull might crack.

  A lot had happened. No—my entire reality had shattered, and somehow I was keeping it together. I leaned back against soft pillows; the tower sounds distant and muffled by height and swaying linens.

  The weight of everything hit at once—the dome, dying sun, monsters, sheer impossibility.

  I should be terrified.

  Questions I'd been shoving down came flooding back. Where was here? What had I been thrown into? What was I supposed to do now?

  I closed my eyes, letting the hum of magic and distant voices lull me into a fragile calm.

  Then I saw it—actually saw it. Burning bright between sight and senses, like when I floated through space. A rune. My rune.

  Bravery.

  It reminded me of everything I loved—superheroes, video games, anime, tabletop RPGs, adventure. Everything about stories that made life worth living. It blazed hot in my mind's eye, feeling foreign and perfectly natural simultaneously.

  Burning legs snapped me back to reality. Hours of stairs and walking.

  When I turned my senses back to Bravery, it was gone—still present, but now just out of sight.

  I organized thoughts like dumping out a puzzle—a thousand pieces, starting by finding edges. I needed to ask questions.

  Not yet. First, I needed—