The ocean swallowed sound.
No wind.
No current.
No light beyond what the White Tower allowed.
Drax descended without resistance.
The water did not crush him. It parted around him, folding away from his body like a curtain pulled back for something older than depth. Abyssal essence cloaked his lungs, replacing air effortlessly. He did not swim.
He simply walked downward.
Above him, distant silhouettes followed.
Other contenders.
Some encased in shimmering domains that forced the sea to retreat from their skin. Others shaped currents into breathing spheres. One tore oxygen from dissolved particles directly. Different methods.
Different levels.
All heading toward the same unseen threshold.
The deeper they went, the colder it became—not in temperature, but in memory. The sea here held remnants of failed climbers. Shattered domains. Broken monarch candidates. Erased legends.
Drax felt them brush against his senses.
And absorbed them without effort.
"…Free essence," he muttered faintly.
Then the seabed came into view.
Not sand.
Not stone.
A vast circular platform carved from something that looked like bone and marble fused together. Runes spiraled outward in layered rings, glowing faintly white. At its center stood a massive sealed archway—smooth, featureless, impossibly tall.
The entrance.
And coiled around it—
Something breathed.
The water shifted violently.
A single golden eye opened in the darkness.
Then another.
Then dozens.
The abyss of the sea bent around the creature's presence as a colossal body unfurled from the trench surrounding the gate. Scales the size of buildings. Fins like torn continents. A serpentine body that circled the platform three times before disappearing into blackness again.
A Leviathan.
Not merely large.
Ancient.
Its body pulsed with essence so dense it distorted perception. Sovereign tier wasn't enough to measure it. It was older than ranking systems. A remnant of an age when classification meant nothing.
The other contenders froze.
Domains flared instinctively.
The Leviathan's eye rotated slowly—
And locked onto Drax.
The water trembled.
Then the creature inhaled.
It did not create bubbles.
It created silence.
"…That scent," the Leviathan rumbled, its voice vibrating through water and bone alike. "Hmm."
The pressure spiked.
Some of the other contenders immediately retreated backward, instinct screaming at them to flee. One cracked under the weight and vanished—forced out before even reaching the gate.
The Leviathan leaned closer to Drax.
"…Is that you," it murmured, voice deep as tectonic plates shifting, "Mephilisto?"
A ripple of abyssal light shimmered beside Drax.
Mephilisto manifested fully here—clearer than she ever had above the surface.
"Yeah," she replied casually. "It's me."
The Leviathan's eyes narrowed faintly.
"So this is your master now."
Drax didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't bow.
The creature studied him.
Then a low rumble echoed—something between a chuckle and an earthquake.
"Interesting."
Its gaze sharpened.
"Very well. Enter."
It shifted slightly, revealing more of the circular platform and the archway behind it.
"It is not as though what waits at the top is not already yours."
The words lingered heavily.
Drax's eyes flickered faintly.
So Mephilisto was known back then… in the Old Era.
He stepped forward.
The Leviathan did not stop him.
Behind him, the other contenders exchanged uneasy glances before advancing cautiously. None dared approach the Leviathan too closely.
At the center of the platform, a glowing circle ignited beneath Drax's feet.
The runes reacted instantly.
White light surged upward.
Mephilisto glanced at him once.
"This is where it separates," she said.
Drax nodded.
"See you inside."
The light swallowed him.
Floor One
He landed silently.
No ocean.
No tower walls.
Just… space.
An endless expanse of black sky stretching infinitely overhead. Beneath his feet—solid ground, dark and reflective like polished obsidian.
But the air felt different.
Heavy.
Intentional.
Everyone who entered began on Floor One.
But each Floor One was different.
A personal arena.
The same tower.
Separate realities.
The difficulty scaled to rank.
Drax was Unmeasured.
Which meant—
Beyond Sovereign.
The air vibrated.
A voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere.
Ancient. Neutral. Uncaring.
"The one who owns the abyss… is the abyss."
The words sank into him like a blade pressed gently against skin.
Drax's eyes sharpened.
The ground in front of him rippled.
Black substance seeped upward—thick, tar-like, alive.
It gathered.
Condensed.
Rose.
A figure formed from the darkness—tall, armored in layered shadow, horns curling backward from a helm forged of condensed void. Its body radiated crushing pressure.
Peak Sovereign Tier.
Its aura erupted outward violently—
And began thinning instantly.
Drax smiled faintly.
His Abyssal Sword manifested in his hand—black steel laced with endless depth, humming softly as if pleased.
The monster roared.
But the sound distorted halfway.
Its essence was being pulled.
Not forcibly.
Not aggressively.
Passively.
Like water spiraling down a drain.
Drax stepped forward.
Slowly.
Each step he took caused black liquid to spread from beneath his feet, rippling outward like an expanding sea.
The monster lunged—
And Drax kept walking.
The black sea deepened.
Widened.
Claimed the floor itself.
The first battle of the tower had begun.
And the abyss was smiling.