The world had long since stopped believing in peace.

From the moment the first Spirit descended from the heavens and touched the earth with divine flame, Eidralis had become a realm ruled not by kings or laws—but by blessings.

There were 999 Spirits—each a living incarnation of a primordial concept: flame, time, gravity, death, silence, shadow, and so on. They existed far beyond mortal reach in a parallel realm called the Spirit Domain, where they watched, judged, and chose.

Those they favored were marked—branded with a Spirit Sigil—and given powers drawn from their patron’s domain. These chosen were known as the Blessed, ranked by strength:

F, E, D, C, B, A, S.

The rarest and most terrifying, however, bore True Blessings—gifts not just granted, but infused, allowing direct use of the Spirit’s Authority.

They were called the Twelve Apostles.

And their names were carved into history with blood and flame.

Above all this stood a lone entity. One Spirit that did not dwell in the Spirit Domain—but above it. One Spirit not tied to a single concept, but to creation itself.

The Spirit God.

Aetherion—the Infinite Breath.

It never spoke. It never chose. It had no Apostle.

Or so the world believed.

Floating between the earth and sky was a black spiral that pierced the stars—the Tower Beyond Spirits. A structure forged by Aetherion itself in the mythic past. It contained 100,000 floors, each home to a unique race, a climate, and a boss—a guardian that ruled the floor and whose defeat allowed access to the next.

At the summit, it was said, lay godhood.

To reach it meant to ascend beyond even the Twelve Apostles—to stand equal to the Spirits.

But no one had ever gone beyond Floor 72,944.

No one had ever come close to the top.

Until now.

In the capital city of Aetherveil, the Tower loomed in the distance, always present—like a second moon. Inside the walls of a prestigious academy, a student with violet hair and crimson eyes sat alone, his desk cracked beneath him.

He did not bear a Spirit mark. He had no family.

He had no rank.

His name was Shiro Caelum.

Age: Fifteen.

Status: Unranked

Spirit Affinity: ERROR

Origin: Unknown.

What the world didn’t know was that Shiro had been born at the summit of the Spirit Temple—where his parents, two Apostles, had vanished during a forbidden ritual to contact the Spirit God.

He was not supposed to exist.

He was the only living being ever to be blessed by the Spirit God itself.

His Powers:

✦ COPY:

The ability to perfectly replicate any skill, weapon, or item he has witnessed.

It transcends Spirit boundaries. He can copy Apostle abilities.

Over time, his copy may even evolve beyond the original.

✦ CREATE:

The ability to manifest any skill or item he can comprehend or imagine.

From scratch. From nothing. No blueprints required. No cost.

He once dreamed of a sword made of lightning. The next day, it appeared in his hand.

✦ REMOVE:

The rarest and most terrifying of the three.

The ability to delete any ability—his own or others.

Entire magic systems can be erased with a thought.

These three skills were not meant for mortals.

But Shiro was not mortal.

Not anymore.

The Great Races

High in the Tower dwell four races so powerful, they are considered beyond challenge—reigning over the final 500 floors each in eternal tension:

Angels – Wielders of celestial judgment and radiant law. Impossibly fast. Divinely organized.

Demons – Chaos incarnate. They grow stronger the more fear surrounds them. Dark sorcery is their weapon.

Dragons – Immortal elementals with hoards of Spirit Treasures. Each one could crush nations.

Giants – Towering behemoths with boundless physical power. One punch reshapes mountains.

No ordinary race dares challenge them.

The Apex Races Below

But not all power belongs to gods.

Some races—though not “Great”—are still feared across the Tower:

Oni – Brutal, war-obsessed berserkers. Their bloodlust increases their stats the longer they fight. Tribal, honor-bound, and feared for their spiritual resilience.

Elves – Masters of magic and nature. Though elegant, they are apex tacticians. An Elven High Mage can rival an S-rank Apostle for brief periods.

Dragonoids – Half-human, half-dragon hybrids. They lack the full might of Dragons but retain elemental breath, claws, and regenerative bloodlines. Many become solo climbers.

Dwarves – Short, stocky, and invincible in defense. Their artifacts can block Apostle-grade attacks. Their Spirit Smiths are the only mortals who can forge Divine-grade weapons.

Each of these races dominates entire tiers of the Tower—none of them are to be underestimated.

The Four Great Families

Humanity’s peak power, aside from Apostles, lies in four noble families—each blessed by a high-tier Spirit and known for their nearly indestructible bloodlines:

Aegis Family (Spirit: Spiruna – Defense)

Invincible forcefields, magical immunity, and battlefield control.

Umbra Family (Spirit: Talthir – Shadows)

Movement through shadows, ambush strikes, and stealth warfare.

Pyrael Family (Spirit: Fenros – Flame)

Control of dragonfire, phoenix rebirth, and explosive martial arts.

Varneth Family (Spirit: Oros – Stone)

Earthquake generation, body-hardening, and long-term endurance.

Each family rules a major nation on the lower Tower floors. Their descendants are born S-rank.

But even they are limited.

Shiro is not.

The Twelve Apostles

These legendary figures hold the only True Blessings. Each is tied directly to one of the highest-ranking Spirits and commands enough power to destroy cities alone.

They appear before the world only in times of great imbalance.

Many of them now feel a ripple—like thunder from the base of the Tower.

They know something has awakened.

They just don’t know what.

The Guilds

Starting from Floor 10, Tower climbers are introduced to guilds—structured organizations that pool resources, train members, and negotiate with Spirits.

The top three guilds:

Starlance – Led by an Umbra noble. Specialized in assassination and stealth.

Heartsworn – A humanitarian guild with healing, protection, and frontline defense units.

Crimson Howl – A savage combat-focused guild that recruits only high-A and S-rank fighters.

Shiro hates guilds.

He refuses to join, to kneel, or to share his strength.

Now, the world watches the TowerCam network. A single message flashes across screens from every corner of Eidralis:

[NEW ENTRANT DETECTED – CLASSIFICATION: ERROR]

[VIEWER COUNT: 982,213 and rising]

Inside the Tower’s entrance platform, a fifteen-year-old boy grips the floating livestream orb, silent and composed.

His red eyes glint with fury and purpose.

He remembers the day his parents vanished. The day his name was stripped from the history books. The day his only inheritance was silence.

“I’ll climb,” Shiro whispers.

“I’ll make the world remember what it chose to forget.”

And with that, he steps onto Floor 1.

Where even gods begin as prey.The moment Shiro stepped through the swirling gate of light, the Tower changed.

Wind howled like a beast’s cry.

The sky overhead was a churning purple, lit by twin suns and torn by jagged mountains. A thick, dry heat pressed against his skin, and the ground beneath him cracked like sun-scorched bone. Red dust swirled with every step.

Welcome to Floor 1: Territory of the Ashfang Marauders.

Race: Low-Tier – Marauderkin

Threat Level: D–

“Warborn beasts that crave combat. Tribal. Fast-breeding. Axe-wielding. Brutal.”

—Tower Codex Entry.

Boss: Kragthok, Fanglord of the First Flame.

Shiro scanned the empty canyon before him. Dust clouds rose in the distance. He could hear drums. Howling. Chanting.

They were coming.

A floating black orb zipped beside him, silently recording his every move—the Livestream Eye.

Already, over 1.2 million viewers were watching.

And Shiro hadn’t even drawn a weapon.

Within seconds, the Marauderkin appeared—twenty of them. Clad in bone armor, with fanged mouths and glowing orange eyes. They stood upright like men, but their bodies were too broad, their movements too animalistic.

The first lunged.

Shiro didn’t flinch. His crimson eyes followed the arc of the crude axe, and at the last second, he tilted his head.

The blade passed clean through the air.

He reached forward and touched the Marauder’s chest with two fingers.

[COPY: Bonebreaker Strike – Acquired]

Then he raised his hand and mimicked the motion.

Crack!

The Marauder’s ribs caved in. It flew backward ten meters, slammed against a stone wall, and crumpled.

The others hesitated.

“I don’t need spells,” Shiro muttered, cracking his knuckles. “I just need you to move.”

Another one screamed and charged, swinging downward with a rusted cleaver.

Shiro ducked, sidestepped, and landed a punch directly into the creature’s gut.

[COPY: Rage Howl – Acquired]

[COPY: Crimson Cleaver – Acquired]

He caught the dropped weapon in midair, and for a moment, his red eyes lit with eerie amusement.

“Let’s try this...”

He whispered under his breath:

“Create: Phantom Twin Cleaver.”

A second copy of the weapon materialized out of thin air in his other hand—glowing faintly with black flame.

The Marauders screamed. But it was already too late.

Shiro moved like wind and death. Every strike he made added another copied skill to his growing arsenal. Within one minute, seventeen bodies lay crumpled. The other three fled.

But the Tower wouldn’t let him rest.

A massive vibration rolled through the canyon.

From a stone altar in the distance, something moved.

The ground split as a twenty-foot monster rose—armored in molten rock, with six arms, each wielding a different weapon: axe, spear, hammer, scythe, blade, and flail. Its head was crowned with horns, and its chest bore the sigil of fire.

[BOSS ENGAGED: Kragthok, Fanglord of the First Flame]

Race: Advanced Marauderkin Mutant

Level: 18

Threat Class: High C

Even the Livestream Eye twitched—adjusting its angle to frame the beast fully.

Shiro let out a breath.

“Create: Anti-Flame Armor.”

Dark cloth and obsidian metal wrapped his frame in a spiral. A translucent veil of energy shimmered over his skin.

Kragthok roared.

The monster charged.

Clang!—The first hammer strike hit, but Shiro didn’t budge. Sparks exploded off the veil. Shiro tilted his head again, calm and expressionless.

“Copy: Tremor Stomp.”

He slammed his foot into the ground.

A shockwave blasted through the canyon, shattering stones and throwing Kragthok off balance.

“Copy: Flame-Eater Spear.”

One of the monster’s weapons fell, and Shiro caught it, twirling it once before driving it through the beast’s shoulder.

Kragthok shrieked.

“Remove.”

One word.

A flash of silver light surged through the boss’s body.

[Target Ability: Flame Body – REMOVED]

The heat vanished. The monster froze in shock, now stripped of its core elemental ability.

It was over.

Shiro leapt into the air.

Both arms outstretched, twin cleavers summoned with Create, and with a spin, he crossed them over Kragthok’s neck.

“This is the power I was given.”

SLASH!

The beast’s head flew from its shoulders.

A moment of silence.

Then—

[Boss Defeated – Floor 1 Cleared]

[Reward: Spirit Token x1 | Item: Emberheart Armor]

[Exp Gained – Level Up x4]

[New Level: 5]

In the Spirit Realm, the Spirits stirred.

Dozens of them had paused to watch this boy.

None had blessed him. None had sensed him. And yet he carried the presence of all 999.

The Spirit God watched in silence.

Back in the canyon, Shiro looked up at the floating camera.

He didn’t speak.

But he didn’t need to.

The world had seen it.

The boy who bore no Spirit mark.

The boy who fought like a god.

He climbed to Floor 2.