The book in the tower fell to the ground. The books that had been so well preserved were now rotten and blackened, as if the magic that had protected them was gone.

Ed took a silent look and went to the bottom of the tower - he didn't care about it now.

There were no cracks here, and the golden light mist still permeated the entire space, just as thin as the sun under the winter clouds. Ed crouched down, staring at the sapphire embedded in the center of the ground—it wasn't broken, though the thin cracks inside were clearly visible, but it was as stubborn as this tower...... Remains intact.

Ed gripped Calebrynn's cane tightly, ashamed. He called himself the "guardian" of the land, and even refused the title of "master" used by Ankran...... But what could he do for it? He didn't ask a word knowing that Nia was blocking his connection with the tower, and there was actually a faint sense of relief beyond the self-consolation of "maybe he was really doing it for my good".

He reached out and touched the gem, which still seemed to have a starry light flowing in it.

It's still alive...... The tower is still alive.

He had heard it here, ethereal, not like the language of any race, but he understood every word in an instant.

It wanted him to understand.

But at this moment, he was crouching here, so close to it, but so far away that it seemed to be separated by countless worlds.

He knelt down and prayed close to the deep blue of the sea, as if listening to the tower's heartbeat.

"Hindered" - he thought.

He didn't lose it.

He threw down his staff and pressed his folded hands against the gem. He barely remembered what he had done – many times what he did was more instinctive, like ...... He used to do.

The possibility made him involuntarily creepy, so he always tried not to think about it. But now, he had to "remember".

He didn't try to dig out the bits and pieces of his hidden memories, he just let his mind go blank and didn't want to think about anything other than to "listen".

"Tell me ......"

He unconsciously muttered, "Tell me." ”

The tone was more reverent than his few prayers to the gods.

The floating mist of light gradually coalesced around him, covering him, but he didn't see it—he had closed his eyes.

At first, it was as if a thin stream of water had entered his consciousness...... However, the water was as hot as fire, and there was a faint blood red in the sun-like gold.

A blood-colored mist of light spread through his soul.

He heard a low voice, like a roar from the ground...... Like the wind blowing through the burning furnace of the dwarves.

A strange black powder came out of the furnace, a faint silver glow sticking to the dwarves' bushy beards, like metal but not metal, and the continuous spells of the mages wrapped around the hard rock, building the foundations of the towers, half standing on the solid earth of this world, half being pulled into the void that existed nowhere.

The rocks grow up like plants with life. Three towers are connected to each other, and long staircases and bridges crisscross each other, connecting countless rooms. The crowned king climbed the stairs and surveyed his realm...... His kingdom alone. Here are the stones and gold coins, and the sharpest weapons and the strongest armor are stacked there. The frenzy in his eyes wasn't due to looking up to something more powerful...... He was obsessed with his own power, the immortality he longed for.

However, manpower is limited.

The tower can no longer grow. The gravel cracked and peeled off like charred dead flesh. The powerless king roared wildly in anger and fear, and the courtiers, who had long since had no patience, whispered in the darkness that the kingdom seemed to be about to fall.

The uninvited mage was tall and thin, with a pair of bright eyes on his burnt yellow face...... There was almost the same fervor burning in his eyes as the king.

"I'll build this tower. He said, "I'll make it high enough to poke in the ass of some god." ”

He laughed to himself.

The power of the mage Discord does not come from the gods, and he doesn't care about anything...... But he really wanted to build the tower. And as long as the tower can be built, the king will not care about anything.

The rocks are piled up in another way. Scattered, twisted, and obsessively upward, upward, three towers entangled in a propping into the sky, like hands trying with all their might to pluck off the stars.

One day, however, the mage ceased to appear.

The king wandered in despair like a trapped beast in his tower. His familiar staircase leads to unfamiliar places, or anywhere he can't reach. He couldn't find anything he wanted, and his stone throne disappeared around corners he didn't know...... Then, as he roared out of the tower, he was beheaded by a sword from his former friend, his eyes still staring at the spire that was too tall to see.

The new king closed the tower and never set foot in his life. Time passed, and it seemed to be forgotten...... It simply cannot be forgotten.

But the tower no longer has an owner.

It silently guards all its treasures – its treasures. It silently guards itself. The power of chaos is like an undercurrent in the water, flowing in the air, in the rocks, flowing through every uninvited guest. The decaying corpses turned to white bones in the darkness, and the souls that could not escape lingered and wailed. Their lives and souls have become its nourishment, and it still harbors a certain desire...... The desire to grow upward.

But it can't grow anymore.

Magic is connected into closed rings, no matter where the power originally came from. They flowed like blood, grew like vines, and their invisible tentacles reached out to every rock, making them indestructible.

It is born for eternity...... It will be there forever.

Another king came and went, leaving behind his treasures. He walked everywhere he could, and he tried to see through the secrets that were hidden in the darkness...... But it doesn't belong to him. It doesn't belong to anyone anymore.

For a long time, the only thief it couldn't stop had long golden hair and green eyes. He was covered in blood, and in his dying body was an ancient and powerful soul. He placed a little girl on a stone seat belonging to the king, and he found its veins between the rocks, leaving a strange imprint.

It had almost no effect on it, like a small scar on a luxuriant tree that wouldn't go away, but it was easy to ignore.

It stood there alone, looking down at the bustling city beneath the clouds at its highest point. It hears the murmuring of water, it sees people looking up to it, it hears its name come out of different mouths with all sorts of different stories, again and again, year after year.

It was a name that neither the king nor the mage had given it. It thinks, it loves, whether it's the Black Tower, or the Triple Tower.

That's what it is.