It was the final day of 2025.
And the world brimmed with anticipation.
New goals.
New resolutions.
New beginnings.
But no one—not a soul—was prepared for what struck at exactly 11:59 PM, a single breath before midnight's chime.
The ground screamed.
A cataclysmic roar tore across the planet as the earth itself howled in agony.
Fissures lanced through skyscrapers and rainforests, highways and oceans, as though the crust of the world cracked beneath the weight of divine judgment.
And then came the towers.
No..
The Spires of Transcendence.
Hundreds of obsidian monoliths exploded from the underworld.
They tore through asphalt, split mountains, and pierced coastlines like cosmic spears—jagged, black, unholy.
Each one pulsed with a dull, malevolent heartbeat.
With them came the monsters.
Demonic.
Celestial.
And others that defied comprehension—entities that had never belonged in this reality.
Then came the voice.
Cold.
Metallic.
Omnipresent.
It wasn't heard.
It was imposed—burned into every mind on Earth:
[SYSTEM UPDATE: WORLD INTEGRATION COMPLETE]
[Welcome, Humans. Your world has been selected for the Transcendent Trials Initiation.]
Survive. Conquer. Ascend. Or Perish.
[All survivors will be assigned a random bloodline.]
[Afterwards, you will choose between 5 class types]
➤Melee
➤Magic
➤Stealth
➤Summoner / Tamer
[This process will last for 30 minutes. Failure to choose will result in erasure.]
[After 30 minutes… the Trials begin.]
[Best of luck.]
Panic.
Chaos.
Collapse.
Governments crumbled.
Power grids failed.
Faith fractured.
In mere seconds, everything humanity believed—every system, every truth—was undone.
At the epicenter of this upheaval stood the Central Spire.
Taller than any other. Towering into the clouds and beyond—an endless monument of shifting black stone and humming dread.
But the Spire wasn't just a dungeon. It was a force of evolution—a test. One that punished stagnation.
It operated on Cycles.
For every ten floors that remained uncleared, the Central Spire fractured—birthing Minor Spires across the world. Each one a splinter of its will, a seed of chaos meant to force the Chosen forward.
[Spire Fracture Protocol – Active]
Uncleared Floor Threshold Met.
1 Minor Spire has spawned.
The Trials did not wait.
They hunted the idle.
Those who survived the initial purge were called Chosen.
But the few who rose, adapted, and reshaped this new world?
They were called Catalysts.
That was five years ago.
Now, Earth belonged to the strong.
Presidents? Worthless.
Corporations? Dust.
Currencies? Forgotten relics.
Stats replaced status.
Power replaced politics.
Strength became law.
And at the center of it all stood the Spires—colossal, obsidian titans scattered across every continent, glowing with silent pulses like the heartbeat of some watching god.
They were the beginning.
They were the end.
Far from the megacities and faction-wars, in a forgotten village swallowed by time, a lone figure stood atop a crumbling bell tower.
Wind shrieked between ruined stone columns, carrying dust and the ghosts of a world that once was.
His white dress shirt billowed in the wind, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
A crimson tie flared like a battle-worn flag across his chest.
He was tall—6'1, lean with the build of someone carved by war.
Silver hair danced like wildfire in the sunlight, fractured by clouds.
One eye glowed crimson.
The other, violet.
Both shimmered with memory—and loss.
Miles Valor.
That was the name the world knew now.
But before Earth ever saw a Spire—before the word Ascend meant survival—he had another name.
Tysis Cage.
The Divine Slayer.
The Hero of Xyani.
The fool who saved a world… and was repaid with betrayal.
He inhaled deeply, the cold air burning in his lungs, and his gaze locked on the horizon—where a new Spire pulsed like a wound beneath the storm-forged sky.
"So," he murmured into the wind, voice smooth but edged with iron and grief,
"it followed me after all."
In Xyani, the Spires brought power.
Then chaos.
Then the illusion of peace.
People became gods.
Then crumbled harder than they'd ever risen.
Tysis clawed his way to the summit—slaying nightmares, clearing Ascendant Floors, uniting fractured kingdoms under one banner.
And in the end?
They stabbed him in the heart.
He remembered everything:
The searing agony.
The crushing betrayal.
The sky shattering like glass as the System passed its final judgment.
[VICTOR: TYSIS CAGE]
[DIMENSIONAL REBIRTH GRANTED]
[THE WAR IS NOT OVER]
[ANOTHER WORLD NEEDS YOU]
Then—blackness.
Until he woke here.
New world.
New name.
Same cursed Squires.
Miles descended the tower's crumbling stairs, dress shoes crunching against broken stone.
A dark interface flickered into view:
[User Recognized: Tysis Cage (Alias: Miles Valor)]
[Status: Transcendent Trials – Victory Achieved]
[Rewards Pending…]
[Last Logged Action: Betrayal and Death by Allied Parties]
[Standard Class Assignment: Denied]
[Override Engaged…]
[Recompense Protocol Activated]
[Reason: Victory Achieved, Reward Stolen]
[BLOODLINE: CATALYST PRIME]
[Designation]: Unique / Singular / Origin-Class
Status: Uncopyable. Untransferable. Incompatible with conventional systems.
Description: You are the spark the System failed to extinguish. The anomaly it could not tame. The first to break fate—and rewrite it.
[Unlocked Nodes]
Catalyst Node: Bloodline Devour
➤Absorb and assimilate traits, affinities, or passive abilities from defeated bloodlined enemies—or those who surrender willingly.
➤Stored within Catalyst Core for future fusion or deployment.
Catalyst Node: Fractured Inheritance
➤Echoes from your past life awaken in key moments—granting temporary access to legendary skills, instincts, or defiant system-breaking abilities.
[CLASS: GL!TCH]
[Classification]: Hybrid / Unstable
Description: A class born of contradiction. You are the error. The outlier. The deviation.
You walk all paths—and none.
Each glitch shatters a rule. Each victory rewrites one.
[Unlocked Nodes]
Glitch Node: Multiclass Access
➤Partial access to all five class types. Grows to full mastery over time.
➤Allows free equipping of multiple class abilities.
Glitch Node: Corrupted Evolution
➤Leveling unlocks limitless evolution.
➤Evolutions may yield rare skills—or break you entirely.
"This is..different." Miles said quietly, his voice low but resolute.
"Last time… we weren't assigned bloodlines. Just a random class. Then tossed into the chaos."
He had been lucky back then—granted [Melee] with a warrior subclass.
Now?
Now he had access to everything.
A bloodline no one else had.
A power born from betrayal.
Maybe dying wasn't such a bad deal after all.
"Miles! Dinner is ready!"
He blinked and turned toward the sound.
Not yet. He didn't want to deal with the Spires. Not this time.
He was done chasing power.
"Coming, Mrs. Ying!" he called back, descending the hill toward a modest wooden cabin tucked between frost-bitten trees.
Ying Zhu—a kind, elderly widow—had found him days after he awoke in this world. She thought he was dead, half-buried in snow.
But he'd opened his eyes.
In return for shelter, he'd helped her with repairs, chopping wood, tending crops.
She called him a "troubled soul with a good spirit."
Said he carried too much weight for someone so young.
He smiled at the thought… until the smell hit him.
Metallic.
Rusty.
Fresh.
His heart clenched.
Blood.
Miles narrowed his eyes and broke into a sprint.
Only one thing ran through his mind:
Mrs. Ying.
He reached the cabin door within minutes—and kicked it open with a sharp side-kick that cracked the frame.
"Mrs. Ying! Where are yo—!"
The lights clicked on.
And he froze.
Blood smeared across the walls.
A message—written in jagged strokes like it was carved in desperation.
[You don't have a choice, 'Miles.'
Join the Trials or more people will die.]
Mrs. Ying… gone.
Her rocking chair overturned. Plates shattered. No sign of a struggle—but no sign of her, either.
He stepped toward the blood.
Kneeled.
Touched it.
Warm.
Fresh.
A chime echoed in his ears.
[Blood sample acquired.]
[Would you like to activate Bloodline Devour LV.1]
[Yes] or [No]