They used to say the world would end in fire. Or ice.
That it would be a war, a virus, a bomb. A slow decay. A sudden blink.
They were all wrong.
It ended with a tremble. Then a pull. Then a scream that never stopped.
And the world began again.
Day 1 – The Tremble
It started with the birds.
They vanished.
By midday, the animals were gone too—dogs howled, cats clawed at locked doors, cattle broke fences and fled. The Earth didn't rumble yet, but it felt like the planet was holding its breath.
By nightfall, every tectonic sensor on Earth had lit up like a warning flare. Africa glowed red on satellite feeds, a silent heartbeat pulsing in its core.
Day 2 – The Pull
Seas rose. Gravity felt strange.
Coastlines shifted by the hour, not the century. South America twisted eastward. India bulged forward like it was magnetically drawn toward the African Rift.
No government could explain what was happening.
But deep in old temples, beneath dusty scrolls and half-forgotten scripts, the word "Convergence" began to appear again and again.
Day 3 – The Shatter
The sky split.
Cities fell into oceans. Oceans poured into valleys. A line of fire ran across the Pacific as the seabed heaved upward, hurling tsunamis across both coasts.
Satellites failed. The internet collapsed.
Civilization vanished with a scream.
Day 4 – The Turning
Africa stood firm.
At its center, ancient lands were silent. No earthquakes, no floods, only a hum—a pulse that echoed in the bones of the last survivors.
The Atlantic narrowed. The Americas inched closer. Asia twisted like a serpent around the cradle of Earth's birth.
Some said it was the end.
Others whispered: it was the beginning.
Day 5 – The Collision
The continents met.
Not gently. Not diplomatically.
They slammed together with the force of a million wars. Mountains erupted in seconds. Rivers disappeared overnight. Cities were erased like chalk drawings in the rain.
What remained was a single landmass—scarred, molten, massive. A broken jigsaw puzzle fused by divine force.
Day 6 – The Silence
The volcanoes came next. Ash blanketed the world. The sun vanished.
It snowed in the Congo. Lightning danced across frozen deserts.
And yet… a calm swept over the storm. Survivors began to feel it—a hush, just beneath the terror.
Something was watching.
Day 7 – The Shadow
Disease followed ruin. Without power or medicine, people faded quickly.
But those who lived began to dream.
Dreams of staircases made of stars. Of horns echoing across black skies. Of a tower that stretched from the roots of the Earth into infinity.
Day 8 – The Pulse
A shockwave spread across the supercontinent.
Machines froze. Old weapons cracked. Magnetic fields realigned.
Those still alive awoke with burning skin, strange symbols on their arms or faces. Some could lift stones like feathers. Others heard whispers in the wind.
And all felt something ancient stirring beneath their feet.
Day 9 – The Mirror
The Earth, now whole, reflected a new face.
Plants regrew at unnatural speed. Beasts evolved—or were born. Ruins became sacred. Temples blinked with light. Trial Zones revealed themselves to those who wandered near.
It was no longer Earth.
It was something… else.
Day 10 – The Threshold
No hunger. No sleep. No thirst. Wounds healed overnight.
It was as if the world had reset itself.
The last humans stood in the shadow of crumbled skyscrapers, beneath holy trees, beside glowing stones. They looked to the sky and waited.
And the sky, finally, answered.
Day 11 – The Horn and the Choice
They woke as one.
No hunger. No wounds. No weakness.
They could feel their heartbeat. Their breath.
But nothing hurt anymore.
Then came the horn.
It sounded through trees, mountains, ruins—everywhere.
Some dropped to their knees. Others raised weapons.
Then came the voice.
"Ahem. Can you hear me?"
It was sarcastic. Strange. Like someone half-performing a skit and half-announcing a prophecy.
"Of course they can, Watson," another voice snapped. "Just speak."
"Shut up and let me do this right."
He coughed once. Twice. Then cleared his throat dramatically.
"Today marks the greatest day of your miserable little lives."
"The Gate to the Tower… opens."
A few survivors blinked. Others looked toward the sky, expecting… anything.
"In five years' time, all will be summoned. But today… you get to choose. Join the Tower now, or wait. Every year, you'll be asked again. Until the Fifth Year. Then? No more choices."
A loud crash echoed through the world.
"Oof—ahh! Sorry! Sorry!" said a breathless, excited girl's voice.
"It's the greatest place in the universe!" she gushed. "Power, glory, treasure—everything you've ever dreamed!"
"Penelope—" the voice muttered.
"What?"
"You're ruining the drama."
"Oh. Right. Sorry!"
The first voice sighed.
"As my overly enthusiastic colleague said… yes. All of that is true. But with power comes risk. Glory comes with a price. You've been warned."
His voice dropped to a velvet whisper. The kind villains use before someone dies in stories.
"If you stay… your world has changed. Trial Zones will open. Each one is unique. Dangerous. Some ancient. Some hidden. If you survive, you gain something no one else can ever take from you."
"And now—Penelope?"
"Right! Your core is active now! That's your power source. Say Status, and you'll see a personal window with your stats, class, attributes, hunger, thirst—everything!"
"Say Map and you'll see the world around you. It'll grow as you explore."
"Okay, that's it—bye!"
Another cough.
"You now have three hours to say Ascend and enter the Tower. After that… you wait a year."
"Choose well."
And the world fell quiet again.
Except for the word echoing in every mind.
Ascend.