Deep beneath the world they knew—beneath kingdoms, ruins, and even the demon realm itself—lay the Tower of Echoes. An ancient place of forgotten magic and fractured reality. And at its heart, behind a sealed obsidian gate…
He waited.
The true soul.
The original.
The one both Serian and Malveth unknowingly came from.
---
The Slumber Wakes
The chamber was cold. Eternal. But even silence could not withstand the chaos stirring in the void.
He opened his eyes.
For the first time in years, the main body—once a nameless outcast, now the core of a divine experiment—sat up from his slumber.
Two orbs floated before him, glowing softly:
One pulsed golden light: Serian.
The other bled crimson: Malveth.
Both flickered erratically.
"They're waking up," he murmured, voice still rough with sleep. "Faster than I expected."
He walked barefoot across the starlit floor, touching each orb with reverence… and hunger.
> "I gave them life… roles… masks.
But they're starting to hear the truth beneath the lies."
---
Plans in Motion
With a gesture, the void unfolded like a book. Pages of fate turned—showing kingdoms rising, wars brewing, gods stirring from their divine sleep.
But the MC didn't flinch. He had planned for this. Every clone, every trial, every manipulated soul.
> "Let Serian struggle with purpose. Let Malveth drown in her devotion.
While they clash... I gather the last piece I need."
He wasn't just a puppet master.
He was the final convergence.
The Hero's strength, the Demon's will, and the truth of a forsaken god—they were all his.
---
A Whisper Sent
He closed his eyes and sent a pulse of magic into the world—a silent call.
One that only his clones could feel.
---
Far away, Serian clutched his chest mid-training, gasping as a phantom pain raced through him.
In the demon realm, Malveth stopped mid-battle, her eyes widening with a rush of heat and sorrow.
Both whispered the same thing:
> "He's awake…"
---
And the world, though it did not know it yet, had just stepped into the Endgame.