Yamino leaned back on his green-metal throne, eyes fixed on the floating gem at the center of the room, its pulsing light reflecting the flickers of realization in his own mind. Slowly, like a fog clearing, his memories began to resurface—this time not as fragments or guesses, but as a complete sequence. "So that's how I got here…" he muttered under his breath, voice low and edged with wonder. "I died... twice."
The weight of those words didn't crush him—it freed him. He finally understood. The first death, the betrayal. The second, the fall. And now, after absorbing the memory gem left behind by his future self, all the chaos, all the confusion—it made sense.
"This place… the Abyss," he whispered, looking around the transformed throne room. "I'm the master now. No… the king of this dungeon." He stood up and stretched his arms wide, letting the air—if it even existed in this place—brush against his intangible soul. "No wonder I couldn't leave. A king doesn't just walk away from his own kingdom."
His eyes sharpened as he recalled more. The memory was clear. He was on the 14th floor of the Abyss, and on this very floor, there were 15 separate dungeons. His hand tightened into a fist. "Tripod... That's the name. That's my dungeon now."
His gaze turned thoughtful. "And if the memories are right," he murmured, "then my body... it's still on the 13th floor. Already turned to bones." A chill went down his spine—not fear, but a hollow realization. He closed his eyes and placed a hand on his chest. "Ten years… I've been sleeping in this room for ten damn years…"
A small laugh escaped his lips, empty and yet alive. "While I was here, rotting in silence, the world just… moved on." His expression darkened as a certain face flickered in his mind—her. The girl who destroyed everything. His family. His future. Him. He could still feel the sting of betrayal in his soul.
He clenched his jaw. "Revenge…" He paused, the word hanging in the air. "Should I still want it?" He stared at his hands, fingers curled but not trembling. "After everything she did, I should want to burn it all down."
But then, after a long breath, he slowly shook his head. "No. Not now. Revenge is small. I need something bigger than that."
He sat back down, his posture now calm, regal. "Besides… my body might be bones now, but that doesn't mean I need it," he said with a smirk. "A king doesn't need the past to reclaim his future. If anything, it's time to build a new body. A better one."
He looked at the floating gem again, this time with something fierce behind his eyes. "In ten days…" he said, his voice quiet but unshakable, "it will all begin. The game of wars."
He chuckled, a low, cold sound echoing through the chamber. "And I need to hurry up."
.
.
Yamino stood in the vast, transformed throne room—his eyes sharp, steady, and filled with purpose. Now that the memories of his future self flowed through him like second nature, everything had changed. The fog of confusion was gone. There was only clarity… and time. Ten days. That was all he had before everything began again.
He paced slowly in a circle around the floating gem, letting his fingers drag along the air like a king surveying his battlefield. "So that's what happened…" he murmured. "In that timeline, there was no box. No letter. No warning."
His brow furrowed. That version of him—the one who never found the box—was left in darkness. Ten whole days of wandering around this soul dungeon, with no clue of what would come. And then, one day, he just fell asleep. Or at least, that's what he thought.
"But you didn't die," Yamino whispered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You were summoned. Just like a pawn pulled onto the board."
The Game Tower. The name echoed in his mind like a storm bell. A mysterious system that kidnapped beings from countless worlds, dragged them in, and forced them to play. That was the true beginning. That was where it all spiraled.
One million participants. Each from different dimensions, different realities. But none of them had their powers. "Locked… All of us were locked out of our abilities," Yamino muttered, fingers tightening into a fist. "And they called it a game..."
He looked toward the throne, a shadow flickering behind his eyes. "The War of Babylon," he said aloud, his voice turning cold. "A battle royale. Kill or be killed. Survive—or vanish forever."
He remembered it now—clearly. The rules were simple but brutal: the last 100 to die would be erased from existence. "No second chances," he said, gritting his teeth. "No soul body. No revival. Just… gone."
Yamino's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "And I—no, he—he didn't know what was coming." That version of himself, the one who'd stumbled into the War of Babylon blind, had no allies, no powers, and no guidance. All he could do was search.
"He tried to find a weapon," Yamino muttered, "something—anything—that would recognize him. That would accept him as master." But the game was cruel. Even the weapons had their own wills, and none of them wanted a soul with no form, no substance.
Still, he hadn't given up. That Yamino—the unprepared one—had tried forging a weapon of his own. He remembered the desperation, the long hours in the dark, the quiet agony of failure. "You didn't have the knowledge," Yamino whispered to himself, eyes downcast. "You didn't know how to work magical equipment. You didn't have the skill. You weren't ready."
Yet, even in that hopeless situation, there had been a flicker of light. A loophole. Because even in that twisted realm, he had entered as a soul. And souls were hard to kill.
"Top 50," Yamino said proudly, straightening his posture. "You made it to the top 50. That alone gave you a reward—knowledge, and a new body. A soul body, stronger than before." That moment was a turning point.
But it also became a curse.
Yamino's smile faded as another memory struck him—clear and brutal. "And that… that's what got you killed in the second game," he said, his voice low, almost hollow. "You thought you had a chance. But you were wrong."
He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "But now… I have those memories. I know what's coming. I know the rules of the tower. The faces. The threats. And the loopholes."
He opened his eyes again, sharp with newfound resolve. "This time, I'm not walking in blind. This time, I'll forge a weapon that will take me. I'll become a king not just in name, but in power."
He turned to the gem at the center once more. "Ten days," he whispered. "Let the countdown begin."