Alex stood up from his sitting position. One year has passed in the tower. It was time him to make his move.
Alex looked down toward his eight students.
They were panting heavily, their clothes torn and their bodies bruised, but their eyes held a newfound, terrifying depth.
No longer did they carry the naive spark of eager apprentices; instead, their gazes burned with the cold fire of warriors who had stared into the abyss and found themselves staring back.
Each breath they took seemed to draw in power from the very atmosphere around them, their bodies unconsciously adjusting to the heightened state of cultivation they had achieved.
He glanced up at the glowing runes etched into the tower's obsidian wall, their luminescent script pulsing with an ancient rhythm.
[Current Floor: 86]
A slow, genuine smile tugged at the corners of Alex's lips.
Not bad, he thought, a deep sense of satisfaction washing over him.
