Ascension Beyond

The statement delivered by the government official sent an eerie chill across the globe.

"I leave our fate in the hands of the gods."

For the first time since the Towers had appeared, world leaders had publicly admitted defeat.

No more strategies. No more promises of control. Only submission to the unknown.

Across the world, people reacted in a multitude of ways.

Some wept openly, holding their families tightly, praying as if the world was approaching its final hour. Religious leaders across many faiths called for worldwide prayer gatherings, pleading for divine intervention. Others shouted angrily in the streets, blaming their governments, blaming the scientists, blaming one another.

And some simply sat in silence, staring at the countdown clock as if hypnotized by its slow, unstoppable descent.

17 HOURS 05 MINUTES.

Inside Lin Feng's home, the atmosphere was equally heavy.

The television remained on continuously, flickering with images of world leaders, experts, and frightened citizens from every continent. His mother sat in the corner, no longer drinking her tea. His sister curled into herself, hugging her knees tightly, tears streaming silently down her face.

His father stood by the window, staring into the distance, his jaw clenched.

The weight in the room was suffocating.

Lin Feng sat quietly, unable to speak. His mind ran in endless circles. No one knew what would happen when the countdown reached zero. The Tower had given no explanation, no conditions beyond the simple command: "Conquer the Tower."

And humanity had failed.

News anchors speculated wildly.

Some claimed the Towers would release destructive energy that would annihilate entire cities. Others suggested a biological plague, a silent extinction. A few insisted the world itself might be swallowed into a void.

But the truth was far more terrifying: no one knew.

It was the silence of the unknown that frightened humanity most.

Meanwhile, back at the Tower's base, activity continued despite the government's public admission of hopelessness.

Inside secured military labs, scientists still worked frantically, analyzing every detail of the limited data they had.

One group of researchers was dissecting the remaining footage frame by frame, looking for any anomaly — any clue, however small, that could reveal a weakness.

On another screen, bioengineers continued studying the Minotaur's physiology using advanced simulations, trying to understand what made it so invulnerable.

"Nothing makes sense," one scientist whispered. "It doesn't follow any known biological pattern. It's like it was designed outside the laws of evolution."

Another scientist shook his head, eyes red from exhaustion. "We're not dealing with a living creature. Not in the way we understand life."

"Then what is it?" someone asked.

No one answered.

The political leaders convened behind closed doors.

Tension filled every meeting. Tempers flared. Accusations were exchanged. Some officials insisted that nuclear strikes should be prepared as a final contingency plan. Others argued that any such action could provoke unpredictable retaliation from the Tower.

But deep down, even the most hardened military minds knew: nuclear weapons wouldn't work against something that existed beyond conventional physics.

In the face of such unknowable power, humanity's might was irrelevant.

16 HOURS 22 MINUTES.

Lin Feng sat motionless, his mind spiraling deeper into confusion.

"Why me?"

His thoughts kept returning to his own experience inside the Tower — to the Estra Roots, to the Tree that had spoken to him, to the strange calm he had encountered.

"I saw something different."

Why had the Tree appeared to him instead of that monstrous Minotaur? Why had the Tower offered him a path while offering death to everyone else?

"Is there another way?"

He stared at the floating screens still circling the Tower outside, their soft light blinking like silent eyes watching from the darkness.

In the forums, desperation reached its peak.

People posted wild theories, last-minute plans, even confessions.

"Maybe we're not supposed to attack. Maybe it's testing our aggression."

"What if this is punishment for something humanity did?"

The world outside continued to descend into chaos.

Panic buying emptied grocery stores. Gas stations overflowed with desperate citizens trying to flee cities, though no one knew where safety could even be found. Protests erupted in every major capital. Riots broke out in others.

And yet, the Tower remained still. Silent. Watching.

The floating screens never moved from their calm rotation, as if indifferent to humanity's collapse.

Inside the international control center, the final emergency council gathered one last time.

The room was tense, thick with unspoken dread.

"We have no options left," one leader whispered.

The highest-ranking general looked at them all and spoke with a cold, hollow voice.

"If the Tower intends to destroy us, we cannot stop it."

Another leader added, barely audible, "We have failed the test."

The council fell into silence.

15 HOURS 37 MINUTES

The Tower stood as it always had: silent, unmoving, indifferent. Its surface reflected the cold gray sky like a massive mirror pulled from another world. Around it, the floating screens rotated smoothly, their light steady, as if nothing in the world could ever disturb their quiet rhythm.

The world continued to watch.

Billions of eyes were locked onto every livestream, every update, every press release. The entire planet had become one single audience, waiting for the unknown.

Inside Lin Feng's house, the air was tense but silent. No one spoke much anymore. Words had lost their meaning.

The television had been playing for hours. News anchors had nothing new to report. The same images played over and over again: the Tower, the screens, the countdown.

His sister sat on the couch beside him, her small hands clenched tightly around her blanket. She hadn't spoken for a long time. His mother sat nearby, her tea untouched, her eyes vacant. His father paced slowly near the window, pausing occasionally to glance up at the sky, as though waiting for a sign that wouldn't come.

Lin Feng's eyes remained fixed on the countdown in the corner of the television screen:

15 HOURS 37 MINUTES.

In the government's emergency centers, world leaders sat behind thick walls and secured doors, staring at massive monitors displaying real-time data from every Tower location.

The latest reports were the same as all the ones before:

No changes. No movement. No responses.

The Minotaur remained where it had always stood, head resting against its massive sword, eyes closed, unmoving inside the narrow corridor.

The Towers had not attacked, had not retaliated. They simply waited.

And humanity could do nothing but wait in return.

Some leaders still debated.

"We have to try something. We can't just sit here."

"There's nothing left to try."

"Isn't it better to die fighting than to wait like this?"

"What if aggression triggers something worse?"

The arguments repeated like broken records, but the result was always the same:

No action. No plan. No solution.

14 HOURS 20 MINUTES

The world outside continued its strange mixture of panic and calm.

In some countries, large public gatherings had turned into silent vigils. Families gathered in parks, temples, churches, and mosques. Others stayed home, glued to their screens, holding each other close.

There was no violence, no riots. Only fear.

The world was collectively frozen, suspended in this strange nightmare where nothing happened — and yet, everything was happening.

Even the wind seemed quieter, as if nature itself was holding its breath.

Lin Feng sat perfectly still, listening to the television's soft hum.

The same experts kept repeating the same theories:

"We still don't know what will happen when the countdown reaches zero."

"There has been no new activity from the Towers."

"The Minotaur remains dormant. Every entrance attempt has failed."

"All efforts to establish communication have been ignored."

13 HOURS 18 MINUTES

As the hours slipped away, the tension became unbearable.

The broadcasts shifted from constant speculation to quiet observation. News anchors, visibly exhausted, now simply read the countdown aloud every hour, providing little else.

Outside the Towers, military units remained stationed at every site worldwide. Their vehicles stood in neat formations, weapons still pointed toward the structures — more symbolic now than effective.

No one expected a fight anymore.

They simply waited.

12 HOURS 07 MINUTES

At the global headquarters, the highest-ranking officials sat at a long polished table, surrounded by giant digital displays.

One leader finally broke the heavy silence.

"We've done everything we can."

No one responded.

Another added quietly, "We've failed."

No one argued.

Lin Feng's heart pounded harder with each passing minute. Though his breathing remained calm, his chest felt tighter, as if invisible hands were squeezing his ribs.

"Will anything happen?"

"Or is this all part of a bigger plan we still don't understand?"

The Tower remained as silent as ever.

10 HOURS 50 MINUTES

News cameras continued streaming footage of the Towers globally. Reporters struggled to fill airtime. Many simply stood in front of their respective Towers in silence, reporting nothing.

In some cities, entire crowds had gathered quietly, just to be near the Tower, as though proximity offered some comfort — or resignation.

The floating screens above still glowed softly, rotating slowly, projecting no new messages beyond the one that had started it all.

"You must conquer the Tower.

You have three days.

Failure will bring consequences."

9 HOURS 38 MINUTES

In many homes, like Lin Feng's, people had long since stopped speaking. They sat together in silence, waiting.

Lin Feng glanced at his sister. She was barely awake, eyes red from exhaustion. His mother whispered soft reassurances to her, though none of them truly believed her words.

His father finally sat down, placing one hand on Lin Feng's shoulder without saying a word. It was the only comfort he could offer.

The house felt like a waiting room for the end.

8 HOURS 13 MINUTES

Global news coverage had grown even quieter. Anchors now appeared on screen briefly, only to announce updated countdown times before cutting back to live images of the Towers.

Social media feeds were filled with messages from people around the world — some begging for help, some sending final messages to loved ones, some simply writing:

"Waiting."

"Together."

"Whatever happens, we face it as one."

7 HOURS 02 MINUTES

As the last evening before the countdown's end fell over the planet, the world grew unnaturally still.

In many cities, candlelight vigils were held in near-total silence. Streets emptied. Families gathered inside their homes one last time.

Lin Feng watched from his window, seeing the glow of countless candles lit by neighbors across nearby rooftops. A sea of tiny lights flickering beneath the dark sky.

The Tower stood like a black pillar above them all, unmoving.

5 HOURS 19 MINUTES

The news displayed images of dozens of Towers across every continent.

No changes. No movement. No communication.

Just the cold, silent countdown.

4 HOURS 00 MINUTES.

3 HOURS 11 MINUTES.

2 HOURS 22 MINUTES.

The world held its breath.

1 HOUR 59 MINUTES

Lin Feng's gaze shifted toward the television.

The countdown continued to tick, cruelly steady.

1:59:59… 1:59:58…

The world was now less than two hours away from whatever fate awaited it.

And still, the Tower stood silent.