Tower of Champions [LitRPG]

Scott didn't answer right away.

He stared at the avatar, silently wrestling with the revelation. Ever since learning he was Arkhontis' incarnation, he'd never felt like someone else. He was Scott. His own person. But this new truth rattled that belief.

"They're not the same," he finally said. "The slain god and the incarnations. They're not the same," he repeated, adjusting in his seat. "Even if the universe remembers them, the version that attained godhood… it's gone."

The lesser god chuckled, shaking his head.

"Am I wrong?" Scott pressed.

"Not in the slightest," the lesser god said. "You're right—that distinction holds. At first. But if an incarnation ascends, your logic no longer applies."

Scott's eyes narrowed. He didn't like where this was going.

"You're saying we'd get… overwritten?"

The god shook his head. "No. You are you. Arkhontis is Arkhontis. You're connected, but you won't be erased."

Scott frowned. "Then what the hell are you saying?"

The avatar smiled faintly behind the mask. "It's not something you can fully grasp right now. But you and the god are… parallel. Coexistent. Separate, yet bound. One, and not one. It's a paradox."

Scott took a long breath, his fingers drumming against the armrest.

"I hate it when things get abstract," he muttered, then leaned forward. "So I'll ask again. Straight up this time—what do you want from me?"

The lesser god laughed lightly. "So direct. No patience for ceremony, hmm?"

Scott almost snapped back, but the god continued. "We'll get there. But aren't you curious about what really happens to most incarnations?"

"Are you going to tell me?" Scott asked flatly, folding his arms.

The god tilted his head. "What do you think happens?"

Scott sighed. This fucking guy… Still, he gave it some thought.

"If I had to guess," he said slowly, "there are gods out there either trying to collect incarnations… or eliminate them."

"Go on," the avatar said, clearly entertained.

"Elimination's obvious—cut the root before it grows," Scott continued. "But collecting? Subjugation. Not all thrones are equal. Some gods are clearly subordinate to others. My guess is they want to bind incarnations to their service, use them to climb higher."

The lesser god clapped slowly, each strike echoing like a gong.

"You've hit the core of it," he said. "There's more to the game, of course, but that's the heart of it. I'm not allowed to discuss council business directly—but yes. Incarnations like you are pawns in a divine game."

Scott didn't react outwardly, but his full attention was on the god's every word.

"Across infinite timelines, gods are backing chosen vessels. When one crosses the Point of No Return, their patron steps in—empowering them for the coming battle for authority."

He paused, watching Scott.

"When that battle begins, thrones will fall vacant. Not always by death—most gods ascend, willingly or not. The result is a purge… and then a rebirth. A new era. A new set of gods."

Another pause.

"Do you believe the new epoch is free from interference?" the avatar asked. "Do you think the old gods simply let go?"

Scott's expression shifted. He finally saw the shape of what was being implied.

"They still control things," he speculated. "Through the incarnations?"

Another clap. Harder.

"It's a cycle," the lesser god confirmed. "Old gods manipulating new gods. The power changes hands, but the chains remain."

"That's insane…" Scott muttered. "Why doesn't the administrator step in? What's the point of being a god if you're just another puppet?"

"You're not naïve," the avatar said flatly. "You already know the answer. Power serves power. Systems protect systems."

Scott stared at him, his breath tight.

"Let me tell you why so many gods want you dead," the avatar said.

Scott braced.

"Because Arkhontis—and a few others—were the first to rebel against that system."

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Silence.

Scott felt his pulse thunder in his ears. Goosebumps traced his skin like cold fingers.

He didn't know what the god was about to say next—but he knew it would change everything.

"What happened?" Scott asked, his voice low.

"I can't say," the lesser god replied. "They nearly succeeded. But their █████ wasn't enough—"

Scott's brow furrowed. "What?" he snapped. "What did you just say?"

Something had filtered the word. Like it had been surgically erased from his mind mid-sentence.

The lesser god laughed, soft and eerie. "It doesn't matter how many times I repeat it—you won't hear it. They won't allow it."

They? Scott's jaw tightened. "Who the hell is 'they'?"

"We'll get to that," the avatar teased. "Anyway, the plan failed. They were stopped—slaughtered, really—by the combined forces of the Council and the Administrator."

"Wait," Scott interrupted. "Isn't the Administrator supposed to be neutral?"

"He is," the god admitted. "But neutrality vanishes when invaders threaten the Tower's structure."

Scott's mind worked faster than his words. His instincts connected the dots before his mouth did.

"…They asked Hastur for help?"

The lesser god chuckled dryly. "Let's just say that didn't sit well with the Administrator or the Council."

Scott felt his pulse spike. Something fundamental was cracking open.

"Some were killed. Others, imprisoned. A few were… diminished," the god continued. "At best, they're relics of the old eras now."

"But here's what matters," the god leaned in. "The Tower acknowledged Hastur's right to invade."

Scott's head jerked back. "What? Why would it—?"

"I don't know," the avatar replied honestly. "I doubt even the Administrator knows. All we've got is the decree: Should Hastur's vessel cross the Point of No Return, the armies of Carcosa may contest the sovereignty of █████ against the Council."

The name splintered in Scott's mind like a shattered mirror—unreadable, unspeakable.

"And if Hastur's vessel becomes a god?" the lesser god continued. "Then the Great Old One himself gains the right to descend into the Tower. And so do the gods of the Council."

Scott sat frozen, staring at nothing.

Everything was beginning to click.

"You may think Hastur isn't watching you," the avatar said, "but you'd be wrong. The day you cross the threshold... you'll feel his gaze."

Scott swallowed, then muttered, "When Carcosa's armies descend... the old system dies."

"Yes," the avatar said, voice softer now. "The discontented will cheer. The beneficiaries will rage. But either way, the Tower will change."

He leaned back, hands folded. "Now you see why your existence can't be tolerated. You're a threat that can't be erased. They've tried."

Scott clenched his fists. His mind flashed to another name—one no one seemed willing to discuss.

"Then what about the Nameless—"

"Don't."

The word cracked across the space like thunder. The air twisted. Scott's body trembled uncontrollably, phasing between solid and intangible.

Even he won't say it.

Scott remembered Arkhontis' reaction when he'd once dared speak that being's name. It had been the same.

"Don't ever use that name here," the lesser god said, voice steady now. "You can refer to them however else you like. But never that name."

Scott gave a slow nod. "Fine. Then what's their role in this?"

The god paused, then answered carefully.

"That being has existed longer than nearly everything. Even the ancients. It was there before the stars. Before the first breath of creation. Only the God of Light, who's existed just as long, has the authority to speak of it."

Scott's fists trembled.

These are the beings involved in my fate?

The god interrupted his thoughts. "Remember when I said they won't let you hear the truth?"

Realization struck Scott like a spike through the spine. He didn't need it spelled out. A chill of helplessness ran through him—but it only lasted a moment.

Then came a breath.

Then came the fire again.

It doesn't matter how powerful they are. I just have to live. Adapt. Grow. Survive.
That's all that matters.

Scott looked up, clear-eyed. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

The god nodded. "Yes. It's time I answered your earlier question."

He stood. With a wave of his hand, the thrones returned—but now they were ordinary chairs. All of them empty.

"These seats—including yours—represent those connected to empty thrones. Some of you are incarnations. Others, simply chosen. All have been recognized by your thrones."

"And our goal," the god said, voice solemn now, "is simple. To help you cross the Point of No Return."

Scott said nothing. He waited.

"If or when that happens," the god continued, "then we move to our second objective."

"Which is?"

The avatar looked directly at him.

"To make sure you survive. And become the next God of Madness."

Scott exhaled slowly. "So, what you're really saying... is that you want Hastur to descend."

The lesser god nodded. "That's correct," he began, pacing slowly. "Lesser gods, while divine in name, can't wield the full authority of a god. Some thrones are ruled by gods. Others by lesser gods. A few have neither."

He paused, then continued. "There are also Scions and Monarchs. Progenitors. Eidolons. Paragons. Titles differ across thrones. You'll learn their distinctions in time. But know this—very few ever transcend from one level to the next."

"I'm the current Lesser God of Illusions. The Throne of Illusions hasn't accepted a true God yet. Not even me."

He stopped moving. "But when Hastur descends, everything changes. The Tower will be forced to expand. We'll enter a new age—an age of New Gods. Authority will reshape itself, and the rules of divinity will be rewritten."

Scott scoffed, wearing a half-smile. "So, to you and your little club, I'm the ticket to a better future."

"Yes," the lesser god said flatly. "I won't pretend otherwise. And I assure you; our 'little club' is more than capable of keeping you alive. Whether you become a god is up to you."

He waved his hand. The thrones disappeared.

"So," he asked, taking a step closer. "Will you join us?"

Scott stepped out of the portal. The scenery before him was painfully familiar—infinitely tall walls, their scale beyond reason. A tarred road stretching into oblivion. Empty. Silent.

Scott smiled faintly. "I'm back."

The Endless Bridge hadn't changed.

"Orion," he called out mentally.

Static answered at first. Then a voice like a flickering memory spoke. "Do my ears deceive me?" Orion's laughter echoed. "Where have you—"

"It's a long story," Scott cut in with a wry grin. "How are the others?"

"A lot has happened. I mean, a lot," Orion continued laughing. "Do you have any idea how long you've been gone?"

Scott didn't answer. Time hadn't mattered in the Chaos Vault.

"I'm coming over," he said. "Fill me in when I arrive."

He severed the connection before Orion could reply.

"Strange," he chuckled. "I'm actually nervous."

He turned, facing the barren road behind him.

From now on… everything I do will be for Ember. Once she's back—then it's a mad rush to the Point of No Return.

A nihilistic portal opened beneath his feet, tendrils of inky black pulling him downward.

The next couple of years… should be interesting.

Scott grinned.

Then he was gone.

~Book 4 End~